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I nod slowly. “I already agreed last night. Nothing’s changed since then. Helen is off-limits.”
“Good.” Achilles stretches out his big body, kicking off his shoes and setting his feet on the coffee table. He catches my frown and laughs. “This isn’t our place. Who cares if I have my feet on the table?”
“It’s still rude.”
“Relax, Patroclus.” He nudges me with his elbow. “We’re where we’re supposed to be. It’ll all work out.”
I frown harder in response. “Don’t pull that lazy god bullshit with me, Achilles. I know you’re worried about this.” He might put on the mask for other people, but he’s not supposed to do it with me. “We need to—”
“We need to relax.” He hooks a hand around the back of my neck and tows me down into a kiss. It’s a little rough, a little sweet, and all Achilles. I’m tempted to keep arguing, but he’s right. I’ll go round and round in circles for days about this. Sometimes clicking off my brain is the right call, and we can’t take any action until the first trial. So…
“Patroclus.” He nips my bottom lip. “You’re still thinking too hard.”
“Sorry.”
He laughs. “Good thing I know a trick or two to help with that.” Achilles shifts, moving to kneel between my legs. The space really isn’t big enough for both of us like this, but I don’t say a single word as he undoes my jeans and jerks them down my hips. He gives me a devilish grin. “I love it when you look at me like that.”
Gods only know what my face is doing, but moments like these feel almost too good to be real. This man, this powerhouse of a golden god, is mine, at least in part. Achilles was meant to be standing in front of a crowd of screaming people, to be the center of their attention, the one they adore and will tell stories about. He’s larger than life, even when performing the normal activities that Athena requires of us.
It’s even truer now, on his knees and wrapping a fist around my cock. I keep waiting for the day he realizes it and leaves me in the rearview. Achilles will always have his gaze on the stars. And me? My feet are firmly rooted in the earth. It seems inevitable that he’ll move beyond me some day, so I try to cherish every moment we have, storing them up against the winter of my future without his shining warmth in it.
He dips down and takes my cock into his mouth, and my thoughts fade in the face of so much pleasure. We’ve been together for so long. We know exactly what touch, stroke, pressure the other requires to get off the hardest. Achilles isn’t sprinting to that destination like last night, though. His mouth descends my length in a slow, wet slide that tells me he intends to take his time. He might be impulsive, but when Achilles sets his mind on a task, he’s fearsome in the extreme.
Apparently he’s set his mind on my pleasure tonight.
I sink my hands into his dark hair, not trying to guide, merely along for the ride. He teases me, alternating the deep strokes with long licks and flicks of his tongue. My legs start to shake all too soon and I yank on his hair. “Achilles!”
His slow smile makes my chest hurt. Times like these are damn near perfect. Too perfect. How can I not wait for the other shoe to drop? He wraps his fist around my cock and gives me a few slow strokes. “I’m going to take you to bed. Don’t be quiet.”
Understanding dawns slowly within the fog of my desire. I glance at the wall…the wall I share with Helen. “You want her to hear.”
He shrugs, completely unrepentant. “I’m still feeling a little jealous.”
The concept of Achilles jealous of anyone is almost beyond comprehension. Maybe I’m a selfish asshole, because I kind of like it. I tug on his hair again, more gently this time. “I won’t try to be quiet, but whether things get loud depends on you.”
He grins, just like I expected him to. “Challenge: accepted.” He rises easily despite kneeling for so long and grabs my hand to tug me to my feet. We stumble down the hallway, kissing and rubbing on each other like a pair of fumbling teenagers, but the second we reach the bedroom, he’s focused in on me again. Achilles knocks away my hands when I reach for the hem of my shirt. “Let me.”
“Bossy.”
“You like it.” He pulls my shirt over my head and skims my pants the rest of the way down my legs. And then he’s surging to his feet and taking my mouth again. This time, there is no gentleness, no sweetness. Achilles kisses me like a conquering warlord, and I am all too willing to cede to the demand of his tongue. He strips in between kisses as he backs me to the bed.
