Work Text:
It was the ides of the Trojan war when all things were silent and calm as the moonlight flooded the night. Crystal streams were flecked with lightning bugs and the trees were hushed with birds and squirrels of plenty. The fighting had ceased as the day came to an end with all soldiers returning to camp and resting their weary bodies.
Achilles felt the aches in the hinges of his knees. His arms were sore with black and blues and his chest heaved with rhythmic breaths that he could not control. His blonde curly hair was tied in a sweaty bun, pushed back yet simple strands fell at the sides. His cheeks were flushed and rosy, blushing with a reddened hue from the fight. He was exhausted in every sense of the word. Achilles was returning from the battle where he saw his comrades fall beside him, their lives becoming insufficient as the bloodlust for victory raged on.
His strides commence him forward to camp with gasping power. His limbs grow weak beside him as he sees his tent resting on a grassy plain, light penetrating from inside of it to welcome him home.
Achilles pulls the flaps of the tent aside as he steps in, joyfulness overwhelms him as he sees his beloved waiting patiently at the bedside for his return. He wills himself to tie the knot to the entrance behind him, privacy providing them nurturing security.
“I missed you,” Patroclus whispers, his brown hair riding on a wave of curls as his hands cusp the edges of a white blanket.
“I missed you more,” Achilles reiterates, his energy puckers up as the radiance of his love subsides him.
“They say we lost a lot of men today,” Patroclus says in a breathy tone, attempting to keep it down to give the neighboring tents rest, “were their sacrifices made in vain?”
“Never,” Achilles answers soundly, taking off his gear and splashing water on his face from a homely vase, “their deaths will pave our way to success.”
“I worry, Achilles,” Patroclus tries, his hands rubbing each other to give them warmth, “if something were to happen to you-”
Achilles turns his head quickly which rings Patroclus silent. He smiles to rid himself of the worry, but he still sees anxiety in his eyes. Achilles finishes fixing himself, deciding to wear a light, loose shirt and shorts to give him some sort of coverage. He felt hot, his blood boiled within his veins like it pleaded to be released. Sweat trickled from his forehead, grossly covered with a few splashes of fresh water and a towel.
He sits next to Patroclus, his hand reaching for his olive chin whilst he caresses it. Patroclus closed his eyes, the nightlight shone brightly in the tent and reflected off his clear cheeks. Achilles admired his beauty, his heart beating as adrenaline colored him sour.
“I will be here, always,” Achilles reassures him, Patroclus simply nods but Achilles is not satisfied.
“I need you to believe me or else I will not sleep tonight.”
“Then don’t sleep,” Patroclus beckons, taking Achilles by surprise. There is a taunt in his voice as it says this. It challenges Achilles in a strange way as if he were an enemy teasing his posture. Achilles realizes Patroclus’ eyes were trained on him and his very movements; he felt nervous just to have his attention, yet he felt thirst course him as he silently begged to have his eyes on him forever.
“You challenge me,” Achilles starts, he retracts his hand on Patroclus’ chin as he sees the boy crumble at the loss of his touch. It excites him to see him so needy and desperate for his fingers.
“That is a dangerous game to play with me.”
“I am no stranger to the risk,” Patroclus murmurs, he wears a comfortable smile that urges for Achilles’ embrace.
“Say you believe me,” Achilles repeats, his voice full of a begging plea. Patroclus eyes him like he doubts his desire, his passion, his lust. He was tired from the battle but his heart led him forth. He reaches for Patroclus’ hand and holds it to his chest. Achilles begins tracing small kisses up Patroclus’ arm, feeling the bumps of the night arouse the skin. Patroclus watches him ravel at the taste, heart-pounding, and blood pumping through him.
“Say it or I’ll make you believe it.”
“Oh?” Patroclus hums, leaning towards Achilles as the warmth of his breaths pecks at his face. The lamp’s light flickers in the background as the surrounding tents diminish the candles. Their lights were some of the only ones left. Achilles kisses up high onto Patroclus’ neck, then his cheekbones, then the soft parts of his face. He stops for a moment as Patroclus opens his eyes to see why the pleasure had halted.
“I’ll warn you one last time,” Achilles mutters, he feels the heat elevate in Patroclus’ body as excitement carries him out of weariness.
“Say it or I’ll make you moan it myself.”
Patroclus lies there still without uttering another word to testify against Achilles’ claims. An ordinary man would pass out into sleep if he were to do such things after just having fought, but Achilles was no ordinary man. He is half-god with a spirit of a thousand soldiers, not resting until his cause is fulfilled. Patroclus needed to see his passion; to know how powerful he was in order to ease his worries. Achilles would give him that now, or else the fight has been for nothing.
Achilles steps away from the bed they shared, he leviantly takes off his clothes, toned muscles being highlighted elegantly in the night light. He had defined abs, and biceps large enough to trap Patroclus if he really wanted. His v-shaped figure was carved by the gods themselves as he stood at the edge of their bed. He was wet from the humidity as water dripped from his head onto his chest, then his abs, then his hips. He chuckles as Patroclus stares at him with utmost bewilderment. He must’ve seen him hundreds of times like that, but never had he been so demanding of his body.
Achilles bent Patroclus over on his bed while linking their lips against each other. Patroclus’ tongue swept out of Achilles’ mouth and danced teasingly on his lips, Achilles tried to get its taste but Patroclus denied it and continued his taunts. Achilles’ desire only strengthens from the restraint. He forces his mouth onto the escaping tongue and sucks it dry while Patroclus lays at his every command. His arousal only grows as he feels Patroclus begin to hum from the pleasure.
“Teasing me like that only makes me angrier, Patroclus,” Achilles threatens, breaking their kiss from its messiness.
“What-what if the other men hear us?” Patroclus whimpers, feeling the friction of Achilles' grind against him, the hardness starts a ticking beat in his heart.
“Let them. I won’t stop until I hear you scream my name.”
Suddenly, Achilles brings his hips towards Patroclus to show off his size. His cock strains against Patroclus’ pants as he pressed himself harder. Achilles uses his shaky fingers to unbutton Patroclus’ pants, sliding them off as if they were second nature. He was a warrior, and therefore an expert with his hands. Even so, he was also a god, and when a god wanted something, they always got it regardless of what they needed to do to get it.
Achilles' lips faltered against Patroclus’, consumed with a wave of bliss as well as a surge of impulses.
“Make some pretty sounds for me,” Achilles murmurs. His lips trailed again down his neck, continuing from where they left off. His tongue swirled to gather more taste as Patroclus began to moan from the pleasure. He feels Achilles’ teeth bite at his skin, not hard, but nippy, small bites that leave small marks. It was as if he was marking his territory to ensure that everyone knew that Patroclus was his and his only.
Patroclus’ hips lifted off the bed as he tore off his shirt in a singular motion. Achilles kissed up his thighs, nipping and biting with every peck. His teeth sank into a particularly sensitive spot causing Patroclus to cry out in a sudden shock of pleasurable pain. He tries to mute the outcry, but he couldn’t help it. Achilles enjoyed the reaction a little too much. He bit at it again, harder this time, watching as Patroclus’ fingers dug deeper into the sheets.
“You’re so good for me,” Achilles breathes, Patroclus’ gentle moans follow and Achilles licks the mark he’s left like he’s proud of it, “tell me to stop if it's too much.”
“Ach-Achilles, don’t st-stop,” Patroclus stutters, his breathing is varied and he feels his mind run away from him.
Achilles’ fingers reached for Patroclus’ lower half with determined swiftness. Instinctively, Patroclus wanted to push his legs back together but Achilles saw the attempt before he could go through with it. His strong arms pried his legs apart, leaving him completely exposed.
“This is all mine?” He grinned, eager to give the attention that Patroclus was begging for. Patroclus could only nod, too desperate for his next move to speak. Achilles moved his index towards Patroclus’ tip, feeling it tremble beneath his touch.
“Fuck Patroclus, you were made for me.”
Achilles’ entire hands grab onto Patroclus’ cock with exceptional ease. As anxious as Patroclus may have felt before, Achilles’ touch was so electrifying it was impossible to not get overly excited for him. His hands, his lips, his body, Patroclus wanted all of him.
Achilles started to stroke slowly before gathering momentum. His calluses were soft and intent, his hands were big enough to reach all around Patroclus’ cock like it was a merchant’s sword. He touched him like he knew how many times he could get him off until it was too much to bear. Patroclus’ cock pulses from every motion, yearning for more as Achilles adhered to the silent requests.
The lewd noises coming from his actions and the pathetic whines from Patroclus could have made him cum on the spot. He begged for Achilles like he was begging for his life as if he was torturing him with an insane amount of sexual satisfaction that would kill him if he had too much.
As soon as Patroclus began to approach, Achilles took away all forms of touch. Patroclus’ stomach fell with devastation as Achilles gave him a needy smirk. Achilles stared him down like he was prey, his final meal.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” Achilles grins, “you make me go crazy just by looking at you. Do you know how dangerous it is to have that effect on a god? Damn it, Patroclus, I need you.”
“Achilles,” Patroclus moaned out. He craved his touch again and loathed him for stopping. His movement was so precise and addicting that he fears one day he’ll forget the feeling. Achilles wielded the power to have Patroclus beg for him.
“Whenever I’m busy with the war, I want you to think about this moment. Think about how I made you feel so good that you never doubt I’ll come home. I’ll make you remember how much I desire you,” Achilles chides softly. Achilles eyes Patroclus’ knees with a deafening glare as they begin to press together with instinct. His eyes become hungry as Patroclus reopens his beautiful legs, creating intense anticipation as Achilles’ cock rises with excitement. Right then and there, Patroclus knew that Achilles wanted nothing more than to satisfy him. To prove that they would make it through the war together and live another day.
“You’re staring,” Patroclus smiled. Achilles’ face became red with blush, sensing that his greed was showing selfishly through his actions. Patroclus felt powerful at that moment, for Achilles looked as if he was losing control, but Patroclus was no fool. He saw Achilles’ god side take a hold of him and before he knew it, he was at the mercy of a being who wanted nothing more than to have him all to himself.
Achilles grabbed Patroclus’ ankles, pulling him to the edge of the bed. His muscles ripple and flare with action, showing off the shaped body he had. His grip tightens around Patroclus’ ankles before tossing them fervently off the bed so that his hips were manipulated by his dominating force.
Achilles lines himself up with Patroclus’ hole, pushing himself inside as he stretches his walls the more he forces himself in. The pain was unbearable but it was drowned out with fits of pleasure. Patroclus could feel how big he was as he flowed inside of him, with every insertion there was more passion.
“Fuck,” his head jutted backward, his golden locks jumping at the action, overwhelmed at how good Patroclus felt, “you feel so good.”
Achilles grabbed Patroclus’ left ankle, propping it up on his shoulder while the other bent and rested on the edge of the bed. He stared down at him with rabid eyes that were utterly inhuman. He wanted him so bad he couldn’t contain himself.
“More,” Patroclus whined, he felt foolish and submissive but he didn’t care, “I need more, Achilles.”
Achilles acquitted Patroclus’ request almost immediately as his hips thrashed at the back of his thighs. With every stretch, Patroclus could feel Achilles’ cock demand more room to fill. His fingers pressed into Patroclus’ legs, tightening more and more as he got lost in the feeling of it all.
Achilles pushed in particularly hard, jamming himself inside in desperate motions to satisfaction. Patroclus’ walls tightened around him, back arching off the bed, and a shameless moan of his name made him go harder. He kept the same position that caused Patroclus to cry out, mercilessly hitting it over and over again until Patroclus was nothing but a blubbering mess.
“Achilles,” Patroclus groaned, fingers clawing at the sheets as the volume of his plea carried. Achilles kept a tight hold on his legs, preventing him from squirming around as he fucked him senseless.
Achilles was obsessed with every movement. Obsessed with how perfect he fit into Patroclus- like he was made specifically for him.
“Cum for me, Patroclus,” Achilles grunts, “I want to see how pretty you are when you want me so bad.”
He moves his mouth to Patroclus’ close cock, linking his lips gently and starting to move up and down, begging for Patroclus’ release. He does the same motion over and over, feeling his mouth hold every inch of his lover. Patroclus doesn’t know how much more he can take. Achilles was exceptional in every sense of the word, he was good at doing practically everything including this. It drove Patroclus nuts.
Patroclus feels Achilles’ tongue flick from side to side as it tastes him. Patroclus felt guilty for not being able to contain himself; he was being used as a vent for Achilles’ inner greed. Patroclus feared Achilles would eat him whole if he lost control. Patroclus feels himself start to release as Achilles lets go and props Patroclus back into the optimal position. Achilles wanted satisfaction for himself now, his thrusts were erratic, untimed, and needy. Every slap of his hips into Patroclus was a powerful jolt forward, nearing impossible for him to lift his head to watch. The tips of his fingers dug into his flesh, but it wasn’t enough to rid Patroclus of the strong force.
“Achilles, please I’m close,” Patroclus begs, desperately.
“You sound so good begging for me.” Achilles slid his hand down Patroclus’ cock once more, this time not retreating and using one hand to latch onto the base of his hair. He forced his head backward, watching as Patroclus could barely keep his eyes open. “I want you to yell my name when you cum. I don’t care if they hear you. I want them all to know who you belong to.”
Patroclus could feel Achilles’ cock twitch inside of him, gliding against his walls to indicate that he was close too.
“Pa-tro-clus,” Achilles sputters clumsily, “scream my name so that you never forget this moment.”
Achilles dropped his hair, causing him to fall back into his bed. Patroclus’ legs felt weak from his constant pounding that he wasn’t sure if he could take it anymore. He felt his urges control him and knew that Achilles wasn’t done until they both came, satisfied on both ends. Countless whimpers escape him as Achilles grows needier with every thrust.
“Achilles-oh, Achilles,” Patroclus moans loudly with every pounce. He feels his legs give out from under him as he feels himself finally cave in. Achilles stops as he also cums, both individuals feeling so much satisfaction that they collapse onto the cushions. Patroclus’ hair was in a dazed mess, his face red with embers of an eternal flame as he watched Achilles gather his breaths. They lay there naked, admiring one another's bodies as if they were the only two people on Earth. Achilles treasured every curve, crevice, and dimple on Patroclus’ body. With his teeth, he had marked every small feature that he owned- his chest, his cheeks, his stomach, his arms, his neck, his cock, his legs, and every piece of skin that was once clear of the marks.
“Do you-believe me now?” Achilles asks. Patroclus chuckles as he catches his breath.
“I never doubted for a second that you will always return to me,” Patroclus remarked honestly, fingering a lock of Achilles’ golden hair as he twirled it playfully.
“I love you so much that I can’t control myself,” Achilles whispers, concern hiding plainly in his eyes, “I didn’t hurt you, right?”
“You could never hurt me, Achilles. I was made for you,” Patroclus mutters, feeling the humidity of the room settle in. He sees that he was sweating more than Achilles and rolls his eyes. The perks of being half-god showed evidently now more than ever.
Achilles’ fingers were merely insermisable, everything they touched crumbled at his command. He bossed around an army with them and used them to kill and eat and drink. Only Patroclus knew how they could make him feel, whether they were inside of him or giving him waves of pleasure, they were a part of the madness that Achilles brought every time he used them.
“You’re so pretty when you need me,” Achilles murmurs.
“I need you always,” Patroclus responds, the idea that others heard them never crosses his mind. He simply didn’t care; they all knew that Patroclus was Achilles.’ He made it clear with every desperate moan of his name.
They both didn’t sleep that night. They simply stared at each other until every feature was ingrained soulful in their heads. They would never forget their bodies- how they looked or felt. Patroclus had known the power of a God and was overwhelmed by it.
He knew what it felt like to be at the mercy of Achilles’ touch and how it felt to want more after a small taste. Patroclus would never doubt Achilles again, for flashes of that night would fill his mind as the war disappeared and was replaced with the passion of two lovers entwined.