(no subject)
More smut. No fancy explanations, just smut. Pretty tame, though.
Title: What A Man's Got To Do
Summary: Hephaistion's wedding night. Because sometimes a man has to do what a man has to do.
Rating: You saw the bit that said SMUT, right?
Feedback: feel free.
This was, without a doubt, a uniquely uncomfortable situation. It was also a damnable time to realise that, in all his life, he had never been with a woman. He had never even wanted a woman. There had always and only been Alexandros.
She seemed to know what was needed. Hephaistion couldn’t be sure; she had no Greek, and his Persian was not up to this. He would have used Macedonian and crooned to her as to a skittish filly, if she had been skittish at all. As it was, she was not … and he had no idea what he was meant to do.
She was new to this too, he supposed. She was Darius’ younger daughter - she had no more experience of this than he did. Less, probably. Someone had schooled her though, told her what to do and what to expect. Even for Persian modesty she had done no more than blush when he had stripped off. She had made a great deal over his smooth shaved face, but there was no doubting that he was a man. Only eunuchs in Persia went beardless, and young boys not fit to wed, but she had eyed him all over before he had managed to get rid of the lamp. She would have seen what she was looking for.
Hephaistion’s hands were used to the feel of a man. This was different. There were curves where there should not have been, and silky smooth skin that yielded under his touch. No hardness, anywhere.
Anywhere. His sex was as soft as if she had been a wall painting. It wanted Alexandros, and hard male lines, and … not this. He tried thinking of Alexandros’ strong thighs and buttocks, tight muscles and warm skin. It helped a little. Enough to use it, at least. Enough to try.
She opened her thighs to him. They were soft and rounded, utterly hairless and smooth. He would have faltered then, if he had not wanted to get this done. He had a marriage to consummate, and never mind what he might think of that. There were things, he reminded himself, that a man had to do. Even if nothing in him took him that way at all.
He knew what was required, even if only by hearsay. He felt for the place, surprised when she gasped and trembled, uneasy with the soft, slick feel of her. His cock flagged somewhat, reluctant. It was barely hard enough to penetrate her; he used his hand to push it into her, half limp thing that it was. For Alexandros, it would knock down walls.
She was warm inside, and wet. And, for the first time, not yielding. Not that she fought him, but there was a tightness snugging about his half-erect sex. Not the firm friction it was used to but … it might do. He was male enough for that. He felt himself swell inside her, his cock shifting and rising. He tried a small thrust. Nothing much, but she bit her lip all the same. She was not used to this either. He tried to be gentle. He moved his hips carefully, feeling the way.
Her breasts were a distraction. So was the smell of her, all scented oils and perfumes, and the submissive feel. All foreign to him, and off-putting if he thought of them too long. He thought of other things instead; flat male nipples pebbling under his tongue, sweat dripping down a muscled back, the musk and salt and scent of a man. If this were a man, he could do this without worrying if it was right, or if it was causing pain. He could use his shaft the way he knew how, the way that it was meant. He knew his way about men, after all.
She gasped and hissed when her barrier broke, and clutched at his shoulders. Well, he had been hard enough for that, at least. He kept thrusting in a careful, deliberate rhythm, thinking of Alexandros’ thighs clasping his body, and Alexandros opening to his sex. He didn’t think that he would climax, but he would try. Alexandros had said that he hoped for children from this union. Perhaps, if he managed it now, he would not have to do it again.
She was making small panting sounds. They sounded a little like sobs, but when he stopped to see if she was hurt, she babbled something at him and clamped her legs about him, shifting under him. She was enjoying it, perhaps. Or at least not hating it.
He wondered what Alexandros was doing. The same thing he was doing, most likely, but Alexandros at least had done it before. All of it before; marriage, women, consummation, the lot. Odd. He had never really thought of that before now, never registered it as something that mattered; that Alexandros had had sex with a woman. And with that eunuch of his if it came to that, who was as pretty as a girl anyway.
There was a sudden heat in his groin as he thought that, and a lurch in his cock that startled him. Alexandros, doing this with someone else. He should have been jealous to distraction, maybe. Instead, the thought of it excited him. Or maybe that was jealousy, in its raw state - the way his sex suddenly flexed and throbbed, all fierce and needful. “Mine,” it seemed to be saying. “Mine.”
The girl under him faltered, feeling the change in him. Hephaistion had not realised that he had started thrusting like that, strong and deep, the way he did with Alexandros. Pure possession, that was. And purely male too, wanting what it could get. Well, that was what he had down there, and it was at full attention now too. Hephaistion had never thought it particularly large, in spite of what Alexandros told him when he had hold of it. Alexandros would say that he was a stallion down there, after all. He could hardly not. In any case, it was in its full glory now, lancing into the snug wet channel between the girl’s legs. He tried to decide if he was enjoying it. His body was bearing up well, but he did not think his heart was in it. Not really. She could have been anyone. He worked his hips, pumping steadily, hoping his body would be satisfied with that. It probably would be; it was male, after all.
The girl - his wife, and how strange that word felt to him he could not begin to say - had started rocking forward to meet him, lifting a little from the hips. Perhaps she wanted more; perhaps she thought that she should. She still felt tight around his sex, but soft too. His cock went in well enough, now that he was hard. It made her gasp; he did not think that it was pain. Surprise, perhaps. Something inside her pulsed suddenly, and Hephaistion felt his balls tighten in response, his cock kicking. He closed his eyes, imagined Alexandros spread out beneath him, his legs drawn up and his cock hard and hot and swollen with desire. That pulsing came around his shaft again; he thought of the way that Alexandros’ body quivered and clamped when he peaked, and his cock throbbed. Alexandros could make him climax with only a groan and a look - Hephaistion wished he were here now. He thought of how his lover’s cock looked just before he came, thick and dusky and as hard as rock, leaking nectar onto his belly as Hephaistion made love to him. He thought of all the times he had held it, putting pressure just there at the base of it, to keep him from peaking too soon, driving him into a hell of ecstasy. His balls thickened, drawing up. Good. He thought of spending himself inside Alexandros and holding his lover’s cock to keep him climaxing while he did it, and of the taste of Alexandros’ seed as it spilled over his tongue, after. His cock pounded and ached, balls heavy. Soon. Alexandros bucking against him, his thighs spread, his insides a ripple of friction and heat. The taste of him, the feel, the smell … ah, gods, almost there. Alexandros … Alexandros …
Drypetis, daughter of Darius of Persia, felt her new husband climax and jerk against her, felt his seed making her his own. He did not stay when he was done; he waited a moment to catch his breath, then found his clothes in the dark and took his leave of her. For her part, she lay awake, feeling her body slowly settle. It had all been much as she had expected it to be - he had been more hesitant than she had thought, and more gentle, but in every other respect he had done what she had been told a man should do. There was one thing she had not expected though, one thing she did not understand. When his pleasure had burst over him like a wave breaking over a bank and he had emptied himself into her body, her husband had called out in the dark, “Alexandros!”
She could not for the life of her think why.
Title: What A Man's Got To Do
Summary: Hephaistion's wedding night. Because sometimes a man has to do what a man has to do.
Rating: You saw the bit that said SMUT, right?
Feedback: feel free.
This was, without a doubt, a uniquely uncomfortable situation. It was also a damnable time to realise that, in all his life, he had never been with a woman. He had never even wanted a woman. There had always and only been Alexandros.
She seemed to know what was needed. Hephaistion couldn’t be sure; she had no Greek, and his Persian was not up to this. He would have used Macedonian and crooned to her as to a skittish filly, if she had been skittish at all. As it was, she was not … and he had no idea what he was meant to do.
She was new to this too, he supposed. She was Darius’ younger daughter - she had no more experience of this than he did. Less, probably. Someone had schooled her though, told her what to do and what to expect. Even for Persian modesty she had done no more than blush when he had stripped off. She had made a great deal over his smooth shaved face, but there was no doubting that he was a man. Only eunuchs in Persia went beardless, and young boys not fit to wed, but she had eyed him all over before he had managed to get rid of the lamp. She would have seen what she was looking for.
Hephaistion’s hands were used to the feel of a man. This was different. There were curves where there should not have been, and silky smooth skin that yielded under his touch. No hardness, anywhere.
Anywhere. His sex was as soft as if she had been a wall painting. It wanted Alexandros, and hard male lines, and … not this. He tried thinking of Alexandros’ strong thighs and buttocks, tight muscles and warm skin. It helped a little. Enough to use it, at least. Enough to try.
She opened her thighs to him. They were soft and rounded, utterly hairless and smooth. He would have faltered then, if he had not wanted to get this done. He had a marriage to consummate, and never mind what he might think of that. There were things, he reminded himself, that a man had to do. Even if nothing in him took him that way at all.
He knew what was required, even if only by hearsay. He felt for the place, surprised when she gasped and trembled, uneasy with the soft, slick feel of her. His cock flagged somewhat, reluctant. It was barely hard enough to penetrate her; he used his hand to push it into her, half limp thing that it was. For Alexandros, it would knock down walls.
She was warm inside, and wet. And, for the first time, not yielding. Not that she fought him, but there was a tightness snugging about his half-erect sex. Not the firm friction it was used to but … it might do. He was male enough for that. He felt himself swell inside her, his cock shifting and rising. He tried a small thrust. Nothing much, but she bit her lip all the same. She was not used to this either. He tried to be gentle. He moved his hips carefully, feeling the way.
Her breasts were a distraction. So was the smell of her, all scented oils and perfumes, and the submissive feel. All foreign to him, and off-putting if he thought of them too long. He thought of other things instead; flat male nipples pebbling under his tongue, sweat dripping down a muscled back, the musk and salt and scent of a man. If this were a man, he could do this without worrying if it was right, or if it was causing pain. He could use his shaft the way he knew how, the way that it was meant. He knew his way about men, after all.
She gasped and hissed when her barrier broke, and clutched at his shoulders. Well, he had been hard enough for that, at least. He kept thrusting in a careful, deliberate rhythm, thinking of Alexandros’ thighs clasping his body, and Alexandros opening to his sex. He didn’t think that he would climax, but he would try. Alexandros had said that he hoped for children from this union. Perhaps, if he managed it now, he would not have to do it again.
She was making small panting sounds. They sounded a little like sobs, but when he stopped to see if she was hurt, she babbled something at him and clamped her legs about him, shifting under him. She was enjoying it, perhaps. Or at least not hating it.
He wondered what Alexandros was doing. The same thing he was doing, most likely, but Alexandros at least had done it before. All of it before; marriage, women, consummation, the lot. Odd. He had never really thought of that before now, never registered it as something that mattered; that Alexandros had had sex with a woman. And with that eunuch of his if it came to that, who was as pretty as a girl anyway.
There was a sudden heat in his groin as he thought that, and a lurch in his cock that startled him. Alexandros, doing this with someone else. He should have been jealous to distraction, maybe. Instead, the thought of it excited him. Or maybe that was jealousy, in its raw state - the way his sex suddenly flexed and throbbed, all fierce and needful. “Mine,” it seemed to be saying. “Mine.”
The girl under him faltered, feeling the change in him. Hephaistion had not realised that he had started thrusting like that, strong and deep, the way he did with Alexandros. Pure possession, that was. And purely male too, wanting what it could get. Well, that was what he had down there, and it was at full attention now too. Hephaistion had never thought it particularly large, in spite of what Alexandros told him when he had hold of it. Alexandros would say that he was a stallion down there, after all. He could hardly not. In any case, it was in its full glory now, lancing into the snug wet channel between the girl’s legs. He tried to decide if he was enjoying it. His body was bearing up well, but he did not think his heart was in it. Not really. She could have been anyone. He worked his hips, pumping steadily, hoping his body would be satisfied with that. It probably would be; it was male, after all.
The girl - his wife, and how strange that word felt to him he could not begin to say - had started rocking forward to meet him, lifting a little from the hips. Perhaps she wanted more; perhaps she thought that she should. She still felt tight around his sex, but soft too. His cock went in well enough, now that he was hard. It made her gasp; he did not think that it was pain. Surprise, perhaps. Something inside her pulsed suddenly, and Hephaistion felt his balls tighten in response, his cock kicking. He closed his eyes, imagined Alexandros spread out beneath him, his legs drawn up and his cock hard and hot and swollen with desire. That pulsing came around his shaft again; he thought of the way that Alexandros’ body quivered and clamped when he peaked, and his cock throbbed. Alexandros could make him climax with only a groan and a look - Hephaistion wished he were here now. He thought of how his lover’s cock looked just before he came, thick and dusky and as hard as rock, leaking nectar onto his belly as Hephaistion made love to him. He thought of all the times he had held it, putting pressure just there at the base of it, to keep him from peaking too soon, driving him into a hell of ecstasy. His balls thickened, drawing up. Good. He thought of spending himself inside Alexandros and holding his lover’s cock to keep him climaxing while he did it, and of the taste of Alexandros’ seed as it spilled over his tongue, after. His cock pounded and ached, balls heavy. Soon. Alexandros bucking against him, his thighs spread, his insides a ripple of friction and heat. The taste of him, the feel, the smell … ah, gods, almost there. Alexandros … Alexandros …
Drypetis, daughter of Darius of Persia, felt her new husband climax and jerk against her, felt his seed making her his own. He did not stay when he was done; he waited a moment to catch his breath, then found his clothes in the dark and took his leave of her. For her part, she lay awake, feeling her body slowly settle. It had all been much as she had expected it to be - he had been more hesitant than she had thought, and more gentle, but in every other respect he had done what she had been told a man should do. There was one thing she had not expected though, one thing she did not understand. When his pleasure had burst over him like a wave breaking over a bank and he had emptied himself into her body, her husband had called out in the dark, “Alexandros!”
She could not for the life of her think why.