The days of our Trojan lives
* * * * *
Warnings: slash, incest, complete silliness .
Pairings: Hector/Paris, Achilles/Patroclus
* * * * *
In Sparta:
"And I want rose wallpaper in our bedroom!"
Menelaus sighed, "But Helen, love, I changed it for you a week ago."
Miffed, Helen stomped her foot. "Achilles made fun of it! And I saw Patroclus crying with laughter. I want new wallpaper!"
Menelaus remembered how he had cringed when he saw the hideous wallpaper for the first time – dark green with mating cheetahs all over it.
Achilles came to help him with with the glue, because he had nothing better to do at that time. He was hiding among a merry party of girls, wearing a nice white robe and a wreath with fancy coloured ribbons, to escape an ugly fate his Mom told him about. Although he stood out from the girly crowd with the trunks he had for legs and his broad shoulders, he enjoyed his time with the girls immensely, until his young companion Patroclus was ready to scratch his eyes out.
"You moron! Why on Earth did I marry you?" Helen of Sparta was lamenting so hard she didn't hear her husband's sheepish answer, "Because your Mother arranged it . . . ."
She stormed through the room like a hurricane and then the door smashed shut with a loud bang!
In despair, King Menelaus sat down on a divan. I cannot go on like this, he thought. What to do? Suddenly an idea struck him. He called his brother Agamemnon, told him of his suffering, and asked for help. That's what brothers are for.
* * * * *
The next day, on a Trojan ship:
"Erm, Paris, love, would you be so courteous as to explain something?"
Paris stopped throwing Spartan croissants to the dolphins and turned to his brother.
"What?"
"You aren't smuggling anything away from the Spartan king are you?"
Paris looked vacant.
Hector sighed, "Come with me, then."
"Again? Aren't you a little over enthusiastic? I'm sore already . . . ."
Hector put an arm around his shoulders and led Paris below the deck. Paris stopped short. There, on a bag of provisions, sat a parcel, formed like a woman. It had a red ribbon around the waist and a sign attached to the neck.
The younger prince reached for the sign, but the parcel growled fiercely and Paris quickly hid his hand behind his back. Hector tore off the sign grumpily and read, "To Prince Paris. Happy birthday, lad! Love Menelaus."
"But it is not my . . . ."
"Just open it," motioned Hector. Paris then took a few cautious steps towards the parcel and started to unwrap it. Under many layers of paper emerged Helen of Sparta. She sneered ominously, "So my dear hubbie wants to get rid of me? He ain't seen nothing yet! But on the other hand . . . " she looked Paris up and down, then she mumbled, "he didn't choose poorly. No, he didn't."
With the speed of an attacking cobra, she grabbed Paris and plastered her lips on his.
Hector bared his teeth and growled while Paris fought and writhed trying to get rid of her horny octopus hold. He managed it after stomping on her foot with his sandal. With a squeak, he hid behind his big brother.
Helen couldn't be deterred so easily. With her boot tapping the wooden floor, she put her hands on her hips, "You are mine, whether you want it or not!"
Hector hugged Paris tightly. "Over my dead body!"
Helen stomped her feet, but couldn´t challenge him now – they forgot to put a sword into her parcel.
Paris looked out from behind Hector. "I do not want you to fight over me! I would rather throw myself into the sea!"
"To the horny dolphins, right? simpered Helen. "Don't struggle, it's in vain." And she licked her lips ominously.
They couldn't sail back, for the wind or the gods or even Menelaus's prayers always turned their ship to Trojan shores. So Hector had to take Helen to their homeland. Hector took trembling Paris back to their cabin and from the lack of other activities decided on hot NC-17 incest, until Paris squealed louder than a flock of sea-gulls.
* * * * *
Paris's cries of delight reached even the Spartan shores. Patroclus, angsty character (tm), pricked his ears, then chucked his wooden sword on the ground and turned to Achilles.
"Do you hear that? Paris can have fun but we cannot?"
Achilles stretched his half-godly, perfectly toned body, bronzed from the sun, a bit wet with sweat, and Patroclus salivated. The mighty hero turned to him. "But my beloved cousin "
"Will you stop calling me that?!"
"Why?"
"I. Am. Not. Your. COUSIN! My mother's sister used to be a flatmate of the friend of your father's nephew."
Achilles' brain needed quite some time to process so much information. "And we're related how, then?"
"We're absolutely NOT related. So move it . . . ." There was an orgasmic groan from the sea, and Patroclus responded, "I want IT too!"
Achilles kissed his hair patiently, and chastely. "I'm sorry, this cannot be. The mighty Gods decided we're cousins, so that's what we are."
"And what about Paris and Hector?"
"That's something else entirely. "
"SO not true!"
"They erm never mind. Come on then, chop chop, get your sword."
Patroclus ground his molars. It was pointless to argue with Achilles. He grabbed his sword and used his pent up sexual frustration to beat his 'cousin' into a pulp. Achilles was maximally satisfied with his fighting performance.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, in Troy:
King Priam saw his sons' ship approach and immediately went to his night table to get the medications for his high blood pressure. He readied himself for another of Hector's insane treaties, like the one just two years ago, when Hector agreed to import sand from Sparta to Troy.
The ship landed and the princes had a charriot ready to get them to their city. Helen wanted to stand beside Paris, but Hector pushed her off, none too gently, and got on. Paris smiled dreamily as they went because the jolting of the chariot was very . . . pleasing.
In front of the entrance to the palace, Priam waited. He became nervous when he saw the approaching trio: a miffed Hector, Paris, who appeared to be walking with some difficulty, and behind them a woman. Priam thought she greatly resembled Menelaus' wife.
He greeted his sons, then turned to the woman. "And who are you?"
Paris rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn't move a muscle. Hector took a deep breath. "That is Helen of Sparta, Father."
"Helen of Troy," corrected the queen and curtsied, "of Troy! I got Paris for my birthday."
"You SO did NOT!" Hector's growl drowned his younger brother's protests.
Helen couldn't be bothered. "I challenge Hector to a duel! If he wins, he keeps Paris. If I win . . . mwahahaha!" She gave them all a look that would wither a tree and Hector had to support Paris, who almost collapsed from it.
"Do not worry, love," Hector whispered into his brother's ear, "she cannot conquer me because I have the new exercise regime from Achilles, so . . . ." He gently nipped Paris' ear and went to work out. In the meantime, their father went to his observatory to calm his nerves by watching the stars, because the truth really is out there.
* * * * *
Coincidentally, Patroclus had been staring through his telescope as well, but not at the sky. "Achilles?"
"Yes?"
"Why don't we go to Troy for a couple of days. Looks like Hector and Helen are preparing for a duel."
At the moment, an odd object appeared in the telescope. The youngster looked appalled. "An eclipse of the sun! It's a sign!"
Achilles rolled his eyes. "It's just my nipple, you moron! What Helen are you babbling about, cousin?" He leaned lazily against the telescope, displaying his muscles to good advantage and Patroclus' eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
"Helen of Sparta, you know. Let's go to Troy," he managed to say through clenched teeth.
"All right," Achilles nodded and grabbed his gear. "I'm ready." With that he playfully poked his 'cousin' in the ribs with his sword, then turned and left. Patroclus shifted the telescope to focus on the hero's rear. "I'm ready too, just you wait!" he muttered.
On the way to the ship, they practiced various attacks, cartwheels, and a couple of somersaults for good measure, when Odysseus appeared and stopped for a chat.
While Achilles paid attention to his friend, Patroclus seized the opportunity. He attacked with his wooden sword, trying to grab a handful of the enticing flesh under Achilles' skirt. His friend kept chatting, not even noticing, but effortlessly blocking the oncoming blows. In the end, Patroclus let out a frustrated howl and ceased his 'practice' to come up with another tactic.
* * * * *
Paris was browsing through the armory, checking out his deadly arrows and tennis rackets, when Hector suddenly appeared and pushed him against the wall. "Mmmm," he slobbered against Paris' tender throat. "I couldn't find you anywhere."
Paris dropped an arrow and slid his hands through Hector's thick hair, then he pushed him away. "No Hector, not now. I want to exercise so I can be like you, a great warrior. Ohhh, heheheh, stopit, stopit, that tickles!" Hector thought Paris didn't need to work out to be able to fight. In his case, batting his long eyelashes had the same impact as a straight KO. He picked Paris up, threw him over his shoulder and took off in the direction of their bedroom.
"We will exercise together."
"But I wanted to go riding," Paris complained.
Hector reached their bedroom, kicked in the door, dumped Paris on the bed and said, "Exactly what I had in mind."
* * * * *
Patroclus didn´t mean to be brushed off that easily. He spread a blanket in front of the stern, right under Achilles´ nose. Then he started to strip slowly, carefully folding each item of clothing (not many) and putting it on the side. Achilles merely concentrated on the horizon. However, when Patroclus began to spread a high rH factor suntan lotion all over his gleaming body, Achilles´ heel twitched. Then the great hero shuffled his feet: "Uhmm, it's very hot today, cousin."
"Mmm it is, indeed."
Patroclus lay on his back, propping one leg high in the air, straight into Achilles' field of vision, and purred as he rubbed the lotion into his shapely calf. Achilles felt that his eyes quit obeying him as his glance was drawn to the long, slim, tender, and glistening thighs of his . . . bloody hell . . . 'cousin.'
With just a mini something to cover his nudity, Patroclus did a good job oiling himself (not there well, yet), then stood up and sauntered to the bar. Then he returned to Achilles, passing him one of the two drinks he was holding and batting his eyelashes at him seductively: "Care to try Hector's Secret?"
Achilles clenched the stern so tightly he almost broke it. "Well "
Patroclus dipped his index finger in his drink, making a show of watching the seas, unconcerned, then slid the finger into his mouth, sucking, purring and then he slowly took it out. Needless to say, Achilles´ eyes were glued to the finger more firmly than Helen to her extensive wardrobe.
"I . . . I will try one," Achilles managed to say although his throat was tight. "Perhaps you could take over for a moment? I think I need . . . to row a bit." The great hero with very hardened . . . erm . . . muscles, grabbed the oars. A very nearly naked Patroclus steered the ship, singing, "Row, row, row, your boat" and swaying his hips provocatively.
At that moment their ship was flying over the sea like a torpedo boat.
* * * * *
Menelaus frowned. "How come Achilles went alone?! I want to have fun too!"
"Well," said Odysseus, "we have packed already, as well."
"Who?"
"Oh, just me plus a couple of men."
"Count me in. "
Later on the seas:
"Odysseus, you told me about only a couple of men?"
"I did "
"Then why, by all the Gods of Olympus do we have a flotilla of twelve hundred ships?!"
"You know, the tittle-tattle in Sparta. The word of Helen and Hector´s duel spread quickly "
"Oh mighty Poseidon," lamented Menelaus, "it´s so embarrassing! Why didn´t we invite all of Sparta, Mycenae and Ithaca along?!"
But he couldn't keep Odysseus and a couple of other men from landing on the Trojan shore.
* * * * *
When Hector thought Paris had had enough of his training session, he patted his rear and got up to put his shiny armor on for the fight. Paris laid on the bed exhausted, panting. He caught his breath: "Be careful!"
Hector winked at his winded brother and smiled: "Do not worry, my sweet dove. I´ll be done with her in no time." And went to show Helen he was not one to be messed with.
Priam stood on the high walls, staring in disbelief: "By the laughing Apollo!"
The Spartans were already swarming to and fro on the long beach, some of them setting blankets and sunshades on the warm sand, other unwrapping a fisherman´s net for volleyball.
Odysseus appeared to be very busy among high piles of wood, building himself a tent. He got carried away by his wild imagination as usual.
After some time all of them rallied in front of the walls of Troy. Hector came out of the gates with wrathful looking Helen behind him. She shrieked at the crowds like a three-headed hydra.
Hector rolled his eyes and drew his sword. Helen did likewise and the duel started.
There was a railing voice from the Spartan crowd. Menelaus saw the lithe form of Paris and now he was shouting: "Helen, you are fighting for THIS?!" Then he pulled his thick glasses from his pocket and focussed on the beautiful, young prince. His tongue fell out of his mouth and he called out: "Hector, try hard. You can beat her!"
"You see," commented quite horny Achilles from a nearby hillock, "you have to be well prepared for this kind of danger " He wanted to hug Patroclus, but his well-oiled companion was as slippery as an eel.
After fighting hard for a while Helen used a nasty trick with her pocket mirror and blinded Hector for a second. She hit his hand and Hector´s sword fell down. The crowds held their collective breath and only Menelaus´ voice saying "Oh shit!" could be heard.
Helen grabbed the sword quickly, grinning victoriously. Then the Trojan crowd parted for their lovely, young prince who appeared wearing a flowing blue cloak. He handed something to Hector, kissed him languidly and trotted back.
While the princes kissed, Achilles felt his knees going soft. Then Patroclus leaned onto him and purred in his ear.
Achilless tried one last time: "But.. cou ahhh cousi "
"You call me cousin one more time AND I´LL BITE YOUR HEEL!"
Achilles gave up: "You know what? We´ll watch fighting some other time " and finally dragged Patroclus into his tent.
At that moment Hector used Paris´ gift, a sword of their family heirloom – and not long after Helen lost the fight. She threw her weapon on the sand and ran to Menelaus, crying: "My dear sweetheart! I want to go back to you!"
"Damn!" Menelaus wanted to vanish but any movement was impossible in the tight crowd. So finally he, Helen and Odysseus returned to their ships.
"Pull down the tents, we´re leaving."
Odysseus stood, looking regretfully at his unique tent: "I can´t pull it down. I just can´t do it. I´ll leave it here."
So the monumental tent in the form of a horse was left in Troy and the peace and quiet was interrupted only by Paris´ and Patroclus´ delighted squeals coming from both shores.
END
