` ` Achilles and Gabriel's First Time ` `

A thumbpad brushes over the skin of his palm.

There is a decent ache in the muscle there, where his thumb connects into the rest of his hand: nothing new. It is the sort of ache that always starts up whenever he has used his spear for too long. Achilles presses into the area with his other hand with a soft frown, small winces jumping along his expression as he rubs it out- but that kind of defeats the point of the massage, right? If a person rubs out one thumb, it just makes the other one sore, too, and you have to massage that one. Then... Well. It's a Sisyphian task.

Achilles' lips curl around the small pain that shoots up from his joint anyway. He focuses on it, the feel of the twitch. On the way his skin wrings together.

"Achilles?"

The blond's voice always has a way of gently kissing away the furrow in Achilles' brow. He glances up. "Mm?"

A soft light emanates from the front of their shared tent from a candle wick: an orange glow amidst the dark that settles over the room. It lights up the strands of blond hair it touches, making their vibrancy known in a way that reminds him of a golden lyre. An instrument like that feels befitting.

Flicks of light touch paler skin too, spreading over the soft expression Gabriel wears. It is not hard to melt under it: it always feels that just a look from the man can reach inside Achilles, find the sore spots of tension, then smooth it away like he were simply wiping away a blemish. Achilles breathes around that reaching gaze, letting it gently pick at the ache that has spread a tad farther than his hands, now.

Gabriel steps over, socked feet padding quietly. At Achilles' side he sits in his rightful spot, their shoulders a couple inches apart, hair waterfalling around him in tantalizing waves. There is a tug Achilles feels, then, to reach over and tuck it behind Gabriel's neck and ear so he can see those sharper features better, but... he keeps his hands wrapped around themselves instead for now, thumbs fighting for which will remain on top.

Gabriel then stares for a moment. He does not have to search for as long these days to find what he is looking for. "Is everything okay?"

His eyes trail over bright ones rimmed by golden lashes. Gentle. Loving. Far more than he will ever deserve. He trails over the position Gabriel is settled in, the body that is so close to his, the way the bed feels when it is dipped to sit two people.

He lost all of this.

It is a fact he has come back to so often.

It settled deep in his bones the day he fell to his knees and light burned out before his eyes. It echoed along his mind in the sporadic months, a chipper voice unable to drag him away from its cold hands. It pumped through his nerves and hands months ago, that night, when he stared over the cliffside and cursed the gods.

And now, even after everything, it still creeps into the back of his mind. He is still processing, still slotting back into this place, and it is still there.

He lost this.

The ache has abandoned his tender hands. It eases up his arms and further into his chest, into the fragile, fresh stitches around his heart. This is a dull throb, not quite the sharp tear loss had brought, but painful nonetheless: he breathes around it, long and deep, in through his nose and out around the sting.

After a brief flicker of confusion, Gabriel's brows tilt, a softer look of understanding settling over him

He reaches forward, palm placed over Achilles' hand, then waits. Lets Achilles take a moment of silence to find his words.

And he does, eventually.

Achilles' voice is quiet. He is not good at admitting things... ever, really, but there has been something ripped open in him after these past few days, something that feathers managed to crack open that words tumble out of like blood rushing from an open wound.

"I missed you."

Vocal cords press against the sore spot in his chest. It hurts.

... This is not new information. Still, it makes Gabriel stutter.

He inches a bit closer, shoulder brushing against Achilles'. The closeness is warm, and Achilles finds himself leaning into it, craving the comfort it brings. They both have been craving this.

"I did as well." Gabriel whispers back.

That soft utterance has Achilles' eyelids falling, squeezing lightly.

It is unfair how this grief persists even after Gabriel returned, but... then again, all grief was to begin with was love that carried on. Maybe love was just meant to hurt this much, meant to vice around his lungs and press until the juice eventually leaks out his eyes.

Oh, well. He has taken a lot of pain for Gabriel. He can, will, stand through more of it.

Gabriel lets the man lean closer, head slowly dipping to settle on his shoulder as if drawn there. His raven hair falls in waves around his face, obscuring it save for his brows, furrowed as usual.

He breathes. Breathes in Gabriel's scent, his texture, the feeling of his solid and real and here beside him. And he breathes to remind that he is alive.

He lost this. He lost this.

Gabriel finally wraps an arm around Achilles' back, easing him closer, letting strong arms wrap around his torso and cling. Achilles was always so clingy... It feels familiar, to let his warmth enclose itself around Gabriel, his face easing into where Gabriel's shoulder connects into his neck. His fingers go on to rub a gentle rhythm into Achilles' back, soft and easy.

They spend several minutes like that, soaking in the comfort of one another's touch. Gabriel commits it all to memory, shoving every little part of Achilles into the crevices of his mind, soaking it in as if this was not something either of them could have ever forgotten: the way his torso rises and falls when Achilles is pressed against it; the compliance of his hips and sides compressed under the Achilles' tight grip; the smooth expanse of skin where Achilles buries himself, marble carved into stone just for him. Achilles.

They have been holding one another like this often over the course of these few days- silent, clinging, needy. A comfort they both participated in that Gabriel needs now- he wants to feel every part of the man in his arm, to reacquaint himself with the body he lost.

And, as Achilles nuzzles further into Gabriel's neck, the blond knows he feels the same. His arms tighten around him, a shield.

They shift then, and Achilles' lips slip from the soft material of Gabriel's collar to smoother skin. It feels good to press his lips against the expanse there, even encouraged with the position he is slumped into. This... It is something he has gotten used to, this past year: pressing his lips against things he wants to protect, things he wants near, just to make sure that they are okay, that they are safe. Small blessings. That little loudmouth and her affection is rubbing off on him...

Regardless, it feels... good.

It's... been a long time. Since he has done this.

Gabriel makes a soft sound at the feeling, a short stutter. It has been a while for him, too.

Achilles keeps his lips against the spot for a long moment, soaking in the feeling of Gabriel against him. Closer, he just wants closer, like he could be small again and hide in the safety the blond provides. The safety he has craved.

"I missed you." It slips from him again, words licking against pale skin. Shaky and honest.

Each time he says it, Gabriel's heart trembles all over again.

His hand moves to tighten in the loose fabric of Achilles' top, slender fingers curling in the white satin. He does not need to reply yet: the way he holds the man tighter, something protective stirring within him, is enough.

The words twist into a soft mantra, whispered against Gabriel; Achilles sinks closer, his moving lips trailing further up the skin of Gabriel's neck. It is a reassurance as much as it is an admission: Achilles worship song. After the lyre comment and the way Gabriel's breaths add harmonization, Achilles feels like they really are weaving a song here as he continues mouthing over skin, and Gabriel just hugs him closer, closer, closer. He does not want to let him go, to let him escape and burn up ever again.

He buries his own lips into Achilles' hair, resting there, relishing in the softness of his darker locks and the faint scent of sand and pepper that seems to follow him everywhere. It is wholly human, wholly Achilles, comforting and his: Gabriel wants to hide himself in it forever, to soak in nothing but Achilles, Achilles, Achilles.

A pleasant whine escapes the man as Gabriel finally shifts to move Achilles' head, tipping it as gently as he can to the side to see his face. The vulnerability he is met with has his heart aching, a fraction of that beautiful grief on display for him.

He gently brushes away the finer, whiter hairs from Achilles temple, easing them behind pointed ears. The action is rewarded with the soft sigh that Achilles releases, any acquired tension bleeding out of him.

Then, his lips part just a bit, and Gabriel cannot resist the gentle, longing expression he receives.

This will have to suffice as words for now: he leans in, his lips meeting a familiarity, and he finds a shudder running through him at the contract. Gabriel has not kissed Achilles in... in a year. Over a year, now. His lips are still just as rough, chapped from being worried and bitten and the general tear of this desert. Still tinged with that faint olive taste that clung to him.

Still his.

He soaks in the motion, holding it, wanting to relish in the having: that Achilles is with him once again, that they are safe in this tent, each other the only other people in this world.

And when they part, Gabriel tastes salt.

He doesn't need to look; he moves to the side, leaving smaller kisses along his cheekbones, along the plane beneath Achilles' eyes. A smaller whine escapes Achilles this time from somewhere in the back of his throat.

"I lost you." He whispers, voice hoarse and weak. Wetness touches Gabriel's tongue, but he just kisses away the tear track, his hand smoothing through Achilles' locks.

Soft, Gabriel murmurs back, "I am here now."

Achilles releases a shaky breath, before pressing forward, lips clumsily meeting Gabriel's own again. Gabriel holds him closer, partly cradling Achilles' head, wanting him closer and closer, as if they could merge into a singular being if they tried hard enough.

All the while, his mind hisses mine. He refuses to lose this again, to let this one slip away.

Achilles presses deeper, a deep crave welling up inside him, primed by the taste of Gabe on his tongue. He has craved for months- for over a year. Desperation has him wanting to take everything he is being given, everything he knows he doesn't deserve- to take it all in and shove it into every little hurt crevice of his heart.

So he presses deeper, a stupid, wanting thing, and Gabriel reciprocates with equal parts desperation, urgent need overcoming rational thought. Achilles' mouth parts beneath his, the taste of Gabriel spreading pleasantly over him, and he stuffs the sensation- each scent and touch and sense- deep inside him, cradling it, treasuring it, reigniting the coals that were dashed when Gabriel was ripped away. Each empty spot left behind is being refilled- his body needs this reminder, needs to touch every piece, to remember that this is his. That his Gabriel lives.

Teeth meet his bottom lip, a gentle nip, one that has a small sound dragging itself out of Achilles' throat. Gabriel relishes in the reminder: his grip around Achilles tightens, hands gliding over the expanse of skin on display over his hips before dipping further down and squeezing lightly. It has Achilles gasping into Gabriel's mouth, before the sound is smoothed away by the way Gabriel trails his lips down the corner of Achilles' mouth to his neck, easing it into a gentle whine.

Achilles does not even realize that he is speaking for a long moment, before the quiet hiss of his own voice in his ears is interrupted by the feeling of teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of his neck. It has his stream of nonsense words stuttering, caught by fangs.

Gabriel feels his own throat tighten at the sounds. Each one is a reminder of Achilles' life, of the fact he is solid and real- this is far from an illusion, a being could not replicate this. He cannot help the way his eyes sting at that, steady differing language and little whines touching his ears in a song that belongs only to his Achilles, so beautifully unique. He is real, Gabriel repeats to himself, this is real.

This time when his lips taste salt again, he tries to lean back to catch Achilles' eye: one of his hands abandon their place to reach for his face, but the action causes Achilles to cling tighter, shifting and squirming further into Gabriel's lap with another wave of slurred words. The syllables fall from his tongue in a rush- it is in a language Gabriel recognizes but cannot gauge the meaning of.

"I..." Gabriel feels the corners of his lips twitch as he raises his hand to Achilles' cheek, cupping the face that nuzzles into him, like a feline aching for a pet. Gabriel's voice drips with sweet fondness then, not at all perturbed as he swipes away another tear. "Dear, I cannot understand you."

He wears a tiny smile, the kind that always makes Achilles' heart flutter..

"Don't stop," He manages to twist his tongue into English for this one; his grip around Gabriel's torso is nearly too tight, longing to keep. "I don't want to let go-"

"I am not going to," Gabriel whispers back, voice tinged with some lovely mix of amusement and fondness as his hand begins to card through Achilles' locks. His slim fingers find the tie that holds Achilles' hair up, and he picks lightly at it, easing hair out as he brushes.

Achilles simply settles his head back into Gabriel's shoulder at that, relief chasing away the small bit of tension. He is so malleable like this, slumped into Gabriel like the blonde chased away any need for supporting himself any longer. He was safe here, safe to cut the strings that hold him up.

That wetness is still present, making his neck and collar tickle a little bit.

"...You are crying." Gabriel murmurs; it is not a scold or question, simply an observation. Achilles tries to sniffle quieter.

"No ‘m not."

"It is okay for you to, you know."

It's unfair, how that makes Achilles' eyes sting worse. How it makes his voice even tinier. "I know."

Gabriel breathes around the sting in his own eyes then, letting his lids fall shut as Achilles hides. He has been clingier these past days and crying has become somewhat common now- but Gabriel cannot hold that against him: doesn't really want to, either. It is better for him to let it out, anyways... Gabriel knows they both need it.

That does have him squirming around the want that had developed in his chest though, heart fluttering helplessly at the taste still on his tongue.

As he rubs a soft pattern into Achilles' spine, tracing a knot, he finds himself murmuring, "Achilles... We do not have to do this right now."

Achilles makes a little questioning noise.

"Ah... This." He dips his hand a bit lower, tapping lightly at the base of Achilles' spine. It elicits a small shiver.

"Oh." That has Achilles turning his head a little now, red-rimmed gold in full sight as he looks up at Gabriel. His eyes are so large and teary... and the way he fully leans against Gabriel, entirely wrapped in him, has the desire to keep swarming him again. God, he is something precious.

He blinks slow, before nuzzling a bit closer, lips parting to quietly admit, "I know, but... I want to."

A beat passes. "I want... you."