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Diomedes stood over his prey, caressing his neck gently.
“You thought you could escape me, huh? You thought your mommy is strong enough to save your life? Well,” Diomeds rammed his fingers into the soft throat, his nails digging into the neck like lion’s claws. “Life maybe, but what about your skin?”
He slapped one of the shapely thighs with his free hand. Then he caressed it with his nails digging deep, deep into the flesh, through the whole length of it. The man hissed and threw his head backwards, but there was no escaping what’s coming. He put himself in that place, it was his own wish. Nobody was to blame.
Diomedes kept their faces close, knowing that his victim couldn’t be aware of what’s coming next. The only thing that he could expect was the hot breath upon his swarthy skin.
“How does it feel to be blinded, Aeneas? To no longer see your beloved plains, to no longer bask in the glory of the gods? Do you see any difference? Do you miss gazing at my face, my hair, decorated with your mother’s golden ichor?”
The Argive shifted his position, pushed the shoulders of his Aeneas into the hard ground, making the other man whimper. Without any warning, he knelt on his stomach, making the Trojan yelp.
“Oh, keep doing that,” Diomedes purred. “I have spent all those days listening to your screams on the battlefield, all your whines and howls, shouts and bellows. And how you ran away from me, scared like a one year old fawn...” He slid his hands down the chest of the other, scratching the nipples and pulling on the dark hair. “Don’t you know that the chase only makes the hunter’s appetite grow? Do you know how hard it is to wear an armor while your cock is twitching in-between your thighs?”
A deep, growly laugh escaped Diomedes’ lips. He touched the erect cock, that was now greeting him without words.
“I see you’re slowly starting to understand. Too bad I had to rip that armor off of you. You won’t get to feel what I did today, but…”
He grabbed the cock in a tough grip, letting the pre-cum fall on his fingers.
“I will surely let you feel myself tonight,” Diomedes let go of the painfully hard penis and grabbed his own, almost as hard and erect as his victims. “Just not right now.”
The man grunted, gasped and growled.
“Frustrated aren’t we? Answer me.”
Aeneas panted, grabbed a handful of dirt scratched his nails on the ground, but failed to reply.
“Mm, that’s right, you can’t. Do you like the taste of that bit? Your horse sure did.”
Upon not receiving an answer, the king of Argos urged his hips onward and spit onto the broad chest.
“We do like to use olive here,” he explained, while wiping the spit with his fingers.” But we don’t like to waste it while using our furniture. It’s more fun when it’s rough.”
He stopped for a second, burying his mind in thoughts and then, looked up. With sudden outburst of gentleness, he cradled the man’s face in his hand. Hummed. Tilted the chin up and wiped trail of spit from his Aeneas’ cheek.
But it only lasted mere seconds.
With one knee upon a Trojan stomach and one hand stroking the other’s cock playfully, Diomedes started taking care of his own. Soon enough his pants and Aeneas’ whines filled the tent. With each movement, with each stroke of his hand and arch of Trojan’s back, he kept on pushing his leg into the man, feasting on his whines and pained moans.
He was almost reaching his climax, when a sudden clank of metal, a sound well-known to both of them from the battlefield, cut his struggles short.
Diomedes gritted his teeth, and turned his head so sharply that his hair flew up in an angry, golden storm.
“You know, I slowly start to dread coming into this tent. At least I’m not the only one knocking.”
“What is it?” Diomedes was panting, red in the face from all his mighty struggles. Definitely not because Sthenelus was now standing right next to his shield, unexpected.
“Some of us want to sleep.”
“And some of us want to relax.”
Sthenelus raised an eyebrow.
“You call that ‘relax’? You two are so loud each night, that I’m pretty sure your wife back in Argos can hear you.”
The man under Diomedes chuckled and moaned immediately after the lion of Argos pushed his knee deeper into his chest.
“Silence.”
“Why is he blindfolded?” Sthenelus crossed his arms. He looked like an impatient cock,
a greedy one, with ruffled feathers and furious red eyes. A jealous little bird.
“I can’t really blind Odysseus, can I? We had to come up with something else.”
“Yeah, I suppose Agamemnon wouldn’t appreciate such a change in his appearance.”
A thick, unpleasant silence befell them. Diomedes stood still with his knee buried deep in Odysseus’ chest, the latter oddly silent. The second ruler of Argos kept eyeing them, looking as if he didn’t even contemplate the chance of leaving the hut.
Diomedes took a sharp breath, uncomfortable with the silence and the load in his kilt.
“Would you like to join us or do you prefer watching?”
“And whose role would I play in this weird game, oh great Diomedes?” Sthenelus scoffed. “Should I be goddess Athena that cheers you on and throws me out of our chariot or do you prefer me to be Aphrodite and steal your boyfriend away?”
“Last time I checked you were driving my chariot. Isn’t that enough for you?”
Sthenelus took a step closer.
“I do that daily. Where’s the fun in that?”
“Then,” Tydeides took a sharp breath. “Pose as Hector. I can handle you both.”