Briseis shut her eyes as he leaned into her. Her stomach fluttered when his cheek brushed hers as he buried his face into her hair. She didn't know why, but he had some uncommon fascination with her hair, and the thought made her smile. It was as if he couldn't get enough of her, and it gave her an odd sense of power. His hand slowly trailed down the length of her slender neck, pushing away the sheet that covered her shoulder. She shivered at the sensation, the undeniable burning erupting in her head and settling between her thighs. She'd become almost accustomed to the feelings he aroused within her, but each time he touched her he sparked something new, something she ached to hold on to and explore.

Achilles trembled as her scent filled his nostrils, slowly seeping into his bloodstream and becoming a part of him. In that moment when he held her nothing else mattered, not war or glory or immortality. Just Briseis and how much his body ached for her. He didn't think that it was possible, that he could actually want her more in the morning than he's wanted her last night. He remembered that split second before he'd returned to his tent, the second in which the firebrand warrior had returned to his senses and realized what he was doing was completely ludicrous. But now, now when he felt her stir tentatively against him, her scathing fingertips exploring his chest again, that warrior was once again subdued and repressed and the man in him stepped forward, taking charge of the situation.

He pulled away slightly and peered into her eyes, and saw that they were clouded with the same passion that was burning in his. He watched breathlessly as she raised both her hands to his face, her eyes trained on anything but his own. Her hands slid upward ever so slowly, causing a low growl to escape his throat when her thumbs feathered across his lips. She outlined his angular jaw line with the tips of her fingers and continued to explore his features further, skimming across his high cheekbones with great care. He shut his eyes when her hands delved into his golden hair, unable to observe the sheer curiosity that burned in her face as she tortured him.

She smiled unwittingly when he sucked in a sharp breath. She was half-exercising her power and half-exploring him, trying to find a single fault in his seemingly flawless features. When he shut his eyes, she knew that she'd come up empty-handed. He was perfect. The realization struck her as odd, and she tilted her head, scrutinizing him more carefully. He couldn't be perfect. He was a warrior. He'd been designed to kill. But his hands - oh God his hands - they held her shoulders tightly, forcing her still as her heart thundered in her chest. His hands, the palms that had touched every part of her body the previous night, had spilled blood for so many years. And they would once again, she was vaguely positive of it.

And yet he was still perfect.

A demi-god, as she'd come to know.

"I've seen Olympus."

She shivered, and as she tried to pull away she only managed to pull him closer. Her hands were entangled in his hair, clutching the perfect locks tightly, and she held her breath until their lips met.

And while it was wrong, so wrong, her insides exploded.

If it was possible, he was even more demanding this time, and she was even hungrier, and they fit perfectly. He slanted his mouth over hers, without hesitation this time, and invaded its crevices with his tongue. His hands began to roam, everywhere, and the thin sheet lost itself from her body as his own took its place. His skin molded into hers, bare chest against bare chest, and he crushed her against the mat mindlessly until she gasped.

"W-wait," she stammered weakly as he pinned her down. She pushed his head away from hers, tears pooling in her eyes. When he froze above her she relaxed, feeling a little less like a whore and a little more like Briseis.

His eyebrows furrowed in apprehension. "Did I hurt you?" He waited for a response, almost afraid to hear what she had to say.

Briseis shook her head. She closed her eyes, but the tears spilled over her cheeks anyway. "No. I - I just..." She trailed off, unsure of how to explain to him that he'd been too rough and that she'd felt a little too much like a standard whore.

Achilles let out a heavy sigh and rolled off of her. His hands were shaking when he looked down at them. He didn't dare look into her eyes again. He couldn't bear to see the fear and the disgust. At him. At herself. He'd put that there, and he didn't know how to take it away.

Maybe he was just a dumb brute after all.

She reached for the sheet and wrapped it tightly around herself. She sat up slowly, turning her head to look at him. His face was turned away from her, his shoulders trembling slightly. "I suppose this is stupid," she began, her voice unsteady. "I am your captive after all. You can do with me as you please."

His head jerked around then. "I'm a warrior, maybe even a killer." He took her chin firmly, forcing her eyes to meet his. "But I am not a rapist," he ground out.

Her gaze faltered. "I never said that," she whispered.

"I saw it in your eyes. And I'm sorry," he said sincerely. When she didn't say anything, he released her chin and sighed. He stood up and readjusted his blue robe, trying to forget her delicate hands on him, tugging the cloth from his body. He looked down at her. Her head was bent, her shoulders slumped, and he felt like the biggest animal on earth. "You don't have to be afraid of me," he managed out finally, and she looked up at him.

"I'm not afraid of you," she confessed. "I'm just..." She hesitated, unable to find the right words.

Achilles crouched down again. "You're what?"

"I don't know. Inexperienced. Unaware."

He nodded with understanding. "A little overwhelmed."

"Yeah."

"I won't push you, Briseis," he said. "I'm not an animal."

"But you're Achilles. You always get what you want."

He smiled crookedly, causing a shiver to dance across her spine. "With you, somehow that's not an option."

She blushed and looked away. "That's not entirely true," she told him in a small voice.

"You're right," he agreed. "But for the most part...you're impossible."

"A few days ago I was just a priestess in Apollo's temple. Today I'm the lover of Greece's fiercest warrior." She shrugged, looking at him. "This whole situation is impossible."

He stood silent for a long moment until he finally asked, "Do you...can you ever see me as a man? Not a warrior?"

"When you hold me, you are a man," she confessed in a whisper.

Satisfied with her answer, Achilles sat down across from her and took the platter of food, setting it between them. They ate in silence while he looked at her and she looked down at her lap. The cuts on her lip and eyebrow had almost disappeared and her face was flushed, causing her to look more like a girl than ever before. She kept one hand fisted tightly below her collarbone as she held the sheet secure around her body. The other free hand reached over every once in a while, ripping grapes here and there, until they finally grasped at the same spot and their hands clashed.

She pulled away first, startled.

He smiled, leaning back his head to look at her more fully. "You can take the remaining grapes," he said, amused. He'd have to teach her not to be so damn shy around him because it drove him crazy.

Briseis shook her head, still refusing to look at him. "No, it's quite alright. I'm not hungry anymore."

"Briseis," he said, and her eyes locked with his. "Take the grapes."

Her eyebrows arched upward. "If I don't, shall you force me?"

It was a challenge.

He never backed away from challenges.

Smiling, he took the succulent fruit into his hand and moved to sit next to her. The moment she shrank from him he wrapped a strong arm around her, pulling her flush against his side.

"Here," he murmured, pressing a grape against her mouth.

She parted her lips and sucked in the grape, her tongue briefly sweeping the tip of his finger. She watched as his eyes darkened and that same strange, fiery feeling filled her again. His head inched closer to hers and she was vaguely aware that he was supposed to be feeding her grapes.

Achilles took a sharp breath, forgetting the fruit he held in his hand. When their lips were a breath away, she spoke.

"What about my food?"

He laughed. "I told you," he said, shaking his head. "Impossible."

Briseis smiled with victory. "My grapes, please," she said, extending her hand.

"Okay, priestess," he murmured, placing the fruit onto her palm. "But you won't be able to keep up this charade forever."

She shrugged, popping a couple of grapes into her mouth. "What charade?" She mumbled, although she'd been taught since her early years to never speak with her mouth full. But she'd also been taught that as a priestess she was to remain a virgin until she died, and that had been thrown into the mud the night before.

When she finished eating, she tossed the grapevine onto the platter and looked at him. "Where did you go this morning?" She asked curiously.

"My friend wished to speak to me," he replied.

"What about?"

"Joining the battle again," he said, watching her reaction.

Her gaze faltered for a moment, but she regained her composure. "And you told him no."

He nodded. "That's right."

"How come?" She asked, tilting her head.

He blew out a heavy breath. "I'm still trying to figure that one out."

She fidgeted with the sheet that was around her, shielding her body from his gaze. "Will you...will you ever join the army against Troy again?" She inquired softly, unable to look at him.

"You know," he sighed, "I really don't know." He smiled at her. "You really complicate things."

"How so?"

"Before, I'd never stay behind. I'd be the first to lift my sword."

"And now?" She asked, her face open and accepting.

"Now my sword is cold."

She nodded. "So what do warriors do when they're not out in the battlefield?"

His smile spread. "We play." He reached for her hair, taking a long lock into his hand. "Who used to bathe you when you were behind palace walls?" He asked, his eyes darkening when she blushed. She remained silent as she bent her head, shielding her face from his piercing gaze. "Briseis, I've made love to you. There is nothing to be shy about anymore."

"Before you, no man touched me. With all due respect, Achilles," she almost snapped at him, "I am entitled to be a little reserved about something so private."

"I asked you a simple thing," he told her, sliding his hand into her hair. "I didn't say I wanted to bathe you myself."

"I did," she said firmly, looking at him. "I bathed myself. Before you, nobody touched me." Despite her frustration, she couldn't help the pride that filled her when she read the satisfaction in his eyes.

"If you wanted to get me off your back," he said in a husky voice, "that was the wrong thing to say."

"I was just answering your question," she countered, her heart skipping a beat as he nudged her head toward his.

"What would you say, Briseis," he whispered, "if I was to say I wanted to give you a bath?"

"I'd say you were pushing your luck."

"And if I said you had no choice?"

"I'd say we were back at square one," she told him without hesitation, and he smiled, drawing away from her.

"I never did like square one," he confessed to her. "You were too stiff."

"And now?" She pressed, arching her eyebrows. Despite herself, she missed having him so close to her so that she could feel his hot breath on her skin.

"Now," he murmured, moving into her again. "Now I can do this." He placed a kiss on her lips, satisfied when she tilted her head to deepen it. "And this," he continued raggedly, slipping a hand underneath the sheet.

She arched into him when his hand brushed across her bare breast. The guilt shook her for a fleeting second, but then she melted into him, forgetting that she was a Trojan and he a Greek, forgetting that there was a war being waged somewhere not too far from them, a war that would either devastate her country or his. But none of that existed then, nothing but him and her, and for that moment it was enough. For that moment all that mattered were his tender hands and his scathing lips, and her open welcome to whatever he wished to do with her.