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Patroclus curses. “Fuck, I’m—” His grip on my hips turns punishing and then he’s driving up into me, yanking me down onto him as he comes so hard, I feel it.
Achilles presses me gently down against Patroclus’s chest. Patroclus wastes no time in claiming my mouth again, but I barely have time to sink into it before I feel something wet lash my ass. I pull back. “Achilles.”
“Mmm.”
“Did you just come all over my ass?”
He chuckles. “Yeah.”
I wait for irritation, but all I feel is a ridiculous sort of amusement. I grin down at Patroclus. “He really likes to mark his territory, doesn’t he? Like a dog.”
“Nah.” Achilles slaps my ass lightly. “Just marking my intent.”
Patroclus gives a choked laugh. “Stop. You’re making her clench around me and it’s too good.”
“Shower. Then bed.”
“We just had a shower, Achilles.”
“And I just got you all kinds of filthy. Come on. It will be fun.” Achilles slides off the bed, hooks me around the waist, and lifts me into his arms. I don’t screech this time. I’m still too boneless from the orgasm and… Maybe I don’t totally hate being hauled around by Achilles. I like the possessive way Patroclus watches us even more as he gingerly hauls himself off the bed and follows us into the shower.
We barely last five minutes in the shower before Achilles is on his knees, Patroclus’s cock in his mouth and his fingers buried in my pussy. At some point, we tumble back into the bed, wet and slippery and intent on our pleasure. Over and over again, as if we’re racing the clock to pack as many orgasms in before we have to return to reality.
Eventually, though, reality intercedes. It always does.
Achilles stretches, looks at the clock, and sighs. “Bedtime.” He rolls over and grabs the phone. I can’t help appreciating the way his muscles move. He really does have the body of a warrior. On my other side, Patroclus shifts so he can coast his hand down my side to my hip. Not a sexual touch, but it feels so good, I nearly moan. The casual intimacy is something I’m going to miss almost as much as the sex. Both he and Achilles are so free with their touch, with their words. I’m going to…miss them.
“You just tensed up. What are you thinking?”
I want to lie or do something to turn away the question, but maybe I’m more fucked up than I thought, because I answer honestly. “I’m going to miss you. Not just the sex, though that’s fun, but…” I try for a shrug, but it’s rather challenging to shrug while flat on your back. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” He brushes my hair back from my face. I try very hard not to think of how much a mess I must look right now. I hate that Paris’s poison still occupies space in my head despite my best efforts. I know he was using criticism to manipulate and control me, but that doesn’t stop insecurity from lashing me at the most inconvenient times.
Patroclus hesitates, his dark gaze flicking to Achilles, who’s gone silent and still on my other side. “You don’t have to pretend with us.”
“I know.” It’s even the truth. That’s not the problem, though. Pretending and putting on a mask are second nature, and even if I feel safe enough with these two men to be my true self, that doesn’t change how fucked up our circumstances are. “But—”
“Do you always borrow trouble?” Achilles sits up and stretches his arms over his head. “The third trial will decide the future. No point in worrying about it until then.”
“Achilles.”
I glance between the men, but this time, I have no idea what they’re conveying back and forth. What must it be like to trust someone that much, to have that level of history, that you can speak without words? I can do it with Eris a bit, but that’s more shared trauma than anything else. And my silent conversations with Hermes and Dionysus basically consist of “Can you believe this bitch?” while at Dodona Tower parties. What Achilles and Patroclus have is something else altogether.
Finally Achilles looks down at me. “I wasn’t talking out of my ass earlier. We mean to keep you.”
“You can’t keep a person.”
“All the same.”
I can’t have this conversation again while flat on my back. Why are we retreading this ground? Nothing’s changed, no matter how many orgasms we’ve exchanged. We’ve gone beyond beating a dead horse with this situation. I sit up and scoot back to press against the headboard. “You want to be Ares. I want to be Ares, too. We are diametrically opposed.”
“Only in that.”
As if it’s that easy. “When I win, you’ll have to go back to being Athena’s second-in-command. You’ll never forgive me.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs those wide shoulders. “And when I win, you’ll lose out on Ares but become my wife.”
