Achilles could see the storm raging behind Paris's eyes. It darkened them, deepened them. They seemed to breathe, deep draughts shifting and ebbing in the darkness, coolness battling to quench the heat.

Achilles knew the heat in his own eyes was better than any words. He could not tear his gaze from Paris's. This moment was too wonderful and too painful. Paris was still so far away. Achilles longed to have more. He shocked himself with the realisation it was not just the thought of showing this young man to true heat to which he could burn that was exciting him now…he wanted to touch that body, he wanted to be warmed by it himself. He wanted to see those dark eyes hooded in passion and memorise the taste of those lips.

These thoughts sent desire wheeling through him dangerously. He let out a shuddering breath and could feel his heart and belly burning. He found himself praying to all the gods, the gods he disregarded, the gods he hated, that the Prince would come to him now. Together, two enemies could have some warmth, some pleasure, some kisses to remember when the world turned black for them.

He could see the Prince tottering atop a precarious moral perch, still desperately struggling to maintain his balance. Achilles held his breath.

Paris's passion was strong, fiery, insistent and finally Achilles could see it swamp the damp doubts and burn them away. Paris took a breath, closed his eyes and let Achilles draw him down. Achilles felt himself sigh from the heart as Paris lowered himself down on top of him. Their mouths met insistently, hotly, like they were both starved of each other. There was a mirroring of his own need in that sweet but now demanding mouth. It sent Achilles's mind spiralling. It was all he could do to retain his conscious thought.

Achilles felt a moan escape his feverish throat as the kiss got deeper, hotter and their bodies moved closer. He explored the Prince's quick, exciting mouth with the passionate eagerness of a blind man running his fingers over the carved surface of a shining shield. In a place at the back of his heart, shadowy and cool, he was unnerved at how good the prince tasted, how wonderful he felt against his chest, the pressure, friction, taste and smell of the Trojan's body casting hot magic all throughout him.

Achilles's fingers brushed against the cool firmness of the remaining orange pieces where they lay in the furs as he reached up irresistibly to wrap his powerful arms around the lithe prince's body, desperate to embrace and keep him, maintain this contact, this warmth. But with the tightening of his arms, the Prince pulled back. There was another painful pause. The uncertainty was eating at him. He took his arms away and felt his hand rest on the abandoned orange. He wondered if it was the sense of being trapped that frightened the prince. However there was no fear in the Trojan's eyes as they burned into his own. His face was so close, his lips parted and wet. Achilles noted with interest that they were breathing exactly in time.

"What are you doing to me, Greek warrior?" he asked in a husky whisper. "I shouldn't be…" the uncertainty in his eyes, though painful, was also beguiling. "I shouldn't be wanting…this. What are you doing to me?"

"The same thing you are doing to me, Prince of Troy," Achilles found the strength to reply. The sight of that mouth was almost too much for him. He fumbled a segment of orange away from its fellows and brought it up between them. He traced the cool fruit across Paris's cheek and brushed it over his lips. Paris's eyes did not flicker. Slowly, deliberately, Achilles held the fruit above himself, where his tunic parted. He squeezed it so that a few sweet drops of juice dropped onto his exposed flesh. He shivered slightly at the delightful coolness.

Paris watched all this with his dark eyes burning with an enchanting…want, a need. He met Achilles's eyes once and the bent his to lick the juice off his skin. Achilles groaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. He revelled in the sensation of the prince's mouth and tongue on him. He felt Paris's deft and now bold hand pushing the fabric further off his chest and shoulders.

Paris's mouth blazed fiery trails across his chest and shoulders. He could not keep himself quiet and moaned in the delicious agony.

"You taste like fire," Paris said breathily against his collarbone.

Achilles used his strength and turned them, laying the prince down in his furs. The sight was too much and he was gasping for that mouth again. He ran his hands over the prince's torso, still stealthily hidden in the maddening fabric. He reached between them and slowly undid the cord of the younger man's tunic. The knot fell away in his fingers and Achilles wasted no time in ridding the prince of the restraining material. Finally Achilles could devour the wondrous flesh of the boy's body with his eyes, but he felt unable to break the kiss. Instead he gave himself the indulgence of a blind man, using his hands to see. Achilles shuddered with pleasure at the feel of the lithe and deceptively slim waist and arms beneath his hands. The Prince mewed delightfully as Achilles allowed his hands to explore every inch of his skin. His hands feasted on the feel of that silkiness binding the firmness of his chest, the smooth and muscular plane of his stomach. He marvelled that one so young should have such a powerful build concealed in his svelte frame.

Paris shivered as the Greek warrior's hands ran down his ribs, down his sides and along his thighs. Achilles trailed wet kisses along his jaw and down his neck. He would never tire of these sensations. He rocked his hips tentatively, gently, seeking to assuage the burning demand in his groin. Paris arched into the contact and Achilles could feel the prince's lithe arms wrap themselves around his neck and tighten. He felt the slim fingers wreath themselves in his hair and the Prince moved against him, silently begging for more.

Achilles leant his mouth close to the Prince's ear. "Paris," he whispered breathily. "Do you trust me?"

Paris gave a startled gasp as once more Achilles gave a suggestive buck with his hips. "Outside this tent," the boy breathed. "No."

"And inside it?"

Paris's arms tightened around him and the young man arched into the pressure. "Yes…yes, with my life."

"Then trust me that the pain will go and soon you will forget all the pains you have ever suffered."

Paris's breath shuddered ever so slightly and there was a slight stiffening in all his limbs at these words. But Achilles did not pull back. He slipped a hand in between their two bodies and felt the desperate hardness of the Prince's erection. Paris gasped loudly at the contact and Achilles slowly took to stroking the sensitive flesh. Paris said no more words but Achilles swallowed a number of delightful noises with his kiss.

Achilles brought back his hand. He took an indulgent moment to run his fingers through the Prince's silky hair. It was a beautiful feeling, the softness sliding through his fingers. Achilles found he loved the feeling of this intimate and tender gesture and felt his fingers could get lost in that hair forever.

However, he felt strongly other needs that needed to be attended to in both of them. But, he tucked away in the corner of his mind a promise to him that he would let his fingers roam at their will through the Princes sweet-smelling hair later. Something more to look forward to when everything was cooler, calmer.

Now, he broke their wet kiss and bringing his fingers to his mouth. Paris watched, his eyes dark with desire, curiosity and the tiniest hint of fear. Achilles reassured him with his eyes before leaning in to capture his mouth and trying to kiss away all the doubt. He dove powerfully into Paris's mouth as he slowly moved his hand down between them. His own hardness was begging to be touched, begging for some relief. But Achilles focussed all his attention on the young enemy prince, slightly wary of his fist man's touch.

He felt Paris stiffen underneath him, his muscles tensing in discomfort as Achilles gently prepared him. He made a small, distressed noise and Achilles was rather disquieted at the amount to which the prince's discomfort troubled him.

"Relax, Prince," he mumbled against his lips. "Relax, I will make it wonderful for you."

TBC

Author's note: I would just like to say a great big thank yoou to everyone and apologise enormously for the fact that the next chapter probably won't be up for quite a while because i'm going home for the summer where i have no internet...ahhhh! So i am sorry and if i do get a chance over summer to update i will. But if not, i'll see you in the autumn! Thanks for all your time and appreciation. It means a great deal. Peace out#! xXx