Take Me Home

This chapter not betaed.

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Part 2

Achilles sat quietly on the edge of the bed and gazed down on the still unconscious Paris. The captured war prize was stripped naked and his hands were tied behind him. The Greek warrior had only allowed himself to handle his captive, reluctant to allow anyone else to touch his possession.

In his peaceful state, oblivious of any threat, the young prince presented quite a breathtaking sight. Achilles mused if perhaps Paris had sprung from Aphrodite’s loin instead.

While taking off his armours and every stitch of cloth from his lithe body that still held some youthful curves of a boy growing into manhood, the older prince had taken ample liberty of touching and groping the youth who did not offer any resistance. He would never forget how smooth and supple his fair skin felt and the silky softness of his unruly curls.

Ah, his decision to come here had not gone in vain after all.

Using the disguise of transporting the temple’s loots back to the encampment, the Myrmidons had brought the most prized treasure back to their leader’s tent. Achilles had not wish for anyone to knoat hat he was in possession of Menelaus’ sworn enemy. If he could help it, no one would even realize it until he had left this shore.

Suddenly, the very idea of basking in fame and glory was not as appealing anymore. He had Patroclus and now Paris and besides, his wife Deidameia would surely have cried her eyes out by now knowing the fate that awaited her husband in this hostile land. Wouldn’t it be better if he lived longer and surrounded by the people he loved?

There was no doubt the happiest person to see him back in Phythia would be his mother.

Returning his gaze to the unconscious prince once more, he let his eyes travel along the length of the willowy body that could have been deceptively was a young girl’s except that he lacked the bustier chests. Achilles’ heart began to flutter a little with excitement.

The sight of the youth lying in innocent supine position though his back arching a little being cushioned by his tied wrists proved too tempting. Achilles had never turned down a willing body and he was not about to stop now. While at the temple, he was already quite worked up and now his body was reminding him again that it craved satisfaction.

Taking a piece of soft clothe, he twisted the material before stuffing it into the youth’s yielding mouth. It had to be done properly so that he would not choke on it but at the same time, able to absorb most of the noise that he was about to make.

Just as he had predicted, Paris began to stir awake. The youth was disoriented at first but when he found Achilles looming over him, he panicked once more. He started to get up but could not. His captor pushed him back and pinning him down with his great hand still in the middle of his chest.

The sweaty palm was unbearably hot on his skin and Paris realized that he was without any clothes. Fear rose in him as well as disgust for who knew where the perverted Greek had touched him while he was not able to defend himself.

“Sorry I have to gag you but I do not wish anyone to know that you are here,” Achilles stated. He could not resist stroking the powdery soft, pale cheek. “So beautiful,” he said to himself.

Annoyed by the unwanted caress, Paris jerked his head away. He glared at the man above him even though he still feared him. He had ran away from him when he first confronted the warrior because he knew he did not have the skill tght ght him. He was no coward but he was also not a fool. Also, Hector did not know that he was there. If he died at that temple, his beloved brother would blame himself forever.

“I wish to kiss you now,” Achilles said as he absentmindedly ghosted his thumb over the dry lip. “but no matter. We can still do it later when we are away from here.” Thaatematement did not settle well with Paris. Where was this man going to take him to?

As if Achilles read his mind, he told him.

“I will bring you home with me to Phythia.”

That declaration had aroused a tender feeling inside the warrior. It scared him a little. He had never expressed his heart before and with conviction too. He didn’t know why he felt like that and he only met the youth for the first time. He was well-known for being fickle hearted and yet this time, it was different – more intense and deep.

Like a gentle lover, he stroke Paris’ forehead, pushing his front curls to the back. A happy smile tugged on his lips.

“I promise that everyday I will kiss you till you loose your breath and I will make love to you till you are too sore to walk and I have to bring your meals to our bed. You do not have to worry a single thing. I will take care of you,” Achilles spoke in a husky tone. He wanted to add the word ‘forever’ at the end but he was not sure, so he didn’t say it out, for now.

Paris’ eyes bulged in disbelieve of what he had just heard. Achilles was amused by the child-like reaction and could not contain his chuckle.

A huge blush crept into the young man’s face as he breathed nosily through flared nostrils. Usually, such fates befall on young pretty maidens who were captured during war and taken back as slaves. He had never heard of any lads given the same opportunity; often working to death in harsh labour conditions. This prospect was not too bad but it terrified him nonetheless.

When Achilles slid his palm over his abdomen and still moving downwards, Paris snapped out of his thoughts. He raised his head just in time to see the man reaching for his limp member and was about to grab it. Before he did, the prince rolled to his side, away from his captor.

The Trojan youth wanted to continue rolling towards the edge of the bed but Achilles wound his arm around his waist and pulled him back. In one swift motion, the Greek warrior pulled his long waist cloth off, jumped into bed and using his knees pushed the struggling youth’s thighs apart.

That last action sent panic into Paris and he struggled harder, thrashing side to side wildly. The sight of the man as naked as the day he was born only fueled his resolve. He could try kicking his assaulter away but Achilles had firmly planted his knees under his folded legs.

Achilles really wanted to be gentle to his new found lover but his frantic strive to resist his advances incited his temper and also arousing him unbelievably. That in turn caused him to treat Paris roughly. He could not help it; he was young and hot-blooded.

Patience was not one of Achilles better virtues but he had to prepare Paris somehow or else, he would injure the prince gravely. Wetting two fingers with his saliva, he then pushed them against the unyielding entrance.

Paris resisted at first, bucking in defiance and also in pain. However, Achilles was insnt ant and with a few more forceful thrust, he managed to push his digits inside. His success was awarded with a muffled squawk.

The stings lasted for a few moments but Paris didn’t like the feeling of his would-be-rapist scissoring his fingers inside him. Worst of all, he was pushing his fingers deeper and deeper.

The familiar heat and tightness of a never-used hole excited Achilles even further. His body was practically shaking with sexual lust and his cock ached terribly, seeking relieve. He could wait no longer.

Releasing one of Paris’ legs, he swung it over his shoulder. After taking out his fingers, he spitted a large dollop of saliva onto his hand and began lubricating the head of his cock. He gasped and closed his eyes for a mere moment, overtaken by the pleasure of his own hand touching himself.

By now, Paris was sure what would happen next. He was not in the dark in the matters of copulation but he had only experienced it with women. The brief pain he received when two fingers penetrated him was nothing in comparison to what he was about to encounter, especially after seeing the size of that thing between Achilles’ legs.

There was no escape even if Paris managed to get away from his captor because they were in the middle of a Greek encampment and they would no doubt kill him immediately but the prince would not surrender without a fight. If he must loose his life, then so be it.

Since Achilles seemed to be too occupied masturbating himself, Paris took the opportunity to slip his leg from his shoulder and use it to push the man away from him but the son of Peleus was already aware of his intention. He stopped him by grabbing his leg and pushed it back over his shoulder.

While leaning forward, Achilles’ hand was still around the pale thigh and his other hand positioned his cock at Paris’ anus. Without any hesitation, he drove his cock inside but could not go all the way. Paris was still resisting him.

The youth did not scream but he still cried out in pain, biting down on the cloth in his mouth until his jaw ached. In between his hyperventilation, he articulated his agony in synchrony with each thrust that Achilles made to sheathe his member inside.

The tightness was overwhelming for Achilles because his lover fought naturally against his intrusion. It was unavoidable that the prince would be injured more severely.

Finally when Achilles was able to move, he saw that his cock was glistening red with blood but he couldn’t stop his thrust anymore. He watched half-heartedly at his lover’s flushed and damp face. The youth was crying and he was sweating profusely.

Feeling sorry for treating him so roughly, Achilles pumped faster in order to achieve his climax sooner.

Paris was relieved when Achilles called out his name and then fell on top of him because he was afraid that the man would go on forever. The pain was getting unbearable but now that he had stopped moving, it got better slightly though he could not move his buttocks for the moment as they were numbed with pain.

His body sated and buzzing from the postcoital effects, he pushed himself up a bit. After taking out the cloth from Paris’ mouth, he locked lips with him, taking his time to explore the mouth for the first time. Since he met no resistance, he became bolder. He sucked Paris’ tongue as if he would a cock.

Breathless, Achilles rolled off and laid on his side, holding his head up with his propped elbow. He caressed Paris’ face. His heart ached when he saw the terrified and hurt look on the youth’s eyes.

“Oh Sweet Paris. I am sorry for hurting you like that. I didn’t want to but you fought back and …… ,” Achilles trailed off, realizing suddenly there was no excuse for his previous action.

Feeling slightly ashamed, he sat up and began untying the prince – in silence. When he saw the abraded skin on the wrists, he blew on the reddened sore and gave a gentle kiss each before letting his hands go.

Then he lay down beside Paris again. He was exhausted and wished to sleep.

“Why?” a soft, hoarse whisper broke the silence.

Achilles looked into Paris’ blue eyes. He did not understand the question.

“Why did you hurt me like that? Why didn’t you whip me or break every bone in my body or kill me?”

Achilles’ features softened. “Because I was taken by your beauty immediately and I knew I had to own you. I do not wish to break every bone in your body; I only want to break the shell around your heart and make you see that I love you.”

Paris was angry. Even if one was in love with the other, he had no right to force himself on him like that. He shifted despite the pain on his lower waist so that his back was against Achilles.

Moments later, Achilles saw the pale shoulders shook furiously. He heard sobbing. Feeling sorry for the Prince, he spooned his body against him and wrapped his arm and leg around him in a protective embrace. He caressed the side of Paris’ forearm, comforting him silently until the younger man fell asleep.

“Dream of me, Paris as I would be,” Achilles whispered and he closed his eyes to sleep.