‘Chaire,’ Lysandros said, smiling warmly as he opened the latch and held the door of his personal quarters for Isadas, inviting him in.
The hoplite smiled back and stepped inside, though he paused to kiss Lysandros lightly as he passed – just a brush of the lips, hands lingering a moment on his hips.
‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he said softly
‘On the roof?’ Lysandros asked with a raised eyebrow, closing the door behind them.
‘Yes, in the arbour.’
He was wearing only a light chiton, white, with a red pattern at the hem. He looked around the room curiously for a moment, while Lysandros looked at him, wondering what he was thinking. It wasn’t a flashy room – a black and white mosaic, red walls with white detailing, two dining couches and a table, and a scatter of cushions and lamps; and of course, pigeon holes full of scrolls. These were the books that Lysandros himself had chosen – military strategy and technological treatises mostly, though there was a collection of poetry lurking out of sight that he hoped no one ever found out about.
‘Are you hungry?’ Lysandros asked softly, moving closer. He slipped an arm around Isadas’ waist from behind and ran his hand up his chest, appreciating the contours of his torso, and coming to rest where he could tease his nipple with his thumb. He dropped his head, kissing the point where shoulder met neck, breathing deeply of his scent.
Isadas growled lightly, ‘Not for food.’
Lysandros chuckled as the hoplite turned in his arms. The look they shared was dark and wanting.
Lysandros kissed him lightly, then took the hem of his chiton in hand and pulled it up, not breaking eye contact until he had to, as he lifted it over his head. For a long moment, he looked down at Isadas’ remarkable body, entirely naked underneath the tunic, his arousal was prominent, and Lysandros felt heat creeping up his neck.
Isadas returned the favour, stripping off Lysandros’ chiton. He threw it aside, eyes drifting up to meet his, full of desire.
Lysandros felt tentative suddenly, vulnerable, so his approach was a little more reticent than before. The light swirl of hair on Isadas’ chest tempted his fingers as he drew near again, and with his other hand, he stroked the side of his face, before kissing him – at first gently; then again with more heat; and the third time, with real intent.
They shuffled together to the nearest dining couch, only breaking the kiss in order to sink down together. Lysandros stretched out and took him in his arms and kissed him again, but then he allowed his lips to wander down towards his collarbone. His free hand went further, ranging down his spine, across the contours of his muscular back, coming to rest on the curve of his firm ass.
Isadas had thrown his head back against the cushions, moaning in abandon as Lysandros kissed at his neck, finding the place that turned him on, a spot just above the collarbone, where neck joined shoulder. He lingered there, kissing and bristling with his short beard.
Lysandros’ senses were whirling, full to excess – Isadas’ scent, his taste, the heat of his skin…
Isadas reached down, the rough, calloused skin of his hand as he stroked Lysandros’ cock sent a shiver of wanting through him, strong enough that Isadas noticed and looked up, meeting his eye with a teasing smile.
Lysandros smiled back, but caught his hand, twining their fingers together, and pushed him back against the pillows, propping himself above him.
His mind was a white whir of desire as they pressed together. He tangled his left hand in Isadas’ hair, holding his head still while he kissed him lightly, playfully pulling away whenever Isadas tried to kiss him more deeply. Lysandros grinned in between the light kisses, while Isadas groaned…. But he wasn’t conquered.
With strong hands, he pulled Lysandros closer and held him there, crotch to crotch, starting a rhythm between them.
Lysandros closed his eyes, fighting for control of himself. Waves of pleasure washed over him, escalating until he could hardly contain himself, teetering on the brink… taunted, breathless; heated demand firing urgent wanting…
He opened his eyes again, and found Isadas grinning up at him, albeit blurrily bahis siteleri through his own gasping pleasure, close to the edge himself.
Lysandros narrowed his eyes slightly, then kissed him properly; a deep, demanding kiss, so for a moment, Isadas broke the rhythm…
Then Lysandros was moving, releasing him, shifting away… down.
Isadas’ eyes dropped closed as Lysandros took him in his mouth. He reached down, fingers tangling in his hair, his look all burning heat as he gasped at that warm wetness, moaned deep in his chest as Lysandros resumed the rhythm he’d started, but this time totally in control. He ran a hand sensuously across Isadas’ skin, taut over straining muscles, slick with sweat, his belly tight as a drum; then grasped his hips with both hands, took him all in while looking up through a fog of desire at the pure line of his neck as he threw his head back, gasping, exposing his throat….
He felt the shift in Isadas, and took him in hand, easing him through the moment of release, his guttural cry alone near breaking Lysandros’ restraint….
But, somehow, he held on, eyes closed tight, face pressed into the bedding, breathing deeply to calm himself while Isadas curled onto one side, gasping his pleasure into the cushion at his head.
Later, after Lysandros had led Isadas to bed in the other room, and they’d slept a while, he woke curled around the misthios, their legs entwined. Bright moonlight washed the room through three small windows, almost bright enough to be daylight. He was aware that Isadas wasn’t sleeping, though his eyes were closed and he was more relaxed than he’d ever seen him.
He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, nor his lips either, as he grazed on the shoulder nearest, kisses wandering towards his neck. Isadas – a smile lurking around his eyes – pretended to shift in his sleep, moving his head and shoulder so that Lysandros could reach the place that made him weak. Lysandros smiled to himself, and obliged him by burying his face in the soft skin there, while his hand wandered downwards. Finding what he sought, he chuckled.
‘You can stop pretending you’re asleep,’ he murmured.
‘Why?’ Isadas mumbled back, rumbling in his throat at his caress. ‘I’m getting exactly what I want with no effort at all.’
Lysandros smiled again as he renewed his attention to his neck; each heated moan, each shift in his lover making him grow hard again himself. The rhythm between them was renewed, and Isadas pressed back against him, inviting…
… but Lysandros held back, wanting only to please Isadas, to learn what he liked, to appreciate every moment he had with him… his own pleasure could wait.
The misthios reached down, held tightly to Lysandros’ forearm, while the other grasped at the bedding. He looked over his shoulder, up at Lysandros with heavy lidded eyes, lips parted, begging to be kissed again. The kiss was messy, hungry, and it tipped Isadas over the edge, gasping his release against Lysandros’ mouth.
‘Malakas,’ he said in a gasp, as Lysandros released him. Breathing heavily, he rolled forward and buried his face in the pillows for a moment, revealing the muscular landscape of ass and back in the moonlight. Lysandros couldn’t help but run a hand over all that glorious flesh, watching his skin prickle beneath his fingertips, drinking in his perfection, until he reached his ribs, and he squirmed away.
He smiled then, and laid back against the pillows, stroking himself gently, calming himself, as he looked at Isadas stretched out beside him. Some part of himself couldn’t believe that he was there; that someone so desirable also desired him…
He said quietly, ‘You’re a wonder.’
Isadas looked up then, smiling softly. ‘You’re not so bad yourself.’
He rolled to his knees and moved to take over from Lysandros’ ministrations of himself, but he captured his hand, pulling Isadas up beside him instead, holding him close, face to face, twining his long fingers in his hair, and kissed him, once — twice — many times.
Isadas woke, splayed face down across the bed, the sun shining through the window into his face. For a long moment he laid there, aware of his aching muscles, aware of the ball of fire in his belly canlı bahis siteleri when he thought of all that had happened the night before. He had known how it would be; but still, he had not understood just how thirsty he had been, nor anticipated how, having drunk deeply, he could still want more.
Lysandros, he thought, smiling.
Isadas had had a lot of lovers, but never one who had given more – much more – than they’d taken. He’d never even realised that was true until the previous night. Even when they were both too tired to do anything more than lay beside one another, Lysandros still couldn’t bring himself to stop touching him – as if he might disappear if he did. They’d laid for a long time, half dozing, while Lysandros ran a hand up and down his arm, tracing the scars there, lost in thought. Isadas had asked what he was thinking about, but he’d only smiled and kissed the top of his head.
He heard the door open in the next room, and rolled onto his back to see Lysandros come into the bedroom with a plate of olives, cheese and bread, and a jug of wine. He’d thrown on his chiton from the day before, but otherwise looked as he was — a man who had lived. His hair was in greater disarray than usual, there were love bites across his chest, and dark circles under his eyes. He gave Isadas a crooked grin, his eyes lingering on his naked body, as he said, ‘Food?’
The look made the hardly banked fire leap up in Isadas’ belly, but he sat up and stretched. He really was hungry now; his other appetite could wait a while.
Lysandros settled down beside him on the bed, offering the plate then handing him a cup of wine which he took gratefully.
They ate comfortably together, before Isadas asked, ‘Shouldn’t you be at the camp by now?’
‘I should,’ he said, lazily popping an olive into his mouth. ‘But I sent a boy to tell them I have meetings all day today.’
Alexios raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you?’
He smiled. ‘I’m meeting with a very important man this morning; and this afternoon I have things to do in the city.’
He side eyed him. ‘Stop fishing for compliments.’
Isadas grinned, his belly flip-flopping. ‘Lysandros, polemarkhos of Athens, notorious for always being in the camp or on the Pnyx, is going to waste a whole morning here with me?’
He leant over and gently took Isadas’ chin. He looked deep into his eyes, lips hovering near his.
‘I don’t intend on wasting the morning either.’ He kissed him deeply, intensely, then released his chin.
He went out of the room briefly, taking away the plate and returned without his chiton and carrying a lekythos of oil.
Isadas’ heart started beating fast, surprised because of Lysandros’ reticence in the night, but his intent at that moment was clear. He must have looked at him with a strange expression, because Lysandros tilted his head and asked tentatively, ‘I haven’t misunderstood?’
‘No,’ he croaked, then cleared his throat and said firmly, ‘No.’
He considered him for a moment, before climbing back onto the bed, saying softly, ‘I should warn you – I like to take my time.’
Isadas nodded, his mouth dry despite the wine. In his experience, taking time still did not take that long.
‘Take as long as you like.’
Lysandros smiled, kissed him warmly, then shifted so that he was between his legs.
Isadas watched, nervously excited, as he slicked the oil on himself, then coated his fingers.
He leant forward, crooking Isadas’ legs up, and kissed him. For a while that’s all he did, kissed him, while Alexios relaxed beneath him… then he ran one hand down Isadas’ thigh, and into his cleft, while he took his cock in the other.
He moaned, eyes closed, as pleasure shafted through him.
‘Isadas,’ Lysandros said warmly, lovingly, ‘Look at me.’
He did, and seeing the look of adoration in Lysandros’ eyes sent a powerful flare of wanting surging through him… and even as it did, he felt one long finger, then another, reaching towards the place inside him where bright sparks were lit…
All his thoughts dissolved…
How Lysandros loved to see Isadas like this: beautiful in his wanting, coiled tight, begging with hot kisses for more… even as his own blood surged fast and roaring, canlı bahis even as he fought his own desire: torn between taking what he wanted at once, and prolonging the joyful ache of anticipation, knowing the longer he waited, the better it would be.
More than once, Isadas drew close to tilting over the edge, but he always stopped in time, waiting until he had calmed before resuming again; each time Isadas cursed him.
‘You said I should take as long as I like – should I stop?’
‘No,’ Isadas moaned, ‘Please no. Don’t stop…’
He smiled. ‘Patience.’
Until at last, frayed to the edges of his being, Isadas groaned, ‘I beg you…’
‘What do you want?’ he asked, a smile still playing teasingly across his lips.
Their eyes met and Isadas swallowed heavily. ‘You – all of you. Please.’
He grew serious then, flooded with such a wash of affection, and dropped a kiss on his chin.
He shifted back onto his knees.
Slowly, carefully, despite the upwelling of indescribable pleasure in himself, Lysandros resisted the urge to be reckless, to try and bury himself in one sweep… no, he had lasted this long… just a little… then a little more…
He watched Isadas stroking himself with one hand while the other grasped at the bed head, knuckles white. He was breathing carefully, relaxing, allowing Lysandros in.
His heart ached with the beauty of it. He’d dreamt of this moment, waking from hot panting dreams with an ache in his loins; but this, the reality, was beyond even his most heated fantasies.
Deep inside him now, he began to thrust, slowly, carefully, with great restraint.
… hold it…
He was so close to the edge, he stopped… a moan, his own, unbidden, guttural, from the very core of himself, the sound of a man drowning in desire, barely in control of himself…
Isadas raised his head, his voice a warm rumble.
He could hold it no more. With a stuttering gasp, he broke, throwing his head back, body arching as he thrust, thrust again, his mind filled with buzzing white light.
When they had both had a moment to recover, Isadas said, ‘I didn’t know.’ His voice had a faraway quality to it.
Lysandros, still buzzing, was laid back on the pillows with his arm thrown over his eyes. He knew he had a stupid grin on his face, and he didn’t care.
‘I didn’t know it could be like that.’
Lysandros turned his head to look at him, and found he was lying on his side, watching him.
He rolled forward to kiss him softly, touching the side of his face as he did, running his thumb along the edge of his ear. He felt great tenderness towards him.
‘Glad to be the one to show you.’ Then he sighed, rolling back and saying regretfully, ‘It’s time to get out of bed.’
They went together out into the courtyard, the space bathed in sunlight at that time of day, filled with the scent of roses in the heat. Lysandros carried towels, which he threw onto a stone bench beside the cistern, and a pitcher which he used to douse himself all over with the crisply cold water, gasping slightly as it chilled his skin. He passed the jug to Isadas, and while he dried himself, he watched Isadas wash, the water beading on his skin, shimmering like jewels in the sunlight.
Lysandros was growing aroused again. Isadas was impossibly attractive; so attractive that, even now, when his muscles were aching, and he was desperately in need of sleep, he still wanted to touch him, still wanted to take him in his arms, still wanted to….
He looked up at the sun though, noting that it had passed the zenith; he really had to get himself together.
Isadas was watching him when he looked back, and they shared an intimate smile.
When they were both dressed, Lysandros kissed him briefly, and Isadas stepped out through the door. Lysandros followed, locking it behind them.
They lingered a moment, just enough time for a brief, tender kiss, and that same intimate look.
Lysandros asked, ‘What are you doing tonight?’
‘I promised Antinous I’d go to his symposium. He wanted me to join him last night, and would only let me off if I go tonight instead.’
Lysandros chuckled. ‘He’s always been very determined.’
‘Until tomorrow then?’ Isadas suggested softly, hand resting on his neck.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said warmly.
Then they both stepped out into the garden, and the street beyond.