Chapter Text
Patroclus realized that not all of Troy was surrounded by dust and sandy plains. As he followed closely behind Achilles on their patrol he could see the green of the forest growing in the distance, the river that flew closer to the city walls. If he looked at what lay beyond the dune he could see the blue expanse of the ocean, and even further behind the cliffs and rocks, he noticed the outlines of the ships, the wooden masts of the Greek warships that came with Agamemnon and his army.
Patroclus asked how come was it that the Greeks did not run out of supplies to which Achilles replied they had the nearby villages and islands to rely on for provisions. The fights of the first years emptied out their barracks, but the Greeks still took advantage of the conquered land by raiding them of food, clothes and servants for labour.
Privately Patroclus thought it was rather brutal, but his version of humility might not align with once’s Ancient Greek ideals, so Patroclus decided to not keep his disagreements to himself. Instead, he listened to Achilles speak of their past.
Achilles did it in the form of a song.
Patroclus was surprised when he saw that Achilles had brought a lyre along on their walk. When they grew a little tired and had to stop to refill their water, Achilles sat in the shade of the tree and took the musical instrument out for Patroclus to stare at.
“Do you play?” Achilles asked, tilting his head to the side, a question lingering in his eyes. Patroclus shook his head. “Is there an instrument similar to this from where you come from?”
“Yes,” to that Patroclus nodded. “But I am not good with music. I have no sense of rhythm. My fingers are too large and I think my voice is not that suitable for singing either. I am probably a much better listener.”
Achilles smiled. “That’s how it was like in the past too.”
Now that Achilles grew more comfortable around him, he would say that remark often.
That’s what you were like in the past, Achilles would say when Patroclus would admit that he enjoyed spending his time around the closest people that he loved and cherished.
That’s what you liked in the past too, Achilles would nod when Patroclus told him he always had only dated men in the past and did not have much experience with girls.
That was what interested you in the past too, Achilles would note when Patroclus spoke about his studies and classes in the university.
Patroclus was not sure what to make of those remarks. Were they meant to comfort Achilles, the similarities reminding him of his lover, therapon, Achilles told him the word, or was it meant to soothe Achilles’ ache thinking that Patroclus has not changed that much, and this whole endeavor was a temporary mistake which would soon resolve itself?
Patroclus had no idea what to make of it. Achilles was so many things, he was a little blunt and distant, in one moment he would act cold and dismissive, and at another, he would demand Patroclus’ attention like an overgrown puppy. It made Patroclus head dizzy, the whole game of cold and hot. No wonder that he found it so hard to read into what was going through Achilles’ mind.
When they sat in the shade of the trees Patroclus studied Achilles intently. He needed to see what thoughts were running through Achilles’ head, and what kind of emotions was plaguing his heart. When Achilles looked up from the strings he was gently caressing with his fingers, he met Patroclus’ gaze with a small smile.
“Would you like me to sing to you?”
Patroclus blinked, surprised. Out of all the questions Achilles could ask this was the least expected one. Patroclus looked at Achilles’ fingers, they were moving silently but skillfully along the strings. His mouth turned dry. For the first time, he felt a strange sense of deja vu, his body gripped by an unknown force, and his mind racing, Achilles holding his lyre was an image ingrained deeply into Patroclus’ memory.
His past self was talking to him.
“I think I would like that a lot,” Patroclus said, voice low and raspy.
Achilles’ song was akin to a sweet melody. His voice was quiet, but Patroclus felt it fit well with the music of the lyre, the soft sound which followed through the gentle sway of the wind. Patroclus listened to Achilles’ singing as if he was under a spell. He learned more than he thought he would about himself, about the plains of Phthia, about King Peleus who told them stories of mighty Heroes when they were children, of Chiron who was their teacher and of Pelion where they spent there youth together, about the isle of Skyros and how lonely Achilles was there, now terrified of the wrath of his divine mother, about his fate and destiny of being the best of the Greeks, Aristos Achaion, how much he wanted to stay strong and protect him, how Achilles’ failed in showing Patroclus his love and how he repented for not speaking the words of his true feelings sooner.
Patroclus did not know that he was crying. He knew his eyes were wet, and his throat constricted, but it was when Achilles’ words stopped and his nimble fingers stopped moving that he grew aware of his Patroclus’ tears.
They sat in silence for a while. Achilles’ watched him, eyes wide and unblinking, as Patroclus wiped his wet cheeks.
“I am sorry,” he said a little hushed under Achilles’ gaze. His words felt too loud and too rough in comparison to Achilles’ graceful singing.
“I am glad you got to hear it. Yet, you have always cried too easily,” Achilles replied slyly, and Patroclus huffed despite himself. Achilles’ face turned serious. “I meant everything that I was singing about. I want there to be no more mistakes between us.”
“I am sorry your lover could not hear this song,” Patroclus said quietly looking down at his feet. Achilles’ body stiffened. Patroclus could not see his face clearly, but he knew that he was frowning. “It was beautiful.”
“What do you mean by that?” Achilles’ tone turned cold.
Patroclus flinched. “You know what I am saying. I think you wanted your Patroclus to hear it too.”
Achilles jumped to his feet before Patroclus could react to what he was doing. “I hate it when you speak like that. How can you not understand? It is you. You two are the same. Same body, same soul, from different times. When you speak, I hear him talk, the way you act, the way you walk, the way you stretch your vowels, even the way you brush your hair, everything about you is similar to him! I would never kiss you if I did not know you. I would never lay in bed with you if I was not sure. So stop speaking like you are pretending to be someone else.”
“But you said it yourself,” Patroclus raised his chin, unable to keep his voice leveled. “You called me a stranger that first night.”
Achilles puffed out his chest. His jaw ticked, and his eyes narrowed like he was getting ready for attack. “I was wrong. Happy? I said things I should not have said, and now I regret it.”
Patroclus stared at Achilles with surprise. The apology was the last thing he expected to hear.
Patroclus knew he was starting to grow selfish. He should just drop the subject, move on, and lay low in Achilles’ eyes but he could not. Not after everything he had heard, he felt that he was already growing too attached. The truth he had the moment Achilles’ lips touched his on their first day together in the tent.
Patroclus took a deep breath in. He asked the question he was thinking about constantly but was too afraid to ask. “But I am still me, Achilles. With my memories, my thoughts, my opinions. Can you truly accept me for who I am without seeing someone else inside of me?”
That, Patroclus thought immediately as he said it, is the thought I should have kept to myself.
What was wrong with him? Things have only started to look up between them; and how he had to go and ruin it all. He was being selfish. Patroclus felt his cheeks turn red and his look low, to hide away from Achilles’ eyes.
“I- I did not mean it like that. I am sorry. You have every right to grief for your companion. I should not get in between you two coming back together.”
Achilles was mute and silent. Patroclus did not know if he was angry or upset, but when Patroclus felt the fingers on his chin tilting his head up he had no other option but to move, and look up at Achilles who stood silently before him.
“I would love you in every dimension and time if you let me. In every time, past and future I would recognize you.”
Patroclus’ heart felt too loud and too heavy for his chest. The sincerity in Achilles’ eyes made his breath stagger, and he could not tear his gaze away. The sun was beginning to set, and the golden light made Achilles’ hair bright, almost in flames in its light.
“There is one more place I wanted to show you,” Achilles said, almost shy, as he let go of Patroclus's face. Patroclus already missed the feeling of Achilles’ fingers on his chin. “We should watch the sunset at the beach. The view is much better there than from here in the forest.”
Patroclus wanted to quickly forget the awkwardness that overfilled him as he confessed to Achilles, so he agreed. He followed Achilles close behind as they began to descend towards the ocean waters.
They did not speak, but the silence did not bother him. Patroclus watched Achilles back as he walked. He wondered not for the first time, about what his old soul saw then he looked at him. Was it their past that they shared? Were those the memories of youth that drew them together? Patroclus knew that inside his heart were the strings tugging painfully, longing for the past happiness they shared before the war. But if Achilles was destined to die, should he be grateful for his decision to return to the battlefield? Or should Patroclus trust his words and believe that the ways of the fates had changed?
After all, Patroclus was able to come into the past. If magic and Gods did exist, maybe he could also be certain that Achilles’ life could be spared. But would it not change things? If Troy had not fallen, if Achilles lived, what did it make of the history itself? Patroclus shuddered at the thought. Could saving the life of one man could shift the course of history so strongly? Would it mean that his own life in the future could change too?
Achilles stopped and turned around, making Patroclus bump into him, without looking clearly where he was going.
“What are you thinking about?” Achilles asked, alert, as Patroclus stood still looking down at Achilles with a sheepish expression.
“Sorry. I was daydreaming. Are we here yet?”
Patroclus took a look around. He was buried so deeply inside his thoughts that he had completely lost the track of time. He did not recognize the beach; it must have been the opposite shore from the one closest to the camp. It was facing the direction of the setting sun and Patroclus watched it, moving lower towards the sea in fascination.
“We should have a little picnic here while we watch the sun set down.”
Patroclus nodded, still looking in wonder at the ocean before him. He almost forgot about the cheese, the nuts and the dried meat that he had brought along with him. Patroclus set them up along the beach, and Achilles’ helped.
“You have not answered my question.”
Patroclus raised his head, catching Achilles already looking at him. He played dumb to keep his flustered feelings at bay. “What question?”
If Achilles was annoyed with him he did not show it. “What were you thinking about when he was coming here?”
Patroclus bit down his lower lip, sitting down on the shore and stretching out his legs before him. He sighed heavily trying to think of the right way to answer Achilles’ question to not make it appear that he was hiding something from him.
“It is my death, is it? You think I am wrong about the ways of the fates?”
Patroclus did not expect Achilles to say those words so easily. He did not like how fast Achilles had come to expect his fate.
“I just don’t think you should talk so lightly about it,” Patroclus said instead. Achilles narrowed his eyes and leaned forward on his arms, their faces close. Patroclus listened to the sound of the ocean and felt the last of the eastern sun on his cheek. It felt so incredibly real, he could do nothing, not even move, when Achilles’ mouth was inches away from his own.
“You know something. In the future. You know they remember me. You know that it is true that I will die by the walls of Troy.”
“It does not have to be.”
Patroclus did not know what forced him to say it aloud. But he knew it was true. He knew how Achilles would die, that he would be shot in the heel by Paris, but if he knew it, that meant he could prevent it. Patroclus could hint to Achilles to stay away from the Prince; he would tell him which part of his body needed to be protected. But in the myth, Paris was guided by Divine help, the god Apollo gave him strength. Patroclus was a mortal. Could his words stand against the wishes of the Gods?
There was something else in the myth, the details of which Patroclus knew he was missing, but he forgot entirely, and he felt a headache growing in his scalp again as he tried to remember it.
Achilles stared at him in silence, as if studying his face. When Patroclus looked up, the sun had lowered even more. It was golden. Achilles’ features were lit up by it too, bright and close, and yet so distant from him. Patroclus needed to touch him. His fingers ached, he had this desperate urge, a burning need, to feel Achilles’ skin under his fingertips.
“Our first kiss was similar to this,” Achilles smiled. Patroclus watched as small dimples appeared on his cheeks.
He swallowed a lump inside his throat, suddenly nervous when he spoke his next words. “I think you should remind me how it went too.”
His eyes fell on Achilles’ lips. He did not know who moved first, but the next thing he knew was a touch of Achilles’ mouth on his own.
Patroclus savored the kiss. It was slow and unhurried, and Patroclus wanted to remember it, the feeling of Achilles’ tongue, his lips, his hot breath. There was no urgency between them, but it lacked no passion or desire. Patroclus’ mind clouded, his blood boiling in his body, and when he felt he was lacking air, he moved away slowly, Achilles’ nose brushing his own, as they separated only a few inches from each other.
When Patroclus looked at him, Achilles’ expression turned from one from adoration to mild terror. Patroclus frowned, did he do something he was not supposed to?
But Achilles did not push him away. He did not get angry or recoiled or try to move away from Patroclus's touch. No, instead he looked like he was a bit scared, a little self-conscious, as if someone might see them, but there was no one around them, no single soul who could catch them together kissing like this.
“Is something wrong?” Patroclus breathed out, watching Achilles anxiously.
Achilles looked up at him with wide eyes, surprised by the concern in Patroclus’ voice, and then he did something that Patroclus did not expect him to do at all, he laughed.
“Of course, you would not remember. How could you? I am glad. I always found that peculiar fear of yours a little silly. Come here. Kiss me again.”
Patroclus did not have to be told twice. He moved slowly as if he were underwater, but he felt everything so real and so intense; there was no denying that this was real life. He pushed Achilles gently on the sand , pinning him down with his body, watching Achilles with dark from desire eyes.
This time, when he kissed Achilles, there was no hesitation in the way his mouth moved or his tongue intertwined with Achilles’ own. They both wanted it. They craved the touch, the raw closeness of naked skin to skin. Patroclus’ body moved as if it was not his own. Just as Achilles knew of places which made his mind go blank from pleasure, his body appeared to know every weak spot on Achilles’ body which made him moan and throw his head in abandonment too. On the column of his neck, along his chest, the graze of sharp teeth against Achilles’ pink nipples, cold and pebbled from the cool ocean air.
Patroclus pressed fleeting kisses down Achilles’ toned stomach, his unkept stubble must have brought tickling arousal when Patroclus moved to bite at the sensitive skin on the inside of Achilles’ thighs. Patroclus thought somewhere on the periphery of his mind that when he got back to the camp he really needed to shave.
Patroclus did not hesitate to take Achilles into his mouth. He was always a giving lover, he did not wish to leave Achilles denied of pleasure. Achilles’ moans were a sweet sound above his head, and when Patroclus felt his fingers intertwined in the brown of his curls and tugging urgently, Patroclus could not hold back the pleased heady sigh of his own. He wanted to taste Achilles’ cum on this tongue, and he urged his movements to grow almost too rough, his fingers digging into Achilles’ thighs, leaving ugly bruising shapes of his hands on the tanned skin. Patroclus never considered himself to be possessive, but the thought that Achilles would bear his marks made Patroclus grow painfully hard in his own trousers.
The noises which Achilles’ made when he reached his pleasure sent shivers down Patroclus’ spine. He never heard anything so sweet as the sound of Achilles’ moans, and Patroclus wanted to savor them all, so he did not hesitate, when he moved away leaving a soft partial kiss on the softness of Achilles’ length and pressed his body against his own to capture Achilles lips in a bruising kiss.
Achilles’ body was relaxed from his orgasm, his muscles lax and soft, and Patroclus would have felt satisfied to leave it at that, but he could not hold back his moan when Patroclus wrapped his legs around Patroclus waist, letting his clothed erection brush the smooth skin of Achilles’ arse.
“We don’t have to do that,” Patroclus barely heard himself speak, his words lost to him behind the drumming sound of his heart echoing loudly in his ear.
“I want to,” Achilles whispered just as softly against his mouth, and when Patroclus looked at his his eyes were wide and green, and pleading, and his cheeks were the color of early dawn. “I want you Patroclus. Please?”
Patroclus could not deny him anything even if he tried. All Achilles had to do was bat his long eyelashes as him and suddenly Patroclus was willing to drop on his knees and do everything for him. It was no wonder his other soul could not handle the pressure of being loved by Achilles, Patroclus could not blame him for giving in and succumbing under the intensity of its emotions. Patroclus now was willing to do the same.
He did not speak, but there was a silent agreement between them. Patroclus moved his hand, and kissed Achilles on his mouth to distract him from pain, as he stretched him out, first two fingers, then three. Achilles’ body was moulded for his own, and Patroclus could sense it know how true it was. They have done it together before, but Patroclus wanted Achilles to remember him, to fall apart on his touch, and he did not realize that his thoughts made his fingers reach deeper, that his pace got faster, and they kept pushing relentless against the spot that made Achilles throw back his head and expose his lovely throat in a load moan.
“So possessive,” Achilles laughed, breathlessly, when he regained his ability to speak, his fingers leaving crescent-shaped marks on Patroclus’ shoulders.
“Sorry,” Patroclus whispered, dropping his head, his forehead touching a space near Achilles’ collarbone, kissing him softly in an apology.
“Don’t apologize for it. I like it,” Achilles said, raising his hands and cupping Patroclus’ face in between his palms. He kissed his softly, almost chastely, which did not suit well with the lewd sounds that Patroclus’ fingers made as they stretched Achilles’ hole. “I am ready. You can put it in.”
Patroclus moved slowly with Achilles’ words. Achilles spread his legs wider, a space in between them meant only for Patroclus to fit it, and and he lifted his knees, dropping one leg over the bent of Patroclus’ elbow so that Patroclus could move easier inside of him.
Patroclus was so hard, and so desperate the feel the tightness of the hot walls of Achilles’ hole around him. The moment the tip of his cock reached past Achilles’ puffy rim, he gritted his teeth and pushed his hips in a restlessly slow pace. Achilles was so tight and so warm inside of him, his walls hugging Patroclus so tight, it was almost painful to move. Achilles’ mouth fell into a round shape of a silent moan, and they sighed together when Patroclus nested fully inside of him.
Patroclus knew he could move, when Achilles hugged him by the neck, and urged him by the shameful roll of his hips. Patroclus knew it was stupid of him, but he wanted to fuck Achilles’ like no one had before. Competing with himself was not something that Patroclus would ever admit to doing, but he needed to show Achilles the pleasure that his body could give him, that Achilles’ would think of him, of this Patroclus, who was making him moan loudly from pleasure and who was making his head lose all trail of rational thought as he was fucked into the wet sand under the clear starlit sky.
Patroclus knew he was close but he wanted this to last for so much longer. They legs entangled together, their arms, and their bodies so close, and when they kissed it was hard to know where Patroclus’ body began and Achilles’ ended. Their bodies fit so right together like the pieces of a complicated puzzle. Patroclus moved his hips slowly, the drag of his cock making Achilles let out sweet gasps against his mouth, and the there was no other way Patroclus could describe it but making love. He wanted Achilles to know how deeply he felt it, how much it meant for him to see Achilles’ open up and grow so vulnerable before him.
Patroclus’ pace grow faster and he was losing his rhythm, and he knew he was going to spill inside and if he wanted to move he could not, Achilles was holding to him like a little octopus, not letting him to move an inch, and Patroclus gritted his teeth, bitting the plush of Achilles’ earlobe.
“I am close,” he grunted against him, kissing Achilles of the side of his face. “I will cum soon, my love, if you keep on holding to me like that.”
“I want to feel you inside,” Achilles moaned, his hold on Patroclus’ body so tight it was almost painful. “Like you always do. I need to feel you close. Don’t deny me that, Patroclus. I know that he wouldn’t.”
Patroclus would be too ashamed to know that this was what did it. The thought of his past self fucking Achilles, and cuming inside of him. Would his lean stomach bulge with his seed? Would he see his pink hole dripping from his cum? The thoughts made Patroclus head spiral. He was so aroused, he felt delusional with it, and he reached down his hand to take Achilles’ hard licking length. The jerked him off, urgently, and he needed them to cum together, to feel the pleasure at once as they bodies connected once more.
Achilles came, and when Patroclus felt his hot seed on his fingers, he felt his own release that was building low in his stomach explode. It felt good, he never would admit that he wanted to cum without a condom, and having to experience it now, the raw pleasure that Achilles gave him, he did not know if he would ever be able to compare anything to this. He did not want to. Having Achilles close and holding him tight was enough for him for the rest of his life.
Patroclus knew that he had to move, and that he was probably crushing Achilles under his weight, but he was pleasantly tired, and his body was too soft and too languid to listen to him.
“I can’t believe you got jealous over yourself,” Achilles chuckled as they lay in silence for a while, enjoyed the warm night air. Patroclus shoved him gently, making Achilles let out a full on belly laugh. “I am just joking. I have a space in my heart enough to fit both of you.”
Patroclus looked at him, as he lay on his side, his heart full. Achilles gaze met his own as he turned his head, to give Patroclus a tired smile.
Patroclus wished he could capture this moment inside his head for forever.