I break the kiss long enough to say, “You’re talking too much.”
“Nah, you like it when I talk.”
Patroclus goes tense, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that Achilles is feeding him his cock. With the flick of a switch, this became more about Patroclus’s pleasure than it became about mine. I press back a little so I can move more effectively…and so I can give him a show. The way he watches my body, it’s like he’s still not quite sure this is real, but he really, really wants it to be.
I’m not sure it’s real, either.
I lift my arms over my head as I roll my hips, and it’s the most natural thing in the world to twine them around Achilles’s neck. He’s tall enough that I have to stretch, but the way Patroclus curses at the sight, it’s more than worth it.
Patroclus moves one hand from my hips to press his thumb against my clit, and then he holds perfectly still so I can rub against him how I need. “I want to feel you come on my cock again, Helen.”
“Keep it up and I will,” I gasp.
Achilles palms my breasts as he picks up his pace, fucking Patroclus so roughly, I can feel every stroke. So roughly, it’s as if he wants to reassure himself that Patroclus is okay, and this is the only way to do it. It’s almost like the thrust starts with him and cascades in a wave through Patroclus to me, where I rise and sink back down, sending it back to Achilles. It’s surreal and sexy, and I never, ever want it to stop.
I never want any of this to stop.
It feels too good, though. The pressure builds and builds, and I want to fight it but not enough to stop or slow down. Achilles plucks at my nipples, little pinpricks of pain that only add to Patroclus’s thumb against my clit, his cock filling me entirely. I open my mouth to demand more and then it’s too late. I’m coming.
I start to slump forward, but they hold me up between them. Achilles picks up his pace, and I dazedly realize he was holding back until now. He’s not holding back any longer. His thrusts have Patroclus’s cock moving inside me and my orgasm just keeps coming. Wave after wave, until it feels like my very bones have turned liquid. Achilles holds me surprisingly gently considering how he’s fucking Patroclus, and I swear I feel him kiss my temple.
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.”