Take Me Home

TITLE : Take Me Home
WEBSITE : http://breathless.shadowess.com
PAIRING : Paris/Achilles, Achilles/Patroclus (implied), Paris/Neoptolemus
RATING : NC-17
SUMMARY : Paris caught Achilles' predatorial lust at first sight but the man soon learns to love. However, Paris soon became the center of attention of everyone and great dispute ensues. Will Paris save Troy, his love for Achilles and his life in the end?
WARNING : [Non-Consensual / Violence / Graphic Sex Scenes]
DISCLAIMER : Not making money here. Not making money here. Just to satisfy my twisted mind.
NOTE : Some movie based and some historical facts used. AU of course.

Part 24

The Mistress of Night descended swiftly and she unveiled the shawl off her cold shoulders. Men trembled wherever she went and froze to death when she angered. Paris couldn’t help shuddering a little even though he felt feverish inside; the wind having blasting against him incessantly. With what was left of the daylight, he was finally released from his unusual prison. Being more dead than alive, the youth had some time ago become an added carved feature to the prow. Starved and dehydrated for two days, Paris didn’t have the strength left to hold his own weight and therefore, his body molded against Artemis’ carved hair.

A strong pair of hands dragged him to a darker and quieter section of the ship like a lifeless carcass. Then the same person lifted his head to pour small trickles of water through his cracked and parched lips. It was difficult to swallow at first because his tongue had swelled, but he managed somehow. This time the youth was not so foolish to demand for more water. He drank what was given, gratefully. It refreshed him a little afterwards.

“Help me turn around,” he whispered hoarsely to his care taker and made a feeble move to turn himself over. The raw sensitivity of his badly burnt back was unbearable and he couldn’t stop himself from moaning under his breath. This pain was worse than the beating he received weeks ago. Right now, he wished he could jump into the deep, dark ocean to ease his misery.

He cried aloud when the man grabbed his arms too hard. The man quickly apologized and was more cautious after that. Paris let out a long sigh when he was able to lay flat on his stomach; the cold night air cooled his heated skin, giving him some relief.

“Thank you,” he whispered again to the man. The man grunted something unintelligible and left.

Few men were awake still, either walking about with their business or carrying on with their conversation in lowered voices. Their drones were hypnotic, enkindling languor in Paris. Surely Neoptolemus wouldn’t be sadistic enough to torture him further tonight so he closed his eyes to get some rest. He hadn’t any will in him anymore to face more strife. All he needed now was to sleep … forever.

The few moments of peace was abruptly shattered when the blond prince appeared to kneel beside his hostage. His indifferent gaze swept unblinking upon Paris’ sun-reddened face. In the gradual growing darkness, he still noticed the flakes of skin peeling from the youth’s cheeks and the tips of his nose and ears. His bare back, especially on the shoulders fared no better either. The boy was quite sunburned and his once fair skin had taken a darker shade of olive hue. In their close proximity, Neoptolemus heard audible wheezing from the former prince, a sign that the boy was suffering ill health as well.

To kill him now was easy. All he had to do was leave his tortured body at the prow and let the cold night air freeze him to death, but Neoptolemus had other agenda planned for him. This boy carried his weight of worth still, firstly to bait Achilles to come to Troy with them and next to be the very reason the Golden Lion must fight against Troy.

From his pitiful condition, he could tell that Paris was ready to give in to any of his demands. His frail young body – weakened – and his will crushed has no more flame of hope burning in his heart. Any rebelliousness left in the youth, he was certain that it had been snuffed out, thanks to his father’s thorough trashing of his back. He didn’t believe his eyes or his luck when he saw the healing welts. What had made the man to belt this boy so harshly?

Two soldiers on watch duty at the night shift had begun to light lamps and hang them up. This gave illumination on the deck so that no one would trip on anything and fall into the water. It also served as a beacon to any nearby ship so that they wouldn’t ram into each other.

Paris didn’t have to open his eyes to know that the person beside him was the hated prince. Therefore he moved not a muscle and pretended to continue sleeping. Perhaps the young man would leave sooner. Unfortunately, he was not to be fooled easily.

“I have a proposal for you,” Neoptolemus stated. His voice was lowered so that those around didn’t hear him. He waited for Paris’s attention.

“Every night after everyone has gone to sleep, you will come to me and make good use of that pretty mouth of yours. I will make your life easier in exchange for this service. However, if you refused, I will continue to torture you until you beg me to stop and I will still obtain my satisfaction from you even by force. You tempt me too much, Paris.”

The completely exposed body, incapacitated and vulnerable, stretched out and unhindered in anyway to his eyes and fingers enticed him to molest the youth. It was attracting him to greatly.

Paris stared at him incredulously as if thinking that the prince had gone made to even suggest such an idea. However, Neoptolemus returned his stares with an unblinking gaze of lust-hunger. He was determined to invoke in Paris the seriousness of his offer.

Like his father, patience was never in Neoptolemus’ blood, but this time, he waited. It was worth the while in either answer that Paris would give him. Already he saw that the young Trojan was debating furiously within himself.

Only several minutes had passed when Paris finally nodded a fraction. He surrendered yet he was unsure.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” Neoptolemus asked, to be sure by what he saw. The light from the lamps could have played tricks on his eyes.

“Yes,” Paris croaked and turned his head away, to hide the several fat tears that had rolled off and fell onto the deck. His throat hurt and he found it difficult to swallow his sadness. It was hard to accept defeat.

“Good. You will begin tomorrow night. Now you will rest.” He went away and instructed the slave from before to take the food that was kept aside and feed Paris.

That night, Paris learned to appreciate the basic comfort of life like he had never before. Nevertheless, he hated himself for giving in so fast. Even though Achilles would never know (he hoped) that he was betraying him for exactly the same crime that he was falsely accused of so many weeks ago, he wouldn’t be able to face the man again. There was no way he could ever redeem his honour again – not from Achilles, not from Hector and certainly not from his people.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Paris’ heart was beating with the turbulence of drunken youths in deep dancing trance during the full moon celebration of flower boys to manhood. His cheeks blushed with heat as he thought about what he was about to do and he could barely keep his hands from shaking. Although no one was looking his way, he was being self-conscious that all eyes were aimed at him.

He scanned the ship with feigned disinterest, locating those perverted eyes that seemed to take too much notice with his body – but there was none. Oddly, no one was looking his way. Was he being just overly sensitive about himself?

At the break of dawn the soldiers had started to harass him. It was the state of his unclothed condition that caused the attention. Even when he was finally given a spare exomis, it did not stop there. Leers went back and forth and when no one was watching, one or two brazen men took the liberties to touch him where it was not wanted. Instead of confronting them where he stood alone to defend himself, Paris simply walked away from them. He took refuge on the lower deck, right at the very end with the other slaves. Here he was not welcomed either for he felt some unsympathetic gazes from the chained slaves.

A movement at the corner of his eye caught Paris’ attention. Neoptolemus had sat across the deck from him, leaning his solid bronzed torso back and resting one arm casually on the railing. With his darker skin tone now and blond hair, it accentuated his look – a handsome chiseled feature with mysterious aura about him.

Their eyes met and locked in a deep gaze. How Paris wished he could grab a sword and leap at the man, slicing the sharp blade through the air and imbedding the cold steel into thick flesh. He would want to place the palm of his right hand on the pounding heart, feeling for the beating to gradually fade. He would savour the heat of the gushing blood all over his hand. He would finally wipe the smirk off that hated face.

It was the look of open desire that had plucked revulsion from within Paris. It reminded him with such clarity as the face of the moon on a mirrored-lake of his deal with Neoptolemus the night before. No matter. This was only temporary and his revenge would come soon enough. He had nothing to live for after this and no one to return to because there was no one who would mourn for him. His life was like the dust in the desert. They would kill him, but it matters not as long as his blood spilled and joined the earth where his first cries announced his arrival into the world and the three prickle of blood from his little body was presented to Hera as sign of his initiation among the mortals.

Neoptolemus winked and smiled with mirth when he saw that Paris scowled at him. He had been teasing him all day today and was the one who told his friends to pinch the youth’s buttocks when he wasn’t looking. They had cackled gleefully after watching the Trojan restrained himself from lashing out.

He didn’t have to order the youth to him. Paris knew when to come to him and all he had to do was part his legs wider. That was his sign that he was waiting for the first ‘payment’. He didn’t wear his loin cloth at the moment and thus, he exposed his naked cock to the gentle caresses of the cool breeze, sending his desire a notch higher. While the cloth of his skirt flapped on his flesh, he imagined that it was Paris’ dark curls instead. Soon his breath came in hitches as his gradually engorged cock became more sensitive.

Paris saw the protruded appendage, lewdly pointing in his direction. It was time.

He did not go to his new master immediately, but looked around him to see if anyone was watching them. There was no avoiding that there would be voyeurs; still he wanted to know how many.

Already sweat was breaking out on his palms as he made his way as inconspicuous as possible by crawling towards Neoptolemus. His heart thundered even more madly, beating against his chest so hard that he thought he could’ve died right there from full panic attack.

The blond young man gifted him with a sinister smile and pushed his hips a little forward so that his glorious erection had flipped the skirt aside and now stood in plain view. The head bobbed slightly in excited anticipation.

“Do it now, Paris,” Neoptolemus purred.

The waves were calm tonight and the wind not too strong. The helmsman was doing all he could not to stare at the obvious scene playing in front of him. He didn’t want to let go of the right handle of the steer and go for the ‘pole’ that might rise full mast if he didn’t control himself. He could not afford any accident and bring almost two hundred men down the watery grave.

This was the first time Paris was about to attempt oral pleasuring. He had no idea what to do, therefore he fumbled a little. He lowered his head haltingly, half-regretting his decision. He was still fighting between doing it and running away. However, he reminded himself that it was easier to take it in his mouth than his ass.

Paris opened his mouth and took in Neoptolemus cock, working on his head at first. He swirled his tongue around and licked the slit, tasting something salty on his tongue. He didn’t like the smell of Neoptolemus crotch – it was musky and strong – and the long hairs were tickling his nose. He placed a palm on the patch of blond hair, encircling his thumb and forefinger around the root of the cock. This trick had got rid of his first two problems.

Neoptolemus gasped and moaned by the feel of wet heat around him and couldn’t stop himself from thrusting his hips forward to increase that sensation to the whole length of his cock. When Paris tried to move away, chocking on the long rod, he placed a hand on the back of the youth’s head and pushed him down. He wouldn’t let the boy off that easily.

Untrained with the art of oral pleasure, he didn’t know how to relax the muscles of his throat and his gagging reflex was making him want to throw up. Tears sprang to his eyes when he had difficulty breathing with Neoptolemus still forcing him.

Paris worked to peel the fingers from the back of his head, but having bent forward with his buttocks in the air, he had trouble in maneuverability.

“I’m coming,” the blond young man whispered in rapture and thrusting his hips forward one more time. He shot copious amount of essence into the unwilling waiting mouth. He didn’t let go of his hand instantly because he wanted Paris to swallow all of his seeds. Only when he was satisfied did he let go of the boy.

Paris was so disgusted by the bitter-salty taste in his mouth that he leaned over the side of the railing and started throwing up. He emptied his dinner as well into the churning black water. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and sat down on the deck, panting. His body trembled by the unpleasant shock he had just received. Neoptolemus was no where in sight so he was all alone.

What had just transpired was witnessed by a young slave who didn’t sleep immediately. He shook his head in sympathy. There was nothing anyone could do for the poor youth; Paris would have to deal with this on his own.

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