b e f o r e . t h e . f e a s t

Before the Feast
[by victoria p.]

Rating: PG

Summary: Achilles would rather not go to the feast. Patroclus convinces him.

Notes: For mousapelli, requested by sociofemme.

Date: July 8, 2005

"We dine with the kings tonight," Achilles says as he washes the dust from his face.

Patroclus smiles tightly. "You do. I don't have to."

Achilles pouts at him, water running down his golden skin, clinging to the curves of his mouth. Patroclus leans in, licks it from his lips, sweeter than wine.

"You would leave me to Agamemnon's tender mercies? Nestor's endless chatter?" Achilles murmurs against his mouth, each movement of his lips a little kiss that sends desire buzzing down Patroclus' spine.

"The best of the wines and meats," Patroclus counters, "and the most beautiful of the slave girls."

"Agamemnon's greed and Menelaus' crudity."

"Odysseus' clever jokes."

"Ah, there you have me."

"I have you here as well," Patroclus replies, sliding a hand beneath Achilles' chiton and swallowing his answering gasp with a true kiss, slipping his tongue into Achilles' mouth, his other hand into Achilles' hair.

Achilles' mood is much improved when they are done, enough so that Patroclus teases him about all the slave girls he will steal from Agamemnon with his beauty.

Achilles laughs and pulls him into a tight embrace. "But they will never be you," he says, his eyes and voice intense for all that he is laughing.

"I know," Patroclus says. And he does.

end

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Disclaimer: Public domain, baby. Based on The Iliad of Homer.