FIC: For the Love of Princes, (Hector/Paris, +OFC), NC-17

[shrinetolust]

Title: γάρ την αγαπάω των πριγκήπων (For the love of princes ; sequel to Brotherly Love)
Pairing: Hector/Paris, +OFC
Author: shrinetolust
Rated: NC-17
Story: A servant girl tries to fulfill her promise to Prince Paris.
Fandom:Troy/Iliad
Feedback: Yes, please. Hopefully I've still got your attention with these characters! ~ Leave a note here or mail me at shrinetolust2 AT hotmail.com
Crossposted: troyslash, banabloom, hectorparis
Archive: My own LJ and where crossposted. Anyone else, please ask!
Notes: It's necessary to have read the previous chapters, to get to know the narrator especially. This was supposed to have been a birthday pressie for perseph2hades, but instead she gifted me with her incredible beta skills, and much time and effort. I should probably list her as a co-author. *ridiculously SQUISHY hugs*
Don't quote me on the quasi-ancient Greek title. It's somewhat accurate, but hell, it just looks cool. *G* And yes, I know the boys are in Troy; it's the slave girl's story, isn't it?

WARNINGS: Yep, there's some mild het here. It won't hurt you, I promise. :P

Chapter one: **In Love with Hector**
Chapter two: **Brotherly Love**



For the love of princes

My desire to help Paris with his brother at first remained only that--a desire. It was a difficult challenge, for Hector had to be convinced that Paris' love was real, and at the same time accept his own love of his brother. I desperately wished for them to find happiness in one another's arms, and embrace the will of the gods and the beauty of their love. Hector was a most unwilling participant, however, and was more stubborn than any man I had ever encountered. Paris had his own will, and I knew that it would be difficult to get either of them to do what I wanted. Especially as I am only a slave and am not allowed to tell anyone what they should do.

So I had to rely on my patience. And my attention to detail. And doing whatever I could whenever the occasion presented itself. That was my only real plan.

At first Paris thought his brother would not be able to resist returning to him. He waited in Hector's bed every night, wearing little more than a strip of sheer fabric that started below his navel and just reached the tops of his thighs. He usually knotted it at one hip and let the fringed edges float down the side of his leg. He would sit up among the furs and I would carefully outline his eyes in black or brilliant blue--depending on his mood. And then he would situate himself in a provocative pose and wait.

And wait. Paris performed this nightly ritual for weeks, certain that Hector would eventually run out of excuses and return to his own chamber, to his brother's arms. But Hector never came, and Paris' frustration grew with each passing night.

On the day of the new moon, my young master and I were out in the courtyard at the same time when an opportunity finally presented itself. I was in a large tub with two other young girls, stomping on grapes with our bare feet, squeezing out the juice that would later become wine. It was a task I enjoyed, oddly sensual in the way the tender fruit exploded under our feet and the liquid flowed up between our toes. We were allowed to wear short tunics as well, so that the fabric would not drag into the fruit and become stained. So on a warm day it was pleasant, feeling a gentle breeze on my bare legs, feeling the thick syrupy juice clinging to my skin.

Paris sat on the stone wall around the large center fountain and watched us for some time, the sun shining down and illuminating his bronzed skin. After awhile he grew hot, or bored, or both--and he slid into the fountain itself, floating atop the water so easily, like some glorious sea creature. I couldn't help watching him, and I felt my body flush with arousal when he let his body slip beneath the surface of the water and his skirt floated up, revealing all of his nakedness.

Around and around the tub we girls went, stomping and splashing and occasionally giggling when we slipped and fell against one another. Paris made similar circles, around and around the deep fountain. The other girls were afraid of Paris, so they did not dare look in his direction, and I had to be discreet, for we were not supposed to stare. But I watched him as much as I could manage, which was possibly a mistake as it filled me with a terrible longing.

The man who watched over us fell asleep in a warm patch of sunlight, and so we kept on, marching and marching. Eventually there was nothing left to stomp, and I suspected we had done quite enough, but we hadn't been ordered to stop. One of the girls suggested making some kind of noise to wake the winemaker, but we could not agree on what sort of noise it should be.

It turned out not to matter, for in the middle of our discussion, my dearest Prince Hector appeared in the courtyard. He looked very intent on his business, but when he came upon us, I was pleased to see him smile ever so slightly at me. I was even more pleased when he stopped in front of us, and peered into the tub. After watching our progress for a moment, he held up his hand. "Stop," he said simply, and we all immediately obeyed.

He then walked over to the sleeping man and shook him. The winemaker woke with a discontented grumble, but when he saw it was the prince he immediately fell to his knees and apologized profusely. Luckily for him, the prince did not seem very angry.

"I am not sure why you need a rest when they are doing all the work," Hector lectured, but there was a bemused tone to his voice. "I fear if I had not happened by, you would have slept through the night and these girls would have worn a hole through the tub."

The winemaker apologized again and begged forgiveness, but Hector dismissed it all, then ordered him to stand up and tend to his work. He did not need to say anything else--the man knew to never sleep again unless he was at home in his own bed.

I had to hold back a gasp of joy, then, when Hector returned to us and held his arms out to the girl just behind me, wordlessly offering to lift her up. Our limbs were heavy with fatigue, and we all sighed with gratitude at our savior. Each one of us had gotten hurt at one time or another, trying to clamber out of a wine tub when our legs would hardly hold our own weight anymore.

Eirene was first, and she blushed profusely for the few seconds she was in my master's arms. She curled in on herself and hardly touched him, and I pitied her for being so foolish. Melaina was next, and she took more advantage, wrapping her arms around his neck. She still kept her eyes down with shy respect, which was a shame for her because she missed Hector's soft smile as he gently settled her back on her feet.

Then it was my turn, and I felt my body heat in anticipation. I realized then that although I had been allowed to touch my master quite freely, it was rare for him to touch me in return. I bestowed a grateful look upon him when his arms closed around me, cradling me against his strong chest. Like Melaina I laced my fingers together behind his neck, but when he lifted me I looked at him, watching the muscles in his arms and neck ripple with each movement. "Thank you, my prince," I said softly, and I waited until his eyes met mine and softened, and then I looked away as was proper.

And what I found myself looking at was Prince Paris, who was suddenly standing next to us on the dusty tiles, rivulets of water running down his body into a gradually growing pool around his bare feet.

"Hello, Hector," he said. His brown eyes were large, expectant, and his hands were clasped behind his back. He fidgeted slightly, his skirt clinging wetly to his hard thighs, and very dramatically highlighting his masculinity.

I could feel Hector tense against me, but oddly enough he did not set me down. He stood there, motionless, almost as if he had forgotten I was in his arms. I was not in a hurry to get away from his warmth, so I kept myself absolutely still.

"How are you, brother?" he asked, but his tone was flat.

Paris took a step closer. "My health is good, but my heart--"

"Paris," Hector warned. "Not now."

"But when?" Paris asked, and I could see he was struggling between needing his brother and being angry with him. "When can I see you? Why do you avoid me?"

"I do not avoid you," Hector said, which the three of us knew was a lie, though I could never say such a thing. It was perhaps even a sin to think it. The wind blew, and Hector's curls brushed against my fingers, and I forgot everything for a moment.

"You do avoid me. You know I've been waiting for you, every night."

Hector's hands tightened against my waist and thighs. "Perhaps," he began coolly, "if you had some occupation, you would not even notice when I am gone. Perhaps then you would not expect me to be available for your every whim."

"You say these things," Paris said, his brow furrowing in the center and giving him a tragic look, "but you enjoyed some of my whims. Did you not?"

"I'm not discussing this with you," Hector said, and he took a step back and turned slightly so my feet were nearly touching Paris' chest. I realized then that Hector had not forgotten me, but was using me as a barrier between himself and his brother. "I have made my decision," Hector insisted. "Why can you not respect that?"

Paris moved forward, not minding that my stained feet pressed against his body, smearing dark juice across his skin. "Your decision hurts me," he whispered tersely. "How can you respect that?"

I looked at Hector then, and his eyes were so very dark. His jaw was tense and barely moved when he spoke again. "You will not change my mind, Paris. You will not order me about."

Paris' eyes flashed. "I was not--" he stopped, giving up before even finishing the sentence. "There is one order I can give you," he said instead. "And that is to unhand my servant. Right now. I need her to help me prepare for the festival tonight." His chin tipped up and he folded his arms across his damp chest, waiting for Hector to comply.

Hector shifted his arms slightly, pulling me tighter against him. "She is not your servant alone. And you do not need her for anything."

"She is mine!" Paris said firmly, and I flinched in surprise when he took hold of my ankle. "And I can do whatever I like with her." To prove his point, he lifted my foot and with his eyes locked on his brother, he lightly ran his tongue over my toes.

I gasped a little, staring at him, my arms tightening around Hector's neck. Hector seemed just as shocked, for he did not move at first. Paris nuzzled my foot a little more, licking at the juice still clinging to my skin. Then he looked up at his brother with lustful eyes, dark streaks of burgundy staining his lips and chin.

Hector pulled away, and my foot slipped free of Paris' grasp. Hector said nothing as he turned sharply and started walking toward the pathway that led to his rooms. As we passed them, Eirene and Melaina stared at us with a mixture of confusion and awe. I was confused and awed myself, my foot still twitching with sensation.

The walls closed in on the narrow walkway and Hector's arms moved, folding my body a little more so that I would fit through. He twisted at the waist, keeping my head forward and away from the brick. We quickly rounded a corner and continued down another unfamiliar corridor, grape vines overhead filtering the rays of sun. I had never been this way before, for only family were allowed to use this entrance. We had just about reached the arched wooden door to my master's rooms when I felt someone touch me, and Hector stopped abruptly.

I peered over his shoulder, and was startled to see Paris' curls against Hector's neck. To me he had appeared out of nowhere, slipping his arms around Hector and earnestly pressing his body to his brother's. But I knew Hector was a great warrior, and must have known that Paris was following--I suppose he had hoped his longer legs would have carried us quickly out of range, but Paris' feet were swift.

Hector tilted me, letting me slip feet-first out of his arms and back down to solid ground. He spun around to face Paris, but reached behind to pull me against his back, as if he wanted to keep me safe and close to him. His arm was heavy, but I did not protest, and put my hands on his muscled back to hold myself in place. His bottom was pressing into my stomach, and I blushed fiercely, for I wanted to touch him so badly. His bare legs were just inches from mine, the edge of his skirt teasing the tops of my thighs.

"You must talk to me," I heard Paris say, his voice sounding a little more uncertain now.

"Why must I?" Hector demanded. "You only want me to say what you want to hear. And I will not."

I heard a soft scratching of feet on tile and I knew Paris was shifting around, rubbing his hands together and looking like a scolded child. "Can we not reach some sort of compromise?" he asked.

Hector snorted. "You do not know how."

Paris ignored this. "Will you at least sit with me tonight at the festival?"

"You know we are honoring the women of the royal family," Hector told him. "I must sit with my wife."

Paris was not deterred. "You have but one wife, do you not? And two sides? Why can she not sit to your left and I to your right? Is there no room in your life for me now, brother?" And then his voice lowered to a hushed whisper. "Since you no longer wish to bed me, have you no use for me at all?"

I felt Hector's body tense, and I knew Paris had hurt him with his words. There was a long pause, and then Hector spoke, his voice very quiet. "I am only trying to protect both of us, Alexandros." He took a deep breath. "But yes, you will sit next to me tonight."

There was another pause and Paris asked, "Do you promise?"

"Yes. Do not ask me again."

I heard more movement, and when I looked up I saw Paris' hand curve around the back of Hector's neck. "May I kiss you, then, brother? To thank you?"

"Xandros--"

"Please?" Paris begged. "Do not take everything from me."

Hector sighed. "Why do you persist--"

His voice broke off then and I bit down on my lip, knowing that Paris had silenced him with a kiss. I watched as Paris' long, graceful fingers dug into Hector's curls, forcing his head down. I started to tingle all over as I listened to the soft sounds they made, and I felt Hector's massive body shift against me. Reflexively my hips pushed back, and my master let out a low moan. My heart leapt, for I knew that Hector was most vulnerable when aroused, and suddenly it seemed I had a chance to help Paris after all.

I rested my cheek against Hector's back, feeling the heat of his flesh through the thin fabric covering him. I continued to softly grind my hips against him, and felt my dress riding up under the press of his hand. It wasn't long before I felt his warm fingers against my naked backside, and I keened softly when he gently pinched me. I threw my arms around him and my breath caught when I touched Paris's slippery wet body. I pushed him a little and then tugged at the side of Hector's tunic, gratified when Paris slid his hand inside and rubbed at his brother's bare flesh. I closed my eyes, listening to the soft rustle of clothing, the rubbing of sweat-damp skin, the wet slide of their mouths. Hector moaned again and I heard the deep rumble inside him, reverberating against my ear, swirling around the steady echoing beats of his heart.

I was as lost in the moment as they, when Paris' foot suddenly hit my side, and Hector's arm dropped from me. I stumbled backwards, a bit stunned, and saw that Paris had jumped up and wrapped his legs around his brother's waist. Hector suddenly turned and pushed Paris against the wall, his hand cradling Paris' head to prevent any injury. Hector growled low in his throat, licking into Paris' mouth with broad sweeps of his tongue. Paris writhed and pulled hard on Hector's hair, while his heels dug into Hector's back, drawing him even closer and smashing himself further into the wall.

I stared and stared, though I knew I shouldn't. It would have been proper for me to turn away, to kneel by the door and wait, but I couldn't stop looking. I watched in fascination as they grappled with one another, pushing and tugging and occasionally biting into soft flesh. Then suddenly Hector pulled his mouth away and they simply stared at one another for what seemed like a long time, heavily breathing each other's air.

"You can not have everything you want," Hector finally said, his voice rough. His hand moved softly against Paris' bottom, fingers slipping under the tunic and caressing bare skin.

"It is what you want, too," Paris replied evenly.

Hector moved back and untangled their limbs, forcing his brother to stand on his own two feet again. "I will see you at the festival," he said, grasping his brother by the back of the neck and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Do not be late; it upsets Father when you are not there."

Paris grabbed Hector's arm and would not let go. "Will I see you after?" he asked, and he had the little wrinkle in his brow again.

"No, little brother," Hector said softly. "You will not." It took him a moment to free himself from Paris' grip, but he succeeded and quickly moved away. His hand grasped my elbow as he passed and I followed him meekly into the house. I dared not look back at Paris for fear that the look in his eyes would shatter my heart upon the tiles.

But I would not give up. I knew Hector's will was not always as strong as his desire, and his passion would lead him to the love he was meant for.

~~

When Hector threw open the door to his bedchamber, we were faced with two startled servants pouring hot water into the large bronze tub. "Out," Hector ordered, pointing toward the hallway we had just come from.

The servants set the large pitcher on the floor, bowed quickly, and then hurried past me into the hall. They gave me surprised looks as I closed the door between myself and them. I locked the door and then turned around to see my master standing next to the tub, pulling his clothes from his body.

"Finish with the water," he said simply. He held his tunic up to his nose and inhaled, then dropped it to the floor with a discontented grunt. "I have my brother's scent all over me," he grumbled, tugging at the laces of his sandals and then unceremoniously kicking them off.

I hurried to do his bidding, lifting the large pitcher of water the servants had abandoned. It was not easy, but I managed to pour the steaming hot water into the bath. The moment I set the pitcher back down again, Hector's long legs moved right in front of me and he stepped into the tub.

I moved to get the little bottles of oils to help wash him. The older women had taught me how to mix an intoxicating scent for my master, as well as something good for his skin. I opened the bottles and poured some of the contents in, mixing it into the water with my hand.

Hector slid into the water with a heavy sigh, letting his head rest against the back curve of the tub. The servants had thoughtfully draped a folded towel there, so he had a cushion to rest against. He bent his long legs and let his knees rest against smooth bronze on either side.

I took a soft cloth and gently started washing him, dragging the perfumed water over his skin. I could not help but think about what he had said about his brother's scent, and I vividly remembered his brother's legs wrapped around his waist. I wondered if Hector was thinking of it, too, for his large cock was fully erect and lifted away from his belly.

I braced myself with one hand on the tub as the other moved over his chest and shoulders. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me as my fingers pushed the cloth along his skin, following the curves of muscle, dipping gently into his navel. I was sliding toward his hip when he finally spoke, and I froze at the sound of his voice.

"You saw us," he said quietly. "Paris and me."

I lowered my head and my hand curled tightly around the rim of the tub. "I am sorry, my prince. I did not mean to watch--I could not help it because--"

"Stop," he ordered, and I fell silent. A long while passed, with only the sound of our breathing and the soft swish of the water whenever he shifted his leg. "You've seen us before," he said, and it was almost a question, but it seemed it was one he already knew the answer to.

I looked up at him again, meeting his steady gaze as bravely as I could. "Yes," I said simply, since it seemed he did not want me to elaborate on my answers.

His jaw shifted a little and he did not look pleased. "You've told no one?"

"No, master," I said, and I could not help adding, "why would I?"

One of his eyebrows arched at that, but he kept the rest of his features neutral. He seemed to be thinking for a moment, and then he began, "There are many people who would--"

He paused again, but I knew what he meant to say. People thought it wrong, or unnatural, or something to gossip about. My heart would not let me think any of those things. "I understand," I told him. "I would not."

Hector stared at me a while longer, and though he still did not look pleased, his eyes softened somewhat. To my surprise, he pushed my hand from his belly to his inner thigh. "Continue," he said gruffly, and I immediately obeyed.

I was not certain he meant to be provocative, so I started slowly, lightly rubbing the soft blue material along his skin. He closed his eyes and slid a little further down in the tub, humming softly with each stroke of my hands.

Prompted by his reaction, I let go of the cloth and used my bare fingers instead. I caressed the whole length of his thigh, all the way down to where it began to curve into his bottom. Then I rubbed gently between his legs before cupping the soft heavy balls, feeling the flesh move delicately against my hand. It never failed to excite me, the life in his body, the way his cock pulsed with warmth and energy and maybe even a will of its own.

My breath caught in my throat when my master turned his head to the side and let out a low moan. By reflex I ran my thumb over his softness again, heat pooling between my legs as he responded to my touch. But when my hand slid up and encircled his cock, his eyes came open and he grabbed my wrist firmly. It did not hurt, but I knew to let go immediately.

He placed my hand back on his thigh and looked at me, his eyes so dark and sensual that I started to tremble. I had never seen him gaze this way upon me, and I was not sure what I was to do, especially since he had stopped me from touching him. When he did not say or do anything, I tentatively broke the silence. "Master?"

"Why do you watch?" he asked, and his voice was deep and rough. His fingers idly stroked the back of my hand, causing my flesh to prickle all the way up to my shoulder. "You said you did not mean to watch but you could not help it. Why?"

I flushed deeply. "You are both--you are both so beautiful," I whispered. "Together you are even more lovely." I bowed my head, terribly shamed at having to confess to such a thing.

He sighed. "Paris is beautiful. And bewitching, as the Goddess wishes him to be."

"All the gods must love you," I blurted out, sensing that he did not find himself beautiful. "For there has never been anyone so perfect as you." I let my fingers curl against his thigh, keeping my eyes focused on the way his hand enveloped mine completely. My voice was so quiet I was not sure he would even hear. "It is an honor to be allowed to touch you."

Hector smiled softly, lifting his other hand from the water to gently touch my face. "Tell me," he said in a harsh whisper. "Tell me why Paris is so beautiful to you."

Startled by his command, I did not answer right away. But then my heart filled with joy, for I realized that I had been right, and he was still thinking of his brother. He was remembering his scent, and his touch, and the way his legs had wrapped around his waist.

"Tell me," Hector repeated. "What do you see when you look at him?"

Slipping my hand free of his, I reached up and touched his cheek, water droplets streaming down his jaw from my hand. "First," I began, my words as slow and soft as I could make them, "I see his beautiful face...his large dark eyes that can look innocent...or sensual...or commanding." I looked into my master's own eyes, watching as each word effected that change in his own gaze.

"He has the smoothest, soft skin, bronzed from the sun," I went on, fingers trembling slightly as they traced each matching line of Hector's face, "and sharp cheekbones, a strong nose, and the way his chin juts out--" I smiled, then, tickling his beard, "it makes him look a little bit vain, and he tips it up when he's feeling superior."

Hector knowingly smiled back, and I continued, rubbing his jaw and then stroking my fingers back from his temple into his thick waves of hair. "But all of that is softened," I said, "by his sumptuous dark curls, that often flow out wild around his head...like the mane of a lion." Hector murmured softly at my touch, and I trailed my hand down his neck, dipping into the little hollow of his throat. Then I splayed my fingers out wide. "And his shoulders are broad...like yours...but his body more slender." I sighed deeply, caressing his upper body, fingertips dancing through the soft hair. I was being seduced by my own words, and I forgot to be shy. "I am in love with his beautiful dark nipples, and the curves of his chest." Hector's own nipples were tight with arousal, and I wickedly rubbed my thumb across the left one, licking my lips as his body quivered in response.

"His stomach is so flat," I whispered, reverentially dragging my hand across Hector's taut belly, "and his waist and hips twist so seductively when he is trying to get what he wants..." I touched his inner thigh and Hector grabbed at both my arms then, stopping me from going on. But his touch was gentle, and I was able to lift his hand close to my face, so I could gaze upon it. "His hands are beautiful, too," I said, "long and graceful, but his fingers are thick and callused from the bow." My train of thought slipped then, drawn in by the beauty of my master. "Your hands are so large," I told him, my thumb trailing across his broad palm. I felt like I was dreaming as I curved my hand inside of his, marveling at how tiny my fingers looked. I couldn't help but be reminded of how small and submissive Paris always looked in his hands. "When you hold your brother's bottom they cover it completely."

Hector exhaled a sharp breath, startling me from my reverie. I realized suddenly how very forward I had been. "I am sorry, master," I said, my heart in my throat. "I should not have spoken thus, I--"

Hector placed two damp fingers against my mouth and I fell silent, staring into his warm brown eyes, amazed at the hungry way he was looking at me. His fingers slid across my cheek, cradling my jaw as his thumb came up and traced the outline of my lips. Unable to resist my desire any longer, I opened my mouth and sucked that delicious thumb inside, running my tongue all around the roughened flesh. Hector made a soft sound of pleasure and I exulted at being allowed to taste him, to taste the hand that held the most powerful sword in all of Troy, and caressed the smooth body of his seductive young brother. It was a gift I had only dared to hope for.

I whimpered softly when he took his hand away. His fingers moved to the scarf that adorned my head, tugging at the knots that held it in place. Within moments the cloth was on the ground and my dark hair was floating down past my shoulders. Hector wound his hand through it, tugging on it as he took my other hand, the one that had been held against his thigh, and dragged it down his leg until it rested on his cock once again. I stared down at our joined hands to make sure I was not imagining it. But there it was, his flesh hot and pulsing inside the curve of my fingers. He started to move his hand, drawing mine with it, squeezing his cock firmly as he stroked up and then down again. His fingers were tight on mine, but my thumb was free and so I let it slide over the head when I could reach it. His hips bucked upwards in response, so I continued the rhythmic caress, murmuring softly as I watched the long arcs of muscle in his thighs bulge with each thrust. The oils in the water aided the smooth slide of our hands, and it wasn't long before I felt extra slickness under my gently massaging thumb.

Each time I glanced up I found Hector looking at me, his eyes so dark and sensual, his lips slightly parted as his breathing grew more labored. He continued to comb through my hair with his fingers, occasionally caressing my face or tracing the outline of my ear. And then he asked if I was still thinking of Paris, and I spoke of his brother's sensually arched back, tightly curved bottom, and warm, gently parted thighs. Hector groaned deeply and pushed into my hand. I could not stop trembling, and there was a terrible ache between my legs. I could feel the dampness there, and knew my body was ready to welcome Hector's beautiful cock, if he wanted to lie with me.

I wanted to close my eyes and imagine it, feeling his hand on my cheek, hearing his soft sounds of pleasure. But his gaze was so powerful I could not bear to look away; I had never been allowed to stare so openly, and watching his face as he neared ecstasy was indescribable. His cheeks flushed above the line of his beard, and his brows knitted together each time I felt a pulsation in the hard flesh in my hand. I knew he was close to release, and when his fingers caressed my cheek again, I turned my head and licked at them.

Hector's breath stopped soon after, his teeth biting into his bottom lip as his cock trembled in our joined hands. He came very quietly, still looking at me, fingers locked tightly in a loop of my hair. I let out a small squeak as the warm, thick wetness coated my skin, his cock pushing hard against my hand. I silently wished he had chosen to take me, for then I could have felt that movement inside my body.

He let go of me, relaxing with a deep sigh, both of his hands sinking into the cooling water. I continued to stroke him very gently, watching the last tremors ripple through his body. My tender touches helped to clean him, and I found the cloth again to rub at the hair on his belly. Then I slowly trailed my fingers up and down his thighs, watching in fascination as his cock gradually grew soft again.

I gazed up at his face, and found his eyes were closed, his head turned to the side. His mouth was slightly open, and he started to snore. I brought a hand up to cover my laugh, amused that he had fallen asleep while still in the tub.

I found a shadow on the tile floor, and decided I would let him rest until it crossed the line it was nearest to. I silently moved away, pulling back enough so I could sit on the floor and stretch my cramped legs out in front of me. I sighed quietly in contentment, rubbing at my knees while I kept an eye on the shadow.

I kept an eye on my master as well. An errant curl fell across his forehead, and there was a little furrow in his brow, which reminded me of one of Paris' forlorn expressions. I wondered if the prince was dreaming, and if it was a troubling dream.

When the shadow on the floor reached the next tile, I moved to wake Hector. I knelt up again and reached into the tub, lightly stroking my master's arm. I slowly increased the pressure until he started to stir, and then I drew back, waiting for his eyes to open. When they did, they looked hazy for a moment, but then he turned and focused on my face.

"You slept a little, Prince Hector," I said. "I am sorry for waking you."

He stretched a little and sat up, started to rub at his eyes but then looked at his wet hands and decided against it. He turned and gazed over at the windows, deep red light streaking over the floor and furniture. Then he gripped both edges of the tub and hoisted himself upright, the water pouring off of him and splashing on me. "The sun is setting," he said abruptly. "The festival begins soon, and my wife wanted me to be there early."

"Yes, my prince," I replied, getting to my feet.

He stepped out of the tub, dripping wetness everywhere he moved, grabbing the towel and rubbing himself roughly as he walked toward the bed. I saw that his clothes were already laid out, and so I rushed to follow him. He sat down and pushed his feet into a fresh pair of sandals, then stood up again and pulled a lapis blue tunic on over his head.

I knelt at his feet, lacing up his shoes as quickly as possible. He picked up a beautiful belt of soft leather, pictures of running horses tooled into it, and fastened it around his waist. Then he added a golden sash, weaving it through the belt a few times before knotting it at his hip and letting the remainder of sparkling cloth flow down to his knee.

I felt strange then, looking at him, knowing I had just brought him so much pleasure. Now he was going to leave, and it made something clench inside my stomach, and suddenly I knew what Paris must feel. I was not sure what to do about it, so I leaned forward and hugged his leg, my hands slipping under his tunic and pressing against his warm inner thigh.

His muscles tightened but he did not scold me. I felt his hands in my hair again, caressing for a few moments before giving a gentle tug on a few of the strands. "Come," he said. "We must go."

"Yes, master." I reluctantly got to my feet.

"Do you have duties to attend to?" he asked. "For the others?"

I hesitated to say it, but he had asked. "Prince Paris requested that I assist him," I said in a small voice.

Hector grunted. "I'd prefer it if you didn't see him so often." When I looked up at him with questioning eyes, he shifted a little, and seemed embarrassed. "What goes on in the temple..." He stopped and shook his head. "I don't want you there. Paris has--" his lips twitched slightly-- "even less restraint than I."

This made me flush and I stared down at my toes. I was not sure if I should agree with what he said or not, so I chose something else. "Won't he be angry?"

"He might be," Hector sighed. "Are you afraid of him?"

I met his eyes again. "Yes. But not as much as I used to be."

"And why is that?"

"Because he loves you," I said softly. "And anyone that truly loves Prince Hector must have some good in their heart."

Hector stared at me, and it seemed I had surprised him again. He moved forward, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. "I am not sure Paris knows what love is," he murmured into my hair.

"Yes, master," I replied, sorry that he did not believe me.

I was shocked when Hector laughed. "You have several different ways of agreeing with me, little one, but not all of them actually indicate agreement."

I felt my blush deepen. "I must obey you, master, even when I think differently."

"You think much of my brother," he said, and his hand cupped my cheek.

"I love him, my prince," I said earnestly. "As I love you."

The gentle lines in Hector's brow appeared, giving him an air of melancholy. "I think there is much goodness in your heart," he said quietly, and before I could react he was grabbing me. His arm curved around my waist and his hand gripped the back of my thigh. In the blink of an eye my feet were off the ground, and he was holding me against his hip, long fingers digging into my bottom. He walked us to the door, using his free hand to open and then shut it behind us.

I was treated to more stares from the servants, and I burned with pleasure at being seen this way. I felt almost as if I was flying as we moved quickly through the halls, Hector's long legs carrying us to the last place I would have expected him to.

My heart leapt and I turned to smile at him, but he was already opening the door and walking into his brother's room. Several servants fell to their knees, and Paris, still half-dressed, jumped up from his chair. He stared at Hector, as if he didn't really believe he was standing there.

Hector leaned forward and I slid out of his grasp, my bare feet dropping soundlessly onto the tile. "Don't be late, brother," he said.

"I won't," Paris assured, though it seemed very likely that he would be. He took a step closer, then stopped, uncertain.

"I'll save you a cushion." Hector smiled, backed out of the doorway, and was gone.

Paris gazed after him, obviously stunned. Then he started to laugh, and I was confused until I realized that Hector had made a joke--for the young prince's servants no doubt had a mountain of cushions already waiting for him.

When his mirth subsided, he hurried forward and grabbed my hand. "We must hurry," he said, dragging me over to where make-up and hair adornments were scattered all over a table. "You will help me," Paris said earnestly, pressing a golden comb into my hand.

I smiled up at him. "Yes, my beautiful prince. I will help you."

~~