A/N: Craig's up.

I'm going to tell you this now so we don't fall into confusion here: this has obviously all been the same night from the different characters and falling around the same times in order. You'll know when we hit tomorrow, pinky swear =p

Seriously.

This routine of mine is getting old and I mean quick.

I look out at my 'home', which is nothing more than a pile of rocks and wood thrown together just to shelter myself and my partner from the endless Scyros downpours we tend to have to encounter. We can tough them out, we just don't feel like it.

As I trail up our hill with the pig I just slaughtered dragging behind me, I can't help but feel restless. All I've been eating for the past gods-know how many years is the damn wild pigs on this damnable island.

Damn.

"Craig! Are you quite finished with dragging that pig?" a high voice calls to me. "We don't want to get mounds of dirt clogging our tummies up, do we?" I look up and see my companion, Pip, waiting for me patiently as always, though tapping his foot as though he's lecturing me. I'm not really sure if he is or not. He's never been too good with bein' forceful.

"Sorry," I roll my eyes. I easily heft up the pig and throw it over my shoulder, carrying it up the rest of the hill before dropping it at Pip's feet. He shakes his head and tuts his tongue.

"Craig. Now how can you expect me to cook that if the fire's over there," he gestures out a bit towards a small campfire.

"Carry it," I shrug.

He looks down at the pig then back up at me. "You're the strong one," he replies.

"You're the one bein' trained," I raise my brow. "So carry it," I motion down towards the slaughtered swine.

Pip looks up at me in a cute little pout before sighing. "Alright. I suppose I can give it a try, hm?" He bends down and tries placing his arms under the pig to completely lift it up and I snort lightly. The kid's like, 140 pounds at the most. No way in hell he's lifting that thing. He comes to this conclusion as well, pulling his arms out from under and staring at it complacently. He grabs it by the stubby arms and braces himself, trying to drag it with him.

"What happened to the dirt clogging our 'tummies'?" I mock.

"Well, I don't have much else of a choice, do I now?" he looks at me with a sniff, still trying to tug away at the mound of flesh. I snigger.

"You want help?"

"Please?"

"I suppose," I sigh, leaning down and throwing the carcass over my shoulder once more. I grasp him around the waist and haul him up in the same fashion, prompting that girlish shriek to escape his thin lips.

"Craig! For goodness sake, put me down!"

"I'm helping," I reply cooly as I begin ascending the hill with them both.

"Craig, I'm perfectly capable of walking thank you!"

"Not when I'm through with you," I growl teasingly.

"Very cute, you brute," he rolls his eyes, still dangling from me.

"You made a rhyme, you pansy," I tease.

He pauses for a moment before a short laugh, "I suppose I did." I snicker before finally arriving at the fire, throwing the pig down and gently lowering my smaller companion to the dirt. He shakes his head at me, grabbing at the knife attached to his side to begin working on the pig. "Why must you insist on making everything such a fuss?" he asks, bending down to start sawing at its feet.

"Makes things more interesting," I shrug. "You know that it'd be even more boring than it already is if we didn't do stuff outside the usual."

"You think that roughing it out on this island is boring?" he cocks his head.

"After 8 years, yes," I nod. "I think we need to live outside the box," I shrug again. "All we do is hang around and occasionally train."

"Well, you don't need to train," he says, finding a strand of rope to tie the pig's mutilated legs together. "You're the strongest there is already."

"I need to do something," I roll my eyes. "It's either that or I sleep all day."

"Now that wouldn't be all bad would it?" he smiles up at me.

"Depends on who you are. I wanna get out and do some stuff, ya know?" I say. "All I do is train, go kill some animal, and we eat. Not too exciting."

"Well, it can't always be a bushel of fun and games," he shrugs.

"Should be," I roll my eyes again.

"And it can be," a voice appears. Myself and Pip turn to see a dark haired figure smiling at us, his blood-red eyes gleaming in the glow of the fire. "Hello," he nods.

"Hey Damien," I nod.

"Hello there, Damien," Pip smiles courteously.

"Craig, Pip," he nods curtly, walking up to us. "So, how goes it?"

"We're alive," I shrug.

"A good thing to be," he retorts. He bends down, ripping a piece of skin from off the pig and eating it raw.

"Oh my," Pip shakes his head. "Damien, you're going to become awfully sick one of these days."

He shrugs. "Oh well." He turns to look at me again and smiles. "I hear you're bored, hm?"

"Very," I roll my eyes dramatically. He snickers, standing up beside me.

"Help Pip get this going so you and I can chat, kay?"

I blink at him but sigh and do so anyways, bending down and helping Pip tie the pig to a large pole and hefting it over the fire.

"Thank you, Craig. Should be about an hour or two," he smiles.

"Cool," Damien nods, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "Let's kick it," he starts leading me away. I look back at Pip and shrug before following him down the hill once more.

"You have a job for me or something?" I ask.

"What makes you think that?"

"I dunno," he shrugs. "I guess that if you were thinking of a way to make it so I wasn't so fucking bored, you'd come up with something for me to do for your benefit."

"This is true," he nods. "But no. In fact, it is an oracle whom has seen something better for you in the very near future, my friend."

I raise my brow. "An oracle?"

"A seer of the past, present, and future, Moron," he rolls his eyes.

"I know what an oracle is," I defend angrily. "Why did you seek one out?"

"No particular reason," he shrugs. "He was traveling around and I found him and we talked."

"About me?"

He looks at me, his red eyes glittering with mischief. "No. About the world, Craig."

I cock my head at him. "Okay. What's wrong with the world?"

"Too much to name in just a short walk," he smirks.

"Shut up," I sigh. "What did he see?"

He looks up towards the stars and chuckles lowly. "Have you heard of Kyle of Sparta, Craig?"

I furrow my brow in thought, vaguely recognizing the name. "He was that kid who got killed, right?"

"A prince," he corrects.

"Oh yeah," I nod slowly. "Some sailors talked about him a few years back. Why? He hauntin' the castle or something?"

He sniggers, "in a way, yes."

"Okay..."

"He's not dead," he said simply. "He staged his murder and he lives under the new king's thumb as a pretty little boytoy."

"Okay, why did I need to know that?" I raise my brow.

"Well, he's gonna get you the hell out of here," he smiles demonically. "At least...for a bit."

"How?"

"He's gonna start a big fight, that's how."

"He gonna murder the king and take his throne back?" I ask, casually kicking away a branch in our path.

"Nah, he's gonna get the fuck out of there," he replies. "He's gonna run away and start a war."

"Why?"

"The king isn't too fond of his property being taken," he responds, looking at his nails in boredom. "He's gonna send an entire army to Troy to take the kid back."

"Troy?" I repeat. "Troy is not exactly the epitome of militia power."

"Not by a long shot," he nods. "Which is why I'm thinkin' you should go defend the Trojans."

"Why would I wage war for a stupid kid?" I blink as we turn to head back up towards Pip and dinner.

"For kicks," he shrugs. "Besides, you take that king down, that 'stupid kid' gets his throne back. If you defend for his honor, perhaps he can place you at the head of his army. Imagine it, Craig," he waves his hand in front of us dramatically. "You'd be the head of the Spartan army," he grins.

"Yeah, that makes sense," I roll my eyes. "Fight against the Spartans, kill 'em off, then go and start defending them."

"We all gotta start somewhere," he shrugs with a crooked smirk. "Look, I'm not holding a bow and arrow to your head and telling you have to. You could very easily just stay here and wallow in your boredom. I'm just telling you that there's an opportunity for you to do something great and I believe that you should take it."

I look at the path in front of me and narrow my gaze. "When is it going to start?"

"I couldn't tell you," he answers. "Your best bet would be to head there as soon as you could and gain their trust. Then you could work with the leader of their army and try to get things in place. I'll come with you to make the trip easier."

"What about Pip?" I ask softly.

"Bring him," he shrugs. "He needs some real world experience. He doesn't have to fight, he just should be with you. If he can't lift a pig by himself, he can't survive out here by himself."

"Right," I nod slowly. I sigh heavily, "I...I guess that it couldn't be so bad. Given that it's either I do that or I stay here and just keep killing the damn pigs."

"Awesome," he smirks.

"Why are you so into making me go?" I ask.

"I have my bets placed on you," he winks. "I mean, you're the strongest guy I know. So you'd better win," he sticks his tongue out playfully.

I chuckle and shake my head. Leave it to Damien to place bets before I even knew the situation. "So," I say, looking up towards home. "Why'd this Kyle kid fake his death?"

"No one knows. He just randomly did, only to come back."

"Why would he stay under another king, though?" I ask. "I mean...that's just stupid."

"I don't think he had a choice," he says. "He came back home, but he hasn't left the castle in six-ish years."

"Wow...sounds like me and Pip...but at least we don't have walls."

"And you're not a sex slave," he points out.

"That too," I nod. "This king has control of him?"

"Total. He sells the kid's body and uses it himself whenever he sees fit. Total asshole among royals."

"I can tell," I agree.

"Hey...speaking of sex...," Damien looks at me slowly. "You and Pip been doin' it?"

I shrug. "Yeah, we're two guys alone on an island and we have needs. What of it?"

"Can I...ya know," he winks.

I raise my brow amusedly. "You want Pip's ass?"

"Damn straight," he licks his lips pointedly. "I have a thing for tiny little things."

"I won't stop ya. But if he says no-"

"I'm not a rapist, geez," he rolls his eyes. "I just gotta...play it. Right?"

I laugh a bit, "right. Pip's all over romantic shit. Just bat your lashes or something."

"Do you do that? I can't imagine the mighty Craig writing poetry," he raises his brow.

I laugh harder. "I carry him around and tease him. He's cool with that kind of stuff. But no, no flowers or poetry or anything. After the first time, he's as good as yours," I smile slyly. I look up the rest of the hill to see Pip sitting by the fire, stargazing. "Go have fun," I motion. "I'll let you have your time."

"Sweet," he licks his lips again and nods at me before quickening his stride up towards the small blonde. I just laugh and head to the side, out towards a small bay.

I know it sounds strange for someone like me, but I like coming out here and just looking at the stars and thinking. Tough guys shouldn't think, believe me I know. But sometimes I feel like I need to. I mean, I can't just go around smashing into things constantly. I'm not a cyclops or something.

I plop down on a flat rock, my sandaled feet wafting in the small pool below me. I watch the moonlight dance off of the dark water and find myself lost.

War.

For so long I've wanted to be in a war. I wanted to make something of myself, to prove that I am indeed the best among the best. But I never got the opportunity, being stuck on this island for years has kind of held me back. But now I've been told that I have my chance; that the recklessness of a kid no older than myself can pave the way to me becoming something bigger than just the island-dweller with the strong biceps.

I have to say, that prospect sounds really fucking exciting.

I grab a pebble next to me and throw it onto the water, watching as it skips time and time and time again with a gentle plopping sound. I run my fingers through my raven-black hair and sigh.

A trip to Troy. Home of the poor man. They can't be poorer than me, but still. I'm gonna need a boat. And supplies. Damien has powers, perhaps he can use them to aide us on the journey.

I don't know. I think I'm getting ahead of myself here.

I still have to question as to whether or not I truly want to fight for a deceptive prince. Regardless of the hell he's been through the last six years, he's no reason to die for. Perhaps if he were still a prince, yes. But fighting for someone now considered a mere whore? Where on Earth is the sensibility in that? Can I not just slaughter men in my own name? To claim to the world that yes, I am indeed the strongest and those who stand against me will fall should they cross my path?

Perhaps not. I may be a hermit, but I still consider myself an honorable man.

Maybe that should be my incentive to fight for this Kyle. He's a broken man, but a man nonetheless. Every man deserves to be in his place. His is atop a throne, not at the bottom of a man's body. Mine is on the front lines, not stuck on an island.

I stand from my rock and sigh again, feeling the gentle nightly drizzle beginning to fall upon my face. I turn and head back up the hill, nearing the scent of our roasting pig. My stomach grumbles and I lick my lips hungrily. Sure, it's all I've had for eight years. But no one can resist a cooked pig.

I step by the campfire, looking for Damien and Pip. My ears perk as I hear a pained yelp from our home and I run towards it, throwing the door open. I come across the sight of Pip on his back with Damien pushed into him, licking his neck tenderly. His red eyes flicker towards me and he grins sheepishly. "Come to join us?"

"Pip, is he raping you?" I ask, looking at him with a raised brow.

"O-oh my...," he gasps as Damien slowly thrusts into him. "N-no...," he shudders, his dull nails digging into the dark-haired boy's back.

"Cool. I'm gonna go eat," I gesture out the door. "Just come out when you're ready."

"Oh, I plan on it," Damien chuckles lowly, sinking his sharp teeth into Pip's pale shoulder. The boy yelps under him as he begins to furiously pound into his small frame.

I just shake my head and step outside to give them their privacy. I look down and notice my chiton seems to have grown an extra lump. Great. Maybe I should have joined them after all.

I consider this possibility for a moment before just opting to sit down by the fire against a log and pull my tunic up past my thighs. My semi-hardened flesh pulls into view, beckoning for my hand.

Damn bossy thing.

I grasp it loosely, feeling it twitch under my palm. My eyes close slowly and I lean down further onto the log behind me as I slowly begin pumping the flesh. I can hear Damien and Pip moaning loudly in the house behind me and damn is it turning me on. I keep moving my hand fluidly, steadily increasing my pace. I let out a low growl from the back of my throat and lean my head back.

"Oh...oh...Damien...," Pip pants.

"Fuck...," the magical boy gasps as he hits into him hard enough for me to hear from out here. I myself yelp softly as Damien hits that certain spot. I can see Pip arching off his back, his face contorted with a mix of pleasure and pain. His blonde hair sticking to his sweat-soaked forehead.

"F-faster...," he whimpers. "Please...."

Oh gods, I love it when he begs. His lips formed into that pleading little pout; His brows furrowed in frustration.

"Damien, please!" he shouts. I listen as they moan and the sound of slapping skin increases, myself keeping in time with their rhythm with my wrist.

"God...you're tight...," Damien breathes heavily. Do I ever know it. That's the good thing about someone Pip's size, they're small everywhere. I can just feel the warmth wrapped around my aching cock, the near-silken feeling of our skin vigorously rubbing against each other.

"Oh gods....," Pip pants. "Damien, harder!"

"Gladly," he growls and I hear as he hisses and drives into him faster. My chest starts heaving and I feel a small sheen of sweat beginning to coat my body.

It's amazing how much more physical exertion this is for me than fighting.

"Oh my...oh my...," the blonde whimpers. I can practically hear his nails scraping against Damien's bare back. "Damien...Damien...I'm going to...,"

"Let it go," he orders, hitting hard enough for the boy's skin to bruise. My thighs begin twitching and my skin jerks spastically in my hand.

He pants loudly a few more times before euphorically moaning the boy's name. I feel myself hitting my own end and breathe rapidly. I hear Damien let out a low groan and it finally takes me toppling over the edge. My hips arch off the hard, filthy ground as I spurt my seed into my waiting hand. I continue to jerk myself throughout my release, my chest rising and falling heavily.

I can hear the two of them gently kissing and I finally calm down enough to release my softening cock. I wipe the missed drippings off of my thigh and pull my chiton back down my legs. I wipe the semen from off my hand onto a patch of grass beside me and lean back, sighing. I steal a piece of the pig from off above the fire and slowly nibble away at it, a small smile crossing my face.

This trip's gonna be a bitch. But I have a feeling that spending it with the two lovers in the house is gonna make it all worthwhile.

A/N: Just for some info, Damien is supposed to represent Thetis, who was Achilles' (Craig's) Mother.

But they're not related in this story =)

Damien's just his magical buddy =p

As I said from the start, this is a loose base off 'Iliad'. Anyone who knows the story knows that Achilles was on Sparta's side. (Sorta.) Well, not in this one. It'll work out, just trust me =)

Thanks for reading and reviewing =D

I've never written a masturbation scene before. I failed pretty badly in my opinion xDD

oh well.