Title: Do You Love Me, Brother?
Rating: R...maybe NC-17, but it's nothing too graphic.
Pairing: Hector/Paris semi-non-con, with a bit of fluff at the end
Feedback: Yes, please. This is my first Troy fic.
...Slightly crossposted :/ I used asterisks so as to not screw up the cut.
This was inspired by a single, deliciously sinful paragraph in yxonomei's Paris/Hector fic. It was written over a span of about 20 minutes at three in the morning, so you can imagine my fatigue. It was beta'd by my equally tired friend who professed to be, er, "pleasuring herself" while reading it, so there are bound to be little errors here and there. Pay no attention to them. This is my first fic for this fandom. I adore (good!) slash, incest, non-con and fluff...and this is all four! Crazy, huh? Anyway, hope you like.
"Do you love me, brother?" Hector asked as he positioned himself over his younger brother.
"Yes...yes, I love you," came Paris' hesitant yet sincere reply. He did not wish to disappoint he whom he'd idolized since birth, but he couldn't help but be slightly apprehensive, considering the situation. He tried to relax his rectum as the two fingers which had been squirming about inside it left and were replaced by a much larger intruder.
Paris clenched his teeth and sucked his breath in sharply. He squeezed his eyes shut and clawed at the sheets as his older brother slowly slid himself to the hilt inside his tight hole. The pain was horrible, but delicously so, somehow. It was not at all like the sting of a blade, the scrape of rocks on his knees, the bruising after being struck with a fist. So different. It was delicious because it was Hector's pleasure.
As Hector's need for release increased as did his speed, and he thrust into his younger brother faster and harder. Paris begged him to be merciful on this, his first time, to go even a little bit more slowly but his pleas fell on deaf ears as Hector's cock continued to pound him, plunging ever deeper inside him.
"Stop! Please Hector, you're hurting me!" Paris cried, his voice filled to the brink with pain and desperation, yet his brother did not comply. All that Paris received in reply were the grunts and growls of ecstasy as Hector approached climax.
As Hector spilled his hot seed into his younger brother's contracting receptacle, he cried out Paris' name, and the boy knew that, no matter whose bed he would share in the future, hence forward, he would belong to Hector, heart, soul and body. Hector would own him, completely, and no man woman or god could hope to lay claim on that which Hector had just claimed for himself.
When it was all over and Hector had pulled out of him, Paris lay breathless, gasping for air and trembling all over. Tears spilled forth in rivulets from his tightly shut eyes and he clutched at the sheets as though seeking comfort. He wanted to run but he could not move. He wanted to turn to his brother and bury his face in his muscular chest, but he remained plastered to the bed, his small body wracked with sobs, for was it not his dear brother, his protector and guardian who had just wronged him? He did not know what to feel. Emotions clashed about inside his tired brain like gladiators in an arena. Hector had hurt him. Who would now comfort him?
Through the sound of his own whimpers and cries came the deep, even voice of Hector. "Paris," he said softly, "You will be all right." He felt a warm hand on his sweat-soaked back and tried to relax. Now that it was all over, and Hector was so calm and collected, he felt twice the fool he had when it had first begun. He suddenly felt compelled to apologize, though for what he didn't know. His weakness, perhaps. He felt as though he'd somehow disappointed his brother with such an unmanly display. He'd always tried to live up to Hector's expectations of him. Little did he know, his older brother's expectations of him were surpassed every day. Sometimes Paris thought he caught a glimpse of the pride Hector felt for his younger brother when he looked at him, but he could never be sure. He constantly hungered for solid proof, for a word of praise from his dear brother. But one thing he'd always felt since before Paris even knew what to make of it was his brother's love for him. He felt it now, though his eyes were shut and Hector's rested on his smooth backside. Strangely enough, or perhaps not so strangely, he felt it now more than ever before.
"One day you will understand," Hector said gently, stroking Paris' flawless honey skin with his thumb. "Understand what?" Paris wanted to ask, but did not. He knew better than to question his brother's words of wisdom, and did not wish to appear as young and foolish as he hoped Hector did not think he was. Perhaps he all ready understood, and simply did not realise it. He had a tendency to underestimate himself, after all.
Hector bent to kiss Paris lightly on the shoulder, and as he straightened, intent on returning to his own bedchamber, a small hand reached up and grabbed his. Panic swirled in Paris' dark eyes as the notion that Hector was leaving him flooded his mind. He'd been sligthly unsettled by the presence of his brother after their bodies had separated, but could not bear the thought of Hector leaving him alone.
"Please stay, brother," he pleaded, more with his eyes than with his soft, simple words. "I need you. Please don't leave me."
Hector smiled warmly down into his younger brother's innocent face. How could he possibly refuse? He would not have been able to, even if that had been his wish. He settled down beside Paris and cradled the boy in his strong arms. Just as the brothers were drifting off to sleep, Paris' quiet confession of love for his brother left his lips and made its home in Hector's ear. It sounded no different than any other "I love you" Paris bestowed upon Hector, yet both knew that it was. A small grin tugged at the corners of the older man's lips and he gave his brother a squeeze.
"And I love you, Paris."