Enemy At The Gates
by Trust No One
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Enemy At The Gates Part II
Author: Trust No One Rating: PG-13 to NC17, this part NC-17 Pairings: Achilles/Hector, Achilles/Patroklus (implied Hector/Andromache, Achilles/Briseis) Disclaimer: Homer’s and Warner Bros’. Summary: Hector arrives at the Greek camp for negotiations. Achilles proposes an unusual bargain.
Beta by Montmorency
Part II
The tent flap opened to reveal Eudorus, wearing a stiff expression, showing the Trojan prince inside. Had it not been for the most irritating anticipation that sent tingles down his spine and made him feel like a fumbling adolescent, Achilles would have noticed and been amused by his trusted comrade’s rigid manner. But he found himself quite unable to remove his eyes from the dark-haired man who entered the tent. Hector wore full battle-dress but no helmet to hide his face this time and the sight of the handsome face, pleased Achilles no end. He had pictured many images of Hector, but reality proved far more rewarding.
Achilles trained his features into casual indifference as the Trojan prince approached. In one glance, the two men summed each other up and no words were spoken for a moment longer than necessary.
‘Prince Hector,’ Achilles said solemnly, nodding his head imperceptibly. Hector returned his salute yet he did not speak a word.
‘Eudorus will see that your companions are offered food and wine,’ Achilles offered by way of introduction.
‘Are you expecting such lengthy negotiations that my men will get hungry?’ Hector asked in a dispassionate tone.
‘That depends,’ Achilles replied. Then he stopped, hesitating.
‘On the outcome of the negotiations?’
Achilles shook his head and looked Hector in the eye. ‘There will be no negotiations.’
Hector frowned and momentary anger crossed his features. But he quickly mastered himself and said in a restrained tone, ‘Then why am I here? And where is Briseis?’
‘Briseis is no longer mine to bargain with,’ Achilles replied slowly. He had decided that honesty was the best approach, especially since to gain what little trust Hector would be willing to give was now proving to be twice as hard as when the girl was in his possession.
‘What do you mean?’ Hector’s tone was low and ominous; without too much effort, Achilles could picture how terrible this man’s wrath would be, when unleashed.
‘Agamemnon claimed her as his share of the spoils.’ Achilles uttered the name with such abhorrence that it was as if it were cursed.
‘When did this happen?’ The prince seemed unexpectedly patient, his dark eyes attentive and purposeful.
‘Last night, after your messengers departed.’
Hector let out a harsh breath, shaking his head. ‘Then you lied when you claimed to be the one who has the appropriate authority to negotiate. I should bargain with Agamemnon,’ Hector said flatly and made a move to leave.
Bewildered, Achilles stared at the Trojan. He had expected the prince to fly into a rage and accuse him of deceit. But he was beginning to realise that Hector, in addition to being wise enough not to spark a fight, was in fact glad that he could get out of there. Out and away from him. Good, Achilles thought. The Trojan must have felt it as well.
‘Agamemnon will not bargain with you. You know that,’ Achilles said quickly. It was crucial that Hector listen to him now. ‘He will not fail to take an opportunity to enslave Troy’s defender.’
The Trojan hesitated for the briefest of moments.
‘Hear me out,’ Achilles bid him.
‘And why would I want to do that?’ Hector’s eyes flickered with rage that he did not bother to conceal this time. ‘You brought me here under false pretences yet you have nothing to offer.’
‘I can offer what you want most,’ Achilles teased.
‘You have nothing I want,’ Hector spat.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ Achilles countered.
Hector started towards the exit once more. ‘I’m wasting my time here,’ he said in disgust.
Quickly, Achilles offered: ‘I can end this war if I so choose.’
Hector stopped short of lifting the tent flap. He turned halfway towards Achilles but did not glance in his direction.
‘It would be interesting to hear how exactly you are planning to do that,’ he said ironically, almost as an afterthought.
‘Very well,’ Achilles said and walked lazily to the back of his tent, where a small table had been laid with a bowl of fruit and a pitcher of wine. He filled two cups and offered one to Hector. The prince made no move to take it, glaring at Achilles expectantly.
‘I will bargain with Agamemnon for Briseis myself,’ Achilles began. ‘Most likely, he will refuse to give her back. And if I know him at all, he will return her once he has already spoiled her.’ He paused long enough to search Hector’s face for any sign that these words had shaken him, but finding none, he resumed.
‘An insult like that is reason enough for my Myrmidons and me to leave this war. And once I am gone, I can guarantee you that no Greek would want to linger at the gates of your city. I will return Briseis to you and you get rid of the Greeks at the same time. What say you?’
Hector considered for a moment. ‘And what do you gain of it? Your chance at immortality will be spent. You will return home with none of the glory you came here for. Should I believe what you are saying now or what you said yesterday at the temple?’
‘There will be other wars, of that I am certain,’ Achilles replied softly, drawing near Hector who was becoming visibly uneasy with the Greek’s proximity. ‘But there will not be another chance like this for you.’
‘What do you want in return?’ Hector asked hoarsely . ‘Do you need to ask?’
Hector glanced away. His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched in a way that Achilles found most enticing and he had to clasp his hands around the wine goblet to prevent himself from seizing the man in front of him.
‘If you wish to hear it, I will tell you,’ Achilles said simply. ‘I want you, for tonight. And I swear to you by the gods that I will end this war.’
Hector let go of the breath he had been unconsciously holding, but there was no relief apparent in his features. ‘I saw what you thought of the gods earlier today when you desecrated Apollo’s statue,’ he replied.
‘Do you even need to think about it?’ Achilles teased, ignoring Hector’s words. ‘Ending the war, your family safe, your city untouched. In exchange for one night?’
‘I don’t need to think about it,’ Hector snapped, ‘but I would tell you that you think me a fool if you believe I will not see through this ruse.’
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘I don’t believe that you would forsake your glory and immortality for something as mundane as the pleasures of the flesh. Or the desire to humiliate me.’ Hector’s remark was punctuated with unconcealed mistrust.
Achilles turned and padded to the back of the tent, setting down Hector’s untouched drink. He felt the Trojan’s gaze pierce the back of his head and he enjoyed keeping Hector guessing for a moment longer before he said, ‘Ah, but you see, here you are wrong. I do not wish to humiliate you, prince. I merely desire to possess you. And while this might seem abhorrent to you, as it is quite obvious from the way you look at me, I can assure you that it will not be an entirely displeasing experience. I will not pretend that you understand the reasons why I choose to oppose Agamemnon and his blind lust for all that glitters. But I do realize that if I do this now, I would be spared the unseemly title of a tyrant’s mercenary. There will be other chances for me to prove my worth and frankly, if there are no more, I care too little.’
Hector was silent for a moment and when he spoke, his tone was as detached as if he was concluding a minor trade treaty with an insignificant outpost city.
‘I’ll tell you what I believe: I believe that you want Briseis back anyway. Agamemnon insulted you by taking her, but I think that there is more to it than you are letting on. Whatever went on between you and Agamemnon has clearly shown you that the immortality you came here for would be spoiled by his overshadowing you. So if you want to have your way that badly, you will release Briseis back to us and leave these shores forever, not only threaten Agamemnon with it. I don’t suspect the Greeks will last very long after you’ve left, but that will be my job.’
Achilles grinned. ‘You’re awfully sure of yourself, Hector.’
‘You’re the one who’s awfully sure that the Greeks will not find their will to fight if you leave,’ Hector retorted.
‘So you’re effectively saying that between the two of us, we will make sure that this war grinds to an untimely end.’
Hector didn’t have to say anything for Achilles to understand the strange look, of suspicion mingled with pity and disdain, in his eyes. Was it possible that the prince pitied his opponent’s aimless life, who had neither strong loyalty enough to keep him faithful to a ruler nor to his own heart and purpose? It incensed Achilles and he was about to argue, but he managed to control himself in the end. He was too close to achieving his heart’s desire.
This was not a war, but a blatant barter of flesh, Hector’s entire manner seemed to say, and for a moment, Achilles fully expected Hector to rebel at the thought and turn his back and leave. Yet when Hector hesitated, Achilles knew that he would not back out.
‘So, Hector,’ Achilles whispered seductively, ‘what will it be?’
Hector clenched his fists, no doubt steeling himself for a decision that Achilles was very sure that he had never had to make before in his life.
‘Let’s be done with it, then,’ Hector said determinedly, turning to face the man who would learn his most intimate secrets in the next few hours.
Achilles downed his cup of wine in one sip and tossed it aside. He launched himself at Hector like a lion might do to its prey, all but tearing his cloak away and working the clasps of his armour loose with expert fingers.
Achilles dug his fingers brutally in Hector’s hair. The beads carefully holding the prince’s hair in place were sent flying in all directions, and a hiss of pain left Hector’s lips involuntarily. Achilles saw the man recoil, a trace of uncertainty and apprehension in his eyes, and he liked it immensely. But he was not prepared to offer reassurance against the violence that he felt compelled to inflict on Hector if only to satiate the lust that consumed him.
‘I want you never to forget this,’ he breathed against Hector’s ear, taking the lobe into his mouth and suckling at it as if it were his lifeblood. Then suddenly, his teeth sank into the tender flesh, eliciting a roar from Hector who wasted no time shoving him aside. Achilles tasted the Trojan’s blood in his mouth and smiled. He loved to see Hector enraged, ready to strike him, yet knowing that he could not.
‘Don’t do that again,’ Hector warned crossly. He stepped backwards and away from Achilles and the two men regarded each other guardedly.
‘But I want to do this, you have no idea how much I want to. And I want you to do just the same,’ Achilles whispered, closing the distance between them again, until their bodies stood flush against each other. Hector did not flinch and because they were of the same height, their lips almost touched. Achilles leaned forward, just barely, swiftly tracing the contour of Hector’s lips with his tongue, then captured them with his teeth, gently grinding. The Trojan’s lips were cold like a statue’s and as Achilles’ hand moved to grip the back of Hector’s neck, he realised that the prince wasn’t even sweating. This aloof composure both astounded and infuriated Achilles. Instantly, his right hand wove into Hector’s hair and pressed their lips together in a rough, claiming kiss while the left dug into Hector’s buttock as if seeking to tear the flesh apart.
Once again, Hector pushed Achilles away and this time more brutally.
‘I told you not to do that again,’ he snarled and in spite of his ominous tone, Achilles could not help but feel a surge of exhilaration jolt through his body.
‘You want to play rough?’ Hector said aggressively. ‘Fine with me.’
In one fluid move and before Achilles could voice either protest or delight, Hector grabbed him by the front of his tunic and ripped it open. His eyes were two pools of unreadable darkness as he did the same to Achilles’ kilt until the Greek stood in front of him wearing nothing but a grin that was widening by the second.
It was Hector’s turn to lace his fingers into Achilles’ hair and Achilles complied, wincing at the pain, no less incited by the brutal yet entirely gratifying treatment.
‘You want to treat me like a common whore,’ Hector grated twisting his fist into Achilles’ hair viciously and effectively wrenching him around, ‘but you forget. You are the whore, Greek. You sold yourself into a mercenary life and now you’re ready to forsake it just so you can obey a whim of your flesh. So allow me return the favour,’ he said with sarcastic tenderness.
Achilles felt Hector’s hot breath against his cheek. Hector’s words stung, humiliating but true, and yet the response of his body, an arousal that was fast becoming painful, prevented him from reacting with the violence that his conscious mind reasoned to be the apt rejoinder to this degradation.
‘On your knees!’ Hector ordered.
Achilles hesitated.
‘Now!’ Hector barked, but his fingers did not tug at Achilles’ hair this time. The message was clear: Achilles could choose to comply or he could refuse.
Before Achilles sank to his knees, he spun around and cast a glance at Hector, at the smouldering, feral eyes, so restrained only moments before. And Achilles wondered if Hector was indeed enjoying this game, or if it came so naturally to him that he didn’t even think of it as such.
‘Don’t look at me!’ Hector snapped as Achilles’ knees met the sand.
His eyes lowered and his blood racing eagerly, Achilles brought his arms up to the fastening of Hector’s kilt, but he was cut short yet again.
‘Do not dare to touch me unbidden!’
It occurred to Achilles that if this continued for much longer, he would attack the Trojan and take him by force, tie him up if he must, if only to relieve the throbbing in his loins. But the more he thought about it, the more he craved to let the game continue, painful and tantalizing as it was, if only to see the height that he could reach before he became completely undone. So he remained on his knees in front of his adversary, naked and silent.
‘Now,’ Hector said, and his calm tone reminded Achilles of a patient tutor, ‘tell me what you want.’
Achilles looked up, puzzled. Was the game over? Anger bubbled up in him at once. Had Hector humiliated him up to this point, only to leave him hanging like that?
‘I said “don’t look at me”, Achilles!’ Hector hissed. ‘What do I have to do to make you obey? Hurt you?’
Achilles recognized this as being the most decadent thing that he had done in his whole life and he realized that if nothing else came of that night, it would still be something that he would never forgot.
‘Say it!’ Hector’s voice was rough and commanding again. ‘Tell me what you want.’
‘I want..’ Achilles began, but his throat failed to work and he became angered at himself because he realized the power that Hector’s twisted game held over him.
‘Yes?’ Hector said expectantly, immobile like a statue. Not even if his tone had been teasing would that simple utterance have been so inciting.
‘I want you, Hector!’ Achilles said hoarsely.
‘Do not speak my name!’ came the next command and Achilles wasn’t even surprised at his own swift reaction when he complied.
‘I want you!’
‘Come now, Achilles. Surely you can do better than that? You want me to do what?’
‘Damn you to Hades,’ Achilles panted, taking great care not to look up again or to say Hector’s name, ‘I want you to let me touch you!’
Clearly, Hector had expected this reaction, because Achilles heard him laugh softly.
‘Well,’ his voice returned to a whisper, ‘finally!’ He paused for a moment. ‘You may touch me.’
Gratefully, Achilles arms shot up, his fingers travelling the length of Hector’s legs, almost shaking, exploring every muscle, becoming acquainted with every inch of the craved flesh. He rid Hector of his kilt, forcing himself not to grin in satisfaction. Hector was proving to be every inch the man that Achilles had imagined, in more ways than one. His stance was relaxed and unperturbed and it occurred to Achilles that the Trojan cared very little and indeed wasn’t tense or excited at all by the humiliation he had just inflicted.
Achilles wished he could look up and search Hector’s eyes. A man could slow his breath and keep his body under the strictest control, but the eyes never lied. If Hector were remotely aroused, it would show in his eyes. But Achilles had been forbidden to do that and the thought of compliance sent another inexplicably powerful stab of desire through his groin.
‘Make me want you,’ Hector growled as Achilles rubbed him, gently cupping him. Then his fist closed around the length of Hector’s member, and at the same time the Greek tilted his head up to take him in his mouth. He teased the thickening vein with his tongue, he licked and lapped several times and then, suddenly, took him whole into his mouth, causing an instantaneous and most welcome reaction. Achilles would have smiled had he not been in danger of choking himself. Hector’s involuntary intake of breath gave away the surprise the prince experienced at his own body’s response.
For the first time in a long while, Achilles thought he might reach completion straight away, without even needing to touch himself. He rarely did to other men what he was doing to Hector now, and indeed he never allowed himself to be taken or indeed treated with remotely less deference than he thought he deserved. But, beyond the desire that had awakened in him now, Achilles realized just how much that he needed to do this, for his own pleasure even more than for Hector’s. He continued to suckle gently, all the while stealing glances at Hector. He was sure that the Trojan could feel it from the position in which Achilles’ head tilted, but whether he chose to say nothing or had forgotten about it in the whirlwind of sensation, Achilles could not tell.
Hector cast his head back and he breathed in heavy puffs and by the way he bit his lips, trying to stifle his moans, Achilles guessed that he was losing the battle with his desires. So he increased his ministrations, using his encircling fingers to stroke up and down Hector’s arousal in rhythm with his mouth.
Suddenly, Hector gripped Achilles by the shoulders and stilled him. Achilles smiled inwardly, convinced that he had brought Hector off, and thinking how easy it had been, after all. But he was surprised, when Hector controlled himself and pulled him up, looking him dead in the eye.
‘Are you ready for me?’ Hector demanded, voice husky with excitement, his lips open and swollen from biting back on his desire.
Achilles grinned and without further invitation, he led Hector to his disarrayed bed. He dipped his whole hand in a bowl of olive oil and without a word, he slicked Hector’s awaiting member. Almost as an afterthought, or because he refused to reveal the edginess behind his enthusiasm, Achilles lowered his head to Hector’s stomach, circling his navel with his tongue, then licking all the way up to his neck and softly biting the sinew at the base of the neck. He felt Hector shuddering in anticipation, but before he could claim Hector’s mouth with a kiss, the prince’s patience ebbed and he grabbed Achilles’ hips roughly, swinging him around, pushing both of them to their knees and positioning himself above him. Achilles found himself tightening his muscles involuntarily, both in tension and delight, at what he expected to be a swift and rather rough invasion. But he was again proved wrong. Hector rubbed his oiled length slowly along the cleft of Achilles’ buttocks and with every move, sent Achilles into a frenzy of torturous, exquisite waiting.
‘Tell me how much you want it!’ Hector murmured into Achilles ear.
‘I want it… like I never wanted anything in my whole life,’ Achilles managed to string the words together without faltering and he realized that at that moment, it was probably true.
Mercifully, Hector eased himself gently inside and Achilles opened for him, wanting all of him, all of it, now. Then, with a long thrust, Hector buried himself all the way into Achilles and he remained there for a long moment, breathing hard. Achilles felt the pulsing member fill him all the way, sending chills through his entire body, making him shiver uncontrollably even if the surface of his skin was aflame. The pain as Achilles’ tender tissues stretched open for the first time was nothing short of delicious and he was surprised at Hector’s kindness, who had allowed him enough time to get used to the sensation before he started move slowly in and out.
Soon, Achilles’ blood was nearing a boiling point and his entire perception narrowed to the sweet spot deep inside him that had been hit from the first thrust. By now, Hector was driving himself inside Achilles more brutally, pulling out almost entirely and plunging back. A deep grunt left his lips each time and Achilles was only aware of it because he himself was beyond voicing what he felt. He knew that the end would crash upon him any minute, and his mind refused to handle anything else that was thrown at it. He met Hector’s gradually increasing slams and the more violent they became, the more his pleasure was heightened.
The wave Achilles rode was unlike he had ever experienced in his recent memory and the way Hector stimulated his sweet spot, grinding his hips around and shuddering in his own private jaunt of pleasure rendered Achilles incapable of delaying his release. A moment before he let go, Achilles felt inexplicable sorrow at the knowledge that this sensation would be gone, but the thought, along with his name and everything else that mattered, was forgotten when his whole being splintered before he even had a chance to touch himself. A moment later, Hector joined him, with a mighty shudder, clamping his teeth together to stifle the scream that would no doubt have brought the entire Greek army barging inside.
When consciousness returned, Achilles saw that they remained frozen in much the same position, Hector still grasping fast onto his hips, jerking reflexively as waves of aftershock still washed over him, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself. He was still half-aroused when he pulled out, with infinite care, as if not to chafe and damage Achilles too badly. An involuntary gasp left Achilles when they became parted. It was then that he realized that Hector had only touched him minimally, yet he had caused a reaction not akin to anything that Achilles had ever known before. He had not allowed himself to be penetrated before, yet in the aftermath of their animalistic coupling, Achilles could deny neither the bittersweet turn that things had taken nor the wild, improbable assortment of sensations that swelled within him.
Blinking hard, Achilles looked around to find that Hector had left the bed and was busy cleaning himself up, no sign of fatigue or languor in his stance.
‘My lord,’ came Eudorus’ concerned, apologetic voice, sounding very close as it came from the other side of the tent flap. Achilles smiled at the thought of his old friend not knowing what to make of the suppressed grunts and the ensuing silence. But Eudorus was no fool and he had probably surmised that his captain was not in mortal danger.
‘Go to sleep, Eudorus,’ Achilles said tiredly, ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ came the reply, ‘but you should know, your cousin is waiting to speak to you out here.’
With a deep sigh, Achilles roused himself to a sitting position and pulled a discarded cloak around himself. Without a word or a glance in Hector’s direction, he stood up and, a little more painfully than he had expected, he stepped outside the sanctuary of his tent.
The light was poor but enough to discern Patroklus’ upright and very stiff shape, standing a few feet away from the tent. It was quite clear that Patroklus had expected to be showed inside and but he was surprised when he saw Achilles emerge instead. The young man wore a dull, dogged expression on his face but as he got a better look at his cousin, Patroklus’ eyes widened and his expression turned to one of incredulous hurt.
‘What is it, Patroklus? Can this not wait until morning?’ Achilles said, privately wishing that he did not have to deal with his cousin’s feelings. ‘I’m really too tired right now.’
‘Yes, now that I’ve seen it with my own eyes, it can wait for all eternity,’ Patroklus replied, puckering his lips tightly but not masterfully enough to prevent his chin from trembling slightly. It told Achilles everything he needed to know.
‘Patroklus…’ he said gently, suddenly awake and alert.
‘What?’ Patroklus burst out, drawing concerned glances from the Myrmidons sitting two tents away. ‘You and Hector are negotiating, aren’t you?’ he spat, anger plain in his eyes. ‘Are you fucking him, Achilles? Or is he fucking you?’
‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that!’ Achilles shot back, making a mighty effort of will not to wrap his hand around his cousin’s neck and snap it like a straw.
‘Are you denying it?’ Patroklus retorted with seemingly newfound courage. ‘You’re wearing his cloak,’ the young man snorted, but it came out like a frustrated pant.
Achilles realized that he had been negligent enough to collect the first garment that lay discarded on the floor, and that had been Hector’s. Patroklus’ words had hit him like a slap in the face. His cousin never called him by his name except when he was addressing him formally. Besides, the boy had uttered the words loud enough for anyone in range to hear and both the Myrmidons and Hector’s Trojan guards, sitting at a safe distance, looked away in shame at the youngster’s irreverent tone.
‘I don’t have anything to explain to you,’ Achilles ground out, his tone turning ominous, ‘and besides, what gives you the right to question whom I choose to share my bed with?’
Patroklus’ composure crumbled and his eyes filled with tears.
‘But he’s the enemy,’ the words sounded pathetic and Achilles guessed their unspoken meaning immediately.
‘There are many kinds of enemies, Patroklus,’ Achilles said, his blazing eyes still locked onto his cousin’s.
‘Don’t you preach to me! Not ever again!’ Patroklus shouted. Abruptly, he spun around, and, muffling sobs that were audible to all the men present, he broke into a run. Achilles glared at the retreating back, but he knew he must maintain composure in front of the men, so he let the boy go. Patroklus was indeed too young to understand how foolish his elders could be. Nevertheless, he would have to deal with Patroklus in the morning. Suddenly, everything seemed so much more complicated.
But for now, he had more pressing business to attend. Achilles turned on his heel and walked back inside the tent. When he entered, Hector stood there, naked and glorious, and in the half-light, Achilles drank in the monumental sight before him and knew in that instant that his greed could never be put to rest.
~~
The night was uncannily still and Andromache did not have to strain her ears to hear the sounds of the tranquil sea in the distance. She stood outside on the balcony, her son long since asleep. Her eyes searched a point below the horizon, a dip in the landscape where she knew the beach was - and the Greek camp.
Hector was there and by the looks of it, he was not going to return tonight. Suddenly, she shuddered as a gust of cold wind, unexpected at that time of year, floated past her, chilling her to the marrow. She hugged her arms around herself and retreated to her bedroom. In spite of being bone tired, Andromache found herself unable to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, the empty space on the bed gaped like a dark hole which sought to devour her, to rob her of vigour and feeling. |