Will More Strongly

Will More Strongly


Chapter XV


Alexandros moaned loudly, his back arching as he lowered himself upon Achilles shaft. Most of his weight was resting on his right leg, but Achilles could still see the traces of pain on his face. Contracting the muscles in his stomach, Achilles heaved himself into a seated position, holding tight to Alexandros' waist to keep his penis from being dislodged.

"Wrap your legs around my waist," Achilles' murmured against Alexandros' shoulder. "It will take the pressure off your wound."

His dark-haired beloved shook his head as he continued to grind his hips. "I am quite content, my love. I am nowhere near as fragile as you seem to believe I am, so there is no need to coddle me."

Achilles opened his mouth to protest, the only sound escaping his mouth a gasp as Alexandros squeezed the muscles in his rectum around Achilles' penis which had the warrior arching up sharply. He slid his hands up along Alexandros' back, clutching the shepherd to his chest as their lower bodies continued their counteracting motions. There were lines around Alexandros' eyes that indicated pain, but the youth showed no signs of slowing down. Achilles could only hold on as Alexandros thrust against him, his hands clutching at Achilles' shoulders to give himself the necessary leverage.

There was a tight knot coiling in the pit of Achilles' stomach, one that became tighter each time Alexandros impaled himself upon his shaft. Not content with the visual alone, Achilles moved his right hand to his lover's stomach, his fingertips dancing lightly over the quivering muscles. When Alexandros' movements began to falter, Achilles slid his hand down to grasp Alexandros' erection, pumping it in time with his thrusts.

Alexandros was the first to climax, his back arching and his features going slack. Moments later, Achilles' muscles contracted as he came within his lover's still clenching body. The two remained kneeling in the center of the tent, holding tight to each other in order to remain upright. Once his breathing had returned to normal, Achilles rolled his spine down so that he was once again lying on his back. He had drawn Alexandros down as well, holding the youth against his chest.

"I would stay like this until the world's end," Alexandros murmured around a yawn.

"Then let us pray that the gods allow nothing to disturb us," Achilles said into the mop of unruly curls that covered the top of Alexandros' head.

~*~*~

"Please reconsider this, my love," Andromache pleaded as she watched her husband don his armour. She was holding tight to their son who had been fussing since he'd woken an hour before. "Paris is safe with Achilles, you said so yourself. Please do not go through with this foolishness."

"It is not foolishness," Hector insisted, momentarily abandoning his helmet as he crossed over to the bed and knelt down before Andromache and Astyanax. "He is my brother, I must do what I can to keep him safe."

"And what of your son? What of me? This war is dangerous enough without you risking yourself so," the dark beauty lamented, staring up at Hector with wide eyes.

Hector bowed his head, unable to find a suitable response for her concerns. He knew that there was an incredible truth behind her words. He was the leader of their armies, the general to which all others reported to and took orders from. Lifting his head, Hector lightly stroked the tip of his index finger across his infant son's cheek.

"It is a worthy risk if I can remove Achilles’ influence over the Greek army," Hector said in an attempt to justify his actions. "The Greeks will crumble without him and Paris will once again be safe with his family. Where he belongs."

Rising to his feet, Hector crossed the room and snatched up the missive he'd written containing his challenge to Achilles. Hector wot fot fool enough to place himself at risk by venturing into the Greek army himself. He was not even fully certain that his younger brother was still among the living. However unwittingly, Paris was the cause of the war and Hector doubted very much that Agamemnon would pass up the chance of making a spectacle of Paris' death regardless of what Achilles did to protect him.

Pausing at the door, Hector paused to look back at his wife and son, unwilling to consider the possibility of not seeing them again. He met Andromache's gaze and offered up a tight smile before slipping through the door and into the corridor beyond.

~*~*~

"My lord, therea mea messenger," Eudorus called through the tent flap. "He claims to be from Prince Hector."

Paris was immediately roused from his half conscious state at the mention of his brother's name. He stared up at Achilles with wide eyes, suddenly quite fearful of his state. Though the logical part of him had chided it as futile, Paris had still hoped that Hector would let him be.

"Tell him that I will be without immediately, " Achilles sighed as he rolled into a seated position.

Paris remained stretched out on the mound of cushions, fear gripping him more with each passing moment. Still, he would not be left behind. When Achilles rose and donned a chiton, Paris scrambled after him, tying a sarong around his waist as he hurried towards the exit. It took Paris' eyes a moment to adjust to the brilliant morning light. He squinted a few moments but even so recognized the messenger Hector had sent.

"My lord Hector bade me deliver this message to you," the nervous man said, his eyes darting between Achilles and Paris, his expression conveying his disbelief that a Trojan prince would dare to align himself with a Greek warlord.

Achilles took a very noticeable step to his left, blocking the messenger's view of Paris. "Then deliver your message, man, for I have things of much greater importance to concern myself with."

Contempt gone, the messenger nervously handed over the rolled papyrus which Achilles snatched from him. "I am to take back your response to my lord."

Paris was unable to see the letter at first as Achilles was pacing about as he read, but he did not need to read the missive to know that it was not good. Achilles features were tightening and he was grumbling under his breath.

"Tell him that I will not give him up," Achilles hissed as he crumpled the letter in his fist.

The messenger nodded and was gone, leaving Paris with a sudden sense of dreaded washing over him. He did not need to see his brother's letter to know that only tragedy would come from its sending. Paris watched as the messenger hurried off, following the man with his eyes as long as possible in an attempt to put off the inevitable.

"It seems that Patroclus' deception was successful," Achilles mumbled as he came to stand alongside Paris and handed the crumpled letter to him. "Your brother fully believed that he was me and has called me on what he claims is my lie."

...entrentrusted Paris to you on your promise that you would take no further part in the conflict between our people. You broke that trust and I demand that you either give up Paris to the safety of his family or else face me alone in the plains that separate our camps....

Paris could read no further. The page slipfromfrom his fingers as he whirled to face his beloved.

"Do not do this," he pleaded, taking Achilles' face in his hands to ensure that he had the blonde man's full ntiontion. "I beg of you, do not go to Hector. I will not have either of you risk yourselves over me. I am not worth it."

Achilles gripped his upper arms tightly causing Paris to let out a startled gasp as a painful pressure was placed on the wound he'd received from a Greek knife the night before. Instantly contrite, Achilles dropped his arms to his sides and took a noticeable step back. Paris' hand shot up to squeeze his arm just below the injury, willing away the intense pain radiating through his left arm.

"I am sorry, beloved," Achilles moaned, his hands fumbling as he attempted to figure out where to put his hands. "I did not mean to--"

Paris placed his fingers over Achilles' lips, shaking his head to silence him. "You did not mean to. I had forgotten of it myself until just then."

"You are worth more than you believe," Achilles murmured as he slid his fingers through the mass of curls that covered Paris' head. "That is why I must do this. I will not be separated from you again."

"Then let me go," Paris protested, desperate to keep his lover and his brother from crossing paths a second time. "I will explain it to Hector. I will make him understand that it was Patroclus and not you that fought in the battle yesterday."

Achilles ld fod forward and touched his forehead to the younger man's. "If you do that, Hector will take you back within the city walls rather than allowing you to return to me."

"But I could not bear it if one of your hurt the other," Paris moaned, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"I give you my word that I will not harm Hector unless I am left with no alternative," Achilles whispered, his breath warm against Paris' cheek. "And even then I will attempt no serious harm."

~*~*~

Hector lifted his head when he heard the approaching hoof beats. It was a single horse that was approaching which meant that Achilles had come alone. His anger, which had faded somewhat after he had sent the messenger to the Greek camp, had flared once again upon learning of the bruises and cuts that covered Paris’ flesh. Injuries that had not been there when he'd been taken from the palace the previous day. Achilles had hurt his brother and Hector would not stand for it.

His temper flared even more when he caught sight of the blonde warrior. Like him, Achilles was without a helmet and the flash of bright hair left no question as to who was riding towards him. And there was absolutely no sign of Paris. He had hoped that Achilles would be smart enough to release Paris from what was obviously a dangerous situation.

"I had hoped that you would do what was best for Paris and return him to the safety of his family," Hector said as Achilles slid from his horse.

"What is best for Alexandros is to remain exactly where he is," Achilles countered, idly scratching at the bridge of his nose. "You are the one trying to force him into a life he does not understand nor does he want. He was not raised a prince like you, he was a shepherd. No matter what title you give him, Alexandros will always be that shepherd."

"Paris is my brother."

"He is far more than that to me. My love for him is not based on blood. I loved him before he was a prince whereas you would not have even spared the shepherd a second glance."

"You faithless cur," Hector growled, his nostrils flaring in anger. "How dare you presume to tell me what I do and do not feel for my brother."

Achilles' snorted, his eyes rolling in amusement. Before the fair-haired warrior could voice his opinion, Hector unsheathed his sword and struck at Achilles who ducked at the very last moment. Pivoting on his heel, Achilles drew his own sword which he swung in a wide arc towards Hector. The two renowned warriors continued to trade blows, their armour increasing the heat from the sun that was beating down upon them. What confused Hector was that Achilles appeared to be constantly on the defensive, making no attempt to mount an offensive.

There was a grim determination to Achilles' action, though, and if Hector had not known any better he would have thought that the other man was refusing to fight him.

~*~*~

"Let me pass," Paris growled, standing toe to toe with Eudorus who was blocking the entrance to the tent. "I cannot allow them to do this. Not over me."

"You know that I cannot allow you to go," Eudorus countered, crossing his arms over his chest. "Achilles means for you to be kept safe from the dangers of this war."

"What is happening right now has nothing whatsoever to do with this war. They are fighting over me," Paris insisted, stabbing his fingers into his hair and pulling tightly. "The both of them want the same thing only neither will admit to it. Please, Eudorus, let me go. Let me stop this before I lose one of them."

"You are staying inside," the warrior informed him before dropping the tent flap closed behind him.

Paris stood glaring at the swaying piece of hide, grumbling under his breath. In a decisive move, he stalked deeper into the interior of the tent, searching out one of Achilles' daggers. He needed to find Achilles and Hector in order to prevent them harming one another. Paris already felt sick with the knowledge that the two men he cared most for were in danger because of his foolishness without adding to the situation by fighting for possession of him as though he were a spoil of war.

Finding what he was looking for under one of the many cushions that made up their bed, Paris made for the back of the tent. Eudorus would undoubtedly have men watching the front of the tent if he was not already there himself. That meant creating his own exit and hoping that he could find a horse before his absence was noticed.

Stabbing the tip of the dagger into the hide a hand span or so above his head, Paris drew it down to the very bottom, slicing the tent open neatly. Paris remained inside, peering through the newly made exit for the closet mount. He spotted one almost immediately, five yards away tied to a post. Clutching the dagger in a tight fist, Paris burst from the tent, making straight for the horse. He sliced through the rope as soon as he reached it, dropping the dagger as he heaved himself into the saddle, digging his booted heels into the animal's flanks to spur it forward.

~*~*~

Achilles used his sword to swat away Hector's descending blade. It went against his every instinct not to fight back and to simply repel the Trojan's attacks. He had given Alexandros his word, though, that he would do whatever was in his power to keep from harming his brother. As much as he could understand his beloved's split loyalties, it was still difficult for Achilles to restrain his actions. He did not eAlexAlexandros his position.

"This cannot be the might Achilles that I have heard so much about," Hector taunted as he and Achilles circled around each other. "That boy I fought yesterday was more of a challenge."

The blonde man clenched his jaw but said nothing, not willing to give Hector the satisfaction of knowing that Alexandros had assured his safety.

"NO!"

~*~*~

The Greek's arrogance had long since begun to wear thin. Hector wanted nothing more than to erase the main threat to his brother's safety. Whether Paris would admit to it or not, Achilles was a dangerous man. A man who cared for no other one than himself despite what proclamations he made.

Drawing his sword back, Hector made to thrust forward towards Achilles' middle--

"NO!"

--only to have his blade pierce his brother's naked flesh.

For an endless moment, Hector stared in horror at what he had done to Paris. Paris stood quivering between them, his eyes darting from the sword stabbing the side of his stomach and up to meet Hector's.

"Paris...." Hector moaned, his own hand beginning to tremble as he willed himself to draw his arm back and free his brother from the tip of his sword. "I never meant--"

Hector was brought up short as all sensation left his body. He felt himself falling and then....

~*~*~

Leaving his sword embedded in the crook of Hector's throat as the warrior prince tumbled in a heap, Achilles quickly darted back to catch Alexandros before he hit the ground. His beloved made a gurgling sound, a tear escaping the corner of his eye as he clung weakly to the edge of Achilles' armour.

"'Xandros... 'Xandros, look at me," Achilles' pleaded as he pressed a bunched up section of the cloth Alexandros had wrapped around his waist to the wound. "Please, beloved. Open your eyes...."

The pressure against his wound brought a cry from Alexandros' lips and his eyes fluttered open.

"Good. Good.... Stay with me," Achilles murmured, his lips moving against Alexandros' forehead as he spoke. "Just stay with me."