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The cacophony of horses’ hooves and armor clinking alerted Patroclus to Achilles’ return. It had been a long battle and the Sun was giving way to the inky black sky before Achilles stepped into their tent.
His green eyes glimmered under his golden armor marred with blood and dirt. Wordlessly Patroclus began to unstrap and set aside the armor and Achilles’ allowed the silence a moment before speaking.
“We gained ground today,” his voice was low and gravelly, sore from screaming commands and dry from the lack of water on the front lines.
Patroclus turned his back briefly in order to grab the basin of soapy water, “I expected no less.” As he handed Achilles the basin, he steeled himself for what he knew would come.
“We would’ve had an easier time of it if you had been there,” Achilles mopped his brow, removing dust and revealing tanned skin.
Patroclus suppressed a sigh and moved to begin cleaning the armor “I prefer my work in the infirmary.”
Achilles sharply dunked his hands in the water, “Your skill does not lie in medicine. Charon taught you the ways of battle just as well as he taught me. Greece needs you. I need you by my side.” It was always this song and dance: Patroclus’ refusal to fight and Achilles’ inability to understand someone not reveling in their own skill. In any other situation, those last few words would have crushed Patroclus’ resolve.
Patroclus tried to fight at first, he really did, but every dusty battle took something out of him. His own skill with the spear and arrow frightened him. Every man he felled brought him back to the rocky cliffside where he had first taken life. Perhaps Achilles was right and his skill was needed, but it seemed Achilles had forgotten Charon taught them both medicine as well.
“I am serving Greece in my own way” Patroclus murmured before grabbing a cloth and softly scrubbing Achilles’ back. The pair sat in silence until Achilles was finally cleaned and clothed in a fresh chiton.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want us to fight,” Achilles said softly while laying his hands on Patroclus’ shoulders. His hands were strong and his touch made warmth settle over Patroclus like a cloak.
“Then we won’t” Patroclus responded simply before planting a soft kiss on Achilles’ cheek and turning away to go inquire about dinner. A hand around his wrist stopped him and he turned back. There was a set to Achille’s lips and a glint in his eyes that took Patroclus’ breath away.
Patroclus allowed himself to be drawn closer and smiled up at Achilles. Holding him like this, Patroclus felt a heady sense of relief. Of course, he knew the prophecy offered Achilles some protection, but there was always doubt in the back of his mind.
Gently, Achilles leaned down and planted a feather-soft kiss on Patroclus’ lips. “Are you up for it today?” Achilles whispered, his nose barely touching Patroclus’. Some days, when one of the two couldn’t shake the shadows, they merely held each other. Trying to chase away a coldness that seemed eternal.
But today was a better day. “Yes, and you?” At Achilles’ wolfish smile, Patroclus bridged the tantalizing gap between their mouths. The two men pressed themselves against each other feverishly, the weight of their responsibilities outside the tent fading with every touch.
Patroclus ran his hands along the muscles of Achilles’ back and gasped softly when Achilles’ hand slipped under his chiton to softly squeeze his ass. Patroclus pulled back for a moment and dragged Achilles over to the bed. Their chitons were quickly tossed off and Patroclus guided Achilles to lay on the bed.
Achilles’ laugh was sweet swine on a summer day, and Patroclus felt himself flush with desire. Patroclus ran a hand down the other man’s thigh. Achilles’ skin was butter-soft and Patroclus could feel his muscles tense.
Those green eyes watched him half-lidded as he began to place kisses along Achille’s chest. Achilles’ impatience was evident as he tried to buck upwards, his face flushed. With a tsk, Patroclus placed a hand on Achilles’ hip and continued his slow descent downwards.
When Patroclus reached Achilles’ straining cock, he gave it a teasing kiss. Leaving Achilles wanting, Patroclus stood up and found the oil beside their bed while taking a moment to admire Achilles with his legs splayed open and his body flushed.
“Are you ready?” Patroclus whispered and he oiled his fingers and length.
Achilles’ eyes flashed with impatience, “Yes!”
“So needy,” Patroclus teased and he gently applied oil to Achilles’ entrance before sliding two fingers inside. Achilles gasped and arched his back as Patroclus slowly began to pump his fingers.
After Patroclus was certain Achilles was ready, taken care despite the fact Achilles was a Demi-god, he positioned his cock and gently pressed inside.
Warmth shot through Patroclus, Achilles was tight and his moans were low and breathy. Pressing kisses to Achilles’ neck Patroclus began to rock his hips, relishing every short gasp he was able to wring out of Achilles.
Patroclus loved the slow motion, loved the fact Achilles trusted him enough to be so vulnerable. Patroclus pressed his forehead to Achilles’ and reached a hand between their bodies to find Achilles’ cock.
He stroked in time with the movement of his hips, wanting Achilles to feel just as good as he did.
“More,” Achilles gasped out, and Patroclus felt the flame in his gut burn brighter.
He set a punishing pace, ready to give Achilles what he asked for. Angling his hips, Patroclus found the spot he had memorized long ago, the spot that made Achilles tense and clench around him.
The hands in Patroclus’ hair tightened before Achilles muttered a soft warning “I’m- ah! I’m close.”
Patroclus tightened his hand around Achilles’ cock, the way he knew Achilles loved and found he was close as well.
With a sharp cry, Achilles cock twitched and semen spilled over his chest. As he tightened around Patroclus, the thread holding Patroclus together snapped and Patroclus’ cock pulsed deep inside Achilles.
Achilles’ hands were in his hair, and he softly moaned Patroclus’ name. Achilles was everywhere, bronze skin and flashing green eyes. Plush lips and straining muscles. The scent of sweat and the storminess of the sea. Patroclus drove his hips deeper, wanting to be closer to this man he felt unworthy of.
The tent was silent aside from their pants as Patroclus felt himself soften inside of Achilles. He planted a gentle kiss along Achilles’ forehead before gently sliding out of him. The air around them was salty and warm, the bed rumpled.
“I love you.” Patroclus whispered into Achilles’ golden hair. He wrapped his arms around his shining lover, and Achilles traced patterns onto Patroclus’ chest.
Achilles’ smile made his face shine like the Sun. “And I love you.”
They laid together like that for a long while, enjoying the feel of each other's warmth and aliveness. They did not consider tomorrow's battle nor the seemingly endless stream of injured soldiers that entered the infirmary.
No, instead Patroclus told Achilles a funny story about a boy they both knew from Ithaca, the one with the large ears. At Achilles’ rumbling laugh, Patroclus could feel like the world was not ending for a moment.
They knew what was coming, but for as long as they could they would wake up and take comfort in the feeling of each other.