Posted: June 2004
Title: Not Yours
Author: Haleth Haladin
Type: FCHet, FCS
Characters: Hector/Paris/ Andromache
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not the way Homer wrote it. Not the way it was in the movie. Not a money-making proposition either.
Warnings: Incest and het content, but the main pairing/explicitness is slash.
Summary: You can't always get what you want.

*****

"I've seen you. I've seen you watch your brother. You want him don't you?"

Andromache spread her legs wider and watched the dark curls move between them.

"You want to take him, like you would take a woman. You want to bury yourself inside him so far he screams out your name."

The low moan between her legs increased her pleasure immeasurably. She threw her head back and revelled in the feel of the hot wet tongue on her, in her, everywhere.

"I've seen the way you look at him. You want him on his hands and knees, so you can watch your cock go inside him. You want to see him stretched open around your big cock, impaled by you, helpless…"

Hector squeezed his eyes shut. To better imagine that.

Andromache grabbed a fistful of soft curls and bucked her hips up. "Show me. Show me how much you want him." She gasped as lips and tongue and teeth drove her to the edge.

Hector's knees ached from the hard stone floor, his fingernails dug into his thighs , his cock throbbed heavily. The smell of his wife's desire was overpowering. Her harsh gasps filled the room. He opened his eyes to see golden thighs spread wide.

"Yes, that's it. Keep thinking about having your hands on his hips, pulling him back onto your cock, he's so hot, so tight…" She cried out and her thighs tensed as her orgasm swept over her.

Hector groaned at the moment of her release.

Andromache reached down with both hands and pushed the still-flickering tongue away. She looked down into shining brown eyes. "But you can't have him like that," she panted. "You can't have him like that because he's not yours."

Hector's cock twitched.

"He's mine!"

Paris whimpered, and heard the ragged breaths of his brother behind him.

"So he'll be taking you, instead," she said.

Hector lunged forward and grabbed his brother by the waist, dragging him off the bed and onto the floor. He could not take his wife the way he wanted to. It was too soon after the baby. He could not risk getting her pregnant again so soon. So this fantasy, this twisted idea of involving his brother had formed. Andromache was willing watch him take his brother, and all too willing to enjoy his brother's unique oral talents, so it had been become an almost nightly experience.

Now, Hector found, he craved the tightness of Paris more than he'd ever wanted his wife. As he'd knelt on the floor, watching her take her pleasure, he'd really been watching Paris, naked and radiant in the torchlight, kneeling down with his legs spread wide so Hector could see his thick cock, his tightening balls, and the shimmer of oil around his dark opening. Paris always prepared himself well before coming to their chambers.

Andromache fell back on the bed, sated and lazy as she watched the brothers on the floor.
Paris never resisted, never complained, no matter how hard Hector took him. He went on hands and knees as she'd instructed, and looked her in the eye as Hector slid into him. The moment of penetration forced a ripple of pain/pleasure across his beautiful features, a multitude of emotions at once.

Hector grunted and rammed his cock as deep as he could. This pressure, this pulsing, burning pressure, almost painful in its intensity, was unlike anything else he'd ever experienced. Paris stretched under him, sleek and smooth, back arched, ass tilting upwards as he lowered himself to his elbows. Hector squeezed the firm ass and pulled his brother back. Paris sighed as he was filled yet again.

Paris 's eyes glazed over as Hector stroked him inside, over and over. Hector's thrusts sped up, until he was slamming into Paris's pleasure centre enough to push Paris to the limit. "Hector!" he gasped, and Andromache watched her brother-in-law's mouth open into a wide circle as he reached his peak. Moments later, Hector groaned as he released his burning seed inside the tight channel.

Paris fell forward onto the floor. Hector hovered over him for a moment, and then struggled to his feet. He retreated to the bathing chamber next door, and Paris pushed himself up onto shaking bent knees.

Andromache clapped her hands and a meek girl appeared with a bowl of water and a soft cloth. She quickly wiped down Paris's spattered chest and belly, then, with the same efficiency, she washed his sticky release from the floor. Paris watched her in a daze.

His brother never touched him. Never kissed him or stroked him. Never touched his cock. Yet, Paris always spilled on the floor or couch or bed. Always. He looked down at his spent cock, growing soft against his thigh. He snaked his tongue out and tasted the sharp, honeyed flavour of his brother's wife, smeared around his face, making him glisten even more than the sweet-scented oils he'd used to prepare his skin. He was never allowed to do any more than taste her. He wasn't allowed to use his hands or his cock, just his mouth. He used his mouth well. It was enough for her. But it wasn't enough for him.

He wanted to be the one doing the taking. He wanted to be the taker. He wanted to plunge his cock into a tight hot hole, grasp hips or ass and push in without care for the other's pleasure. He wanted to feel velvety walls squeeze his cock mercilessly, to feel someone come around him and milk him dry. The taste in his mouth made him ache for more.

Hector returned and threw himself onto the bed beside his wife. "Go to your rooms, Paris," he muttered. "We have an early start on the morrow."

Paris stood and looked down at his brother's body, thick muscle and strong limbs, so impossibly beautiful, yet not his for the taking. He turned to go to his rooms. He would be ready, and rested in the morning, he thought. He would serve his brother well. He would offer his ass or his mouth, and Hector would take him willingly, for Paris knew in his heart that Hector loved him more than he loved anyone else, even his wife. Paris would willingly give himself to his brother over and over again.

But the minute they got to Troy, he was going to find himself a woman.

*****

THE END

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