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“Antilochus, darling.”
Antilochus looked up at the sound of Achilles’ voice, still grasping the stick he had been poking at the fire with. A few of the men around them turned to look as well; Antilochus was developing something of a reputation, he feared.
Achilles must have come all the way from the Myrmidon’s camp on the far side of the beach, but he wasn’t out of breath, merely swinging the end of his belt between two fingers as he made his way to the edges of the Pylian camp. He was flushed, his long hair mussed and out of place, but that was nothing unusual for a day without fighting, even before those days had become every day for him.
“Achilles.” His father spoke before Antilochus had the chance to, looking disapprovingly across the fire. “Can we help you with anything?”
“Not unless your name is Antilochus, darling,” Achilles shot back harshly. He turned back to Antilochus, looking at him expectantly.
Antilochus flushed, avoiding his father’s eyes as he got to his feet. Achilles smiled like a satisfied lion as he made his way over to him, stroking the scruff of his chin before turning to flounce back in the other direction, expecting him to follow.
Antilochus followed. Of course he did. Just because the stares and whispers bothered him at some points didn’t mean they weren’t true.
“What do you need my help with?” Antilochus asked, when they were out of earshot of the Pylian camp and all they could hear was their feet in the sand. Shouting at a distance, of course, but after eight or nine years in a war camp, one learned to block it out.
Achilles glanced over his shoulder at him, seductive and mysterious in that way that always seemed to come naturally to him. It was like he’d been born with heavy-lidded eyes and a lazy smirk. “Why don’t you come see?”
They walked at a leisurely pace across the beach to the Myrmidon camp, the breeze fanning Achilles’ hair out behind him as he continued to fiddle with the long end of his belt. He had to remind himself how to relax and walk without marching, not wanting to outpace Achilles.
Antilochus had seen less of him, since he’d commanded his army not to fight anymore. He was too tired after long days of gruelling battle, and no one from the other camps wanted to associate with him while he was protesting.
Antilochus was just tired. Tired of fighting with spears and with words, tired of being in Troy, tired of Agammemnon and Odysseus and all of them, all of it.
It was easier just to march along without thinking about it. He didn’t care if Achilles fought or not, so long as he didn’t have to think about it.
Achilles didn’t care that Antilochus fought either, which meant that they didn’t talk about it. That was fine with Antilochus. It wasn’t talking that everybody knew he got up to in Achilles’ tent.
Slowly, they approached it from across the sand, waving to the odd Myrmidon soldier who spotted them. They were much calmer than any of the soldiers at the other camps, spread out across the beach with their campfire and some kind of running game and a whole tent of butchered animals, being skinned and bled and dried. Antilochus supposed that without fighting, they must have had time to spare on community.
Achilles reached the entrance to the tent, but didn’t hold it open. Instead, he unfastened it and stepped to one side, giving Antilochus a sly smile and gesturing for him to go in first.
Antilochus raised his eyebrows. “Are you waiting to ambush me?”
Achilles laughed. “Of course not, darling. I could have taken you out twenty times in the time it took the two of us to walk here.”
Probably true. Antilochus strained his ears to listen out for anything inside the tent; he heard nothing. “What are you hiding?”
Achilles made a cooing sound. “Well, I can’t tell you. Somebody else might hear, and trust me, what’s in here is all for you and me.”
Antilochus was intrigued. Not like any answer would have made him turn and decide not to go in. Achilles grinned wolfishly at him as he stepped forward, slipping under the fabric of the tent and ducking inside.
A gasp escaped him as soon as he looked up. Achilles’ surprise certainly wasn’t subtle.
Right in the centre of the tent, a thick pole had been buried in the ground, like a pillar or a column. Only it didn’t hold up the roof of the tent, just the man who was bound around it in ropes.
Patroclus didn’t look surprised to see him. He was flushed and naked, his hair hanging in his eyes, and thick cords of rope had been artfully arranged all across his body, encircling his tits and his thighs in such a way that put them perfectly on display. His hands disappeared behind his back, tied at the other side of the pole, his hard cock bobbing between the spread of his thighs. Antilochus’ mouth hung open at the sight of him.
Achilles laughed as he ducked into the tent behind him, quick to refasten the flap so that this sight within stayed hidden to the outside. “Doesn’t he look pretty?”
Antilochus’ mouth was dry. Patroclus gave a huff that might have been a laugh, though it was coloured by frustration. “He’s speechless at my injustice.”
“Well, then why don’t you assure him that it’s very deserved,” Achilles cooed, skipping across the dirt floor to pinch his cheeks in patronising affection. He looked back at Antilochus, still squishing Patroclus’ face in his hand. “Do you think this is a good punishment for bad boys, Antilochus?”
Antilochus fought to find his voice. “Depends how bad he was.”
Achilles made an aww sound. “Look at him sympathise for you,” he tutted to Patroclus. “You don’t need to do that, Antilochus. He can’t reward you for sticking up for him. And he certainly won’t bite like this.”
Patroclus glared at him, and Achilles giggled in pure delight. Antilochus could hardly think with the blood rushing away from his brain. Achilles looked delighted by his state of paralysis as well.
“Come here,” he demanded, crooking his finger. “That’s it. You’re going to help me.”
Antilochus tripped over his own foot. “What, you can’t get him untied?”
“What? No. I’m sure the ropes are fine.” Achilles reached across to tug on one of them for emphasis, making Patroclus grunt and tense up. His cock bobbed between his legs with the movement. “I need to teach him a lesson. You’re going to help me.”
Antilochus looked him up and down again, as if he hadn’t got a clear enough look from the door. Patroclus met his gaze, breathing heavy like a bull in a fight.
Antilochus throbbed. “Okay. I can help.”
“Good boy,” Achilles said, pulling him in enough to plant a wet, affectionate kiss on his cheek. “You see, Patroclus? This is why Antilochus is my good boy, and why you’re the one being punished. What do you think, Antilochus? What should we do to him?”
Antilochus traced a finger up Patroclus’ arm, just to see his muscles tense and jerk under his fingers. The sight of him, so strong and so entirely restrained, made him shiver.
“Where to begin,” he breathed.
Achilles breezed past him to reach Patroclus, laughing and smoothing his hands over his chest. He leaned in to nose at his neck, pressing obnoxiously close just to breathe him in. “Just do what feels natural, darling. He can take it. He doesn’t have a choice.”
Patroclus made a strained sound as Achilles kissed and bit at his neck, groping his tits between the confines of the ropes. Antilochus hesitated a moment, too transfixed by watching, before moving closer and putting his own mouth to Patroclus’ shoulder. He tasted like sweat and the salt spray of the ocean, warm and real under Antilochus’ tongue.
Patroclus groaned under their attention, and beside him, Achilles pulled away to sharply twist one nipple. Patroclus yelped and strained against his ropes.
Achilles giggled. “Isn’t this fun? We could do this for days.”
Lust throbbed low in Antilochus’ stomach.
“We could,” he said slowly, working his fingers underneath part of the ropes to feel it bite into his skin. Patroclus was looking at him almost desperately. “It’d be a shame to break something so beautiful, though.”
“Patroclus wouldn’t break,” Achilles cooed, draping himself over his shoulder. He stroked a hand through his beard, one knee hitching up over his stomach seductively. “Look at him. Not even the best of the Greeks could break a bitch like him.”
“Maybe not if the best of the Greeks was busy getting his ass fucked,” Patroclus shot back. Without flinching, Achilles grabbed his nipple again and twisted harder, unblinking as he squirmed and whined.
“Do you see why such a pretty thing is getting punished now?” He asked Antilochus, voice flat and unaffected by Patroclus’ whimpers. “Someone has to teach him that running his mouth has consequences, and you know he doesn’t listen to a word I say.”
He released Patroclus’ nipple, leaving him panting between them. Antilochus looked down and saw his cock hard and leaking, betraying how these consequences were really affecting him. He ran a finger along the underside from base to tip, and he writhed and groaned at the tease.
“I think he’s enjoying your punishment a little too much,” he mused.
Achilles circled his thumb over the head of Patroclus’ cock, smearing precome over him. “Mm, I thought the same thing. But there’s no use trying to find something he won’t like. It’s easier to give him what he wants and make him regret it.”
Antilochus noted the trembling of Patroclus’ knees, the indents in his skin beneath the ropes, the sheen of sweat glistening over his skin. He turned back to Achilles.
“How long have you been punishing him?”
Achilles shrugged, waving his hand as if he were batting the question away like a persistent fly. “Only an hour or so. I didn’t want you to miss out on all the fun, just needed to show him his place.”
Antilochus felt dizzy. He ran his finger up and down his length a few more times, just idle touches, then wrapped his hand around him and gripped him tight. Patroclus groaned and bowed into the touch as much as his ropes would allow.
“Isn’t he wonderful,” Achilles sighed, trailing his hand down to fondle his balls as Antilochus slowly pumped his length. “Fuck, what a sight. I could die happy like this. I could die happy if I knew this was waiting for me in Elysium.”
“You are not doing this to me in Elysium,” Patroclus growled. “You get this while we’re flesh and blood, and that’s it.”
Achilles pouted at him, running his hand over Antilochus’ to thumb at the head of his cock again.
“Oh, well,” he sighed, not sounded particularly disappointed. “I suppose we’ll have to make the most of it, then, Tilo.”
Antilochus let go of Patroclus’ cock—Patroclus groaned and jerked his hips in empty frustration—as Achilles plastered himself to his chest again, running his tongue along the lines where the rope pressed into him and groping his tits and his biceps. He stepped back after a moment to rid himself of his own clothes, quick and methodical as always, and then pressed close to him again, grinding his own hard cock against Patroclus’ stomach while he groaned.
Antilochus fumbled with his own clothes, taking somewhat longer than Achilles—in his defence, he’d come from lunch at his father’s camp and was dressed considerably more modestly—his own length hard and aching as he freed it to the air. Patroclus eyed him while Achilles licked and bit at his chest, his arms jerking in his ropes like he might pull himself free just to touch him. Making sure Patroclus was watching, Antilochus slowly took his own length in hand and stroked, hissing through his teeth.
“Fuck,” he breathed, overcome by the sight of the men in front of him and the scent of sweat and sex that filled the tent.
Achilles turned to look at him, one knee hitched over Patroclus’ hip as he continued to grind rhythmically against him. He smiled, looking at him with just as much hunger before turning to verify that Patroclus was watching him too.
“Gods, I didn’t think of that,” he murmured, hips working lazily against Patroclus’ stomach. “You think that’d teach him? If you and I fucked on the floor right here in front of him and made him watch?”
Antilochus’ breath caught, his fist twisting on his length until his toes nearly curled at the force of his pleasure.
“Maybe,” he said, a little breathlessly. “It’d be a waste not to be touching him when he’s so pretty like this, though.”
“Hmm, you’re right.” Achilles tilted his head to kiss and bite up the side of Patroclus’ throat, keeping his head tipped back with a hand to the underside of his jaw. Antilochus could see the bob of his throat, the shudder of his breath. “Any second not spent touching him is a waste. So why don’t you get in here?”
Achilles was still fixated on his neck, taking his earlobe between his teeth and shaking his head slightly like a dog. Antilochus approached them both slowly, taking Patroclus’ hips in his hands, savouring the softness on his sides and his stomach before sliding further down his thighs, further, further.
He lowered himself to his knees, stroking every part of Patroclus’ thighs, his calves, from the backs of his knees up to his ass. He inhaled the musky scent of him as he pressed his face in between his legs, relished the shudder as he kissed at the base of his shaft, kissing above and below and all around where he wanted him just to tease him.
“Please,” Patroclus breathed shakily. He jolted and yelped, and Antilochus could only assume that Achilles had pinched him again.
“Oh, he’ll like that,” Achilles purred, pulling back just enough to watch as Antilochus focused on his length now, kissing and mouthing at it on all sides, lavishing him in attention yet still straying from what he really wanted. “He’s sensitive. I took him down before I came to find you.”
Antilochus looked up at him over the mountains of his stomach and tits, found him shuddering with the strength it took to hold together. He was looking at Antilochus like he didn’t want to beg, but it was the closest he’d come to it since Antilochus had known him.
He licked his tip, holding eye contact as he slowly slid him into his mouth, tongue out and mouth open wide. Patroclus groaned, his eyes creasing shut, and was quickly muffled by Achilles pulling him close by the jaw and kissing him violently.
Antilochus hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head, the taste of him sliding over his tongue as he took him deeper, felt him pulsing and hot in his mouth. He was aware of Achilles’ cock next to his face as he continued to grind into Patroclus’ thighs, both of them making soft sounds somewhere above him.
Patroclus bucked his hips as Antilochus took him deeper, desperate movements hindered by the grip of the ropes around his body. Antilochus gripped him by the thighs to push him back into the pole behind him, sliding back to the head until he stopped struggling, his tongue swirling around him in teasing spirals.
“That’s it, Antilochus,” Achilles praised him. Antilochus watched as he pushed three of his fingers into Patroclus’ mouth, clutching him by the cheeks to hold him there like a gag. Patroclus moaned around him, eyes closing as he tried to relax against the intrusion. “Make him behave. See how he stops, tries to be good for you?”
Antilochus swallowed him back down again, saliva spilling from his lips as he pressed back down the length of his cock. Patroclus groaned, and Achilles pushed his fingers in deeper until he choked.
“Good boy, Tilo,” Achilles purred, still grinding relentlessly on Patroclus’ thigh. “Take him deep, good boy. Fuck, you’re so hot. Both of you.”
He pulled his fingers out of Patroclus’ mouth, leaving him gasping, and slid his hand down to reach behind him. Antilochus imagined it must have been quite a tight fight, between his ass and the pole behind him, but based on the way that Patroclus moaned and trembled, he seemed to manage it. Reflexive tears ran from his eyes as he pushed deeper, bobbing his head along his thick length, his throat stretched and full in the best way.
Patroclus’ sounds grew desperate, raised in pitch, but more than that were the speed of Achilles’ movements against his hip, impatient and hurried.
“Antilochus,” he said, one hand grasping at Patroclus’ stomach as the other remained buried between him and the pole. “Pull off, come here.”
“No,” Patroclus whined, bucking in protest as Antilochus slid off his cock, coughing slightly as he wiped the spit from his mouth. His cock bobbed, flushed furiously dark with arousal as it was left untouched between them.
“Come here,” Achilles said again, impatient. Antilochus shuffled behind him on his knees, running his hands up his legs while he braced his feet and spread himself out.
Antilochus clutched at him by the thighs before leaning in to kiss his ass, pressing his face in to the point of suffocation and tonguing at his hole. Achilles moaned, leaning into Patroclus a little to give Antilochus better access, and he lapped at him furiously, devouring him like a man starving.
Patroclus groaned, a sound that was more frustration than arousal, his cock throbbing and neglected while Achilles keened and moaned Antilochus’ name. Antilochus pressed a finger into him, still licking and kissing around it, and Achilles arched his back fantastically.
“Gods, that’s—fuck,” he gasped, hips working in little increments. “Ah, ah, hold on. Move back a second.”
He pulled his other hand free from behind Patroclus, causing him to whine and growl with neglect. Achilles kissed him softly as if to reassure him, even as he continued to whimper as he moved away.
He got to his knees in the spot where Antilochus had been kneeling earlier, nuzzling his cock with the closed eyes and open mouth of a man in pure bliss. He gestured for Antilochus to follow behind, presenting his ass to him, and moaned prettily with his head thrown back as Antilochus slowly guided his cock inside.
“Yes, yes,” he chanted, his muscles tight and shuddering. “Unh. Fuck me, there, yes.”
As Antilochus started to move inside him, he leaned forward and took Patroclus down his throat in one easy motion, as if he were nothing and not nearly too thick to wrap a hand around. Patroclus groaned, straining against his ropes, and Antilochus throbbed at the sight, his hands tight enough to bruise on Achilles’ slender hips.
“Gods, fuck,” he muttered, the sound of his balls slapping Achilles’ ass echoing across the tent. Patroclus was whining, jerking his arms against the ropes again. “You look so fucking good. I can see why he wants you there every day. You’re hot enough to stare at forever.”
Patroclus groaned, panting as Achilles sucked him hard, making obscene sounds as he slid back and forth on his length. He was moaning low in his throat as Antilochus fucked him, no doubt sending vibrations trembling through Patroclus’ gut.
“You—fuck—I need—don’t let him—”
“You heard what he said,” Antilochus told him sternly, holding Achilles’ hips a little tighter. “Behave yourself if you want to come. Stop pulling on the ropes. Let him take you.”
Patroclus groaned, tipping his head back, but Antilochus saw him fighting to obey, tensed from head to toe as he tried to keep from pulling and jerking into every touch. Achilles hummed approvingly, fondling his inner thighs to his balls as he took him deep, his back arched to take Antilochus’ thrusts.
The sight was almost too much to take, let alone the feeling of him tight and hot on his cock. Antilochus panted as he tried to hold out, reaching around to pump Achille’s cock with urgency bordering on desperation as his peak crept up towards him.
Achilles moaned around Patroclus’ cock, so insistently that he choked on him, spit dripping to the floor where Antilochus could see it. Patroclus’ breaths came heavy, his shoulders tense and shaking as he looked down at Achilles’ head between his legs.
“Good boy,” Antilochus panted, thrusting erratically as the heat in his stomach began to coil tight. “Unh, come on, you can come, that’s it. Please.”
Antilochus came half a second before Patroclus did, his groan nearly loud enough to qualify as a roar after being held on the edge for so long. They both spilled into Achilles at the same time, Antilochus’ hand still working him as he moaned and swallowed around Patroclus, hips arching back into Antilochus as he emptied himself inside him.
“Yes,” he managed, his voice wrecked when he pulled off Patroclus’ cock. He had a string of spit and come dripping from one side of his mouth, his eyes streaming beautifully. “That’s it, ah, ah, please—”
He shuddered hard, folding to the floor with his ass cradled against Antilochus’ hips as he came into his hand. Antilochus stroked him through it, whimpering and moaning with his toes curled, and looked up at Patroclus staring at him with love in his eyes.
Antilochus pulled out while Achilles trembled through the aftershocks, getting to his feet with wobbling knees. Patroclus was too busy staring at Achilles to notice where he went to, but he felt the sigh of relief through his whole body when Antilochus found the knots in the rope behind the pole.
“I think you’ve done your time,” he said affectionately, kissing him on the shoulder as he fiddled with the tight coils of knots. “And you looked so beautiful doing it. You’ve learned your lesson now, haven’t you?”
Patroclus didn’t answer, and Antilochus was pretty sure it was because this punishment hadn’t deterred him at all. But he wasn’t bothered—it wasn’t his punishment, anyways, and if Achilles wanted to do this again sometime, he certainly wouldn’t be opposed.
Patroclus rolled his ankles as Antilochus unwound the rope from them, and looked at him with gratitude in his eyes when Patroclus walked around his front to undo the artful ties around his tits. He kissed him deeply, soft enough to say good job and it’s done, running his hands over the grooves that the ropes left on his skin. Touching him was intoxicating enough as it was; the added ruts and the sensitivity it left him with was powerful, and it almost made his arousal thrum back to life inside him.
Instead, he continued unwinding and untying until Patroclus was free, sighing shakily against the pole as he rolled his shoulders and his wrists in gentle circles. Antilochus kissed him again, giddy when this time his hands came to cup his face, winding into his hair.
Achilles got to his feet as well, swaying slightly as he leaned on Patroclus for support. Antilochus marvelled at the strength of the pole for holding all three of them.
“Was that too much, my beloved?” Achilles asked Patroclus, stroking his face and his beard. His voice was infinitely softer now, even if it was still raspy and wrecked from taking his cock.
Patroclus pulled away from Antilochus to lean his forehead against Achilles, their noses brushing as they leaned in to kiss each other.
“Never,” he swore softly, smiling as Achilles too ran his hands along the rope lines in his dark skin. “You know you could never break me, love.”
As they embraced, Antilochus stepped away to find a pitcher of water, drinking greedily straight from it before bringing it over to offer to the others. They accepted it gratefully, drinking until droplets glistened on their lips and chins, and Antilochus leaned in to kiss them away from both of them. Putting the pitcher back down, the three of them stumbled to the bed in the corner of the room, collapsing into the sheets in a pile, Achilles and Antilochus both fussing over Patroclus’ stiff limbs and reddened rope marks.
“What exactly were we punishing him for?” Antilochus asked, when the silence grew languid and comfortable, arms warm and eyes closed.
Patroclus snorted, a tiny smile spreading over his beautiful lips. “A whole lot of fuck all, that’s what.”
Achilles made an offended sound. “For running your mouth, asshole. Which you seem not to have learned much from.”
“You just wanted an excuse to tie me up and have your way with me.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Antilochus said. Achilles flicked Patroclus’ nipple again, infinitely gentler than he had been earlier, and then kissed him through the grins of lovesick schoolgirls. “The way he had it over your tits was something else.”
“Mm. You wouldn’t look too bad tied up, either.” Patroclus pulled back from Achilles to look at Antilochus with raised eyebrows. “I’m sure we could come up with some bullshit to punish you for, at some point.”
Antilochus laughed, finding himself somewhat excited by the idea. “Oh, I’m sure I’ve done something bad recently. I can always start acting up if not.”
Achilles grinned, reaching out to pull Antilochus in for a kiss. “You don’t have to act up to get my attention, princess. I’ll tie you up any time you like.”
Antilochus laughed, and lay his head down on Patroclus’ chest.