A/N: That last chapter was a little dark, so here's a little bit of slashy goodness to brighten things up!
The sound of footsteps increased, coming from both the corridor outside the room and the deck above it and signaling to Achilles that a new day had begun. He was in no hurry to get out of bed and join his men in their tasks, however, for he was still enjoying those last few minutes of lying about after a perfect, peaceful night's rest. Though, of course, it wasn't necessary to cling to it so stubbornly since another one would come again that night – the journey from Troy had been remarkably restful. Achilles had discovered long ago that he slept much better when water and not solid land was beneath his dwellings. Perhaps it was the way that the waves rocked him that was so soothing to the warrior's spirit, or else simply the fact that his mother was a sea goddess and the water was just in his blood. Whatever the reason, Achilles had always considered the sea to be his true home and a man always gets his best night's sleep when he was at home.
On this particular trip there was another reason why he felt so at peace, and he was lying next to him, still asleep. Falling in love with Paris had been possibly the most unexpected and fortunate things that had ever happened to Achilles. The boy was the peace of the sea at his fingertips, the light at the end of a blood-splattered night whenever he needed it, and a million other flowery phrases that the warrior was too straightforward to bother thinking up. Words like that stuck in his throat; but thankfully Paris found such flatteries too grand and embarrassing to be true. Achilles never wanted him to think that he was lying to him, not after all that they went through to finally be together.
The flight from Troy in the middle of the night had been anything but tidy. The Greek's reputation as a brute proceeded him wherever he went and that combined with the dead bodies of those two guards who'd dared to speak to Paris in such a derogatory manner would tell a false tale of kidnapping. The only two people with enough information to contradict that assumption were Isidore and Odysseus and Achilles couldn't rely on either one of them to share any of it; the evil lord would keep it a secret, taking the course of action that would lead to the fastest recovery of the prince he lusted after and Odysseus…. The circumstances he'd essentially abandoned Ithaca's king and his men in were undoubtedly unpleasant and Odysseus wouldn't feel the need to do anything that would help Achilles and endanger his men – such as spread "slanderous lies" about his relationship with Paris. Oh well; what had already happened couldn't be undone and Achilles wasn't going to feel sorry about doing what he had to do to ensure his lover's safety. The consequences of their actions would have to be dealt with soon enough, but not now; now was just for them.
Achilles smiled down at Paris, who in turn gave his dreams a smile that was happy, sad, gratified, and wistful all at once. Well, that wouldn't do at all. If Morpheus refused to provide his lover with dreams that left him in perfect bliss he was more than happy to wake him up and take on the job himself. "Paris," he urged gently.
The only response he got was a slight stir from the runaway prince. "Paris," Achilles tried again, this time running a hand from the boy's cheek to his bare shoulders and down his naked arm. "Wake up, my love. It's time for you to forget about unpleasant dreams and start being with me."
Paris' eyelids fluttered a few times to shake off that last bit of sleep before he was able to focus on the older man. "Good morning, Achilles," he murmured tiredly. He buried his face in the pillow and rolled his head just enough to that he could peek up at the Greek.
"Good morning," Achilles returned fondly. "And now it's even better. I think we should continue on this streak and try to make this the best morning yet. I just saved you from an unsettling dream, didn't I? Is that not worth one kiss that would show me exactly how grateful you are?"
"This coming from a man who thinks that I dole out that type of reward for such impressive tasks as walking, talking, and breathing," countered Paris, shyly playful. The time spent together and away from the melodrama of his previous life had done wonders in bringing Paris out of his shell, but he was still getting used to being in a more relaxed atmosphere that didn't require him to check his emotions at every second. Thank the gods that Achilles was patient with him, backing off when the teasing got to be too much but pushing in the right ways when his fears made him hesitate.
"I can't help it if I'm so awe-inspiring that you can't keep your hands off of me," grinned Achilles with exaggerated smugness as his hands moved down to caress Paris' thighs under the covers. "If it's any consolation, I feel the same way about you. Now, if I can't keep my hands off of you and you can't keep your hands of me, what can we do to pass the time?"
The expression on Achilles' face was so earnest, thoughtful, and fake that Paris couldn't help but laugh. "I think it might be good for you if I restrained myself; that ego doesn't need any more stroking."
"You could always stroke something else…"
"Achilles!"
"What?" The warrior was all innocence in his voice as his hands moved in between Paris' legs. "I'm just suggesting a few ways that you can repay me for saving you from a bad dream."
"For your information, it wasn't a bad dream," Paris retorted good-naturedly. "It was…"
Achilles frowned as the Trojan bit his lower lip. "It was what?" he questioned, concern making him serious for a moment. "You can tell me, Paris."
"It wasn't really anything," replied Paris as he went over the dream again in his mind. "I was with Hector – I don't even know where – and he gave me a toy horse; you know, one of those animals carved out of wood. Just silly – no one's ever given me anything like that before and it's not going to happen now. Especially not from Hector."
Ah, Hector of Troy: the rodent under Achilles' bed as far as the Greek was concerned. Most of the time he could forget that the elder prince even existed but during others he became impossible to ignore. Achilles had made the decision not to share with Paris his suspicions that Hector was involved with Priam's schemes to turn the young man into a prostitute and vowed to continue to do so no matter how much it irked him to hear the sadness in this lover's voice whenever he spoke of him. Paris loved his brother and believed that he was loved by him in return; taking that away from him with no good reason was a type of cruelty that Achilles usually reserved only for his most hated enemies in battle. It would make for an interesting situation if Hector was the one to come after them, but that was something that Achilles would handle when and if he absolutely needed to.
"Dreams have a lot of meanings; some of which are difficult to figure out when we're wide awake," he offered in a noncommittal tone.
"I wasn't happy or sad about it," recalled Paris thoughtfully. "Or maybe I was both. The feelings were hard to define then and more so to describe now."
Mornings weren't the time for conversations with any amount of depth to them. "Enough!" declared Achilles importantly as a feisty grin spread across his face once more. "Why are we talking about such unsubstantial things like nighttime fantasies when we have the ability to act out those that come to us when we're awake? I haven't even kissed you good morning yet."
He leaned down dramatically to steal a kiss only to feel Paris' fingers pressed against his lips, impeding his goal. "This can't keep happening, Achilles," the runaway prince told him firmly. "What happened yesterday morning…and the day before…and twice the day before that…and, well, pretty much every morning since we set sail except for that first one…is not going to happen this morning."
"I don't remember hearing any complaints during any of those times," purred Achilles, opening his mouth to suck on Paris' fingers. "In fact," he added, pausing to run his tongue up and down the crevice between his pressed-together index and middle fingers. "You were saying…and groaning…and screaming some pretty positive things." His tongue pushed its way in between the fingers and wrapped around one and then the other. Paris ragged breathing was an inspiring and encouraging sound. "You weren't just trying to spare my feelings, were you?"
When had his mouth and throat become so dry? Paris swallowed hard and tried to catch his breath. "I'm serious," he moaned, unconsciously arching against Achilles' solid warrior's body. His eyes fixated on the Greek's mouth as it did wonderful things to his fingers and struggled to maintain his resolve. "Your men need you to lead them."
"They have more than enough guidance until I decide it's time for me to go top deck," argued Achilles as he continued with his seductive ministrations. "Eudores is in charge in theory and Patroclus has a least as much authority as him in actuality. There are too good men right there for the others to look to; why is it absolutely necessary to rush through one of my favorite parts of the day?"
"Because Eudores and Patroclus are both in charge," Paris asserted as he rolled his head back and gasped. "They bicker endlessly over every little detail. I'm afraid that one morning we'll find their mangled corpses after they've killed each other."
Achilles crinkled his brow, giving off the appearance that he was thinking hard about what he'd just heard. "I suppose," he relented with a sigh. "But can't I have one little kiss? Just our lips pressed together, as innocent and chaste as can be?"
"That should be all right," conceded Paris.
Achilles immediately rolled entirely on him, shifting his weight so as not to crush him. Once in position, he ran his fingers though Paris' dark curls and planted the softest, sweetest kiss imaginable onto his mouth. "Good morning, Paris," he breathed.
"Good morning, Achilles," whispered Paris warmly. He waited patiently for the Greek to move so that he could get up, but Achilles only moved his head to kiss his jaw in the same way. "Achilles, what do you think you're doing?"
"It's very simple, really," Achilles told him with perfect innocence. Paris might have believed his act had he not known him or seen the playfully mischievous glint in his eyes. "Usually my spectacular kisses are enough to say good morning to your entire being. That little peck, however, is barely adequate enough to bestow that same sentiment just to your lips. I made you a promise and I won't break it, so the only thing left for me to do is kiss every inch of your body."
His lips found their way to Paris' neck and the princelifted his chin to expose as much of it as he could. "You don't want this lovely neck to feel neglected, do you?" continued Achilles. "Or that special place where your neck and shoulders meet that gives you so much pleasure when I touch it?" He kissed the spot and indeed Paris' body responded. "Now that would be wrong."
Paris let out a cry of pleasure as Achilles kept going lower down his body. His collarbone, his nipples, his navel, along with all of the places in between, were lavished with feather-light kisses that were exciting but maddeningly not enough at the same time. "You're not playing fairly," he accused weakly.
"There's just so much flesh to kiss," replied Achilles as his mouth found its way to Paris' hard arousal. "And I finally got to one of my most favorite parts of it."
Those light, gentle touches continued to torment the boy. Curse the promise he'd extracted from Achilles! Now he couldn't get him to open his mouth no matter how hard he tried. Why had he been in such a rush to get above deck anyway? This kind of enjoyment was more than enough to convince him that Eudores and Patroclus could work things out for themselves, and if not – well, there were too many people on that ship anyway! "I need you," he begged. "Please don't tease me any longer."
Achilles removed his lips – removed his lips! – crawling up the boy's form to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Is that what I'm dong?" he asked with feigned remorsefulness. "That was never my intention."
"Like Hades it wasn't!" laughed Paris incredulously.
"I was only trying to respect your wishes," Achilles defended himself as he reached for a vial on the table next to the bed. "Only chaste, closed-mouthed kisses this morning. Fortunately kissing in any particular way isn't required to do this."
Opening himself up to him, Paris sighed contentedly as Achillesprepared him with oil-slicked fingers. He loved the Greek for being gentle but not treating him as if he were going to break at any second, for making him feel safe even when he was in such a vulnerable position, and most of all because he knew that Achilles would have stopped at any point that morning if Paris had so much as given the slightest indication that he didn't want his touch. "You're so wonderful," he whimpered. "I can't begin to describe how much I love you."
"If it's anything like the way I love you, I probably don't deserve it," responded Achilles as he retracted his fingers and repositioned both himself and Paris.
"That's not - "
"Shhh; I'm having a thought," Achilles interrupted him, pausing right before he entered Paris. "Seeing that this is exactly what you wanted to avoid doing this morning…"
"Achilles," said Paris, his voice taut with desire and frustration, "if you don't finish what you started right now, all of our mornings will being with a knee to your groin."
How he loved Paris' fiery side! With no further ado, Achilles pushed forward and began thrusting deeper and deeper into that tight heat. "Oh Paris," he moaned. "Why did – did you not want – to – start – the day – li-like this?"
"I don't remember," the boy keened. "Every – single – day – oh! – should – start like this when, when – we – ah! – get home."
Somewhere in the back of his mind Achilles could feel the waves rocking their enjoined bodies. As he reached his peak, he understood more clearly than ever: "This is home."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Ah, cousin; I'm glad to see you finally up and about," greeted Patroclus grandly as Achilles and Paris approached, interrupting his tense discussion with Eudores. "I managed to convince him not to steer us within listening distance of the sirens, but this moron still seems determined to sail right up to Charybdis and Scylla. Who cares that they're monsters who destroy everyone who journeys too close to them? The mighty Eudores can take them armed with only an oar and a dream. Good morning Paris," he added.
"Greetings Patroclus," Paris told his friend with a smile that was mostly amused and just a little concerned. Patroclus was sometimes prone to verbal tirades, especially when Eudores was involved, so this was certainly nothing out of the ordinary. Still, Paris wasn't quite past the feeling that conflict of any sort was scary. He nodded at the other man. "And to you as well, Eudores. I hope that things have been going well during your command."
"All except one," Eudores groused, jerking his thumb in Patroclus' direction. "How could he be related to you, Achilles? He's all timid and faint of heart."
Patroclus rolled his eyes. "Those actually mean the same thing," he stated dismissively. "I know this for the same reason I know the better routes for us to sail on: I have more intelligence than a vegetable."
"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Eudores.
"I'm sorry; was that too many syllables? It means that I'm smarter than a turnip like you."
Achilles slipped one arm around Paris. "I can almost understand your rush to get up here," he told him jovially. "Who'd want to miss one minute of this continuing comedy?"
"The both of you, be quiet," he then ordered briskly at the bickering duo. "Since I'm the leader of the Myrmidons I will be the one to decide which route is the proper one for us to sail. Eudores, come with me; Patroclus, do you remember where Paris left off yesterday?"
"With proper stance and positioning of the hands," answered Patroclus, casting a dark eye at Eudores.
"Congratulations: you are smarter than a turnip," Achilles said wryly. "Then I can trust you to pick up his lessons from there until I deal with this and get back?"
"Happily." Achilles started to walk away, hoping to be out of earshot before his cousin could add anything else, but Patroclus had a quick tongue and a dangerous amount of self-confidence. The younger Greek called after him: "I marked the best route on the map. Even someone with a skull as empty as Eudores' could see that if he wasn't intent on trying to remain as ignorant as possible!"
The empty-headed, ignorant man in question lingered for a few moments, leaning in closer to Patroclus' ear. "I can show you how right I am," he said in a low, husky voice.
The corners of Patroclus' mouth curled into a sly smile. "That only works where we're alone."
Paris gaped as Eudores countered with, "Tonight, then," and sprinted off after Achilles. "You two – did he say – did you mean –"
"He was bound to be good at something," replied Patroclus cheekily, wriggling his eyebrows at his more naïve friend. "And by the gods, when Eudores is good at something, he truly excels."
"But do you love him?" Paris couldn't imagine doing the things that he did with Achilles without loving him as much as he did.
"I don't know," hedged Patroclus, slightly grumpy at being asked to explore all of those emotions. "Sometimes I think I do, or at least I think I could; other times he annoys me so much I want to stab him with whatever's most convenient."
"I'm sorry, but I'm having a hard time processing this," Paris said with a nervous chuckle. "I mean, you boss him around and that annoys him so much…"
Figuring that the inexperienced prince would faint if he shared the details of his…relationship with Eudores, Patroclus merely smiled secretively. "Well, he's the bossy one when we're alone," he chose his words carefully. "I happen to like it that way. Come on," he added, turning away from Paris' inquisitive stare, "let's get started."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The route that Patroclus had marked was indeed the preferable one; it irritated Achilles to no end that he didn't have the time to stall, making it seem as if he was having trouble agreeing with him. His younger cousin was sometimes too brash about his admittedly high intelligence and Achilles always took it upon himself to try to humble him whenever he needed it. Unfortunately, there wasn't any time now; staring out over the water behind them the warrior could feel someone pursuing them. If they were forced to make a stand on the water, his men would be more vulnerable and Paris would be in grave danger.
"Eudores," Achilles ordered sharply. "Set course at once. We'll be taking the one that Patroclus was thoughtful enough to select for us."
"I figured we would be," said Eudores with a shrug of his shoulders. "I knew it was the best one, but –"
Achilles cut him off with a pointed glower. "It would be wise if you didn't let your foreplay with my cousin interfere with your ability to command," he said. Eudores' eyes darted to him and then away nervously. "Yes, I know; it's a little hard for me to miss given how well I know you both. Patroclus is a big boy who can make his own decisions and I trust you appreciate that there are consequences should you mistreat him, and even more of them once he's done with you."
"I do."
"Good. Now steer the ship in the direction that I ordered." Achilles stared out at the water again, squinting as if he could see the menacing threat if he tired hard enough. "We need to get back to our land as quickly as possible in order to prepare for a fight. We're being followed."
To be continued…
