A/N: Again, so sorry for the delay!
When he held her this close to him, everything else disappeared. The world didn't exist, nor did the war, or even his glory. It was all an illusion and the woman he held in his arms was the only reality. Her satin skin that had the slightest scent of rose oil and her large brown eyes were all that encompassed him. The delicate hands that played across his shoulder were an undeniable reminder that she was completely his and only his. And, for the first time ever, he too was completely hers. If she didn't know it before, she'd soon find out because the longer he held her, the more his lips ached to ask her to come away with him. He'd leave the one thing that mattered most to him, his glory, and she'd leave her homeland. The rest was up to fate. He didn't make any grand plans, didn't have any great expectations. He wasn't a romantic man, he was merely a man who couldn't let go of a certain woman just yet. Perhaps sometime in the near or far future he'd tire of her, but not now.
And now was all that mattered.
He opened his eyes and peered down at her. Their gazes locked and his chest expanded at the hazy, and yet still innocent expression on her face. It was impossible that she should look so entirely pure, especially after what her body had done to him and the sounds he'd elicited from the depths of her soul just a while back. And yet she did, she looked pure as ever, and he recoiled slightly, afraid of what her answer may be. Afraid of what his reaction to her answer would be.
Instead of speaking, he lifted a tender hand to her neck and drew and invisible line with his index finger down its length. Her skin was glistening from the heat of the moment they'd shared, causing her to look almost ethereal, and he had to make sure that she was still there. She closed her eyes and sighed, causing him to smile. His fingers played with the locks at the nape of her neck, trailing over ever so often to outline the soft column of her jaw. She opened her eyes slowly and looked at him.
"Am I still your captive?" She asked in a whisper.
"You are my guest," he replied, his voice thick with emotion.
Her gaze faltered for a moment as she contemplated on the meaning of his words. "In Troy," she finally murmured without lifting her head, "guests can leave whenever they wish."
He looked at the top of her head, unable to find the words to counter what she said. Whatever she was implying, he didn't like it. He wanted to believe that she was in too deep to ever want to untangle herself from him. But her soft declaration suggested something entirely else. His hand gripped her shoulder as he prepared himself to ask the question that he had to ask. He needed to know just what it was that she felt about the entire situation. Her fingers were still toying with his shoulder, and he'd learned that it was something she did when she was anxious.
"Would you leave now?" He asked, holding his breath until she gave him an answer.
Her head tilted ever so slowly and when their eyes met, he knew her reply. "No," she said firmly, decisively. She could not leave now, not when he'd become something so much more than just an enemy in her heart. He'd delved into her soul with his eyes, had carved out a piece of her and left an aching void that only his presence could fill. She'd heard the apprehension in his voice when he asked her, and it had served to strengthen her resolve. She wouldn't leave him, not now, and perhaps not ever because, when he touched her like that, he was the only thing that mattered.
Achilles considered his chances before going for the kill. She wouldn't leave him, she said so, and he was positive of it. The firmness in her answer did something to him, made him feel like he held the entire world in the palm of his hand. And in that moment, he did. His hand slid over her shoulder and she trembled under his touch.
"Would you leave Troy with me?" He asked at last, looking at her intensely. Her eyes widened, filled with slight shock, then skepticism.
"And you would leave all of this behind?" She asked wondrously. It was impossible that he should abandon everything he'd come for, and instead of his glory return only with her. She dared not admit how the very thought of it made her feel, but she entertained it anyway. "You would desert the war and leave Troy?" She continued doubtfully, and he smiled.
"Yes," he told her, spreading his palm across her back and pulling her to him. "Yes, I would leave Troy, and the war, and my glory behind."
"And you would exchange all this for..."
"For you," he confirmed, finishing off her thought.
"And if I was to say no?" She whispered.
He drew his head to hers, tracing the tip of his index finger down her spine. "Would you say no?" He pressed, already knowing her answer.
Briseis closed her eyes, unable to bear the intensity of his stare any longer. She shook her head softly and answered, "no."
"Then we sail in the morning," Achilles told her, and she opened her eyes.
"You were so sure of my reply," she began, one eyebrow arched suspiciously. "How come?"
"You are not difficult to read, Briseis," he answered. "You display all your emotions in your eyes. And you have experienced too much with me to turn away now."
"That's true," she agreed, forcing her hand still on his shoulder. "But what about you? I am not the first woman to warm your bed. Why-"
"You don't merely warm my bed," he cut in darkly. "You are unlike any woman I have ever met."
"I find that fairly impossible," she countered. "There are many more like me in the world. Insignificant. Weak. Treacherous."
"You feel treacherous because you made love to me," he said matter-of-factly. "Don't. You didn't betray your country by falling into my arms. I should think that you saved it."
She couldn't help but smile. "You must be the most arrogant man to have ever crossed this earth," she told him, her eyes glowing with amusement. "I find it difficult to believe that you should still be infatuated with me."
"I never said infatuated, priestess," he corrected. "The word never slipped between my lips. Not once." He smirked. "If it's allowed, I should actually think that it is you who is the arrogant one."
Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, but her expression was still light and open. "Then why did you ask me to leave Troy with you?"
"It's simple," he said, placing a slow kiss on her lips. "I want you by my side."
She took a moment to recover from his actions before speaking. "And how long should I be honored to grace your side, oh mighty Achilles?"
"As long as you wish."
"Not as long as you wish?" She inquired doubtfully.
"When I hold you like this, priestess," he managed out huskily, molding his body to hers, "it seems that I want you forever by my side."
Her breath caught in her throat as her heart began to thunder in her chest again. She'd been sure that she should be satisfied by now, that her hunger for his touch should subside, but it only burned brighter and stronger whenever he touched her. She became painfully aware of the aching between her legs, and the void inside her grew wider, screaming for him to fill it. She showed none of it from the outside, but he read the desire clearly in her eyes and a rakish grin spread across his face. She couldn't, for the life of her, resist him. And that made his need for her all the more justifiable.
"Wh-when you speak like that," she stammered, "I cannot help but think that you are-"
"Infatuated by you?" He cut in, the hand that rested on the small of her back dipping dangerously over the curve of her hip. "Neither can I," he admitted, his voice heavy and hoarse. "But you must understand something, Briseis," he continued as her eyes fluttered shut. "I will never admit it."
"Then I am just your bed-warmer," she goaded as his lips descended to her neck, smiling wickedly when he froze above her. His large, powerful hands gripped her shoulders tightly as he forced her on her back. His eyes were furious when he lifted his head, his jaw line set and tense.
"You, woman, are impossible," he hissed, his irritation growing when he read the victory in her eyes. "You know what you are, and yet you proceed to beat it out of me."
"Then tell me," she implored. "Why should I leave Troy with you?"
"Because you cannot resist me," he replied. "Because you will spend every day of your life wishing you had put your pride aside for one damn moment and admitted how you really feel."
When his eyes tore away from hers, something shifted within her and she softened. There was only so far that a man could be pushed. What he was saying to her - it wasn't about her, it was about himself. And it was enough. Her delicate hands found his face and lowered his lips to hers. The moment they met his stirred into motion, and he positioned himself more fully above her. Her impossible hands trailed over his shoulders and she locked her arms behind his neck, holding onto him for dear life.
"You're right, you're right," she whimpered when he broke away. "I cannot resist you." When his hands masterfully outlined her breasts, she cried out and arched into him. "I cannot stop wanting this," she continued breathlessly. "I cannot stop wanting you, next to me, above me, inside me," she continued almost inaudibly.
He closed his eyes as her words bombarded him, setting his body on fire. Her eyes were shut tightly as her breathing came out heavy and labored. Her body was already sweating again, despite the fact that he'd began his torture just a minute ago. She responded to him immediately, almost impeccably, and it only intensified his need to make love to her again. His lips descended to hers and he invaded her mouth with his tongue as the passion consumed him. As he trailed his lips over her jaw line, she panted into his ear, and he almost lost control. But before he took her he made sure that she was ready, that it was what she wanted, and they trembled in each other's arms as the waves of pleasure rattled through them.
When she lay her head on his damp chest some while afterwards, everything seemed to fit into place. His apparent crudeness, her seeming innocence, the horror of the war, his arms tightly wound about her - it all just fit. Perfectly. She should have been ashamed for allowing such a thought to cross her mind, but she couldn't be. Not when his finger traced lazy circles on her shoulders or when he tenderly kissed her forehead before closing his eyes. His power and his glory were all minimized to this one moment, and it all fit perfectly. Her eyes remained open as she pondered over the situation, as she reflected on the day that had been almost flawless had it not occurred due to the sole fact that a war was raging on.
After their banter in the morning, and their lovemaking, he'd allowed her a chance to shower before sitting down with her and, ironically enough, talking about their two families. She'd learned, with more than a little amazement, that his mother was the wise goddess Thetis, and that he was almost unbreakable, except for his right ankle. His ankle was his weakness, but he reveled in the fact for it meant that he was completely mortal. She'd looked upon him in sheer wonder, unable to understand why anyone would take mortality over immortality.
But when he touched her, she knew.
He was just a man, and was able to enjoy all the pleasures presented to him with an astonishingly higher intensity than someone from Olympus. He was able to revel in every single moment because, as he'd pointed out before, it could be his last. And sweet heavens did he make every single moment count. If tonight was the last evening she'd see, she knew she would die happy without laying her eyes on Paris or Hector or Troy ever again.
She realized that she'd become a priestess because she was searching for a place to belong. She never could have imagined that she'd find that place in the security of Achilles' arms.
And yet, she concluded with a tinge of terror, she had.
