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The drunken singing and boisterous laughter of Achilles’ men was finally beginning to dwindle. It was late, but the soldiers had been given a day of rest, and they lingered over spare time hungrily.
Both Achilles and Patroclus retired early right after dinner. During the day they had lounged in the forest and looked for small game. They had meandered to the beach and wrestled like they did when they were boys. In the sun’s warm glow, it was easy to forget about the shadows.
Patroclus was resting his head on Achilles’ chest and tracing patterns onto the man’s stomach. Achilles sipped wine and absentmindedly stroked Patroclus’ forehead. The only light came from the lanterns still lit outside their tent.
Outside, a small group of men noisily passed by. They tried to shush each other to be quiet yet only succeeded in making more of a ruckus.
“They are happy,” Achilles said bitterly, “they are able to forget.”
“Achilles,” Patroclus warned. As the war marched on, their conversation had moved down this particular path more than he would’ve liked it to.
“There’s a chance for them to go home,” Achilles sat up and brushed Patroclus away, “A small chance. But a chance nonetheless.”
“They are afraid. Give them some grace.”
Achilles curled his lip in disgust, “Don’t defend them. They are the ones who made me their god. It is me at the front of every battle, not them.”
“Everyone needs comfort.”
“What about my comfort? Have you no heart Patroclus?” Achilles covered his face in his hands “I would’ve been happy staying on that mountain with Charon forever. I would have been happy…”
Patroclus sighed and gently moved Achilles’ hands away from his face. His breath caught as Achilles’ sea-green eyes seemed even brighter than usual; the whites of his eyes were bloodshot.
“Listen to yourself. You wouldn’t have been happy. Not at all. You’re tired and bored now, but tomorrow you will remember why you came here,” Patroclus murmured as Achilles averted his gaze.
“Go away,” Achilles snapped and rolled over, covering himself to the chin with a lush blanket. Patroclus led out an amused huff before rolling over and settling in. There was no persuading Achilles when he was in such a mood. He acted like a child sometimes, but Patroclus warmed a little at seeing a side of Achilles no one else did.
The silence between them would’ve been tense, but they were too used to the argument to stay mad for long. They both knew Troy was the only place for Achilles, even if it was difficult.
Patroclus was about to drift off when Achilles softly spoke, “What do you like about me?”
That question woke Patroclus up. He rolled onto his back and hummed thoughtfully, “I love everything about you.”
“What in specific? Tell me.”
The men were facing each other now, the low lantern light making everything a little fuzzy.
“Well, I love your laugh,” Patroclus grabbed Achilles’ hand and softly kissed it before continuing, “and I love your temper, even when it’s directed at me.”
Achilles let out a small huff of amusement, “Go on.”
“I love when you tell me what you think and I love it even more when you tell me what you feel. I love your feet and your legs, but most of all I love your hands.” Patroclus kissed them once more, “They are slender and graceful, yet strong. I’m hypnotized when you play the lyre and when you practice with your spear. Can you still juggle?”
Achilles raised a brow at the question, “I’m sure I could.”
Patroclus smiled, “I don’t doubt it. What do you like about me?”
“Well, that’s simple. Everything.”
Patroclus laughed but before he could prod for more, Achilles had reached over and kissed him.
“You failed to mention anything interesting. I’m wounded,” Achilles said while planting kisses on the other man’s neck.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. Did I bore you?” Patroclus bit back and ran his hands up Achilles’ sides.
“Only a little. Nothing that can’t be forgiven,” Achilles smiled. Both men were silent as their mouths found one another’s again. The camp was quiet now, aside from the waves crashing against the distant shoreline.
Patroclus gently pushed Achilles onto his back and began peppering kisses along his tanned stomach. Achilles let out soft gasps as his lover’s mouth dipped lower and lower.
“I want you,” Achilles said.
“I am here,” Patroclus murmured back, his lips wet with saliva. Patroclus positioned his head between Achilles’s legs and brought his mouth down. Achilles’ cock was half-hard and Patroclus licked its length. Achilles’ muscles twitched involuntarily at the other man's touch.
Patroclus gently took Achilles’ in his mouth. His skin was slightly salty and smelled of soap. Achilles wrapped his legs around Patroclus’ broad back, trapping the other man between his legs. They were tangled together and the world outside their tent fell away. Every day Achilles was scared to leave Patroclus at the camp. He would wonder if it was the last time he’d ever see Patroclus’ curly hair or the dimple that appeared when Patroclus was amused.
“Gods,” Achilles muttered as Patroclus bobbed his head. The fire in his gut spread across his body. He could feel his breaths get slightly shorter. Patroclus stared up at Achilles with dark eyes to gauge his reactions. Patroclus knew Achilles’ as well as he knew himself, what made him gasp and twitch.
Patroclus swallowed deeply and gripped Achilles’ hips a little tighter. Achilles glanced down with a quiet sigh and ran his hand through Patroclus’ dark hair. Achilles arched forward slightly and Patroclus narrowed his eyes, “Patience.” Patroclus ran his tongue up and down Achilles’ cock teasingly. Achilles may be the commander outside, but inside their tent he had no right to bark orders or demands.
Achilles’ hands tightened around Patroclus’ curls. He was close. Patroclus reached a hand up and circled Achilles’ nipple playfully. Achilles tugged Patroclus’ hair in warning as his hips rocked deeper into Patroclus’ warm mouth of their own accord. He was hot and Patroclus felt so good and–Achilles released with a low moan of pleasure.
Patroclus swallowed Achilles’ cum before slowly pulling back. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before sliding slowly off the bed. Achilles was staring up at the ceiling, panting softly. Without Patroclus right next to him, he felt cold.
Patroclus rinsed out his mouth with wine before returning to Achilles with a warm cloth. Patroclus was hard, but he knew Achilles was done for the night.
“I love you,” Achilles said quietly as he wiped himself with the cloth. Patroclus had settled in the bed by his side and gave a gentle kiss to Achilles’ forehead.
“I love you too,” Patroclus responded and tucked a stray blonde hair back to its proper place.
“You are too good to me,” Achilles said softly, leaning his head against Patroclus’ shoulder.
The other man hummed and closed his eyes, “Perhaps. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”