A Gift from the Gods

Bonus: Chapter 11 expanded (18+)

He sat next to the bed, watching her. She could feel his eyes on her body, but she wasn't worried anymore, just intrigued. He didn't seem ravenous or lustful; he was simply watching her sleep. Or rather, as she pretended to sleep. She stirred ever so slightly, adjusting her position so her hip was high and her arm hung loosely over her waist. The position was more comfortable, but it also elicited a sigh from Achilles that sent tingles up Zephyra's spine. 

Achilles soon came to bed, and Zephyra did all that she could to not twitch at sharing such close confines with a stranger. A naked stranger, at that. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and grazed her cheekbone with his thumb. In all her life she had never been touched so gently. So intimately. Her body physically relaxed at his touch, and he smirked at her.

It wasn't long before her captor was asleep, his breaths deep and eyes flicking under the lids. At first, she wanted to touch him. Graze her fingers along his defined arms and chest, but she stopped herself. She had to remind herself who this man was. A warlord. A murderer. 

Instinct kicked in, and she began looking for a weapon without making any movements. If she killed him that night, she would be free, and Troy would be saved. The question was, could she do it? Could she do the one thing her brother never wanted for her? Could she be a soldier, just for one moment, and take a life?

She found an intricately designed dagger near the bed and slowly, gently, reached over her captor to grasp it, using it more as a crutch for her nerves than anything else. She knelt above him, straddling his hips beneath the lightweight covering, and placed the blade to his throat, but she found herself regretting the decision she had not yet made.

"Do it." His voice was firm and quiet, but he still starlted Zephyra. He opened his eyes. "Do it. Nothing is easier."

Zephyra swallowed, moistening her mouth, then said, "Aren't you afraid?"

She put the question on this man, the strongest man she had ever met, to see if maybe, just maybe, it was ok for Zephyra to be terrified in that moment. Not a test. Permission. Real permission. Not however he was baiting her.

"Everyone dies. Today or fifty years from now. What does it matter?" He grabbed hold of her arms and steadied her form over himself. "Do it."

A rush swirled inside her, fear and anticipation all at once.

"Y-you'll kill more men if I don't."

"Many."

She was frozen in his eyes. He truly wasn't afraid. She hovered above a man that lived his life so he could die in glory and grandeur, his name written in texts and told in stories to withstand time. What move could she make now? 

He loosened his grip and slid his hands up her arms, rolling her over so she was flat on her back, the knife still at his throat. But she wasn't worried for her life; nor he for his. Not anymore. She couldn't understand why, but she also didn't seem to care. 

Her breaths quickened, and she could feel the air drying in her nostrils. As she sought to calm herself, Achilles hooked onto the hem of her chiton and lifted it as he tentatively placed his lips to hers. Zephyra didn't mean to be so receptive, but she embraced his action and lifted her body to his. She soon forgot about the dagger and let it clank to the dirt below them. His core was firm but his skin soft aside from the scars. She melted into him and was lost in his kiss.

She felt him all over her: his lips on her neck, his chest pressed to her, his hand...His hand that was on her leg moments ago was climbing higher and higher, closer and closer to her--

The sensation was enigmatic -- she'd had a taste of that feeling in quiet moments by herself or in her dreams, but it had never been real. And it hadn't been this strong. Zephyra let out a stuttering breath as the sensitivity increased. 

"I'll be gentle," Achilles said, a mere whisper in her hair. 

Zephyra nodded, not entirely sure what was about to happen but know that she didn't want the feeling to end. Didn't want this man to stop touching her. She wanted more. needed more. His mouth was on her again the same gentleness as before but more fervor. 

There was discomfort as he entered her, deep and slow, allowing her time to adjust. Zephyra bit her bottom lip and took steady breaths. 

"Are you all right?" Achilles said, his voice still soft. 

Zephyra nodded and grasped onto his shoulders, pressing their bodies closer together. She never wanted anything more than she wanted to be with this man, in this tent, on this beach. War be damned. 

Achilles took lead, setting a comfortable rhythm. Comfort turned to stirring, then to sheer arousal, and finally, to ecstasy. Her body clenched and quivered gloriously beneath Achilles. Her breaths were still ragged when Achilles, too, came undone.

They were still together, undulating carelessly as they faced one another. Achilles panted, blowing the loose strands of her hair away from her face with his warm breath, and rested his hand on her ribs.