Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

Duty of Lions and Men
By : BlueBastard
Category: S through Z > Troy
Views: 7428 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Troy or make any money off of it
Chapter List
- 4
- 5
A/N: Thanks to all the loyal, and patient fans. Random reviews inspire me to start up where I had a writer's block before.

-BB-BB-BB-

Despite the brave face, Hector found himself standing near the entrance within, uncertain. There were no chairs, only silk cushions draped around the center fireplace, a low set table, and a luxurious looking bed at the back corner, draped in what looked to be soft and plush animal fur.

It certainly was a far cry from what the Prince had been expecting.

Crouched and tending to the fires, Achilles glanced back to take in the surprise on the man's face with an amused chuckle, "What? Were you hoping more for bones, skulls and crude, splintered furniture?"

"Of the sort." Hector begrudgingly answered, forging on to demand, "Is it customary? To keep your guests tied at the wrists?"

"If it suits me," Achilles grinned over his shoulder, earning a scathing glare from deep brown eyes. Turning back to tend the fire once more, the Myrmidon added, "Or if I believe they wouldn't hesitate to stab me with the nearest cutlery, then yes."

Hector blinked, "You... must have some very interesting guests."

"Believe me Prince, when they are tied up, as you are, they are often under me with nothing else on. Begging me not to stop."

Hector stiffened, unable to stop the heated images from searing his brain. To be underneath all that rippling power and brawn, completely at the aggressive man's mercy and needful whims. Would Hector refuse? By the gods, yes! He was the son of Troy. He would not yield. His throat was dry once more, but he wet his tongue enough to croak, "Try it, and you WILL regret it."

"Oh Prince... I highly doubt I would..." Achilles chuckled deeply, standing as he finished shifting the embers and wood, the fire bright and strong. He turned towards Hector, grin widening as he watched the Prince take an involuntary step back. He gestured towards the cushions, "Please, have a seat."

Hector eyed the silken pillows warily. He would have an extremely difficult time getting up from that with his wrists bound. The only other place high enough was the bed, and he was definitely staying as far away from THAT as he could. Hector cleared his throat, "I think I prefer to stand."

Achilles arched a brow, voice deep as he obliged, "As you wish."

There was that damn smirk again.

How Hector would just love to swipe it off the man's face. Frowning, the Prince shook his head and looked around the dwelling. Anything to get his mind off of the man he was stuck alone with. His eyes followed the brown criss-cross pattern of the reinforcing beams, the tent itself arched up like a dome. The first helped against vicious coastal winds and the second helped filter out the smoke through a small flap at the top. Ingenious design.

As the Trojan busied himself looking around his temporary dwelling, Achilles took the time to observe Hector himself. This had to be the first time he had seen the Trojan without any of that fancy bronze or leather Apollonian armor. The sandals alone were intricate enough, however, as they wove around his lean and muscled calves. This brought the Greek's appreciative gaze to the clothe wrapped snugly across the man's thighs, curving around Hector's firm yet generous buttocks, before tucking back in the front. His tunic, on the other hand, was rather loose. But it had a delicious way of offering a tantalizing view of the Prince's well-defined chest through its deep v-neck. Not only that, but the flared out, sleeveless shoulders only helped accentuate Hector's broad shoulders before it tapered down to the man's slender waist.

The Greek Lion's hungry gaze followed up the man's delectable collarbone to the hard lines of his face, softened by the frame of dark curls as well as the man's full beard. It was well kept, not raising more than half an inch from the man's face, and patterned to accentuate his cheekbones like sculpted shadows. It made Achilles wonder about the place down there...

Would it be well groomed as well?

It made him grin darkly. He intended to find out. Perhaps later. For despite the spell Hector seemed to have placed on him, Achilles was still aware of the blood that needed to be tended to on the Trojan's face.

Hector was lucky not to have caught the Greek's hungry gaze. Otherwise he would have darted from the tent faster than Hermes himself, pride or no. Rather, his mind had turned towards more depressing matters. Such as what would be happening within the castle walls. It was already midday, and Hector was known for his early morning routines.

He would often patrol the town, supervising as well as participating in the early morning exercises of his loyal Apollonians. He would wave up at his wife and son on the balcony, both smiling down at him. Though as of late, it was a bit one-sided.

He was so busy with his thoughts he didn't see the other man's approach until he was already upon him. A wet clothe on his cheekbone made him flinch, but the closeness and heat of the other capable warrior made him take half a step back.

But Achilles persisted, following the other as the wet clothe made contact with Hector's face once more. Hector blinked, breathe hitching at the close quarters with his single most fearsome enemy. He expected a dagger to the gut, or slash across his throat at any moment. He attempted to move away once more, but the growl and the hold of those intense blue eyes stopped him in his tracks, "Hold still."

Hector froze out of surprise as much as a small partial reaction to the Greek's commanding tone. He could only breathe when those focused eyes flicked away from his and concentrated on the trail of drying blood. The wet clothe moved across his face in what could almost be a caress. Why was the man even bothering? Had they met on the battlefield, he was sure the other wouldn't stop in the middle to help him tend his wounds. This was all just too surreal.

The Trojan couldn't help as his eyes traced the strong jaw of the man inches from his own. Those eyes were determined, focused solely on the task at hand. It was unnerving, to have all that unfiltered will aimed towards him. And for once, it wasn't driven by the need to kill.

The blonde's lips soon had Hector's attention. For such a hard angled and well muscled body, the man's lips were delightfully full, and for the moment, slightly parted. As he gazed upon them, the Prince was unaware his own mirrored their actions, parting as well as he found it more difficult to breath. Even his own wife never tended his wounds. The sight of blood made her faint. So it had always either been the rough ministrations of Hector's men or Hector himself, though neither were this careful or patient about it. Achilles was just full of curious surprises.

Hector forcibly stopped the shudder that attempted to run its course as the man's breath ghosted across his jaw. It wasn't until the clothe grazed gently across his lower lip, the heat jolting down south, that Hector snapped out of his trance. He pulled back, earning a scathing glare from those eyes once more.

"I..." Hector almost forgot his words, before stilling his beating heart and murmuring, "I can do this on my own... if you could just untie me."

Those full lips pressed tightly together, the Greek warrior not too pleased with the prospect. Then Achilles realized his own thoughts and blinked. Who was he to nurse another seasoned warrior for so slight a wound? He was no nursemaid. But for some reason it irked him to no end that the touches would cease.

Without a word, Achilles dropped the bloody rag into the silver bowl in his other hand, reaching down for the dagger sheathed in the lining of his boot. In the face of the man's silence, Hector swallowed. Hopefully he had not provoked the beast, but he would be damned before he'd willingly let the other coddle him.

The slight clang of the bowl meeting the hard oak of the table echoed in the unnatural silence, Hector nearly flinching. But then Achilles had prowled behind him, tangled blonde strands framing his stoic face. The Trojan resisted the urge to turn, the hairs on his nape standing on end as he felt the man's presence behind him. His mind blared warnings, fully aware after months of fighting and years of tales, exactly what this man was capable of.

Achilles read the man's uncertainty, a slight tint of fear in the air. His animal within craved it, inhaling deeply as he came to a stop at the man's back. The slight tremor didn't go unnoticed, as much as the Prince at his mercy tried to hide it. A smirk played at Achilles lips, hidden from Hector's sight. The Prince was brave indeed, keeping his head high, his stance strong, with Achilles himself standing behind him with a dagger. He had killed a man with less. As he was sure Hector was well aware.

Hector's jaw clenched as he felt the naked blade trailing down his bare arm. Just a pinch more pressure, and it would break through skin. He preferred it to the enveloping heat as Achilles drew closer behind him, breath caressing his ear as the Greek whispered silkily, "Bravery and pride get you no where. Just to Hades' door that much faster."

Perhaps Achilles was wrong. Perhaps Hector was simply a man. Another face in the tide of death and war and fighting. The Greek was drowning in the blood red sea. He was tired. And Hector would be just another face in his regret-filled dreams. Another brother to welcome him on the other side of the River Styx.

But Hector would not be cowed.

Through gritted teeth, Hector turned his head to the side to glare at the man with one eye, as he growled lowly, "Then we are both doomed men."

The dark part of Achilles, the part that had been calling for the man's blood, stilled. The blade paused in its tracks, as the Myrmidon found himself smiling unintentionally. Would Hector never cease to surprise him?

A part of him hoped not.

Hector didn't realize he was holding his breath until it all came out in a silent torrent when the bindings gave with a snap. Circulation flowed back into his hands, stinging with returned life. He rubbed his raw wrists, watching the blonde walk past into view through hooded eyes. He just didn't know what to make of the man.

"My thanks." Hector murmured.

"Don't mention it." Achilles replied nonchalantly, not even turning around as he merely waved his hand.

Hector tread cautiously to the table, picking up the water-soaked rag to finish what the Greek had started. He couldn't help shaking the feeling that he had just barely passed some test moments ago. As though his very life had been in danger by the unpredictable man before him. Wringing out the excess, the Prince lifted the drenched rag to his face, dabbing his wounds and cuts in deep thought. This morning he was safe in his castle walls. And now? Now he was some sort of prisoner? Guest?

Hector suppressed a scoff at the idea.

He eyed the entrance to the tent longingly. Would he stand a chance? Would he die trying?

"I would redirect my line of thought, were I you." Achilles said in his deeply gravelly voice. The tone was nonchalant. But a better man could sense the warning etched inside. Hector, unfortunately, was just the type. And both he and Achilles knew it.

Hector stilled.

The other man did not even to face him, busy pouring a cup from a ceramic pitcher at another table.

"I... don't know what you're talking about." Hector played dumb, forcing his hand to move the reddened rag around his face. It was just in time, too, as Achilles finally turned to face him. One arm crossed over his chest to hook onto the other, drink in hand as he leaned easily back against the sturdy table. The Myrmidon gave him an amused smirk.

His whole posture laughingly asked, 'who do you think you are dealing with?'

"I... was merely calculating my chances." Hector caved, not quite understanding why he felt the need to let the warrior know his true thoughts. Achilles had a truly compelling nature. Even Hector was not fully immune a hundred percent of the time.

"No need. I can tell you, zero." Achilles supplied, before turning back around and grabbing a second cup.

Hector frowned, "That's very presumptuous of you."

The Prince decidedly turned his back on the other, shifting his weight to one side as he dipped the rag into the water. As he wrung it out, he imagined a certain Myrmidon's neck instead.

He nearly jumped as the deep voice whispered huskily from beside his ear, "Not if I know I'm right."

Hector couldn't help the intense shiver that traveled down his spine, hating the way the tone made heat start to pool into his limbs.

He didn't notice the rag slipping out of his hands until it plopped soundlessly into the ceramic bowl. The droplets of water were like the trigger to his muscles, spurring him into movement. He spun around, face twisted in frustration.

The man was so egotistical.

He was so arrogant.

So smug.

Blue eyes struck him. Too close.

Hector had turned around, only to freeze as he found that chiseled face breaths from his own. His stalled brain couldn't even figure out how Achilles had gotten over here so fast, much less how he hadn't made a sound.

Of course, it should have made sense that in order for the Myrmidon to whisper in his ear, physical distance would have to be eliminated. But he couldn't get himself to reason at the moment.

He jerked back, attempting to put some space between them. The table prevented anything more than leaning back, but it was better than nothing. Achilles blinked at the gesture, then fell back on his charmingly annoying smile, bringing one hand higher, "Care for a drink?"

"Er... no, thanks." Hector managed to mumble, eyes darting away from the Myrmidon's face long enough to take note of the two goblets cupped in that one dexterous hand.

"Suit yourself." Achilles shrugged, leaning closer to deposit the two chalices on the table behind Hector.

The Prince's jaw clenched minutely as he held his breath. Straining to keep the distance even as it all but disappeared. He tried to focus elsewhere, eyes tracing the pattern on the far wall. But the movement of the Greek's golden mane caught his gaze, and it was if time slowed. Riveted, he found his sights tracing the adjoining jaw. Then down to the pectorals and shoulders only enhanced by the man's leather armor, fitting him like a second skin. Hector was mesmerized by how Achilles' torso curved snugly into the plaited skirt of the armor, his brown gaze threatening to drop lower as if affected by gravity. But then the Greek's arm and chest grew close enough to brush against his own, and time jerked back to normal as Hector stepped bodily back.

Or attempted to.

Only... he should have remembered the table behind him, which let itself be known through a loudly protesting thud, and a jarring ache suddenly resonating just above the Prince's hip.

Hector winced.

That couldn't have been too obvious.

Maybe he should just scream not to touch him while he was at it. In case the man was a complete imbecile.

In the meantime, Achilles had paused, cups scraping the tabletop, to fix Hector with an incredulous stare. Noting their closeness, Hector's reaction, and how the Prince was still pressing firmly against the table as though wishing he could melt right through it, Achilles raised a brow.

Which would have been fine.

Except it was slowly followed by that familiar smirk.

Achilles set the cups down, only to find the Trojan attempting to step sideways, which would take the slightly flustered man away from the perfectly positioned table. Casually, he let his other bronze arm fall to lean against the table, Hector conveniently penned in. Except in order to further increase space, Hector was forced to lean backwards over the traitorous piece of furniture, elbows bent and palms flat to help his balance.

"Now, I have seen you fight, Prince. Bravely, without fear, no matter the odds. Yet here you are, clearly bothered." Achilles frowned as though perplexed, eyes trailing slowly up to Hector's unreadable face, "And I have to ask myself, what could possibly be the cause to such... strange behavior?"

Hector wanted to refute it. To say anything. But his dry tongue refused to articulate with his equally parched throat.

Achilles kept drawing closer in the already limited space.

Hector saw an opening. And he took it.

Ducking agilely under the Greek's immobile arm, Hector spun to face the other, attempting to straighten any discomfort from his pose. Then Achilles turned slowly.

And there was a burning hunger to his eye.

Any hope the Prince had of pretending none of that happened was thrown out the window.

Clearing his throat, Hector squared his shoulders. Then promptly made a dash for the door.

Maddeningly, Achilles sprinted there faster. Muscled arms were widespread, ready snag the Prince should he attempt to get past.

Fear tightened in the Trojan's gut.

He expelled it as frustration.

"What do you hope to achieve?" Hector growled.

The Myrmidon was not fooled.

"Where do you plan on going?" Achilles countered.

Hector faked left, attempting to slide by the man's right, as he answered in a rush, "Anywhere. As long as it's away from you."

Achilles called his bluff, still blocking his way. Hector would have to go through him.

He needed a weapon.

A glance to the side, further into the tent, brought the rack of gleaming weapons to his eye. There was no other choice. Hector lunged back for them. Hector's fingertips grazed the wooden shaft of a spear before he felt the Myrmidon's presence behind him. Abandoning his salvation, he ducked underneath the blonde's tackle, dancing further away from the rack to keep out of the man's range.

Hector darted another glance at the entrance, the cloth door swaying beckoningly with the breeze, promising bittersweet escape. Tantalizing.

So close yet so far.

The fire burned hotly at Hector's back, dispelling the chill Hector received as he looked into Achilles' predatory gaze.

It demanded dark and sweet promises should Hector be caught.

A feeling started tightening in Hector's gut, as if this was all inevitable. The prince flashed back to the forest. He couldn't stop the shiver, or the flood of heat that rushed through him.

Distraction. That's what he needed.

Hector glanced towards the weapons rack, taking a slight step.

Achilles moved towards-

Then Hector changed course, hightailing it towards the entrance. He pumped his arms, sandals kicking up the sand inside the tent. He was so close. All he could see was the door, his vision excluding all else.

He reached out, fingertips brushing the cloth door to his prison.

Hope soared.

Strong hands gripped his arm, yanking him with too much force. Hector flew across the tent, stumbling before crashing into the sturdy wall. The Trojan snarled, lashing out. His freedom had been so close.

Then Achilles was there.

All golden and blue ferocity.

As if Hector had personally offended him by his attempt, his eyes blazed. But it was more than just that. He could hear a growl reverberating from the throat of the Greek before him. Possessive. Wanting. Self righteous.

The Myrmidon stalked in front of the winded Prince as a lion would, daring him, through lowered brow, to try again. Hector's pride raged high. He would not cower like a cornered dog.

With a roar, Hector did the one thing he knew Achilles would not expect. He charged straight at him. He received the pleasure of seeing those blue eyes widen in surprise, before the jarring impact of his clothed shoulder against the Myrmidon's armored chest. His anger fueled him as he nearly lifted the other in the air, barreling forward until both stumbled over an obstacle.

The Prince wrestled with the blonde, who was slowly regaining his senses, until he noticed the strange softness under his knees. The fur...

Hector's eyes widened this time.

They were on the bed.

And he was on top of the Greek lion. The same as before, except now the man underneath him lay on his back, fully able to see the panic beginning to flit across Hector's face. The Trojan released the man beneath him, scrambling to leap off the bed.

But Achilles was faster.

"Oh no you don't." Achilles growled, recently freed hands capturing Hector's wrists.

Hector blanched, pulling back harder, struggling.

But Achilles merely grinned, yanking hard and hooking his leg around the other's, to flip their positions. Hector blinked, finding himself on his back, the soft furs caressing his arms and legs.

Hector tried not to panic as he realized his predicament.

Achilles had every advantage from his top position, hands pinning down Hector's own, muscled thighs immobilizing the Prince's lower body in addition to the sleek warrior's own weight.

All the while Achilles drunk it in. The normally calm, calculating Prince... flustered.

In the Myrmidon's own bed, nonetheless.

"Release me." Hector bit out, finally realizing the futility of escape after he had so mindlessly given up the reigns.

He jerked his wrists once more, hating how comfortable the fur caressed his skin. Hating how the Greek's grip was like an iron-clad vice. Hating especially how smug the smirk was on the Warlord's face.

"Tsk, tsk Prince. I do believe I have won this round." Achilles grinned like the cat who swallowed the canary, "Now onto the last round in this game. Care to join? I shall ask only three questions. Should you answer them truthfully, I will release you."

"...Seems I have no choice in the matter. I have your word?" Hector could scarcely believe it would be so simple, watching the golden-haired lion through a narrowed eyes, "You will release me should I win your game?"

"The word of a Myrmidon is a bond no man or god can break." The sculpted warrior's tone had turned serious in reply.

Brown eyes steeled with determination, Hector forcing his trapped body to relax as he exhaled roughly, "Ask your questions then."

Pleased that the Prince had agreed to play, Achilles practically purred the first question, "Have you, dear Trojan Prince, been avoiding me during battle?"

Hector blinked.

Of all the things...

How had the Greek Lion noticed this?

Seeing no harm, Hector answered, "Yes."

The way Achilles nodded suggested he knew the answer all along. He continued without pause, "Do you love your wife, Prince?"

Hector jerked as though pierced with an arrow, eyes shooting open, "What does that have anything to do with-"

"Answer the question, Prince." Achilles said sternly.

"-I just don't see the point-" The dark-curled Trojan continued to argue.

"Hector. Just answer the question." Achilles admonished. At the sound of another protest starting on that furiously guarded face, the Myrmidon cocked his head to the side and continued dangerously, "Unless, you no longer wanted to play. Then we could find other... distracting activities to pass the time?"

Hector stilled, suddenly remembering the rippling power of muscle and steel pinning him down. Such power. And all held at bay by the whims of the very warrior regarding him now.

Achilles wanted him to play in this foolish game? Fine.

Anything for his freedom.

Hector shoved down his pride, answering with a short growl, "Yes. Yes, I do love my wife. Is that what you wanted to hear, Greek?"

Achilles brow cocked, mirth twisting the edge of his lip as though he had uncovered a buried secret.

Hector couldn't help but demand, "What?"

"But... not as a husband should..." Achilles trailed off.

It was unnerving, how deep this man -this stranger- could see inside the Prince's soul. It shook Hector to his core, though he was quick to cover up the weakness with a short growl.

"What are you, a damn mystic now? Just ask your last question and let me be." Hector snapped.

"For a man accredited to much patience, it is one of the traits very lacking right now. I must say I find myself disappointed, Hector. For you to be so easily unraveled. Unless... it is just me that does this to you. Then... that would be a *very* different story." Achilles had a smile that unfurled slowly, eyes drinking in the discomfort of the man beneath him.

Hector fought the tint of pink that threatened to color his cheeks.

"Shut up and ask, Greek." He snarled quietly instead, turning to gaze at his trapped wrist, hand flexing.

He was a man of control. He was always above the chaos of the battlefield, even when thrown in the midst of it. Laying here, right now, in the tent of his enemy...

The things Achilles made Hector feel...

He did not like it.

And he only wished to be rid of the man as soon as possible.

"As you wish..." Achilles echoed ominously.

The golden-haired man loved it. Wielding power over any man, beast, or foe. The fact that it was Hector, famed Prince of Troy, tamer of horses, only made it that much sweeter.

The man himself was courageous and honorable in battle. Someone who knew how to handle himself in the heat of the moment.

But right now, Hector was all his.

The Prince was like a skittish colt right now rather than the bold stallion Achilles was used to facing.

And it intrigued him.

He looked down at the dark-curled beauty, relishing the moment. He could just see the dread alongside the stubborn pride broiling inside those deep brown eyes.

"Hector, Prince of Troy..." Achilles paused for dramatic effect, loving how the Trojan minutely squirmed beneath him, "...the last question to your freedom, is do you wish to lay with me?"

A sound of strangled disbelief escaped Hector's throat, his eyes widening a fraction. His voice cracking, the Prince croaked, "I'm sorry. I don't quite understand the question."

Achilles gave a chuckle, leaning closer and grinding his hips ever-so-suggestively. His timbre voice lowered sensually, as the Myrmidon leader clarified simply, "What I mean, dear Hector, is do you want me to fuck you?"

-BB-BB-BB-

I know, evil place to stop. Had to give you guys something. And see if anyone's still interested.
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Duty of Lions and Men	By : BlueBastard Category: S through Z > Troy Views: 7428 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Troy or make any money off of it

Duty of Lions and Men