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It had been a long campaign, the longest he had known in his career as a soldier, and Achilleas could not say he would be sorry to leave the sands of Egypt behind them. What victory could be claimed had been won by the Greeks, and now after far too many months the Lions were finally preparing for the voyage back to Taengea.
The men were weary after so long at war, but there was a buoyancy to them in the knowledge that home was within reach, that in a matter of days they would see the faces of those they loved, the lands that they had fought for. Achilleas task was to temper their joy enough that they did not cause too much disruption in the small port town that they were to depart from, though there was only so much he could do, and truth be told, his own heart held that same air of frivolity, because they had done it, and at last they could relax a little.
So it was that the Captain of the Taengean Lions lent idly against a stack of crates as he oversaw the provisions being loaded onto the ships due to set sail in the morning. With the might of the Grecian armies still upon her shores, the Egyptians were cowed enough that he did not anticipate trouble and it was more a token presence of an officer to keep the soldiers in line. Some of the men were off availing themselves of trinkets to take home for their sweethearts, others sought out women of the pleasure houses and though they might not like it, the locals were happy enough to take the gold off the Greeks when it came down to it.
Achilleas had done neither. Clad in the short linen chitoniskos and a bronze cuirass, he had forgone greaves and other armour in the heat, and his helmet was resting atop the crates he leant against. The little breeze off the ocean was pleasantly cooling. The Captain was picking at a bag of some Egyptian sweets one of the men had thrust at him, some kind of sticky pastry with honey and nuts that was a welcome change from the rice and rations of the camp. There were a couple of young Egyptian children watching him from the shadows of a cart across the street and Achilleas lifted a hand to wave at them, laughing to himself as they scurried out of sight only to reappear a moment later all wide dark eyes and curiosity.
For a moment, Achilleas considered, and then he reached up and behind him for a couple of apples, extended his hand out towards the children and said in heavily accented Coptic “Here” before he tossed them across the street. The boy child scuttled back but the girl was a little older, and she scowled at him before moving to grab the apples where they had rolled into the sand at their feet. The children seemed to argue back and forth for a few moments - he couldn’t make out what they were saying aside from the word ‘Greek’ and ‘No’, but eventually, the kids melted out of view and they took the fruit with them.
It was one of the unspoken truths of war, so many men to feed meant that the Greeks had taken much from the lands they had fought upon. Small towns like this one would be left with little once they had gone. Achilleas knew an apple would scarce be enough to stop those children growing up to hate the Greeks but he didn’t see the harm in being kind where he could. He was tired of fighting and looked forward to some time where he would not have to raise a blade against another. With a stretch, the young Lord turned his attention back to where the water barrels were being loaded onto the ships, calling out to the men moving them to watch out before they rolled the whole lot into the ocean. “Idiots” he muttered, picking up another pastry to munch on.
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It had been a long campaign, the longest he had known in his career as a soldier, and Achilleas could not say he would be sorry to leave the sands of Egypt behind them. What victory could be claimed had been won by the Greeks, and now after far too many months the Lions were finally preparing for the voyage back to Taengea.
The men were weary after so long at war, but there was a buoyancy to them in the knowledge that home was within reach, that in a matter of days they would see the faces of those they loved, the lands that they had fought for. Achilleas task was to temper their joy enough that they did not cause too much disruption in the small port town that they were to depart from, though there was only so much he could do, and truth be told, his own heart held that same air of frivolity, because they had done it, and at last they could relax a little.
So it was that the Captain of the Taengean Lions lent idly against a stack of crates as he oversaw the provisions being loaded onto the ships due to set sail in the morning. With the might of the Grecian armies still upon her shores, the Egyptians were cowed enough that he did not anticipate trouble and it was more a token presence of an officer to keep the soldiers in line. Some of the men were off availing themselves of trinkets to take home for their sweethearts, others sought out women of the pleasure houses and though they might not like it, the locals were happy enough to take the gold off the Greeks when it came down to it.
Achilleas had done neither. Clad in the short linen chitoniskos and a bronze cuirass, he had forgone greaves and other armour in the heat, and his helmet was resting atop the crates he leant against. The little breeze off the ocean was pleasantly cooling. The Captain was picking at a bag of some Egyptian sweets one of the men had thrust at him, some kind of sticky pastry with honey and nuts that was a welcome change from the rice and rations of the camp. There were a couple of young Egyptian children watching him from the shadows of a cart across the street and Achilleas lifted a hand to wave at them, laughing to himself as they scurried out of sight only to reappear a moment later all wide dark eyes and curiosity.
For a moment, Achilleas considered, and then he reached up and behind him for a couple of apples, extended his hand out towards the children and said in heavily accented Coptic “Here” before he tossed them across the street. The boy child scuttled back but the girl was a little older, and she scowled at him before moving to grab the apples where they had rolled into the sand at their feet. The children seemed to argue back and forth for a few moments - he couldn’t make out what they were saying aside from the word ‘Greek’ and ‘No’, but eventually, the kids melted out of view and they took the fruit with them.
It was one of the unspoken truths of war, so many men to feed meant that the Greeks had taken much from the lands they had fought upon. Small towns like this one would be left with little once they had gone. Achilleas knew an apple would scarce be enough to stop those children growing up to hate the Greeks but he didn’t see the harm in being kind where he could. He was tired of fighting and looked forward to some time where he would not have to raise a blade against another. With a stretch, the young Lord turned his attention back to where the water barrels were being loaded onto the ships, calling out to the men moving them to watch out before they rolled the whole lot into the ocean. “Idiots” he muttered, picking up another pastry to munch on.
It had been a long campaign, the longest he had known in his career as a soldier, and Achilleas could not say he would be sorry to leave the sands of Egypt behind them. What victory could be claimed had been won by the Greeks, and now after far too many months the Lions were finally preparing for the voyage back to Taengea.
The men were weary after so long at war, but there was a buoyancy to them in the knowledge that home was within reach, that in a matter of days they would see the faces of those they loved, the lands that they had fought for. Achilleas task was to temper their joy enough that they did not cause too much disruption in the small port town that they were to depart from, though there was only so much he could do, and truth be told, his own heart held that same air of frivolity, because they had done it, and at last they could relax a little.
So it was that the Captain of the Taengean Lions lent idly against a stack of crates as he oversaw the provisions being loaded onto the ships due to set sail in the morning. With the might of the Grecian armies still upon her shores, the Egyptians were cowed enough that he did not anticipate trouble and it was more a token presence of an officer to keep the soldiers in line. Some of the men were off availing themselves of trinkets to take home for their sweethearts, others sought out women of the pleasure houses and though they might not like it, the locals were happy enough to take the gold off the Greeks when it came down to it.
Achilleas had done neither. Clad in the short linen chitoniskos and a bronze cuirass, he had forgone greaves and other armour in the heat, and his helmet was resting atop the crates he leant against. The little breeze off the ocean was pleasantly cooling. The Captain was picking at a bag of some Egyptian sweets one of the men had thrust at him, some kind of sticky pastry with honey and nuts that was a welcome change from the rice and rations of the camp. There were a couple of young Egyptian children watching him from the shadows of a cart across the street and Achilleas lifted a hand to wave at them, laughing to himself as they scurried out of sight only to reappear a moment later all wide dark eyes and curiosity.
For a moment, Achilleas considered, and then he reached up and behind him for a couple of apples, extended his hand out towards the children and said in heavily accented Coptic “Here” before he tossed them across the street. The boy child scuttled back but the girl was a little older, and she scowled at him before moving to grab the apples where they had rolled into the sand at their feet. The children seemed to argue back and forth for a few moments - he couldn’t make out what they were saying aside from the word ‘Greek’ and ‘No’, but eventually, the kids melted out of view and they took the fruit with them.
It was one of the unspoken truths of war, so many men to feed meant that the Greeks had taken much from the lands they had fought upon. Small towns like this one would be left with little once they had gone. Achilleas knew an apple would scarce be enough to stop those children growing up to hate the Greeks but he didn’t see the harm in being kind where he could. He was tired of fighting and looked forward to some time where he would not have to raise a blade against another. With a stretch, the young Lord turned his attention back to where the water barrels were being loaded onto the ships, calling out to the men moving them to watch out before they rolled the whole lot into the ocean. “Idiots” he muttered, picking up another pastry to munch on.
Distract him, they said. It’d be easy, they said. Fuck him if you have to. Right, Akila was just going to jump a man’s bones in the middle of Alexandria’s docks. Not just any man, a Greek man. This was going to go over so well. And while Akila would manage to distract the man (she was better at her job than the lot of the crew put together, including the useless captain) she’d get no thanks and only a small cut of the prize. Fuck this.
Akila’s eyes scanned the docks looking for the man that she was looking for. Oh. Akila thought once her eyes landed on him. I’m about to jump a man’s bones in the middle of Alexandria’s docks. Now, Akila was a sensual being. She fucked an ungodly amount. And the men (and women) she lied in bed with wasn’t ugly by any stretch of the imagination. But this man had a… charm Akila couldn’t quite put a finger on. It would almost be worth the shitty cut. Almost.
Akila made her way closer to the man, stopping a distance away when he had tossed apples for the children. One starving child went for it, but the older girl seemed unhappy. “Those are Greek apples.” She had told the younger boy.
“But I’m hungry!” He looked up at the girl with a pout. “He gave it to us!”
“No,” She said firmly. “We can find food elsewhere.”
“But can we? He gave it! It means it-” The two children left, bickering the entire way.
Curious, for a Greek to feed Egyptian children. Most would probably yell at them to scram, despite the fact that it was the Greeks on Egyptian sands. Akila doubted the apples were poisoned or laced with small glass or anything of the sorts. Two Egyptian children meant nothing at the end of the day, not while Greeks were celebrating their greater victory.
Still kindness was odd to see from the foreigner. They spend their months painting the sands red and then suddenly he had the random urge to throw apples at two hungry children. What was he intending with the random act? A pat on the back? Forgiveness? To change Egyptian minds about the Greeks? It would take more than apples to change the minds of the people. If that was what he was intending to do. Maybe he just wanted them gone. Maybe he had a soft spot for children. Maybe the apples were poisoned. Who the fuck knew?
His attention returned to his men and Akila made her way closer. She couldn’t help but smirk when she heard him mutter, Idiots. Good, that would bode well for the pirates then. “Those men helped you win a war,” Akila responded in accented Greek. “They can’t all be idiots.” Those men also helped starve a kingdom of people. Egypt won’t be what it used to be. “Well, no. That one might be.” She pointed to a man who looked to be teetering as he helped with one of the barrels.
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Distract him, they said. It’d be easy, they said. Fuck him if you have to. Right, Akila was just going to jump a man’s bones in the middle of Alexandria’s docks. Not just any man, a Greek man. This was going to go over so well. And while Akila would manage to distract the man (she was better at her job than the lot of the crew put together, including the useless captain) she’d get no thanks and only a small cut of the prize. Fuck this.
Akila’s eyes scanned the docks looking for the man that she was looking for. Oh. Akila thought once her eyes landed on him. I’m about to jump a man’s bones in the middle of Alexandria’s docks. Now, Akila was a sensual being. She fucked an ungodly amount. And the men (and women) she lied in bed with wasn’t ugly by any stretch of the imagination. But this man had a… charm Akila couldn’t quite put a finger on. It would almost be worth the shitty cut. Almost.
Akila made her way closer to the man, stopping a distance away when he had tossed apples for the children. One starving child went for it, but the older girl seemed unhappy. “Those are Greek apples.” She had told the younger boy.
“But I’m hungry!” He looked up at the girl with a pout. “He gave it to us!”
“No,” She said firmly. “We can find food elsewhere.”
“But can we? He gave it! It means it-” The two children left, bickering the entire way.
Curious, for a Greek to feed Egyptian children. Most would probably yell at them to scram, despite the fact that it was the Greeks on Egyptian sands. Akila doubted the apples were poisoned or laced with small glass or anything of the sorts. Two Egyptian children meant nothing at the end of the day, not while Greeks were celebrating their greater victory.
Still kindness was odd to see from the foreigner. They spend their months painting the sands red and then suddenly he had the random urge to throw apples at two hungry children. What was he intending with the random act? A pat on the back? Forgiveness? To change Egyptian minds about the Greeks? It would take more than apples to change the minds of the people. If that was what he was intending to do. Maybe he just wanted them gone. Maybe he had a soft spot for children. Maybe the apples were poisoned. Who the fuck knew?
His attention returned to his men and Akila made her way closer. She couldn’t help but smirk when she heard him mutter, Idiots. Good, that would bode well for the pirates then. “Those men helped you win a war,” Akila responded in accented Greek. “They can’t all be idiots.” Those men also helped starve a kingdom of people. Egypt won’t be what it used to be. “Well, no. That one might be.” She pointed to a man who looked to be teetering as he helped with one of the barrels.
Distract him, they said. It’d be easy, they said. Fuck him if you have to. Right, Akila was just going to jump a man’s bones in the middle of Alexandria’s docks. Not just any man, a Greek man. This was going to go over so well. And while Akila would manage to distract the man (she was better at her job than the lot of the crew put together, including the useless captain) she’d get no thanks and only a small cut of the prize. Fuck this.
Akila’s eyes scanned the docks looking for the man that she was looking for. Oh. Akila thought once her eyes landed on him. I’m about to jump a man’s bones in the middle of Alexandria’s docks. Now, Akila was a sensual being. She fucked an ungodly amount. And the men (and women) she lied in bed with wasn’t ugly by any stretch of the imagination. But this man had a… charm Akila couldn’t quite put a finger on. It would almost be worth the shitty cut. Almost.
Akila made her way closer to the man, stopping a distance away when he had tossed apples for the children. One starving child went for it, but the older girl seemed unhappy. “Those are Greek apples.” She had told the younger boy.
“But I’m hungry!” He looked up at the girl with a pout. “He gave it to us!”
“No,” She said firmly. “We can find food elsewhere.”
“But can we? He gave it! It means it-” The two children left, bickering the entire way.
Curious, for a Greek to feed Egyptian children. Most would probably yell at them to scram, despite the fact that it was the Greeks on Egyptian sands. Akila doubted the apples were poisoned or laced with small glass or anything of the sorts. Two Egyptian children meant nothing at the end of the day, not while Greeks were celebrating their greater victory.
Still kindness was odd to see from the foreigner. They spend their months painting the sands red and then suddenly he had the random urge to throw apples at two hungry children. What was he intending with the random act? A pat on the back? Forgiveness? To change Egyptian minds about the Greeks? It would take more than apples to change the minds of the people. If that was what he was intending to do. Maybe he just wanted them gone. Maybe he had a soft spot for children. Maybe the apples were poisoned. Who the fuck knew?
His attention returned to his men and Akila made her way closer. She couldn’t help but smirk when she heard him mutter, Idiots. Good, that would bode well for the pirates then. “Those men helped you win a war,” Akila responded in accented Greek. “They can’t all be idiots.” Those men also helped starve a kingdom of people. Egypt won’t be what it used to be. “Well, no. That one might be.” She pointed to a man who looked to be teetering as he helped with one of the barrels.
He was vaguely aware of the woman - a warrior’s instincts never really switched off and it paid to know where your enemies were standing. At first Achilleas had thought she might be the children’s mother, keeping a wary eye on their interaction with one of the Greeks who had invaded their land. But the children had scampered away arguing and so he’d dismissed that thought, thinking maybe she was just curious and come for a gawp at the soldiers.
He wouldn’t have reckoned on the girl wandering closer and actually speaking to him, and the Lord’s blue eyes cut across to her, surprise that she had understood and then replied evident in his expression. Her Greek was terrible, like she’d learnt the words from listening to drunk men and was then talking with a fig shoved somewhere in her cheek, but it was so unexpected to hear his native tongue from one who was so clearly not Greek that he almost didn’t mind.
Eyes narrowing slightly, Achilleas’ gaze tracked back to the men loading the ships and he considered her words. He knew well enough the strengths and weaknesses of his men, and because a man was a good soldier on a field of war did not always translate into being good at the mechanications of war that went on in the background. Some were good with sword in hand but dispossessing of the mind that made them useful in other ways. Some were..lacking, though this campaign had given Achilleas enough of a view to weed out those that Thanatos didn’t claim directly as a result of poor decision making. But he did not need to defend himself or his men to this woman, and so the words that he spoke - in Coptic, which was a little thick and alien on his tongue but certainly taught in a more classical style- were instead “ You speak Greek.”
It was not quite a question, more a statement with some curiosity behind it, and Achilleas looked the woman over before his gaze lifted over her shoulder to ensure she didn’t come with any unfriendly companions.He straightened a little from the lean against the stack of crates as she drew nearer, standing tall and broad shouldered. The Greek man was pale in comparison to skin raised under Egypt’s sun, though the months in the sand had darkened considerably. Marks of battle were still apparent: a jagged line that curved from his knee and up his thigh, the skin pink and newly healed, and another more silvered on his forearm that flexed as he folded over the bag he’d held. Souvenirs of his own to take home from this war. Dark hair curled thick upon his head but his face was clean shaven, and put him at years not far beyond hers. At his hip,, the short blade his people favoured and a couple of knives. The Greeks had not entirely relaxed even in their victory and newly brokered peace it would appear.
The girl, Achilleas noted, was scarcely clothed, such a thing long having become unremarkable after so many months on Egypt’s soil. It did not mean that the sight of so much bronzed skin was unappealing, though the Captain did not let his gaze linger as some might have done. Her face was comely too,if marred by a scar that raised its own silent questions but Achilleas doubted they would be on those kind of terms that he would satisfy any curiosity as to how she had come by it.
“This your town?” He asked, seeing no other reason why she would be hanging around the docks spectating the foreign soldiers. It was hardly riveting.
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He was vaguely aware of the woman - a warrior’s instincts never really switched off and it paid to know where your enemies were standing. At first Achilleas had thought she might be the children’s mother, keeping a wary eye on their interaction with one of the Greeks who had invaded their land. But the children had scampered away arguing and so he’d dismissed that thought, thinking maybe she was just curious and come for a gawp at the soldiers.
He wouldn’t have reckoned on the girl wandering closer and actually speaking to him, and the Lord’s blue eyes cut across to her, surprise that she had understood and then replied evident in his expression. Her Greek was terrible, like she’d learnt the words from listening to drunk men and was then talking with a fig shoved somewhere in her cheek, but it was so unexpected to hear his native tongue from one who was so clearly not Greek that he almost didn’t mind.
Eyes narrowing slightly, Achilleas’ gaze tracked back to the men loading the ships and he considered her words. He knew well enough the strengths and weaknesses of his men, and because a man was a good soldier on a field of war did not always translate into being good at the mechanications of war that went on in the background. Some were good with sword in hand but dispossessing of the mind that made them useful in other ways. Some were..lacking, though this campaign had given Achilleas enough of a view to weed out those that Thanatos didn’t claim directly as a result of poor decision making. But he did not need to defend himself or his men to this woman, and so the words that he spoke - in Coptic, which was a little thick and alien on his tongue but certainly taught in a more classical style- were instead “ You speak Greek.”
It was not quite a question, more a statement with some curiosity behind it, and Achilleas looked the woman over before his gaze lifted over her shoulder to ensure she didn’t come with any unfriendly companions.He straightened a little from the lean against the stack of crates as she drew nearer, standing tall and broad shouldered. The Greek man was pale in comparison to skin raised under Egypt’s sun, though the months in the sand had darkened considerably. Marks of battle were still apparent: a jagged line that curved from his knee and up his thigh, the skin pink and newly healed, and another more silvered on his forearm that flexed as he folded over the bag he’d held. Souvenirs of his own to take home from this war. Dark hair curled thick upon his head but his face was clean shaven, and put him at years not far beyond hers. At his hip,, the short blade his people favoured and a couple of knives. The Greeks had not entirely relaxed even in their victory and newly brokered peace it would appear.
The girl, Achilleas noted, was scarcely clothed, such a thing long having become unremarkable after so many months on Egypt’s soil. It did not mean that the sight of so much bronzed skin was unappealing, though the Captain did not let his gaze linger as some might have done. Her face was comely too,if marred by a scar that raised its own silent questions but Achilleas doubted they would be on those kind of terms that he would satisfy any curiosity as to how she had come by it.
“This your town?” He asked, seeing no other reason why she would be hanging around the docks spectating the foreign soldiers. It was hardly riveting.
He was vaguely aware of the woman - a warrior’s instincts never really switched off and it paid to know where your enemies were standing. At first Achilleas had thought she might be the children’s mother, keeping a wary eye on their interaction with one of the Greeks who had invaded their land. But the children had scampered away arguing and so he’d dismissed that thought, thinking maybe she was just curious and come for a gawp at the soldiers.
He wouldn’t have reckoned on the girl wandering closer and actually speaking to him, and the Lord’s blue eyes cut across to her, surprise that she had understood and then replied evident in his expression. Her Greek was terrible, like she’d learnt the words from listening to drunk men and was then talking with a fig shoved somewhere in her cheek, but it was so unexpected to hear his native tongue from one who was so clearly not Greek that he almost didn’t mind.
Eyes narrowing slightly, Achilleas’ gaze tracked back to the men loading the ships and he considered her words. He knew well enough the strengths and weaknesses of his men, and because a man was a good soldier on a field of war did not always translate into being good at the mechanications of war that went on in the background. Some were good with sword in hand but dispossessing of the mind that made them useful in other ways. Some were..lacking, though this campaign had given Achilleas enough of a view to weed out those that Thanatos didn’t claim directly as a result of poor decision making. But he did not need to defend himself or his men to this woman, and so the words that he spoke - in Coptic, which was a little thick and alien on his tongue but certainly taught in a more classical style- were instead “ You speak Greek.”
It was not quite a question, more a statement with some curiosity behind it, and Achilleas looked the woman over before his gaze lifted over her shoulder to ensure she didn’t come with any unfriendly companions.He straightened a little from the lean against the stack of crates as she drew nearer, standing tall and broad shouldered. The Greek man was pale in comparison to skin raised under Egypt’s sun, though the months in the sand had darkened considerably. Marks of battle were still apparent: a jagged line that curved from his knee and up his thigh, the skin pink and newly healed, and another more silvered on his forearm that flexed as he folded over the bag he’d held. Souvenirs of his own to take home from this war. Dark hair curled thick upon his head but his face was clean shaven, and put him at years not far beyond hers. At his hip,, the short blade his people favoured and a couple of knives. The Greeks had not entirely relaxed even in their victory and newly brokered peace it would appear.
The girl, Achilleas noted, was scarcely clothed, such a thing long having become unremarkable after so many months on Egypt’s soil. It did not mean that the sight of so much bronzed skin was unappealing, though the Captain did not let his gaze linger as some might have done. Her face was comely too,if marred by a scar that raised its own silent questions but Achilleas doubted they would be on those kind of terms that he would satisfy any curiosity as to how she had come by it.
“This your town?” He asked, seeing no other reason why she would be hanging around the docks spectating the foreign soldiers. It was hardly riveting.
Akila wished he would stop speaking Coptic. His accent was grating on her ears. It sounded like he smashed his head into a latrine and he was trying talk through all the crap. It was… well, at least he had a pretty face.
“I understand it better than I speak it,” So fucking talk in Greek, and she’ll speak in god damned Coptic. Don’t be showing off your worldliness. She tried to be nice by talking in his language on her lands. But if he insisted on using Coptic well… there’s plenty of ways to distract him that didn’t require talking.
Right, back to it.
This your town?
Her ‘town’ was in the middle of the desert. Kids were starving, men were corrupt, and women were nothing but pleasure slaves- except that you didn’t even have to pay. Edwa was a place even Egypt wished to forget. That was why so few people go there ever get out. Well, except Edwa of course.
Alexandria would have been a great place to grow up in. People weren’t dirt poor like they were in Edwa. They were cultured and worldly and what have you. The Greek influence was rampant, and to some corrupted the Egyptian way of life. Akila would have been a much better person if she was born in Alexandria. She’d be a much kinder person.
And did she regret that? Not one fucking bit.
“Oh, no. I travel.” Akila said flippantly. She did. She had been to Greece, to Bedoa, to Judea and even beyond. She got her scar from a fight to the North with a bitch pirate that if Akila ever saw her again she’d gut in two. Not that she’d ever tell that story to him. Akila was just a random Egyptian girl after all.
“And I always got… curious.” She smiled at the man. It was a calm smile, some might even call it a nice smile. There was no sadism, no cockiness. It was a smile that if she gave Khalid he’d roll his eyes and told her to quit her bullshitting. “About Greece… and Greeks.”
Well, curiosity certainly wasn’t the right word for it. Akila had indulged in Greeks. They were fun in their own… sort of way. They weren’t as free as Egyptians, but they weren’t as prudish as Judeans.
But curiosity would work at least in this context. Her eyes flitted up to his. “Have you ever been curious about Egyptians?” You know, aside from in war where you were killing them, she wanted to add. Akila didn’t much care about the war, but she didn’t tend to lust over soldiers that were battling with the people who were from the place she was born. Clearly the man didn’t hate her people so terribly or he wouldn’t have given those apples to the children. Maybe he had a sick fantasy? After all, that time campaigning in Egypt… a man has his needs, no?
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Akila wished he would stop speaking Coptic. His accent was grating on her ears. It sounded like he smashed his head into a latrine and he was trying talk through all the crap. It was… well, at least he had a pretty face.
“I understand it better than I speak it,” So fucking talk in Greek, and she’ll speak in god damned Coptic. Don’t be showing off your worldliness. She tried to be nice by talking in his language on her lands. But if he insisted on using Coptic well… there’s plenty of ways to distract him that didn’t require talking.
Right, back to it.
This your town?
Her ‘town’ was in the middle of the desert. Kids were starving, men were corrupt, and women were nothing but pleasure slaves- except that you didn’t even have to pay. Edwa was a place even Egypt wished to forget. That was why so few people go there ever get out. Well, except Edwa of course.
Alexandria would have been a great place to grow up in. People weren’t dirt poor like they were in Edwa. They were cultured and worldly and what have you. The Greek influence was rampant, and to some corrupted the Egyptian way of life. Akila would have been a much better person if she was born in Alexandria. She’d be a much kinder person.
And did she regret that? Not one fucking bit.
“Oh, no. I travel.” Akila said flippantly. She did. She had been to Greece, to Bedoa, to Judea and even beyond. She got her scar from a fight to the North with a bitch pirate that if Akila ever saw her again she’d gut in two. Not that she’d ever tell that story to him. Akila was just a random Egyptian girl after all.
“And I always got… curious.” She smiled at the man. It was a calm smile, some might even call it a nice smile. There was no sadism, no cockiness. It was a smile that if she gave Khalid he’d roll his eyes and told her to quit her bullshitting. “About Greece… and Greeks.”
Well, curiosity certainly wasn’t the right word for it. Akila had indulged in Greeks. They were fun in their own… sort of way. They weren’t as free as Egyptians, but they weren’t as prudish as Judeans.
But curiosity would work at least in this context. Her eyes flitted up to his. “Have you ever been curious about Egyptians?” You know, aside from in war where you were killing them, she wanted to add. Akila didn’t much care about the war, but she didn’t tend to lust over soldiers that were battling with the people who were from the place she was born. Clearly the man didn’t hate her people so terribly or he wouldn’t have given those apples to the children. Maybe he had a sick fantasy? After all, that time campaigning in Egypt… a man has his needs, no?
Akila wished he would stop speaking Coptic. His accent was grating on her ears. It sounded like he smashed his head into a latrine and he was trying talk through all the crap. It was… well, at least he had a pretty face.
“I understand it better than I speak it,” So fucking talk in Greek, and she’ll speak in god damned Coptic. Don’t be showing off your worldliness. She tried to be nice by talking in his language on her lands. But if he insisted on using Coptic well… there’s plenty of ways to distract him that didn’t require talking.
Right, back to it.
This your town?
Her ‘town’ was in the middle of the desert. Kids were starving, men were corrupt, and women were nothing but pleasure slaves- except that you didn’t even have to pay. Edwa was a place even Egypt wished to forget. That was why so few people go there ever get out. Well, except Edwa of course.
Alexandria would have been a great place to grow up in. People weren’t dirt poor like they were in Edwa. They were cultured and worldly and what have you. The Greek influence was rampant, and to some corrupted the Egyptian way of life. Akila would have been a much better person if she was born in Alexandria. She’d be a much kinder person.
And did she regret that? Not one fucking bit.
“Oh, no. I travel.” Akila said flippantly. She did. She had been to Greece, to Bedoa, to Judea and even beyond. She got her scar from a fight to the North with a bitch pirate that if Akila ever saw her again she’d gut in two. Not that she’d ever tell that story to him. Akila was just a random Egyptian girl after all.
“And I always got… curious.” She smiled at the man. It was a calm smile, some might even call it a nice smile. There was no sadism, no cockiness. It was a smile that if she gave Khalid he’d roll his eyes and told her to quit her bullshitting. “About Greece… and Greeks.”
Well, curiosity certainly wasn’t the right word for it. Akila had indulged in Greeks. They were fun in their own… sort of way. They weren’t as free as Egyptians, but they weren’t as prudish as Judeans.
But curiosity would work at least in this context. Her eyes flitted up to his. “Have you ever been curious about Egyptians?” You know, aside from in war where you were killing them, she wanted to add. Akila didn’t much care about the war, but she didn’t tend to lust over soldiers that were battling with the people who were from the place she was born. Clearly the man didn’t hate her people so terribly or he wouldn’t have given those apples to the children. Maybe he had a sick fantasy? After all, that time campaigning in Egypt… a man has his needs, no?
‘ I understand it better than I speak it’
The lord shrugged at that. He didn’t much like the feel of the egyptian language on his tongue and had been trying to be polite, but if she understood greek well enough then so be it. He was still wondering what to make of the girl when she responded to his question in the negative, the way she answered suggesting an arrogance almost, though inflection was exactly the kind of thing that could be lost in translation. Still, he supposed it was really none of his concern where she was from.
When she smiled at him, admitting some curiosity into his people, his lands, Achilleas’ brows lifted fractionally. It was less than common to be approached in what was seemingly a friendly manner by those whose country they had invaded and the captain was not sure quite what to make of it until she went on, dark eyes turned up to him as she enquired as to whether he had ever grown curious about Egyptians.
The man met her gaze steadily, the slightest crease settling between his brows. Curiosity was hardly a thing to be indulged when fighting a war. His interest in the Egyptians had mainly been if they lived or died on the blades and spears of his men. But he thought he had a better idea now of what she spoke of.
There were certainly those amongst his soldiers who were curious enough to seek egyptian women in the pleasure houses. And though it did not please him, there were those who had slaked their lusts with less professional women along the way, the spoils of war. Achilleas tried to lead by example but there were some things so ingrained that he had to turn a blind eye, or at least not partake. He didn’t feel attracted to the cowering women who were hauled from their homes when their fathers and brothers had been slaughtered. Rather he felt some pity for them as they were shared out like treasure amongst the greek armies.
Still, perhaps he was being ungracious in his assumptions about the girl before him and so Achilleas was careful how he answered - in greek- so as not to inadvertently offend her.
“There has not been much time for curiosity” he answered, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at her. “ And whilst I shall be more than glad to see my own home again, perhaps there is time a little to learn some before I sail."
The ships would not leave until morning anyway, and his duties here were hardly taxing.He glanced over her shoulder again, checking that the provisions were still being loaded and not lost the sea before his very blue eyes settled back on the Egyptian girl.
"What are you curious about? If you have questions, I might answer them”
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‘ I understand it better than I speak it’
The lord shrugged at that. He didn’t much like the feel of the egyptian language on his tongue and had been trying to be polite, but if she understood greek well enough then so be it. He was still wondering what to make of the girl when she responded to his question in the negative, the way she answered suggesting an arrogance almost, though inflection was exactly the kind of thing that could be lost in translation. Still, he supposed it was really none of his concern where she was from.
When she smiled at him, admitting some curiosity into his people, his lands, Achilleas’ brows lifted fractionally. It was less than common to be approached in what was seemingly a friendly manner by those whose country they had invaded and the captain was not sure quite what to make of it until she went on, dark eyes turned up to him as she enquired as to whether he had ever grown curious about Egyptians.
The man met her gaze steadily, the slightest crease settling between his brows. Curiosity was hardly a thing to be indulged when fighting a war. His interest in the Egyptians had mainly been if they lived or died on the blades and spears of his men. But he thought he had a better idea now of what she spoke of.
There were certainly those amongst his soldiers who were curious enough to seek egyptian women in the pleasure houses. And though it did not please him, there were those who had slaked their lusts with less professional women along the way, the spoils of war. Achilleas tried to lead by example but there were some things so ingrained that he had to turn a blind eye, or at least not partake. He didn’t feel attracted to the cowering women who were hauled from their homes when their fathers and brothers had been slaughtered. Rather he felt some pity for them as they were shared out like treasure amongst the greek armies.
Still, perhaps he was being ungracious in his assumptions about the girl before him and so Achilleas was careful how he answered - in greek- so as not to inadvertently offend her.
“There has not been much time for curiosity” he answered, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at her. “ And whilst I shall be more than glad to see my own home again, perhaps there is time a little to learn some before I sail."
The ships would not leave until morning anyway, and his duties here were hardly taxing.He glanced over her shoulder again, checking that the provisions were still being loaded and not lost the sea before his very blue eyes settled back on the Egyptian girl.
"What are you curious about? If you have questions, I might answer them”
‘ I understand it better than I speak it’
The lord shrugged at that. He didn’t much like the feel of the egyptian language on his tongue and had been trying to be polite, but if she understood greek well enough then so be it. He was still wondering what to make of the girl when she responded to his question in the negative, the way she answered suggesting an arrogance almost, though inflection was exactly the kind of thing that could be lost in translation. Still, he supposed it was really none of his concern where she was from.
When she smiled at him, admitting some curiosity into his people, his lands, Achilleas’ brows lifted fractionally. It was less than common to be approached in what was seemingly a friendly manner by those whose country they had invaded and the captain was not sure quite what to make of it until she went on, dark eyes turned up to him as she enquired as to whether he had ever grown curious about Egyptians.
The man met her gaze steadily, the slightest crease settling between his brows. Curiosity was hardly a thing to be indulged when fighting a war. His interest in the Egyptians had mainly been if they lived or died on the blades and spears of his men. But he thought he had a better idea now of what she spoke of.
There were certainly those amongst his soldiers who were curious enough to seek egyptian women in the pleasure houses. And though it did not please him, there were those who had slaked their lusts with less professional women along the way, the spoils of war. Achilleas tried to lead by example but there were some things so ingrained that he had to turn a blind eye, or at least not partake. He didn’t feel attracted to the cowering women who were hauled from their homes when their fathers and brothers had been slaughtered. Rather he felt some pity for them as they were shared out like treasure amongst the greek armies.
Still, perhaps he was being ungracious in his assumptions about the girl before him and so Achilleas was careful how he answered - in greek- so as not to inadvertently offend her.
“There has not been much time for curiosity” he answered, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at her. “ And whilst I shall be more than glad to see my own home again, perhaps there is time a little to learn some before I sail."
The ships would not leave until morning anyway, and his duties here were hardly taxing.He glanced over her shoulder again, checking that the provisions were still being loaded and not lost the sea before his very blue eyes settled back on the Egyptian girl.
"What are you curious about? If you have questions, I might answer them”
She wanted to sigh. Akila wasn’t typically a subtle person. And this was why. Subtly and idiocy never mixed very well. Akila could blame it on the language barrier. It would make sense. But also she didn’t like to give people any credit they hadn’t earned. So she’ll just settle on idiocy.
Alright. Don’t be subtle then. Fine. That’s fine.
Pirates were much easier. There was nothing that Akila could say that would be considered uncouth. There was barely a need for seduction, especially among the men that she had traveled with. Hell, it wasn’t just pirates. Egyptians were always easier, Akila found. People born and bred from lust and passion, even the slightest of movements caught their attention.
But what could she expect from a Greek. They may be better than some of the other kingdoms that surrounded Egypt but… well, they may have won the war but it certainly didn’t mean they were better.
There was a possibility he wouldn’t get it through his thick skull that Akila wanted to fuck him. There was also the possibility that he would deny her, which would be unfortunate for him. Akila didn’t mind bloodshed, it was rather fun sometimes. But fighting a soldier in the middle of Alexandria right after the war was concluded did not seem like the smartest plan. Though, at the very least, the pirates would finally get the public’s approval. They wouldn’t mind if the Greeks got a little more bloody as they made their way home.
Akila’s smile never faded as she took a step closer to the man. She raised a gentle, non-threatening hand and slowly reached over to finger his armor. “Despite the heat of the sun beating down on us, Greeks are always so covered up. Chitons, armor, peplos…” Akila tilted her head, walking her fingers up his chest. “I’m curious what the body of a Greek man really looks like.”
Akila wondered how much time had passed. They should get moving, away from the docks. Or at least far enough that he could no longer see his men and the cargo his ships would be carrying. Now the smile finally shifted to something a little more playful, and her gaze turned a little more lustful.
“And aren’t you curious?” Akila said, now taking the step back again. “Aren’t you curious what the body of an Egyptian woman really feels like.” Akila wondered if he had an Egyptian woman before. This man was handsome. Even if he was Greek, he’d catch the gazes of Egyptian women. The whores who weren’t so picky wouldn’t mind bedding a Greek that looked like this. But at the very least, Akila could guarantee, that he wouldn’t have fucked an Egyptian woman quite like her. It should be a good time for him regardless. At least… until he got dressed, returned to his men and ships, and realized Akila was absolutely nowhere to be found.
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She wanted to sigh. Akila wasn’t typically a subtle person. And this was why. Subtly and idiocy never mixed very well. Akila could blame it on the language barrier. It would make sense. But also she didn’t like to give people any credit they hadn’t earned. So she’ll just settle on idiocy.
Alright. Don’t be subtle then. Fine. That’s fine.
Pirates were much easier. There was nothing that Akila could say that would be considered uncouth. There was barely a need for seduction, especially among the men that she had traveled with. Hell, it wasn’t just pirates. Egyptians were always easier, Akila found. People born and bred from lust and passion, even the slightest of movements caught their attention.
But what could she expect from a Greek. They may be better than some of the other kingdoms that surrounded Egypt but… well, they may have won the war but it certainly didn’t mean they were better.
There was a possibility he wouldn’t get it through his thick skull that Akila wanted to fuck him. There was also the possibility that he would deny her, which would be unfortunate for him. Akila didn’t mind bloodshed, it was rather fun sometimes. But fighting a soldier in the middle of Alexandria right after the war was concluded did not seem like the smartest plan. Though, at the very least, the pirates would finally get the public’s approval. They wouldn’t mind if the Greeks got a little more bloody as they made their way home.
Akila’s smile never faded as she took a step closer to the man. She raised a gentle, non-threatening hand and slowly reached over to finger his armor. “Despite the heat of the sun beating down on us, Greeks are always so covered up. Chitons, armor, peplos…” Akila tilted her head, walking her fingers up his chest. “I’m curious what the body of a Greek man really looks like.”
Akila wondered how much time had passed. They should get moving, away from the docks. Or at least far enough that he could no longer see his men and the cargo his ships would be carrying. Now the smile finally shifted to something a little more playful, and her gaze turned a little more lustful.
“And aren’t you curious?” Akila said, now taking the step back again. “Aren’t you curious what the body of an Egyptian woman really feels like.” Akila wondered if he had an Egyptian woman before. This man was handsome. Even if he was Greek, he’d catch the gazes of Egyptian women. The whores who weren’t so picky wouldn’t mind bedding a Greek that looked like this. But at the very least, Akila could guarantee, that he wouldn’t have fucked an Egyptian woman quite like her. It should be a good time for him regardless. At least… until he got dressed, returned to his men and ships, and realized Akila was absolutely nowhere to be found.
She wanted to sigh. Akila wasn’t typically a subtle person. And this was why. Subtly and idiocy never mixed very well. Akila could blame it on the language barrier. It would make sense. But also she didn’t like to give people any credit they hadn’t earned. So she’ll just settle on idiocy.
Alright. Don’t be subtle then. Fine. That’s fine.
Pirates were much easier. There was nothing that Akila could say that would be considered uncouth. There was barely a need for seduction, especially among the men that she had traveled with. Hell, it wasn’t just pirates. Egyptians were always easier, Akila found. People born and bred from lust and passion, even the slightest of movements caught their attention.
But what could she expect from a Greek. They may be better than some of the other kingdoms that surrounded Egypt but… well, they may have won the war but it certainly didn’t mean they were better.
There was a possibility he wouldn’t get it through his thick skull that Akila wanted to fuck him. There was also the possibility that he would deny her, which would be unfortunate for him. Akila didn’t mind bloodshed, it was rather fun sometimes. But fighting a soldier in the middle of Alexandria right after the war was concluded did not seem like the smartest plan. Though, at the very least, the pirates would finally get the public’s approval. They wouldn’t mind if the Greeks got a little more bloody as they made their way home.
Akila’s smile never faded as she took a step closer to the man. She raised a gentle, non-threatening hand and slowly reached over to finger his armor. “Despite the heat of the sun beating down on us, Greeks are always so covered up. Chitons, armor, peplos…” Akila tilted her head, walking her fingers up his chest. “I’m curious what the body of a Greek man really looks like.”
Akila wondered how much time had passed. They should get moving, away from the docks. Or at least far enough that he could no longer see his men and the cargo his ships would be carrying. Now the smile finally shifted to something a little more playful, and her gaze turned a little more lustful.
“And aren’t you curious?” Akila said, now taking the step back again. “Aren’t you curious what the body of an Egyptian woman really feels like.” Akila wondered if he had an Egyptian woman before. This man was handsome. Even if he was Greek, he’d catch the gazes of Egyptian women. The whores who weren’t so picky wouldn’t mind bedding a Greek that looked like this. But at the very least, Akila could guarantee, that he wouldn’t have fucked an Egyptian woman quite like her. It should be a good time for him regardless. At least… until he got dressed, returned to his men and ships, and realized Akila was absolutely nowhere to be found.
It didn’t take long for Achilleas to realise that he had not been judging the Egyptian too harshly. His eyes, so much lighter and brighter than her own, watched her approach and though he drew in a breath when she reached for him, he did not move away as her fingers traced over the bronze cuirass.
It fit close to his body, as well it should after the rigmarole of getting it made. It was never a pleasant process, sticky and hot. His chest hair had taken weeks to grow back in properly. But as a result, the metal was a fair representation of what lay beneath the metal and linen she commented upon, a fact Achilleas could have pointed out if he’d wanted to, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked on as the girl’s fingers made their slow dance up, and his gaze was inscrutable as it flickered back up to her face.
‘And aren’t you curious?’ She asked, after leaving him in little doubt as to her own desires, and the Taengean had to ask himself the question too. ‘Aren’t you curious what the body of an Egyptian woman really feels like.’
“That’s not the kind of question I had in mind,” he said, buying himself a little time. It had been a while, and he was a young man, not beyond the temptations laid before him. As the Egyptian girl stepped away, he found his eyes sliding down to take in her form as she had no doubt intended. Achilleas swallowed.
Those dark, liquid eyes met his, and he didn’t look away for a beat, betraying his interest even as he was trying to think of all the reasons why it was not something to pursue. “I’m working” he stated after a moment, pressing his lips together firmly. It was true that it might not have appeared so, he reasoned, given his idle stance of before.
But he was supposed to be supervising the provisioning, for all that it was worth, and ensuring there was no trouble. If there was one thing to be said of the Mikaelidas lord, it was that he was not one who easily set aside duty, Even in the face of flirtatious girls with copper skin and playful smiles and curiosity that, yes godsdammit, had stirred his own. Without meaning to, Achilleas looked over her head towards the ships and found himself calculating how long the men would be busy with the water barrels and the crates of fruit yet to be loaded even though he couldn’t possibly be thinking of accepting this proposition.
Could he?
“Do you rut in the streets here like animals then?” he asked, trying for dismissive but not quite pulling it off because it was too obvious what he was asking ‘Where?’
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It didn’t take long for Achilleas to realise that he had not been judging the Egyptian too harshly. His eyes, so much lighter and brighter than her own, watched her approach and though he drew in a breath when she reached for him, he did not move away as her fingers traced over the bronze cuirass.
It fit close to his body, as well it should after the rigmarole of getting it made. It was never a pleasant process, sticky and hot. His chest hair had taken weeks to grow back in properly. But as a result, the metal was a fair representation of what lay beneath the metal and linen she commented upon, a fact Achilleas could have pointed out if he’d wanted to, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked on as the girl’s fingers made their slow dance up, and his gaze was inscrutable as it flickered back up to her face.
‘And aren’t you curious?’ She asked, after leaving him in little doubt as to her own desires, and the Taengean had to ask himself the question too. ‘Aren’t you curious what the body of an Egyptian woman really feels like.’
“That’s not the kind of question I had in mind,” he said, buying himself a little time. It had been a while, and he was a young man, not beyond the temptations laid before him. As the Egyptian girl stepped away, he found his eyes sliding down to take in her form as she had no doubt intended. Achilleas swallowed.
Those dark, liquid eyes met his, and he didn’t look away for a beat, betraying his interest even as he was trying to think of all the reasons why it was not something to pursue. “I’m working” he stated after a moment, pressing his lips together firmly. It was true that it might not have appeared so, he reasoned, given his idle stance of before.
But he was supposed to be supervising the provisioning, for all that it was worth, and ensuring there was no trouble. If there was one thing to be said of the Mikaelidas lord, it was that he was not one who easily set aside duty, Even in the face of flirtatious girls with copper skin and playful smiles and curiosity that, yes godsdammit, had stirred his own. Without meaning to, Achilleas looked over her head towards the ships and found himself calculating how long the men would be busy with the water barrels and the crates of fruit yet to be loaded even though he couldn’t possibly be thinking of accepting this proposition.
Could he?
“Do you rut in the streets here like animals then?” he asked, trying for dismissive but not quite pulling it off because it was too obvious what he was asking ‘Where?’
It didn’t take long for Achilleas to realise that he had not been judging the Egyptian too harshly. His eyes, so much lighter and brighter than her own, watched her approach and though he drew in a breath when she reached for him, he did not move away as her fingers traced over the bronze cuirass.
It fit close to his body, as well it should after the rigmarole of getting it made. It was never a pleasant process, sticky and hot. His chest hair had taken weeks to grow back in properly. But as a result, the metal was a fair representation of what lay beneath the metal and linen she commented upon, a fact Achilleas could have pointed out if he’d wanted to, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked on as the girl’s fingers made their slow dance up, and his gaze was inscrutable as it flickered back up to her face.
‘And aren’t you curious?’ She asked, after leaving him in little doubt as to her own desires, and the Taengean had to ask himself the question too. ‘Aren’t you curious what the body of an Egyptian woman really feels like.’
“That’s not the kind of question I had in mind,” he said, buying himself a little time. It had been a while, and he was a young man, not beyond the temptations laid before him. As the Egyptian girl stepped away, he found his eyes sliding down to take in her form as she had no doubt intended. Achilleas swallowed.
Those dark, liquid eyes met his, and he didn’t look away for a beat, betraying his interest even as he was trying to think of all the reasons why it was not something to pursue. “I’m working” he stated after a moment, pressing his lips together firmly. It was true that it might not have appeared so, he reasoned, given his idle stance of before.
But he was supposed to be supervising the provisioning, for all that it was worth, and ensuring there was no trouble. If there was one thing to be said of the Mikaelidas lord, it was that he was not one who easily set aside duty, Even in the face of flirtatious girls with copper skin and playful smiles and curiosity that, yes godsdammit, had stirred his own. Without meaning to, Achilleas looked over her head towards the ships and found himself calculating how long the men would be busy with the water barrels and the crates of fruit yet to be loaded even though he couldn’t possibly be thinking of accepting this proposition.
Could he?
“Do you rut in the streets here like animals then?” he asked, trying for dismissive but not quite pulling it off because it was too obvious what he was asking ‘Where?’
Oh, how lovely. So the man did, in fact, understand basic communication. Akila was afraid she was going to have to start stripping him down right there next. She was sure that wouldn’t go over very well- though at least it was amusing to imagine. At least now they were getting somewhere.
A smirk danced on her lips as she caught his eye travel down the length of her body. Akila knew she was not the most beautiful of all of Egypt. She was no noble with soft, smooth skin and hair glistening every which way you turned. But those women who, despite belonging to a Kingdom far more open with themselves than their neighbors, still had to have a proper decorum about them. Akila, on the other hand, knew what she had and how to use it- without having to worry about propriety.
Her smirk only widened when he saw his throat move, swallowing. That smirk, however, flickered for a moment. I’m working. “Are you gay?” came the immediate brash answer from Akila. Just fucking move already. She was very rapidly losing her patience with the man. Things were going to get bloody.
His eyes moved away from Akila, over her head where the men were working. He couldn’t possibly be thinking of going back to them. For gods sake, she really was going to have to start stripping him then and there. Do you rut in the streets here like animals then? His words were rude, which didn’t phase Akila one bit. Rudeness and Akila tended to be one and the same. His tone, however, did not match them whatsoever. Akila regained her patience and her smile. Finally.
She motioned with her index finger to follow her, once more dawning her role as the playful little minx. But honestly, the question wasn’t a bad one. Where? It had to be far enough away that he wouldn’t see the boats, but not too far that he’d think her suspicious of leading him into some sort of trap. He had to feel safe, comfortable, and… at home.
Surely one of these houses must be empty. Akila moved confidently forward towards some of the residential homes. It was getting to be dark out, but it was not so late that people would be asleep. She could see firelight flickering from some houses as she past. And then finally she found one that had complete darkness. This one… would do.
Akila grabbed the man’s hand as she entered the home as if it was her’s. For all he knew it was hers. It wasn’t a very large home. It was one room, as most of the houses were in this area. Reed mads, wooden bed and chairs. Typical for an Egyptian. It was no palace, certainly, but… well probably better than the tents he’s been in recently.
He brought his fingertips to her lips stepping forward to close the gap between the pair and quirking a scarred brow. “I prefer it here. Unless you prefer the streets.” Akila could show him what a real animal she could be.
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Oh, how lovely. So the man did, in fact, understand basic communication. Akila was afraid she was going to have to start stripping him down right there next. She was sure that wouldn’t go over very well- though at least it was amusing to imagine. At least now they were getting somewhere.
A smirk danced on her lips as she caught his eye travel down the length of her body. Akila knew she was not the most beautiful of all of Egypt. She was no noble with soft, smooth skin and hair glistening every which way you turned. But those women who, despite belonging to a Kingdom far more open with themselves than their neighbors, still had to have a proper decorum about them. Akila, on the other hand, knew what she had and how to use it- without having to worry about propriety.
Her smirk only widened when he saw his throat move, swallowing. That smirk, however, flickered for a moment. I’m working. “Are you gay?” came the immediate brash answer from Akila. Just fucking move already. She was very rapidly losing her patience with the man. Things were going to get bloody.
His eyes moved away from Akila, over her head where the men were working. He couldn’t possibly be thinking of going back to them. For gods sake, she really was going to have to start stripping him then and there. Do you rut in the streets here like animals then? His words were rude, which didn’t phase Akila one bit. Rudeness and Akila tended to be one and the same. His tone, however, did not match them whatsoever. Akila regained her patience and her smile. Finally.
She motioned with her index finger to follow her, once more dawning her role as the playful little minx. But honestly, the question wasn’t a bad one. Where? It had to be far enough away that he wouldn’t see the boats, but not too far that he’d think her suspicious of leading him into some sort of trap. He had to feel safe, comfortable, and… at home.
Surely one of these houses must be empty. Akila moved confidently forward towards some of the residential homes. It was getting to be dark out, but it was not so late that people would be asleep. She could see firelight flickering from some houses as she past. And then finally she found one that had complete darkness. This one… would do.
Akila grabbed the man’s hand as she entered the home as if it was her’s. For all he knew it was hers. It wasn’t a very large home. It was one room, as most of the houses were in this area. Reed mads, wooden bed and chairs. Typical for an Egyptian. It was no palace, certainly, but… well probably better than the tents he’s been in recently.
He brought his fingertips to her lips stepping forward to close the gap between the pair and quirking a scarred brow. “I prefer it here. Unless you prefer the streets.” Akila could show him what a real animal she could be.
Oh, how lovely. So the man did, in fact, understand basic communication. Akila was afraid she was going to have to start stripping him down right there next. She was sure that wouldn’t go over very well- though at least it was amusing to imagine. At least now they were getting somewhere.
A smirk danced on her lips as she caught his eye travel down the length of her body. Akila knew she was not the most beautiful of all of Egypt. She was no noble with soft, smooth skin and hair glistening every which way you turned. But those women who, despite belonging to a Kingdom far more open with themselves than their neighbors, still had to have a proper decorum about them. Akila, on the other hand, knew what she had and how to use it- without having to worry about propriety.
Her smirk only widened when he saw his throat move, swallowing. That smirk, however, flickered for a moment. I’m working. “Are you gay?” came the immediate brash answer from Akila. Just fucking move already. She was very rapidly losing her patience with the man. Things were going to get bloody.
His eyes moved away from Akila, over her head where the men were working. He couldn’t possibly be thinking of going back to them. For gods sake, she really was going to have to start stripping him then and there. Do you rut in the streets here like animals then? His words were rude, which didn’t phase Akila one bit. Rudeness and Akila tended to be one and the same. His tone, however, did not match them whatsoever. Akila regained her patience and her smile. Finally.
She motioned with her index finger to follow her, once more dawning her role as the playful little minx. But honestly, the question wasn’t a bad one. Where? It had to be far enough away that he wouldn’t see the boats, but not too far that he’d think her suspicious of leading him into some sort of trap. He had to feel safe, comfortable, and… at home.
Surely one of these houses must be empty. Akila moved confidently forward towards some of the residential homes. It was getting to be dark out, but it was not so late that people would be asleep. She could see firelight flickering from some houses as she past. And then finally she found one that had complete darkness. This one… would do.
Akila grabbed the man’s hand as she entered the home as if it was her’s. For all he knew it was hers. It wasn’t a very large home. It was one room, as most of the houses were in this area. Reed mads, wooden bed and chairs. Typical for an Egyptian. It was no palace, certainly, but… well probably better than the tents he’s been in recently.
He brought his fingertips to her lips stepping forward to close the gap between the pair and quirking a scarred brow. “I prefer it here. Unless you prefer the streets.” Akila could show him what a real animal she could be.
'Are you gay?'
The man frowned at that, unsure as to how 'I'm working' translated into 'I don't like women'. He wasn't gay, but having recently discovered his tastes didn't exclude those of the same sex, he wasn't all too comfortable with the idea of that being the image he gave off.
"Think highly of yourself, don't you," he remarked, but it was a quality he'd always found attractive, and it was a strong temptation to set before him when it had been so long since he'd lain with a woman. Had it been any other time then there is no way she would have swayed the lord away from his duty, but the war was won...victory claimed and the months of uncertainty and adrenaline had given way to a languid sort of relief that they were on their way home. There wasn't really any need for him to watch the men continuously and there were hours yet until they would sail. He could allow himself this, couldn't he?
When the girl beckoned him forward with a finger,-already assured of her success despite his half-hearted attempt at deflection - the captain reached out to snag the helmet that sat beside him on the crates and cast a last glance toward the ships before he sighed and moved to follow her.
"What's your name?" he asked as they walked through the streets, the Greek surveying the houses they walked past before turning his attention back to the girl. It seemed more than a little crude to proceed any further without at least exchanging that small courtesy. The bronze helmet was tucked under one arm now, horsehair plume of Mikaelidas red prickling his bare skin. The other hand was wrapped about the bag of sweets he'd been munching on, and Achilleas reached over to drop that inside the helm, feeling easier with one hand free.
Just in case. There was always the risk of some disgruntled local wanting to vent their ire on a foreign soldier, and he wouldn't usually make a habit of wandering through a residential area alone because he didn't like to invite trouble. Not that he feared those who might act so rashly, but he had no desire to cut down a fisherman or a trader who lost their temper for a few foolish moments. Enough blood had spilt already.
When the girl caught hold of his hand and pulled him through a nearby doorway, Achilleas glanced once up and down the street they were on and ducked his head a little as he followed her into what must be her home. His eyes roamed around the place, and he kept a decidedly neutral expression upon his face despite how basic it was. There was a bed, and that was something. And solid walls, another novelty. He wondered if she lived here alone or if….No, it didn't matter. They were not going to be friends, after all.
The press of her lips against his fingertips had his focus back on the girl anyway; all his attention suddenly focused needle-sharp upon her. "Here is fine" he replied, letting his fingers drift from her lips along the side of her jaw until his hand wrapped around the back of her neck. Calloused where it was more used to wrapping around the hilt of a sword or the heft of a spear, his touch was warm and surprisingly gentle all the same as his fingers squeezed slightly.
He hesitated a moment as if uncertain how it would be received before he leant down to kiss her, lightly at first until he was sure she wasn't about to bite him and then with more urgency, hungry in the way only a man stuck in the desert for months on end could be.
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'Are you gay?'
The man frowned at that, unsure as to how 'I'm working' translated into 'I don't like women'. He wasn't gay, but having recently discovered his tastes didn't exclude those of the same sex, he wasn't all too comfortable with the idea of that being the image he gave off.
"Think highly of yourself, don't you," he remarked, but it was a quality he'd always found attractive, and it was a strong temptation to set before him when it had been so long since he'd lain with a woman. Had it been any other time then there is no way she would have swayed the lord away from his duty, but the war was won...victory claimed and the months of uncertainty and adrenaline had given way to a languid sort of relief that they were on their way home. There wasn't really any need for him to watch the men continuously and there were hours yet until they would sail. He could allow himself this, couldn't he?
When the girl beckoned him forward with a finger,-already assured of her success despite his half-hearted attempt at deflection - the captain reached out to snag the helmet that sat beside him on the crates and cast a last glance toward the ships before he sighed and moved to follow her.
"What's your name?" he asked as they walked through the streets, the Greek surveying the houses they walked past before turning his attention back to the girl. It seemed more than a little crude to proceed any further without at least exchanging that small courtesy. The bronze helmet was tucked under one arm now, horsehair plume of Mikaelidas red prickling his bare skin. The other hand was wrapped about the bag of sweets he'd been munching on, and Achilleas reached over to drop that inside the helm, feeling easier with one hand free.
Just in case. There was always the risk of some disgruntled local wanting to vent their ire on a foreign soldier, and he wouldn't usually make a habit of wandering through a residential area alone because he didn't like to invite trouble. Not that he feared those who might act so rashly, but he had no desire to cut down a fisherman or a trader who lost their temper for a few foolish moments. Enough blood had spilt already.
When the girl caught hold of his hand and pulled him through a nearby doorway, Achilleas glanced once up and down the street they were on and ducked his head a little as he followed her into what must be her home. His eyes roamed around the place, and he kept a decidedly neutral expression upon his face despite how basic it was. There was a bed, and that was something. And solid walls, another novelty. He wondered if she lived here alone or if….No, it didn't matter. They were not going to be friends, after all.
The press of her lips against his fingertips had his focus back on the girl anyway; all his attention suddenly focused needle-sharp upon her. "Here is fine" he replied, letting his fingers drift from her lips along the side of her jaw until his hand wrapped around the back of her neck. Calloused where it was more used to wrapping around the hilt of a sword or the heft of a spear, his touch was warm and surprisingly gentle all the same as his fingers squeezed slightly.
He hesitated a moment as if uncertain how it would be received before he leant down to kiss her, lightly at first until he was sure she wasn't about to bite him and then with more urgency, hungry in the way only a man stuck in the desert for months on end could be.
'Are you gay?'
The man frowned at that, unsure as to how 'I'm working' translated into 'I don't like women'. He wasn't gay, but having recently discovered his tastes didn't exclude those of the same sex, he wasn't all too comfortable with the idea of that being the image he gave off.
"Think highly of yourself, don't you," he remarked, but it was a quality he'd always found attractive, and it was a strong temptation to set before him when it had been so long since he'd lain with a woman. Had it been any other time then there is no way she would have swayed the lord away from his duty, but the war was won...victory claimed and the months of uncertainty and adrenaline had given way to a languid sort of relief that they were on their way home. There wasn't really any need for him to watch the men continuously and there were hours yet until they would sail. He could allow himself this, couldn't he?
When the girl beckoned him forward with a finger,-already assured of her success despite his half-hearted attempt at deflection - the captain reached out to snag the helmet that sat beside him on the crates and cast a last glance toward the ships before he sighed and moved to follow her.
"What's your name?" he asked as they walked through the streets, the Greek surveying the houses they walked past before turning his attention back to the girl. It seemed more than a little crude to proceed any further without at least exchanging that small courtesy. The bronze helmet was tucked under one arm now, horsehair plume of Mikaelidas red prickling his bare skin. The other hand was wrapped about the bag of sweets he'd been munching on, and Achilleas reached over to drop that inside the helm, feeling easier with one hand free.
Just in case. There was always the risk of some disgruntled local wanting to vent their ire on a foreign soldier, and he wouldn't usually make a habit of wandering through a residential area alone because he didn't like to invite trouble. Not that he feared those who might act so rashly, but he had no desire to cut down a fisherman or a trader who lost their temper for a few foolish moments. Enough blood had spilt already.
When the girl caught hold of his hand and pulled him through a nearby doorway, Achilleas glanced once up and down the street they were on and ducked his head a little as he followed her into what must be her home. His eyes roamed around the place, and he kept a decidedly neutral expression upon his face despite how basic it was. There was a bed, and that was something. And solid walls, another novelty. He wondered if she lived here alone or if….No, it didn't matter. They were not going to be friends, after all.
The press of her lips against his fingertips had his focus back on the girl anyway; all his attention suddenly focused needle-sharp upon her. "Here is fine" he replied, letting his fingers drift from her lips along the side of her jaw until his hand wrapped around the back of her neck. Calloused where it was more used to wrapping around the hilt of a sword or the heft of a spear, his touch was warm and surprisingly gentle all the same as his fingers squeezed slightly.
He hesitated a moment as if uncertain how it would be received before he leant down to kiss her, lightly at first until he was sure she wasn't about to bite him and then with more urgency, hungry in the way only a man stuck in the desert for months on end could be.
It was cute how he was still talking as she led him through her streets. He wanted to know her name? What good would that do him? He’d forget it soon enough after a one night stand. Well… maybe, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was going to return to a ship and nothing in it. It didn’t hurt to tell him the truth though. After all, what were the chances they’d ever run into each other again. “Akila,” she answered simply. “And your’s?” Would be good to have a name so she knew who to giggle about later.
His fingers moved to the He seemed to approve the location (not that it really mattered. Could he really afford to be picky?) He seemed to hesitate at first as if Akila was leading him to some trap (which, well… she was.), but as the kiss went on it got hungrier. This was something that Akila could work with. Carnal desire, something that linked all humans regardless of origin. Egyptian or Greek, as long as the sex was good nothing else mattered.
Akila grew hungrier too. Fingers moved to the back of his head, knotting themselves in overgrown hair. Her teeth grazed the bottom of his lip, sucking on it gently before her lips traveled further down. She trailed kissed along his jaw, then down to his neck, only stopped by curiass. Well, this won’t do. Akila’s dark eyes glanced up at the man and she gave him a mischievous smile. “What does the Greek body look like when it’s not so covered up?” Snap. Akila undid one of the straps. Fingers lightly brushed down his side, finding their home on the second strap. Snap.
How is their more?! Akila couldn’t fathom how the Greeks did not melt in the Egyptian sun. A shield was a good enough defense for Egyptian soldiers, at most leather straps. Beneath the curiass was linen, which would be unsurprising as obviously something was beneath it, but still surprising as to how Greek soldiers managed to survive the harsh climate of Egypt. That was something to contemplate for another day, for once that was finally removed Akila had what she wanted.
Oh good, it’s not just his face that’s pretty. Refocused on the matter at hand, she continued her original task. Lips traveled from his chest, down to his stomach, and lower still until the Egyptian was on her knees. As her lips went down, a finger followed her nail gently drawing a line down his skin. It was once she was all the way down, did she start her tease. Her kisses moved towards his manhood, tracing around it in a playful manner. Her fingers slipped to her waist, where she untied her own kalasiris. When she stood, the cloth fluttered to the ground. Much simpler than stupid Greek clothing.
It was there she turned her back from the Greek and moved towards the table. She hopped onto the edge of it, leaning forward on her hands tactfully placed on the surface between her legs. Her eyes slowly moved up and down. “It looks very nice.”
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It was cute how he was still talking as she led him through her streets. He wanted to know her name? What good would that do him? He’d forget it soon enough after a one night stand. Well… maybe, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was going to return to a ship and nothing in it. It didn’t hurt to tell him the truth though. After all, what were the chances they’d ever run into each other again. “Akila,” she answered simply. “And your’s?” Would be good to have a name so she knew who to giggle about later.
His fingers moved to the He seemed to approve the location (not that it really mattered. Could he really afford to be picky?) He seemed to hesitate at first as if Akila was leading him to some trap (which, well… she was.), but as the kiss went on it got hungrier. This was something that Akila could work with. Carnal desire, something that linked all humans regardless of origin. Egyptian or Greek, as long as the sex was good nothing else mattered.
Akila grew hungrier too. Fingers moved to the back of his head, knotting themselves in overgrown hair. Her teeth grazed the bottom of his lip, sucking on it gently before her lips traveled further down. She trailed kissed along his jaw, then down to his neck, only stopped by curiass. Well, this won’t do. Akila’s dark eyes glanced up at the man and she gave him a mischievous smile. “What does the Greek body look like when it’s not so covered up?” Snap. Akila undid one of the straps. Fingers lightly brushed down his side, finding their home on the second strap. Snap.
How is their more?! Akila couldn’t fathom how the Greeks did not melt in the Egyptian sun. A shield was a good enough defense for Egyptian soldiers, at most leather straps. Beneath the curiass was linen, which would be unsurprising as obviously something was beneath it, but still surprising as to how Greek soldiers managed to survive the harsh climate of Egypt. That was something to contemplate for another day, for once that was finally removed Akila had what she wanted.
Oh good, it’s not just his face that’s pretty. Refocused on the matter at hand, she continued her original task. Lips traveled from his chest, down to his stomach, and lower still until the Egyptian was on her knees. As her lips went down, a finger followed her nail gently drawing a line down his skin. It was once she was all the way down, did she start her tease. Her kisses moved towards his manhood, tracing around it in a playful manner. Her fingers slipped to her waist, where she untied her own kalasiris. When she stood, the cloth fluttered to the ground. Much simpler than stupid Greek clothing.
It was there she turned her back from the Greek and moved towards the table. She hopped onto the edge of it, leaning forward on her hands tactfully placed on the surface between her legs. Her eyes slowly moved up and down. “It looks very nice.”
It was cute how he was still talking as she led him through her streets. He wanted to know her name? What good would that do him? He’d forget it soon enough after a one night stand. Well… maybe, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was going to return to a ship and nothing in it. It didn’t hurt to tell him the truth though. After all, what were the chances they’d ever run into each other again. “Akila,” she answered simply. “And your’s?” Would be good to have a name so she knew who to giggle about later.
His fingers moved to the He seemed to approve the location (not that it really mattered. Could he really afford to be picky?) He seemed to hesitate at first as if Akila was leading him to some trap (which, well… she was.), but as the kiss went on it got hungrier. This was something that Akila could work with. Carnal desire, something that linked all humans regardless of origin. Egyptian or Greek, as long as the sex was good nothing else mattered.
Akila grew hungrier too. Fingers moved to the back of his head, knotting themselves in overgrown hair. Her teeth grazed the bottom of his lip, sucking on it gently before her lips traveled further down. She trailed kissed along his jaw, then down to his neck, only stopped by curiass. Well, this won’t do. Akila’s dark eyes glanced up at the man and she gave him a mischievous smile. “What does the Greek body look like when it’s not so covered up?” Snap. Akila undid one of the straps. Fingers lightly brushed down his side, finding their home on the second strap. Snap.
How is their more?! Akila couldn’t fathom how the Greeks did not melt in the Egyptian sun. A shield was a good enough defense for Egyptian soldiers, at most leather straps. Beneath the curiass was linen, which would be unsurprising as obviously something was beneath it, but still surprising as to how Greek soldiers managed to survive the harsh climate of Egypt. That was something to contemplate for another day, for once that was finally removed Akila had what she wanted.
Oh good, it’s not just his face that’s pretty. Refocused on the matter at hand, she continued her original task. Lips traveled from his chest, down to his stomach, and lower still until the Egyptian was on her knees. As her lips went down, a finger followed her nail gently drawing a line down his skin. It was once she was all the way down, did she start her tease. Her kisses moved towards his manhood, tracing around it in a playful manner. Her fingers slipped to her waist, where she untied her own kalasiris. When she stood, the cloth fluttered to the ground. Much simpler than stupid Greek clothing.
It was there she turned her back from the Greek and moved towards the table. She hopped onto the edge of it, leaning forward on her hands tactfully placed on the surface between her legs. Her eyes slowly moved up and down. “It looks very nice.”
“Achilleas” he replied, shooting her a curious look because there were some similar fragments to their names. It would make it easier to remember he supposed. She led him into a modest home, and then he stopped thinking about her name.
Her skin was soft under his hand, silky smooth and warm as the sun-baked sand. But Achilleas was not so certain that anything else about this girl, Akila, could be described as soft. She was rough around the edges, brash in a way he was unused to. Born to a life harder than his he did not doubt, but there was little common about her beauty, which would have been enough to catch any man’s eye. She did not display any sort of hesitance in meeting the kiss, nor in breaking it to begin stripping off his armour, a thing that the greek man did not protest, even though he raised a brow at her boldness. This was..fast, and not been an expected part of his day, but it had been a while since he had felt the touch of another, longer still since it had been a woman and so any usual reticence was brushed carelessly aside in all the promise of that smile.
“Carry on and you’ll find out” he said, threading his fingers into her thick dark hair so as not to impede access to the fastenings she was releasing one by one. He discarded it with some care when she was done, then nimble fingers made short work of the chitoniskos he wore below and soon he was as bare as the Egyptians seemed wont to be. A strong, warrior’s body, he did not wear many scars across his skin, which was paler than hers. The muscles of his stomach tensed under her lips, the salt tang of warm skin, the fuzz of the trail of dark hair that led down further still and Achilleas drew in a sharp breath at the sight of her before him, on her knees. Her featherlight kisses stopped short of where he wanted them most, evidence of his desire growing more obvious every moment.
It did not diminish when she shed her own garment and rose to her feet, allowing him a long look at her, and the aegean blue gaze was heated where it roamed over every dip and curve. About to reach for her, his fingers closed around air when the girl moved away, hopped up onto the tabletop and proceeded to give him the most blatant up and down he thought he’d ever been in receipt of. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, eventually settled on folding his arms across his chest and straightening his shoulders.
It wasn’t that he thought he had anything to be worried about, he was self-aware enough to note that others found him pleasing to they eye, but there was something about being so openly scrutinised that made him feel hot and his skin prickle.
‘It looks very nice.’
A half-smile and the lord decided he’d had enough of being eyed like she was about to draw his portrait and he took the couple of steps that brought him to stand between her thighs. “Yes, well when you tire of looking…”
Large hands came to rest above her knees, thumbs brushing the tender skin of her inner thigh as he leant forward, into her space, eager to taste of her lips again and to let his hands explore everything she’d laid bare. Curiosity, she had spoken of, and yet now he had found himself less curious, more wanting. Wanting of the touch he’d been denied, of something sweeter than fighting. And he was glad that he felt it. After everything that had transpired between the Colchian and him it was good to know that he hadn’t been so very changed, that his eyes and his passions were drawn as easily as ever by a pretty girl.
“You’re beautiful” he said, wrapping his tongue around the foreign words as best as he could. And he wasn’t lying: she was, in a slightly hard way. Besides, girls liked compliments and he had spent many miserable hours learning to speak her infernal language might as well get some use out of it.
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“Achilleas” he replied, shooting her a curious look because there were some similar fragments to their names. It would make it easier to remember he supposed. She led him into a modest home, and then he stopped thinking about her name.
Her skin was soft under his hand, silky smooth and warm as the sun-baked sand. But Achilleas was not so certain that anything else about this girl, Akila, could be described as soft. She was rough around the edges, brash in a way he was unused to. Born to a life harder than his he did not doubt, but there was little common about her beauty, which would have been enough to catch any man’s eye. She did not display any sort of hesitance in meeting the kiss, nor in breaking it to begin stripping off his armour, a thing that the greek man did not protest, even though he raised a brow at her boldness. This was..fast, and not been an expected part of his day, but it had been a while since he had felt the touch of another, longer still since it had been a woman and so any usual reticence was brushed carelessly aside in all the promise of that smile.
“Carry on and you’ll find out” he said, threading his fingers into her thick dark hair so as not to impede access to the fastenings she was releasing one by one. He discarded it with some care when she was done, then nimble fingers made short work of the chitoniskos he wore below and soon he was as bare as the Egyptians seemed wont to be. A strong, warrior’s body, he did not wear many scars across his skin, which was paler than hers. The muscles of his stomach tensed under her lips, the salt tang of warm skin, the fuzz of the trail of dark hair that led down further still and Achilleas drew in a sharp breath at the sight of her before him, on her knees. Her featherlight kisses stopped short of where he wanted them most, evidence of his desire growing more obvious every moment.
It did not diminish when she shed her own garment and rose to her feet, allowing him a long look at her, and the aegean blue gaze was heated where it roamed over every dip and curve. About to reach for her, his fingers closed around air when the girl moved away, hopped up onto the tabletop and proceeded to give him the most blatant up and down he thought he’d ever been in receipt of. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, eventually settled on folding his arms across his chest and straightening his shoulders.
It wasn’t that he thought he had anything to be worried about, he was self-aware enough to note that others found him pleasing to they eye, but there was something about being so openly scrutinised that made him feel hot and his skin prickle.
‘It looks very nice.’
A half-smile and the lord decided he’d had enough of being eyed like she was about to draw his portrait and he took the couple of steps that brought him to stand between her thighs. “Yes, well when you tire of looking…”
Large hands came to rest above her knees, thumbs brushing the tender skin of her inner thigh as he leant forward, into her space, eager to taste of her lips again and to let his hands explore everything she’d laid bare. Curiosity, she had spoken of, and yet now he had found himself less curious, more wanting. Wanting of the touch he’d been denied, of something sweeter than fighting. And he was glad that he felt it. After everything that had transpired between the Colchian and him it was good to know that he hadn’t been so very changed, that his eyes and his passions were drawn as easily as ever by a pretty girl.
“You’re beautiful” he said, wrapping his tongue around the foreign words as best as he could. And he wasn’t lying: she was, in a slightly hard way. Besides, girls liked compliments and he had spent many miserable hours learning to speak her infernal language might as well get some use out of it.
“Achilleas” he replied, shooting her a curious look because there were some similar fragments to their names. It would make it easier to remember he supposed. She led him into a modest home, and then he stopped thinking about her name.
Her skin was soft under his hand, silky smooth and warm as the sun-baked sand. But Achilleas was not so certain that anything else about this girl, Akila, could be described as soft. She was rough around the edges, brash in a way he was unused to. Born to a life harder than his he did not doubt, but there was little common about her beauty, which would have been enough to catch any man’s eye. She did not display any sort of hesitance in meeting the kiss, nor in breaking it to begin stripping off his armour, a thing that the greek man did not protest, even though he raised a brow at her boldness. This was..fast, and not been an expected part of his day, but it had been a while since he had felt the touch of another, longer still since it had been a woman and so any usual reticence was brushed carelessly aside in all the promise of that smile.
“Carry on and you’ll find out” he said, threading his fingers into her thick dark hair so as not to impede access to the fastenings she was releasing one by one. He discarded it with some care when she was done, then nimble fingers made short work of the chitoniskos he wore below and soon he was as bare as the Egyptians seemed wont to be. A strong, warrior’s body, he did not wear many scars across his skin, which was paler than hers. The muscles of his stomach tensed under her lips, the salt tang of warm skin, the fuzz of the trail of dark hair that led down further still and Achilleas drew in a sharp breath at the sight of her before him, on her knees. Her featherlight kisses stopped short of where he wanted them most, evidence of his desire growing more obvious every moment.
It did not diminish when she shed her own garment and rose to her feet, allowing him a long look at her, and the aegean blue gaze was heated where it roamed over every dip and curve. About to reach for her, his fingers closed around air when the girl moved away, hopped up onto the tabletop and proceeded to give him the most blatant up and down he thought he’d ever been in receipt of. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, eventually settled on folding his arms across his chest and straightening his shoulders.
It wasn’t that he thought he had anything to be worried about, he was self-aware enough to note that others found him pleasing to they eye, but there was something about being so openly scrutinised that made him feel hot and his skin prickle.
‘It looks very nice.’
A half-smile and the lord decided he’d had enough of being eyed like she was about to draw his portrait and he took the couple of steps that brought him to stand between her thighs. “Yes, well when you tire of looking…”
Large hands came to rest above her knees, thumbs brushing the tender skin of her inner thigh as he leant forward, into her space, eager to taste of her lips again and to let his hands explore everything she’d laid bare. Curiosity, she had spoken of, and yet now he had found himself less curious, more wanting. Wanting of the touch he’d been denied, of something sweeter than fighting. And he was glad that he felt it. After everything that had transpired between the Colchian and him it was good to know that he hadn’t been so very changed, that his eyes and his passions were drawn as easily as ever by a pretty girl.
“You’re beautiful” he said, wrapping his tongue around the foreign words as best as he could. And he wasn’t lying: she was, in a slightly hard way. Besides, girls liked compliments and he had spent many miserable hours learning to speak her infernal language might as well get some use out of it.
Yes, well when you tire of looking…
He could be funny. The half-smile just made him all the more handsome. It caused Akila to smirk, as he once more closed the distance between them. She couldn’t imagine anyone could tire of looking at him. Even if the Egyptian preferred people from her own kingdom, the man certainly had god-given looks. She did, however, look forward to something more. So she certainly wouldn’t mind if they continued on, past the looking.
Naturally, her legs split a little more as his hands rested above her knees. They were rough and calloused, obviously worked hard from hard months at war. The grip was strong, a soldier’s grip, and so too did she match it as her arms wrapped around his neck and fingers knotted in his hair. You’re beautiful, he had said in Coptic. I know, she thought smugly. Akila wanted to laugh. How sweet, that he was complimenting her. That sweetness wouldn’t last, once he returned to his men and found his things gone and some injured or worse. But at least Akila would still find it cute.
In response, she did not give him any words. Instead she kissed him, hungry to get things started. Akila may have been more tempted to play, had it not been for the fact they were in some random person’s house. She enjoyed being a tease, really getting under a man’s skin and riling them up before finally giving them exactly what they desired. Akila could almost call Achilleas fortunate to not have to deal with this tonight. Almost.
She got hungrier and hungrier now as she scooched even closer to him until her chest was against his and her ass was hanging over the table. Her legs moved up to wrap around his waist. If any distance was between them, it would be measured in centimeters, and Akila intended to shorten that still. She moved her waist until she found what she wanted.
Oh, he’s very excited. Akila couldn’t blame him. She teased the head at her entrance for just a moment as her fingers moved from their grip in his hair down to his shoulders. Her nails began to dig in, but they didn’t break skin. Not yet at least. Akila was certain that before long her would have some scratches to remember this night. Egyptians hadn’t given him enough scars so far as Akila could tell. There was still time to change that, should her nails be that sharp.
Finally, she fully lowered herself onto him. She used the muscles in her waist and core to begin bouncing up and down, filling her. Her tongue wrestled with his, refusing to cede any control over to the Greek. Akila had started soft, but softness was not her true nature. Akila was wild, as all Egyptians should be. She was a pirate, a whore, and as rough as they come. Akila was dangerous.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Yes, well when you tire of looking…
He could be funny. The half-smile just made him all the more handsome. It caused Akila to smirk, as he once more closed the distance between them. She couldn’t imagine anyone could tire of looking at him. Even if the Egyptian preferred people from her own kingdom, the man certainly had god-given looks. She did, however, look forward to something more. So she certainly wouldn’t mind if they continued on, past the looking.
Naturally, her legs split a little more as his hands rested above her knees. They were rough and calloused, obviously worked hard from hard months at war. The grip was strong, a soldier’s grip, and so too did she match it as her arms wrapped around his neck and fingers knotted in his hair. You’re beautiful, he had said in Coptic. I know, she thought smugly. Akila wanted to laugh. How sweet, that he was complimenting her. That sweetness wouldn’t last, once he returned to his men and found his things gone and some injured or worse. But at least Akila would still find it cute.
In response, she did not give him any words. Instead she kissed him, hungry to get things started. Akila may have been more tempted to play, had it not been for the fact they were in some random person’s house. She enjoyed being a tease, really getting under a man’s skin and riling them up before finally giving them exactly what they desired. Akila could almost call Achilleas fortunate to not have to deal with this tonight. Almost.
She got hungrier and hungrier now as she scooched even closer to him until her chest was against his and her ass was hanging over the table. Her legs moved up to wrap around his waist. If any distance was between them, it would be measured in centimeters, and Akila intended to shorten that still. She moved her waist until she found what she wanted.
Oh, he’s very excited. Akila couldn’t blame him. She teased the head at her entrance for just a moment as her fingers moved from their grip in his hair down to his shoulders. Her nails began to dig in, but they didn’t break skin. Not yet at least. Akila was certain that before long her would have some scratches to remember this night. Egyptians hadn’t given him enough scars so far as Akila could tell. There was still time to change that, should her nails be that sharp.
Finally, she fully lowered herself onto him. She used the muscles in her waist and core to begin bouncing up and down, filling her. Her tongue wrestled with his, refusing to cede any control over to the Greek. Akila had started soft, but softness was not her true nature. Akila was wild, as all Egyptians should be. She was a pirate, a whore, and as rough as they come. Akila was dangerous.
Yes, well when you tire of looking…
He could be funny. The half-smile just made him all the more handsome. It caused Akila to smirk, as he once more closed the distance between them. She couldn’t imagine anyone could tire of looking at him. Even if the Egyptian preferred people from her own kingdom, the man certainly had god-given looks. She did, however, look forward to something more. So she certainly wouldn’t mind if they continued on, past the looking.
Naturally, her legs split a little more as his hands rested above her knees. They were rough and calloused, obviously worked hard from hard months at war. The grip was strong, a soldier’s grip, and so too did she match it as her arms wrapped around his neck and fingers knotted in his hair. You’re beautiful, he had said in Coptic. I know, she thought smugly. Akila wanted to laugh. How sweet, that he was complimenting her. That sweetness wouldn’t last, once he returned to his men and found his things gone and some injured or worse. But at least Akila would still find it cute.
In response, she did not give him any words. Instead she kissed him, hungry to get things started. Akila may have been more tempted to play, had it not been for the fact they were in some random person’s house. She enjoyed being a tease, really getting under a man’s skin and riling them up before finally giving them exactly what they desired. Akila could almost call Achilleas fortunate to not have to deal with this tonight. Almost.
She got hungrier and hungrier now as she scooched even closer to him until her chest was against his and her ass was hanging over the table. Her legs moved up to wrap around his waist. If any distance was between them, it would be measured in centimeters, and Akila intended to shorten that still. She moved her waist until she found what she wanted.
Oh, he’s very excited. Akila couldn’t blame him. She teased the head at her entrance for just a moment as her fingers moved from their grip in his hair down to his shoulders. Her nails began to dig in, but they didn’t break skin. Not yet at least. Akila was certain that before long her would have some scratches to remember this night. Egyptians hadn’t given him enough scars so far as Akila could tell. There was still time to change that, should her nails be that sharp.
Finally, she fully lowered herself onto him. She used the muscles in her waist and core to begin bouncing up and down, filling her. Her tongue wrestled with his, refusing to cede any control over to the Greek. Akila had started soft, but softness was not her true nature. Akila was wild, as all Egyptians should be. She was a pirate, a whore, and as rough as they come. Akila was dangerous.
He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, the girl had already proved herself forward enough. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised then when the Egyptian decided to dispense with words and lean up to kiss him instead. Teeth and tongue and with the sudden press of her body against his, it was not gentle or hesitant at all, her fingers knotting in his hair, demanding and precocious. His own hands grew bolder in return, tracing the lines of her, revelling in the sleek softness of her skin, the rise and fall of curves that were the shape of a woman’s body.
Caution and the young man’s usual level-head had been left somewhere else: perhaps down portside with his men, but certainly, he was not in possession of it now. No - his thoughts were being governed by a rather less responsible entity in that moment.
Against his chest, the softness of her breasts and the dusky tips that he strafed with his thumbs, once, twice. But Achilleas was granted little time to explore such offerings, not when the girl shifted forwards once more until their bodies aligned in a way that caused his breath catch and his fingers to squeeze a little at her flesh.
His gaze dropped from hers to where she moved against him, almost, but not quite welcoming him into he body and the lord’s hands slid down, over her ribcage and the dip of her waist and then lower still, to grip under the plush swell of her rear and draw her onto him.
There was no space to heed the slight dig of her nails into his shoulders, not when the promise of sinking into her was so close, and his hips twitched forward involuntarily, already seeking that delicious friction that was needed. And though perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he should be perturbed by how quickly this was all unfolding, it was challenging to make himself care - the last vestiges of doubt washing away entirely when his companion suddenly dropped herself onto him and then there was a muttered curse that he did not bother to try and translate.
He was glad that his hands had settled where they had so he could hold some of her weight as the Egyptian girl was wrapped all around him, undulating her body in a way that made it impossible to do anything other than try and meet her in counterpoint. She was...athletic he’d give her that much, and fierce too in the way she kissed and fucked.
His hands spread to curve around her hips, gripping her so he could find some purchase to push up into her and for a while, it worked, him bearing her weight and her writhing against him like one of the snakes her godforsaken country was known for. But whilst the visual was good, and he certainly appreciated her vigour, after a few minutes, the greek man stepped forward, setting her on the edge of the table and then pressing a hand flat against her breastbone to encourage her to lay down flat. Breathing a little fast, there was a faint sheen of sweat across his skin, a heaviness and heat to his gaze as his blue eyes met hers. “Lay back” he instructed, exerting gentle pressure. He’d have more room to move then, to take control of the situation and drive her into like he wanted to.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, the girl had already proved herself forward enough. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised then when the Egyptian decided to dispense with words and lean up to kiss him instead. Teeth and tongue and with the sudden press of her body against his, it was not gentle or hesitant at all, her fingers knotting in his hair, demanding and precocious. His own hands grew bolder in return, tracing the lines of her, revelling in the sleek softness of her skin, the rise and fall of curves that were the shape of a woman’s body.
Caution and the young man’s usual level-head had been left somewhere else: perhaps down portside with his men, but certainly, he was not in possession of it now. No - his thoughts were being governed by a rather less responsible entity in that moment.
Against his chest, the softness of her breasts and the dusky tips that he strafed with his thumbs, once, twice. But Achilleas was granted little time to explore such offerings, not when the girl shifted forwards once more until their bodies aligned in a way that caused his breath catch and his fingers to squeeze a little at her flesh.
His gaze dropped from hers to where she moved against him, almost, but not quite welcoming him into he body and the lord’s hands slid down, over her ribcage and the dip of her waist and then lower still, to grip under the plush swell of her rear and draw her onto him.
There was no space to heed the slight dig of her nails into his shoulders, not when the promise of sinking into her was so close, and his hips twitched forward involuntarily, already seeking that delicious friction that was needed. And though perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he should be perturbed by how quickly this was all unfolding, it was challenging to make himself care - the last vestiges of doubt washing away entirely when his companion suddenly dropped herself onto him and then there was a muttered curse that he did not bother to try and translate.
He was glad that his hands had settled where they had so he could hold some of her weight as the Egyptian girl was wrapped all around him, undulating her body in a way that made it impossible to do anything other than try and meet her in counterpoint. She was...athletic he’d give her that much, and fierce too in the way she kissed and fucked.
His hands spread to curve around her hips, gripping her so he could find some purchase to push up into her and for a while, it worked, him bearing her weight and her writhing against him like one of the snakes her godforsaken country was known for. But whilst the visual was good, and he certainly appreciated her vigour, after a few minutes, the greek man stepped forward, setting her on the edge of the table and then pressing a hand flat against her breastbone to encourage her to lay down flat. Breathing a little fast, there was a faint sheen of sweat across his skin, a heaviness and heat to his gaze as his blue eyes met hers. “Lay back” he instructed, exerting gentle pressure. He’d have more room to move then, to take control of the situation and drive her into like he wanted to.
He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, the girl had already proved herself forward enough. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised then when the Egyptian decided to dispense with words and lean up to kiss him instead. Teeth and tongue and with the sudden press of her body against his, it was not gentle or hesitant at all, her fingers knotting in his hair, demanding and precocious. His own hands grew bolder in return, tracing the lines of her, revelling in the sleek softness of her skin, the rise and fall of curves that were the shape of a woman’s body.
Caution and the young man’s usual level-head had been left somewhere else: perhaps down portside with his men, but certainly, he was not in possession of it now. No - his thoughts were being governed by a rather less responsible entity in that moment.
Against his chest, the softness of her breasts and the dusky tips that he strafed with his thumbs, once, twice. But Achilleas was granted little time to explore such offerings, not when the girl shifted forwards once more until their bodies aligned in a way that caused his breath catch and his fingers to squeeze a little at her flesh.
His gaze dropped from hers to where she moved against him, almost, but not quite welcoming him into he body and the lord’s hands slid down, over her ribcage and the dip of her waist and then lower still, to grip under the plush swell of her rear and draw her onto him.
There was no space to heed the slight dig of her nails into his shoulders, not when the promise of sinking into her was so close, and his hips twitched forward involuntarily, already seeking that delicious friction that was needed. And though perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he should be perturbed by how quickly this was all unfolding, it was challenging to make himself care - the last vestiges of doubt washing away entirely when his companion suddenly dropped herself onto him and then there was a muttered curse that he did not bother to try and translate.
He was glad that his hands had settled where they had so he could hold some of her weight as the Egyptian girl was wrapped all around him, undulating her body in a way that made it impossible to do anything other than try and meet her in counterpoint. She was...athletic he’d give her that much, and fierce too in the way she kissed and fucked.
His hands spread to curve around her hips, gripping her so he could find some purchase to push up into her and for a while, it worked, him bearing her weight and her writhing against him like one of the snakes her godforsaken country was known for. But whilst the visual was good, and he certainly appreciated her vigour, after a few minutes, the greek man stepped forward, setting her on the edge of the table and then pressing a hand flat against her breastbone to encourage her to lay down flat. Breathing a little fast, there was a faint sheen of sweat across his skin, a heaviness and heat to his gaze as his blue eyes met hers. “Lay back” he instructed, exerting gentle pressure. He’d have more room to move then, to take control of the situation and drive her into like he wanted to.
When his thumbs ran across her nipples, they reacted in kind, hardening against his rough fingers. Too brief his hands were there, for she had moved closer and settled him into her sex. But she felt his hands as they moved from her breast down her flesh, causing shivers to rise from his touch. They found the curve of her rear, lifting it and drawing her closer still as she settled down, bringing him into her.
It was when his hands drifted to her hips, using them as handles, did she find herself moving faster. Breast bouncing against him, Akila filled herself with him over and over again. Her nails finally broke flesh as they scratched down. She would later come to wonder if they were deep enough to leave a mark. She would hope the scratch was. There was something amusing thinking that she left a… battle scar on a soldier. It was something that would allow him to remember this night. Wasn’t she thoughtful?
Akila could have kept at this pace. She was no stranger to sex being a ship’s whore, especially sex in less… traditional positions. Akila also had some control over the speed. And control was something that Akila truly desired. Teasing him, leading him here, toying with him before bringing him to the table, all of it was under her control. It was something that Akila could get drunk off of. That, more than anything, turned her on to this the most.
So she was almost contrary when he had set her on the edge of the table again. Would it not been for the sweat already gleaming of the man’s flesh (and likewise on her own), she might have pushed back.
But why not enjoy this for a bit? It couldn’t hurt.
She relented, laying back on the table. When he reentered her, Akila did her best to move her hips with him. She tried to match the tempo as if the two were performing a dance, a duet. With the new angle, he was able to get deeper into her. It caused her toes to curl and some of her muscles to begin to tighten. Her hands roamed her own body, tracing her curves and bringing goosebumps to her own flesh, before settling on her breast. She squeezed them, rolling her own thumbs over her tips as the man took her over and over again.
She moaned in part involuntary, in part because he knew a man loved that sound. She could feel every time he hit her spot, like a sharp pang to the gut. Each time it made her even more greedy. She desired more. She needed more.
Akila was never satisfied. Her lust was insatiable. Akila could never get enough. She sat back up, her lips meeting his one more time. “My turn,” She breathed against them, hand pushing him back gently. “Get on the bed.” She demanded. Intent on straddling his waist and going for a ride. Akila wanted control. She needed it.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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When his thumbs ran across her nipples, they reacted in kind, hardening against his rough fingers. Too brief his hands were there, for she had moved closer and settled him into her sex. But she felt his hands as they moved from her breast down her flesh, causing shivers to rise from his touch. They found the curve of her rear, lifting it and drawing her closer still as she settled down, bringing him into her.
It was when his hands drifted to her hips, using them as handles, did she find herself moving faster. Breast bouncing against him, Akila filled herself with him over and over again. Her nails finally broke flesh as they scratched down. She would later come to wonder if they were deep enough to leave a mark. She would hope the scratch was. There was something amusing thinking that she left a… battle scar on a soldier. It was something that would allow him to remember this night. Wasn’t she thoughtful?
Akila could have kept at this pace. She was no stranger to sex being a ship’s whore, especially sex in less… traditional positions. Akila also had some control over the speed. And control was something that Akila truly desired. Teasing him, leading him here, toying with him before bringing him to the table, all of it was under her control. It was something that Akila could get drunk off of. That, more than anything, turned her on to this the most.
So she was almost contrary when he had set her on the edge of the table again. Would it not been for the sweat already gleaming of the man’s flesh (and likewise on her own), she might have pushed back.
But why not enjoy this for a bit? It couldn’t hurt.
She relented, laying back on the table. When he reentered her, Akila did her best to move her hips with him. She tried to match the tempo as if the two were performing a dance, a duet. With the new angle, he was able to get deeper into her. It caused her toes to curl and some of her muscles to begin to tighten. Her hands roamed her own body, tracing her curves and bringing goosebumps to her own flesh, before settling on her breast. She squeezed them, rolling her own thumbs over her tips as the man took her over and over again.
She moaned in part involuntary, in part because he knew a man loved that sound. She could feel every time he hit her spot, like a sharp pang to the gut. Each time it made her even more greedy. She desired more. She needed more.
Akila was never satisfied. Her lust was insatiable. Akila could never get enough. She sat back up, her lips meeting his one more time. “My turn,” She breathed against them, hand pushing him back gently. “Get on the bed.” She demanded. Intent on straddling his waist and going for a ride. Akila wanted control. She needed it.
When his thumbs ran across her nipples, they reacted in kind, hardening against his rough fingers. Too brief his hands were there, for she had moved closer and settled him into her sex. But she felt his hands as they moved from her breast down her flesh, causing shivers to rise from his touch. They found the curve of her rear, lifting it and drawing her closer still as she settled down, bringing him into her.
It was when his hands drifted to her hips, using them as handles, did she find herself moving faster. Breast bouncing against him, Akila filled herself with him over and over again. Her nails finally broke flesh as they scratched down. She would later come to wonder if they were deep enough to leave a mark. She would hope the scratch was. There was something amusing thinking that she left a… battle scar on a soldier. It was something that would allow him to remember this night. Wasn’t she thoughtful?
Akila could have kept at this pace. She was no stranger to sex being a ship’s whore, especially sex in less… traditional positions. Akila also had some control over the speed. And control was something that Akila truly desired. Teasing him, leading him here, toying with him before bringing him to the table, all of it was under her control. It was something that Akila could get drunk off of. That, more than anything, turned her on to this the most.
So she was almost contrary when he had set her on the edge of the table again. Would it not been for the sweat already gleaming of the man’s flesh (and likewise on her own), she might have pushed back.
But why not enjoy this for a bit? It couldn’t hurt.
She relented, laying back on the table. When he reentered her, Akila did her best to move her hips with him. She tried to match the tempo as if the two were performing a dance, a duet. With the new angle, he was able to get deeper into her. It caused her toes to curl and some of her muscles to begin to tighten. Her hands roamed her own body, tracing her curves and bringing goosebumps to her own flesh, before settling on her breast. She squeezed them, rolling her own thumbs over her tips as the man took her over and over again.
She moaned in part involuntary, in part because he knew a man loved that sound. She could feel every time he hit her spot, like a sharp pang to the gut. Each time it made her even more greedy. She desired more. She needed more.
Akila was never satisfied. Her lust was insatiable. Akila could never get enough. She sat back up, her lips meeting his one more time. “My turn,” She breathed against them, hand pushing him back gently. “Get on the bed.” She demanded. Intent on straddling his waist and going for a ride. Akila wanted control. She needed it.
There was still part of him that had not quite caught up with the scenario as it unfolded, and did not quite understand how he had come to find himself with his arms full of an Egyptian girl who was now riding him like she was being paid for it.
The muscles in his arms flexed where he supported some of her movement, his fingers pressing firmly into the flesh of her rear and Achilleas hissed slightly through his teeth when her fingernails clawed into his skin, leaving burning trails in their wake. He half-turned his head, then the blue gaze returned to her, frowning slightly.
She was...rough-edged in a way he was unused to, wilder and unpredictable. He was half-wondering if he had bitten off more than he could chew and it was that need to reclaim some control over the situation that had him lay her out on the table like an offering to be enjoyed. It was easier then: both on his muscles and to set the pace to his own liking. The view wasn’t bad either; she put on a show that he could enjoy, the breathy moan that left her lips making his lips lift a little, and he concentrated on angling that same way again to see what other little sounds he could wring from her.
Achilleas himself was not immune to the clutch of her around him, and he could feel a coiling tension, so much so that when she sat up and broke his rhythm, there was a momentary frustration even as their lips met once more.
‘My turn’ and the ‘Get on the bed’ were met with a lifted brow, and the greek gathered up and deposited her on the bed before following her down, covering her with the expanse of his body, nudging her thighs apart with one knee as he braced above her.
His hips settled into the cradle of her thighs, arms bracketed either side of her as he rested his weight on his elbows, her breasts pressed flush against his chest. Skin made slick with sweat slide against skin, and the wooden bed frame groaned its protest at its new burden. “You get on the bed” came the heavily accented reply, low and determined before he claimed her mouth in another kiss and drove into her again, seeking his own pleasure.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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There was still part of him that had not quite caught up with the scenario as it unfolded, and did not quite understand how he had come to find himself with his arms full of an Egyptian girl who was now riding him like she was being paid for it.
The muscles in his arms flexed where he supported some of her movement, his fingers pressing firmly into the flesh of her rear and Achilleas hissed slightly through his teeth when her fingernails clawed into his skin, leaving burning trails in their wake. He half-turned his head, then the blue gaze returned to her, frowning slightly.
She was...rough-edged in a way he was unused to, wilder and unpredictable. He was half-wondering if he had bitten off more than he could chew and it was that need to reclaim some control over the situation that had him lay her out on the table like an offering to be enjoyed. It was easier then: both on his muscles and to set the pace to his own liking. The view wasn’t bad either; she put on a show that he could enjoy, the breathy moan that left her lips making his lips lift a little, and he concentrated on angling that same way again to see what other little sounds he could wring from her.
Achilleas himself was not immune to the clutch of her around him, and he could feel a coiling tension, so much so that when she sat up and broke his rhythm, there was a momentary frustration even as their lips met once more.
‘My turn’ and the ‘Get on the bed’ were met with a lifted brow, and the greek gathered up and deposited her on the bed before following her down, covering her with the expanse of his body, nudging her thighs apart with one knee as he braced above her.
His hips settled into the cradle of her thighs, arms bracketed either side of her as he rested his weight on his elbows, her breasts pressed flush against his chest. Skin made slick with sweat slide against skin, and the wooden bed frame groaned its protest at its new burden. “You get on the bed” came the heavily accented reply, low and determined before he claimed her mouth in another kiss and drove into her again, seeking his own pleasure.
There was still part of him that had not quite caught up with the scenario as it unfolded, and did not quite understand how he had come to find himself with his arms full of an Egyptian girl who was now riding him like she was being paid for it.
The muscles in his arms flexed where he supported some of her movement, his fingers pressing firmly into the flesh of her rear and Achilleas hissed slightly through his teeth when her fingernails clawed into his skin, leaving burning trails in their wake. He half-turned his head, then the blue gaze returned to her, frowning slightly.
She was...rough-edged in a way he was unused to, wilder and unpredictable. He was half-wondering if he had bitten off more than he could chew and it was that need to reclaim some control over the situation that had him lay her out on the table like an offering to be enjoyed. It was easier then: both on his muscles and to set the pace to his own liking. The view wasn’t bad either; she put on a show that he could enjoy, the breathy moan that left her lips making his lips lift a little, and he concentrated on angling that same way again to see what other little sounds he could wring from her.
Achilleas himself was not immune to the clutch of her around him, and he could feel a coiling tension, so much so that when she sat up and broke his rhythm, there was a momentary frustration even as their lips met once more.
‘My turn’ and the ‘Get on the bed’ were met with a lifted brow, and the greek gathered up and deposited her on the bed before following her down, covering her with the expanse of his body, nudging her thighs apart with one knee as he braced above her.
His hips settled into the cradle of her thighs, arms bracketed either side of her as he rested his weight on his elbows, her breasts pressed flush against his chest. Skin made slick with sweat slide against skin, and the wooden bed frame groaned its protest at its new burden. “You get on the bed” came the heavily accented reply, low and determined before he claimed her mouth in another kiss and drove into her again, seeking his own pleasure.