Enemy At The Gates
by Trust No One
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Enemy At The Gates Part III
Author: Trust No One Rating: PG-13 to NC-17, this part NC-17 (mild bondage) Pairings: Achilles/Hector, Achilles/Patroklus (implied Hector/Andromache, Achilles/Briseis) Disclaimer: Homer’s and Warner Bros’. Summary: Hector looks back on the night spent with Achilles and muses on the unexpected bond they shared.
Beta by Montmorency
Part III
Hector tore at his armour, racing towards the bathing chamber. Such was his haste that he abandoned his clothes along the way to be picked up by servants. He immersed his sore and tired body in the steaming water, grateful that no one was around to bear witness to the Prince of Troy hissing from pain. There was a little time until the early morning council with the other generals and his father, so he felt compelled to rinse the scent of Achilles – and their deeds – from his skin.
He usually bathed with Andromache, taking great pleasure in her company, a ritual they had faithfully followed since the early days of their marriage. But now, Hector was thankful because she could not see the marks on his body that were becoming blatantly visible in the growing daylight.
Andromache was still asleep when Hector had looked in on her and their son upon his return. Her exhaustion showed, even in sleep, and Hector had known that she must have waited up for him until she had collapsed from fatigue: she had the ears of a young mother, alert at the slightest noise, yet she had not stirred when Hector had tiptoed in and out of their bedroom, silent as a cat. A pang of guilt had clawed at his heart seeing her thus tormented.
On impulse, he seized a washcloth and proceeded to rub his skin feverishly, scraping the already taxed tissues almost raw, as if the traces of his night spent with Achilles could be erased in that way and whatever had passed between them would be forgotten. But he knew it to be an impossible task. With a frustrated groan, he cast the cloth aside and immersed himself in water, seeking to cleanse his thoughts and banish the image that persisted, that refused to be erased from his mind’s eye.
Hector remembered Achilles’ face when he had entered the tent, all flushed and his body still tense from the exchange with his cousin.
‘Trouble outside?’ Hector’s tone was serious.
‘Nothing that I cannot deal with,’ Achilles replied tersely.
‘I heard harsh words,’ Hector continued.
‘Nothing that affects…us,’ Achilles said, pausing a little before the final word.
‘Us?’ sarcasm dripped from Hector’s voice.
‘Nothing that affects this night, I meant,’ Achilles shot back almost in anger at his own slip.
To change the subject, Achilles picked up a bunch of grapes and bit into one, sucking its contents suggestively, aware that Hector was watching him. Still sucking the fruit, Achilles came closer to Hector. He pulled Hector close with one arm, in a gesture of abandon, and smiled when Hector tensed. Very gently, Achilles planted a kiss in the corner of Hector’s mouth.
‘My turn now.’
The whisper might have been sweet had it not been for the steely glint in Achilles’ eyes. Hector’s back muscles bunched and released while Achilles ran his fingers up and down his spine, and the twitch mutated into a shiver. Hector found himself backed away by an advancing Achilles until he came to a halt against the pole which supported the tent.
‘Since you wouldn’t let me touch you earlier, I’ll touch you now, for last time as well,’ Achilles purred. ‘And this time, you won’t push me away.’
Gently, in unison with his voice, Achilles reached around Hector, and produced a length of rope. Hector’s reaction was immediate.
‘No,’ he growled, ‘I will not be rendered helpless in the middle of the Greek camp.’
‘I am not asking you to trust me, even if I did moments ago,’ Achilles said in the same soothing voice, ‘but you took something from me just now. And now, to use your words, I shall return the favour.’
‘You cannot expect me to believe that it was the first time you were taken by a man?’ Hector said, although he had suspected it from Achilles’ earlier reactions.
Achilles snorted. ‘In that way – it was. I am not used to that… position, but rather…’
‘I see,’ Hector said neutrally, ‘you like to be in control.’
‘Precisely,’ Achilles agreed.
‘You don’t need your rope,’ Hector said grimly. ‘I am not running away.’
‘Believe me, Hector,’ Achilles replied, ‘you are more protected here than inside your walls.’
‘I don’t require reassurance,’ Hector retorted harshly.
‘You like to be in control also. I thought I noticed that earlier,’ Achilles grinned at the fresh memory. ‘But tonight is all about gaining and losing control, isn’t it?’
Achilles paused, waiting for Hector to protest. The voices of reason pounded in Hector’s mind, screaming for him to put a stop to this debasing treatment, yet Hector chose to ignore them and endure whatever Achilles had in mind. A bargain was a bargain after all.
‘Turn around!’ Achilles ordered, no trace of gentleness in his voice.
Reluctantly, and against all that he considered his better judgement, Hector obeyed and Achilles tied his hands behind his back rather tightly.
‘I could take you right now, prince, hard and fast, like you deserve,’ Achilles taunted. ‘But maybe a better way to let this unfold would be to try and convince your body that it enjoys my touch, no matter how much your mind loathes the idea.’
‘I think we’ve already established that,’ Hector grumbled, clearly unnerved by the direction in which things were going and not bothering to hide it.
‘Of course we have, and entirely to our satisfaction,’ Achilles continued. ‘But as far as you were concerned, your body was just reacting. Now I want it to respond, and crave my touch.’
‘You’re going too far,’ Hector muttered.
‘Too far?’ Achilles chuckled, a surprisingly boyish reaction. ‘Too fast – perhaps. That can be mended. But too far? Let me make a deal with you, Hector,’ he said languidly. ‘I’ll let you decide what too far is, before this night is over. All you have to do is say the word.’
Thus challenged, Hector realized that there was little he could do to stop Achilles from delighting in his playtime even if the meaning of the Greek’s words was clear. Nevertheless, Hector wanted Achilles to know that making him lose himself would take a lot of work, and that in the end it might well be impossible.
It proved to be more than an endurance test. The mere fact that he responded to the sexual games of his enemy did not disturb Hector. It was human and not entirely unexpected. But the fact that he had briefly entertained an idea that even now he had difficulty trying to chase away - was something that slammed Hector against the borders of guilt and sanity. He found himself wondering how different things would have been if there were no war to fight and if he had met Achilles under different circumstances. He had suppressed the budding thought by sheer mastery of his will, knowing it to be a useless extravagance.
Instead, his mind returned to the present and to the fact that he was lying naked on his back in Achilles’ bed, with his hands tied beneath him, all but at the mercy of the most feared man in the Greek army. Yet this man could not be further away from thoughts of war and battle, since he was industriously trailing his tongue, nipping and biting – sometimes harshly - all over Hector’s torso while tweaking his nipples roughly between his fingers. Hector became aware of his own catching breath and of cold sweat beading on his body, such was his effort to restrain himself, a thought which he recognized to be folly because he knew Achilles was not going to give up until proved right. And it occurred to Hector that the Greek had been right: it was all about losing and gaining control and while Hector had been taught that the mind could deny the body for the longest time, he wasn’t all that sure that he wanted to deny it anymore.
Feeling almost removed from his own body, as though surveying the scene from a point above, Hector watched Achilles’ perfect, glistening body grinding against his while his own arousal mounted fast. The Greek’s hands and tongue seemed to be everywhere, finely-tuned with an uncanny sense of laying Hector’s most vulnerable spots bare.
Abruptly, Achilles lifted himself off Hector, regarding him predatorily.
‘I want to look you in the eye when I take you,’ Achilles snarled, slapping on the oil impatiently, his eyes glazed over with lust and anticipation. Roughly, he spread Hector’s knees and, aided by the fact that the Trojan’s bound wrists caused his hips to be slightly lifted, he pushed swiftly inside the tight ring of muscles.
The pain was intense, causing Hector to grit his teeth, but he was determined not to break eye contact. It had been the Greek’s eyes that moved away first, rolling back in undeniable bliss as his hands moved to Hector’s shoulders, pressing him down into the bed of furs. Hector managed to gradually relax his taut muscles, becoming accustomed to the unfamiliar intrusion. He studied Achilles and was pleased to notice that his head was thrown back as he started rolling his hips, slamming in and out with such urgency that Hector was sure it would be over before long. He enjoyed seeing Achilles shudder uncontrollably with pleasure and he knew in that moment that his power over the Greek would not be diminished by his most detrimental position or by the bonds around his wrists. And with that knowledge, safe within the limits of his own mind, Hector felt liberated enough to relish the unexpected pangs of pleasure that reverberated through the pain. And he allowed himself to crave more.
‘Achilles, please…’ he groaned and he smiled inwardly as Achilles’ eyes dropped and focused on him, a wide grin forming on the swollen, bitten lips. Achilles wrapped his fist around Hector’s length and started to stroke in rhythm with his own plunges which were getting as brutal as if the very fate of the Trojan war depended on it.
Determinedly, Hector held back in spite of teetering dangerously close to the edge, seeing how Achilles’ face screwed up in concentration, no doubt trying to prolong his pleasure and delay his own climax. But it seemed that neither was prepared to give in first and the struggle continued for a great deal longer than Hector had initially assumed.
When Achilles’ own sweaty palms became too slippery against Hector’s hot body, he hoisted himself up. Without separating from his lover, he hooked Hector’s thighs with his arms and pulled him towards the edge the low bed, where he slid down onto his knees in the sand and drove himself inside Hector with renewed strength. In response, Hector locked his ankles behind Achilles’ back, drawing him inside and ringing his muscles around him, keeping him captive and ultimately forcing him to admit defeat. Achilles climaxed with a howl of fury and helplessness before his mind was fully prepared to concede - for a second time that night. Breathless from the sheer intensity of his restraint, Hector finally allowed himself release, his thighs all but crushing Achilles’ still-knotted body and his teeth digging cruelly into the Greek’s upper arm.
Achilles crumpled on top of him, breath heaving out of control, their bodies slick with sweat and their hearts thumping against each other. Achilles’ elbows dug into Hector’s sides, shaking to the point of collapse as he rested his forehead against Hector’s shoulder. A moment later, the Greek fumbled with the rope tying Hector’s wrists, freeing the other man’s hands.
‘You see? You wanted me this time,’ Achilles spoke against Hector’s skin, too exhausted to lift his head.
Hector turned his head aside, suppressing a smile. ‘It would seem that I did,’ he said lazily and he wished it to be a lie, even if partly so.
Because, to his utter surprise, Hector had soon afterwards found himself growing hard again, while they lay together still tangled in each other’s limbs, immersed in their own thoughts. He reasoned that his mind must have been muddled by the novelty of sensation and the absurdity of the pleasure he had felt. And he was no less horrified to admit to himself that he was pleased when Achilles demonstrated his eagerness to resume their activities. Twice more that night they had coupled, but it was slow and gentle and Hector had found that their reactions to each other were bittersweet almost tinged with despair.
‘I would be sorry not to see you again someday,’ Achilles said later, watching Hector strap on his armour and making ready to leave.
Hector had not met Achilles’ eyes as he replied. ‘I hope not.’
Even as he said it, Hector knew it to be a lie.
‘I meant, when all this is over, in times of peace…’ Achilles’ voice trailed off.
‘I cannot think about that,’ Hector replied truthfully. ‘Not yet.’
‘Briseis will be returned to you,’ Achilles said abruptly, changing the subject. And before Hector could mention the other part of their bargain, Achilles added, ‘And I will be gone from these shores in the next few days. I’ve had enough of this.’
‘Thank you,’ Hector said, failing to find other suitable words. ‘I hope you find what you are looking for,’ he said awkwardly, turning to leave.
But Achilles reached out and gripped his arm. ‘I just did.’
He leaned forward into a kiss that Hector met mid-way. They clung to each other for a moment longer after they broke the kiss.
Hector and his men had left the Greek camp still under the cover of the night, with the harsh wind sweeping inland, beating on him and his small party.
‘I will not be fighting today, as promised,’ Achilles said outside, as Hector mounted his horse. ‘But I cannot stop the battle that is brewing. It’s up to you to send Agamemnon home with his tail between his legs.’
‘My brother wishes to challenge Menelaus to fight him for the right to Helen,’ Hector said softly, not minding to share that bit of information with Achilles. In fact, the feud between the two men was no more a secret than the Greeks’ presence was on the coast of the Troad.
‘Your brother is a fool to think he can defeat him. Menelaus is older, but has lost none of his vigour,’ Achilles snorted. ‘And you are going to watch him die.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Hector said simply.
‘Why?’ Achilles grinned. ‘Are you going to be there to protect him?’
‘Wouldn’t you? If anyone harmed one of your own, surely you would want them to taste your blade.’
Achilles sighed, no belligerence in his manner as he replied. ‘Of course I would. We are alike – you and I - we protect our own.’
They exchanged no other words and Hector turned and rode away. Whatever needed to be said had already been said in the sheltered space they had shared that night.
~~
When Hector finally lifted himself from the bath, he had managed to put his thoughts into a semblance of order and he trusted he was partially ready to face the day ahead. Thus, he returned to his bedroom to get dressed and he found Andromache awake.
She ran to him, throwing her arms around him and kissing him hard on the lips.
‘You’re safe,’ she smiled, searching his eyes.
He nodded, smiling sadly. Happily, she lifted his hands to her lips and kissed each of them reverently. She stopped abruptly and Hector did not need to see her eyes to understand the horror she felt when she spotted the purple rope burns adorning his wrists. Her eyes moved to his chest where he knew the bite marks were visible and her lips trembled before she crushed them together, determined not to say a word. The simple gesture sent Hector’s heart crumbling to pieces.
‘Andromache…’ he began. Shame burned more painfully than his body’s hurts as he gazed into the eyes of the woman he had not once betrayed in their years of marriage.
‘Shhh!’ she said, pressing her finger to his lips. She looked to him and he saw that her eyes had filled with tears. It was obviously difficult for her to utter the next words. ‘All I need to know is that Briseis has been returned.’
Hector nodded wordlessly. He felt that he should reveal the other part of the deal he had struck with Achilles and of his doubts, but every time he tried to tell her what had happened, she stopped him.
‘I don’t want to know!’ she said finally, her tone serious and unequivocal. ‘Whatever passed in the Greek camp, you did it for Troy.’
Hector smiled and he wrapped his wife in his arms. Andromache was indeed clever not to allow him to burden her with some of his own guilt, even if he had done it for Troy. It was his to bear alone and he loved her all the more for making him understand that. |