Arms secured around each other's waists as we pass through the flaps of our tent, I totter towards our bed and Achilles helps me recline on our pillows. I untie the rope at my waist to free my bloated stomach, sighing with relief. I have a very lean frame, and many have commented that I am too skinny, especially to fight. Their words influenced my overindulgence of beef stew and drink tonight. Achilles had rescued me from another bowl being forced on me, calling it a night to his soldiers. Unlike now, my stomach is usually concave when I lie on my back.
Achilles chuckles and gently kisses the distension under my tunic, "It's like you're with child!"
At that comment, I contract my abs to flatten my stomach and turn away from his touch with a frown. Not everyone has a perfect body like yours 24/7, son of Thetis. It was as though he read my mind.
"Patroclus," Achilles coaxes me to face him again. "See, mine's like that too."
Curiosity led me to peak back over my shoulder up at him. Achilles presented his profile to me and cradled his own stomach hiding beneath his tunic. He's so lean that I can barely see the point of his navel poking through.
I roll my eyes, "You're pushing it out on purpose, I can tell."
Achilles joins me on the bed, "You're mistaken. I may need to be rolled out onto the battlefield tomorrow."
He drops his taller body down next to me so heavily it unsettled me for a moment and caused me to wince. My stomach is too taut to keep flattening and the jostling made it hurt a little. I'm forced to relinquish my muscles and it pokes against my tunic again.
But I must laugh at the imagery his words painted in my mind, suppressing a burp, "Ow, stop trying to make me laugh." I wince again, holding my stomach and muttering, "I never could eat as much as you."
We remember me losing our eating contests back in our youth. Why I ever competed with a demigod in anything is beyond my grasp.
Achilles easily positions me so that I'm resting in the crook of his arm, "What should we name them?"
"Gluttony and Regret," I can't help but join in on his joke in the end.
Achilles nuzzles me and rests his beautiful long fingers of a hand on my stomach. I finally relax under the heat radiating from him, I even permit him to massage me there because it so obviously pleases him. I'm in danger of falling into a food coma that I may never wake from. It's a few minutes before Achilles speaks again.
"You don't have to force yourself to gain weight." He tells me, "It's futile, trust me. I've fed you for years, and I'm convinced that both of your legs are hollow. So, ignore those men. I'll shut them up if it's not enough."
I curl closer to him and Achilles runs his other hand up and down by rather boney back. I rest my own hand on his stomach too. When I awaken the next morning, I find myself in my usually position of my back to his chest. His head is curled above mine, one of his arms is pillowed under my head, while the hand of the other protectively remains on my belly.
