No Mercy *revised*
folder
S through Z › Troy
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
6,004
Reviews:
30
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Troy
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
6,004
Reviews:
30
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Troy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
No Mercy - 1
NO MERCY
AUTHOR: Ilya (www.angelfire.com/ego/mindkrime)
RATING: NC-17 for violence, blood and graphic non-con.
PAIRING: Achilles/Hector in the movie "Troy" (with flashback of Achilles/Patroclus).
SUMMARY: Hector fell in the duel with Achilles, but he did not die.
WARNING: This story contains graphic violence, esp. of male abusing another male, as well as nudity, male sex, ANGST and RAPE. If it's not your thing, well, I am sorry you would miss all the fun!
ARCHIVE: You really want this? Take it, it's yours (but let me know would be cool).
A/N: On the rape and abuses, I DO NOT encourage it in real life. I’m writing this fantasy as a testimony of Achilles’ fatal attraction. I hope you will enjoy and voice your thought. Any personal comments can be sent to handcuffed_4u at yahoo.
I’m not a native English speaker, thus the legion of betae mentioned below. If there’re mistakes, please advise. I used some portion from The Iliad, which you probably recognize. Hector’s retort to the Spartans, ‘Do not speak to me as if I am a feeble boy or a woman.’ in Chapter 3 belonged to Homer:
BETA’ED by: Chapter 1-3 by Laura and Liz, Louie, and Voyeurer. Test-read by Nina. Also, thanks to Aris who encouraged on the darker side. Thank you all, girls, for your time and attentions. You rock.
BETA Welcomed: If you’d like to give this little fic a beta, write to me and we’ll set up an interview. The only benefit offered is a chance to read the story in its original versions (with errors), lol.
APPRECIATION: To the readers and reviewers. You made it worth writing.
= = =
The last thing he remembered was Achilles’ spear ramming itself into his flesh.
Opening his eyes, Hector could not see where he was. Unfamiliar diess ess and throbbing pain on his left side greeted him like Zeus' thunder, drawing a groan from his throat. Nauseated and hurt, he tried his hardest to rise, to sit, but failed. The pain was overwhelming, deafening his hearing, clouding his sight. His surroundings were dim and cluttered. Groaning and angry, he pushed up again, using his right arm to support himself, fighting the pain that threatened to knock him down. After a moment of struggle, he was able to push himself to a sitting position. He held himself still, waiting for the ache in his head to subside.
Hector looked again, and saw a shield with the symbol of the sun surrounded by sixteen rays resting on the pole.
Greek tent.
His instincts jolted him to his feet, and by swaying he heard a clank of chains. Immediately looking down, he was horrified at the sight—he was naked, and his body was his body was covered in black and blue bruises. There were shackles around his ankles, like those wore by slaves. Only one thought came to his mind: he had lost.
A body leaned out of the dark shadow in a corner, and there came a voice full of scorn and contempt, with an intense gaze shining on the dark, ghostly face.
"Hector."
The prince of Troy found himself face to face with the Greek —Achilles.
Hector fixed his gaze upon Achilles as Achilles upon him. How could he be still alive, Hector frowned, with bandages wrapping around his shoulder and torso. He looked down at the wounds, and the movement caused another sharp pain in his head.
"I thrust my sword into your body and watched your blood fall upon the Trojan ground. I had my men strip you bare and tear your clothes in front of your people, before they beat and kicked you. That was not enough, because you deserved to die and be eaten by dogs and vultures for the pain you have caused me."
Hector was enraged and he gaze hardened as he stared at Achilles.
"I thought he was you, but if my words meant nothing, then spare me your humiliation and end my life for I did not end that of your cousin's with disrespect."
As fast as the wind, Achilles was on him, seizing his neck in an iron grip. The warrior spoke with suppressed rage, yet the resentment of his words was still as sharp as the blade.
"Do not speak of my cousin, you fool. Your mouth is unworthy of his name."
Hector gripped Achilles' wrist. "Then let us fight again or kill me." He met Achilles' stare with valiance.
Achilles answered with a hard punch into Hector's wound, making the man double over and vomit blood.
"Only after you have suffered all that Patroclus had!" Achilles roared.
Achilles gripped Hector's shoulder, spun him around and hit him with a deadly blow, sending Hector into to the ground, his face stinging and blood sliding from his lips. The Prince, already dizzy and faint from the loss of blood and now from Achilles’ blow as well, could not defend himself when Achilles again reached for him.
Achilles gripped his throat, and squeezed the strong neck in his two hands. Tightened. And tightened. The Greek felt blood in his eyes and veins and thunder roaring in his mind. HECTOR. With all the strength that remained in him, Hector tried to seize Achilles hands when Achilles tightened his clutch. It took the wind of out of the Trojan, who was struggling hard that the struggle opened the wound on his shoulder, making it bleed again.
Achilles clutched the long, tender throat until he could feel the bone of Hector's neck, and the pulse of Hector's life fighting frantically, and the screaming inside Hector's head. He tightened until his hands trembled and strained from the squeeze. The hands around his wrists began to loosen, and then they fell on the wounded man's side with a thud.
As if being awoken by the sound, Achilles suddenly dropped the body. Hector fell back to the ground. On the pale throat, Achilles saw thick prints of his fingers, bruising the skin to purple dark. He looked down on his chest, seeing the red fluid seep from the gash left by Hector. It was the same place where Hector had earlier scratched him through the armour with his sword. Achilles’ wrists were also bruised
And the dog still lived. The prince now lay motionless, which Achilles did not care if he was breathing or not. The man gnashed his teeth and fled from his tent. He dropped on his knees and a scream was torn from his throat like that of a wounded animal.
+
AUTHOR: Ilya (www.angelfire.com/ego/mindkrime)
RATING: NC-17 for violence, blood and graphic non-con.
PAIRING: Achilles/Hector in the movie "Troy" (with flashback of Achilles/Patroclus).
SUMMARY: Hector fell in the duel with Achilles, but he did not die.
WARNING: This story contains graphic violence, esp. of male abusing another male, as well as nudity, male sex, ANGST and RAPE. If it's not your thing, well, I am sorry you would miss all the fun!
ARCHIVE: You really want this? Take it, it's yours (but let me know would be cool).
A/N: On the rape and abuses, I DO NOT encourage it in real life. I’m writing this fantasy as a testimony of Achilles’ fatal attraction. I hope you will enjoy and voice your thought. Any personal comments can be sent to handcuffed_4u at yahoo.
I’m not a native English speaker, thus the legion of betae mentioned below. If there’re mistakes, please advise. I used some portion from The Iliad, which you probably recognize. Hector’s retort to the Spartans, ‘Do not speak to me as if I am a feeble boy or a woman.’ in Chapter 3 belonged to Homer:
BETA’ED by: Chapter 1-3 by Laura and Liz, Louie, and Voyeurer. Test-read by Nina. Also, thanks to Aris who encouraged on the darker side. Thank you all, girls, for your time and attentions. You rock.
BETA Welcomed: If you’d like to give this little fic a beta, write to me and we’ll set up an interview. The only benefit offered is a chance to read the story in its original versions (with errors), lol.
APPRECIATION: To the readers and reviewers. You made it worth writing.
= = =
The last thing he remembered was Achilles’ spear ramming itself into his flesh.
Opening his eyes, Hector could not see where he was. Unfamiliar diess ess and throbbing pain on his left side greeted him like Zeus' thunder, drawing a groan from his throat. Nauseated and hurt, he tried his hardest to rise, to sit, but failed. The pain was overwhelming, deafening his hearing, clouding his sight. His surroundings were dim and cluttered. Groaning and angry, he pushed up again, using his right arm to support himself, fighting the pain that threatened to knock him down. After a moment of struggle, he was able to push himself to a sitting position. He held himself still, waiting for the ache in his head to subside.
Hector looked again, and saw a shield with the symbol of the sun surrounded by sixteen rays resting on the pole.
Greek tent.
His instincts jolted him to his feet, and by swaying he heard a clank of chains. Immediately looking down, he was horrified at the sight—he was naked, and his body was his body was covered in black and blue bruises. There were shackles around his ankles, like those wore by slaves. Only one thought came to his mind: he had lost.
A body leaned out of the dark shadow in a corner, and there came a voice full of scorn and contempt, with an intense gaze shining on the dark, ghostly face.
"Hector."
The prince of Troy found himself face to face with the Greek —Achilles.
Hector fixed his gaze upon Achilles as Achilles upon him. How could he be still alive, Hector frowned, with bandages wrapping around his shoulder and torso. He looked down at the wounds, and the movement caused another sharp pain in his head.
"I thrust my sword into your body and watched your blood fall upon the Trojan ground. I had my men strip you bare and tear your clothes in front of your people, before they beat and kicked you. That was not enough, because you deserved to die and be eaten by dogs and vultures for the pain you have caused me."
Hector was enraged and he gaze hardened as he stared at Achilles.
"I thought he was you, but if my words meant nothing, then spare me your humiliation and end my life for I did not end that of your cousin's with disrespect."
As fast as the wind, Achilles was on him, seizing his neck in an iron grip. The warrior spoke with suppressed rage, yet the resentment of his words was still as sharp as the blade.
"Do not speak of my cousin, you fool. Your mouth is unworthy of his name."
Hector gripped Achilles' wrist. "Then let us fight again or kill me." He met Achilles' stare with valiance.
Achilles answered with a hard punch into Hector's wound, making the man double over and vomit blood.
"Only after you have suffered all that Patroclus had!" Achilles roared.
Achilles gripped Hector's shoulder, spun him around and hit him with a deadly blow, sending Hector into to the ground, his face stinging and blood sliding from his lips. The Prince, already dizzy and faint from the loss of blood and now from Achilles’ blow as well, could not defend himself when Achilles again reached for him.
Achilles gripped his throat, and squeezed the strong neck in his two hands. Tightened. And tightened. The Greek felt blood in his eyes and veins and thunder roaring in his mind. HECTOR. With all the strength that remained in him, Hector tried to seize Achilles hands when Achilles tightened his clutch. It took the wind of out of the Trojan, who was struggling hard that the struggle opened the wound on his shoulder, making it bleed again.
Achilles clutched the long, tender throat until he could feel the bone of Hector's neck, and the pulse of Hector's life fighting frantically, and the screaming inside Hector's head. He tightened until his hands trembled and strained from the squeeze. The hands around his wrists began to loosen, and then they fell on the wounded man's side with a thud.
As if being awoken by the sound, Achilles suddenly dropped the body. Hector fell back to the ground. On the pale throat, Achilles saw thick prints of his fingers, bruising the skin to purple dark. He looked down on his chest, seeing the red fluid seep from the gash left by Hector. It was the same place where Hector had earlier scratched him through the armour with his sword. Achilles’ wrists were also bruised
And the dog still lived. The prince now lay motionless, which Achilles did not care if he was breathing or not. The man gnashed his teeth and fled from his tent. He dropped on his knees and a scream was torn from his throat like that of a wounded animal.
+