Title: Unstoppable
Chapter 40
Commenting on honesty would not be a good idea. Not if Lex wanted them to remain in the game. Which he did... it had been far too long since he'd found anyone who could slip so easily into it. He didn't want to break the rhythm now. Especially since Clark had finally found his stride and was playing along with them.
Not only was he playing along but he was improvising too. There was a slight tremble in the arms that Lex knew were rock solid as Clark leaned over Buffy. There was a tiny hitch of hesitation, an almost virginal shift of his hips in the conscious effort to not slide right into her. Even though Clark was a terrible liar, he was turning out to be an incredible actor.
"Alexander..." the voice was even higher and softer than Clark's had ever been as his name was breathed into the air. "Come back to us."
Hephaestion greeted him, head tilted to one side, shy smile dawning across his face as the far-away look left his lover's eyes. There was love and respect woven into that smile and infinite care wound into the light touch on Alexander's shoulder. "Cyrene, we appreciate your honesty and your company. And as long as I can talk Alexander into it, you're welcome in our bed."
Cyrene smiled: a true smile, perhaps the first they'd ever seen cross her face and reach her eyes. "Thank you," she said lightly, real warmth in her voice. But the light slowly died as reality returned to her mind. She couldn't afford to have hope. The world was too harsh a place for a slave; hope was near impossible to hold onto. Even in the short time she had been captive, she had given up hope almost entirely.
She knew it would be a dark day when she finally gave up hope completely. There was nothing more dangerous than a hopeless Chosen. She was walking dead, at that point. No better than what she hunted.
On another level, Buffy recoiled from that thought. Not because it was harsh or dark, but because it was true. And she knew all too well just how true it was. She'd come far too close to that point herself. Wherever this Cyrene was coming from, Buffy wasn't doing it. To borrow the girl's own imagery, it was like she was another facet, or almost.
There were shadows behind her eyes, familiar shadows that tore at Hephaestion. He was seconds away from demanding her freedom when he caught Alexander's expression. Mouth pulled in tight and a shake of his head. Too soon, it was too soon to let her go.
If he freed her now, she would bolt. Not today. Not with the sun high in the sky and all of his men in camp. But when they broke camp, Cyrene could slip away in the upheaval. Given the demands of his position and Hephaestion's adamant refusal to leave his side whenever they were on the move, there would be ample opportunity for her to disappear.
Alexander wasn't ready for her to disappear. He'd claimed her. She was his and until her heart was as firmly entwined with his and Hephaestion's that she would never consider leaving, then she would have to remain a slave. A privileged slave but a slave nonetheless.
Rather than look into sorrow, Hephaestion covered her with his body. He kissed her neck, the slope of her shoulder, the upper curve of her breast... anything that he could reach in silent apology for his inability to release her.
It was not his place.
She'd been given to Alexander...
Cyrene wrapped her arms gently around Hephaestion and whispered meaningless reassurances into his ear. She shuttered her emotions away, leaving her eyes clear but empty, and concentrated on soothing whatever made him ache so. It hurt her to see him like this, more so because she suspected that she was the cause. Her reassurances mingled with whispered apologies and her eyes closed entirely as she pressed her cheek against his hair.
Whatever it was she'd done, whatever he'd seen, she never meant to cause this kind of conflict. Mentally she berated herself and decided she would just have to keep her emotions under tighter control. Difficult though it might be, it would be easier than this.
His friend, his lover was still led by his emotions. Too quick with a kiss and an apology whenever they argued, too eager to turn his back on difficult decisions, too much of a boy to know when it was time to be a man. Alexander had none of those traits; he'd been raised to be ruthless. He'd cut his teeth on death and destruction. Whatever humanity clung to him was solely due to Hephaestion's influence.
Together, they made the best type of commander. Alexander's blood-thirsty streak tempered by Hephaestion's concern for the well-being of others and his understanding of what it cost to rebuild after a war. When Alexander chose to burn to the ground and salt the earth, Hephaestion drew him aside and reminded him in quiet tones that food was a better way to keep a conquered people happy than deprivation.
When Hephaestion would seek clemency for a transgressor of Alexander's rules, Alexander would listen before recounting the nature of the trespass. The decision was always his but Hephaestion did hold sway with him. If Hephaestion requested her release... Alexander would grant it.
He would grant it and when the woman disappeared into the night and into memory, Alexander would never call his lover to task for it. Her release and probably flight would serve as a lesson for Hephaestion. A harsh lesson, a cruel lesson but Alexander was his teacher and not every lesson was pleasant.
Cyrene's murmurs and whispers tapered off when she felt Hephaestion finally relax. She wondered at Alexander's lack of reaction, allowing her to comfort his lover rather than doing it himself. Puzzling, but the workings of his mind were proving to be as much an enigma to her as she was to him. In either case, she had her arms full of Hephaestion... and was really rather enjoying it.
Part of her wondered how old the man in her arms really was. In some ways, he seemed as old as Alexander, or nearly. In other ways, he seemed much younger. This was one of those times, and it made her curious about his actual age.
Unable to resist the temptation, Alexander tangled his left hand into the riotous tumble of black curls. Hephaestion lifted into that touch, rubbing against his lover's hand as a dog would to his master's caress. Eyes closed, mysteries hidden under the veneer of love and trust. When Alexander tugged, he followed and sought a kiss that never came.
"Tempes fugit, Hephaestion." Subtle reminder of the world that awaited them outside of their tent. The afternoon was almost gone and soon they would have to return to the other pressures of their lives. Latin, rather than Greek... Alexander was watching the city, which had sprung up along the banks of the Tiber. Watched and wondered if the men who lived there could raise a civilization that might one day threaten Alexander's own.
Time flies... Hephaestion nodded, then placed his hands on either side of Cyrene's head. He rose above her, the broad expanse of his chest golden in the late afternoon light. Eyes the color of grass and earth laid her bare beneath him, pinning her in place almost as surely as the thick cock that slid along her thigh. A hard nudge, a shift to the left and he was in.
Calm as the Aegean on a hot summer's day, calmer than he had any right to be considering the soft cry from Cyrene. A ripple under the skin, the long arch of his back, the steady fall into the cradle of creation. Alexander watched, silver-gilt gliding between body and face... vigilant, silent, the experience shared without words.
Drawn in by another cry, Hephaestion's attention shifted from Alexander to Cyrene. Small things captivated him - the line of her throat, the movement under the skin when she swallowed, the tangled skein of sunlit silk across a blood-red carpet. The scent of her - sweat and wood-smoke and tears that would never wash away. The taste of rain in his mouth when he kissed her...
Little things.
As she had with Alexander, Cyrene lifted her legs and clasped them around Hephaestion's waist. She'd given him a few moments to get used to her, to moving within her, then she lifted her legs and joined in. Each of his downward thrusts was met by a lift of her hips, and when he hesitated, she pulled him in deeper.
Her hands also lifted, but she didn't wrap them around his neck as she might have liked to; she decided it could be taken as a threatening gesture. So she refrained. Instead her fingers danced over his golden skin, up along the muscular curve of his arms, over his shoulders and a little way along his back. One hand made its way back upwards again, skipping over the area of his neck to rake small fingers through his raven hair.
Soft curls slid between her fingers, and she enjoyed the sensation as she did everything else he was making her feel. Hephaestion continued to draw tender cries from her, and she allowed it to happen. She didn't hide or suppress a single reaction, rather she let herself be made to feel like a woman. An ordinary woman, rather than a slave or the Chosen.
It was... different to see Hephaestion from a distance. To not be the one beneath him. To not be the one experiencing the stretch and burn. Again Alexander felt the stirrings of jealousy, the desire to push her aside rose with every thrust. Yes... this was a lesson for both of them.
No wonder he'd kept Hephaestion so close.
If he'd ever found his lover like this, with his mouth half-open in startled pleasure while rising up over another man's body - death would have been the result. Not Hephaestion's... never Hephaestion's. But a knife between the ribs, or a push into the sea, or a scouting mission gone horribly awry would be the other man's fate.
Jealousy - a trait of the gods that had shaped their world... and something Alexander had never felt before. Not even with Hephaestion's namesake.
Curious...
The harsh burn in the pit of his stomach increased until Alexander reached for his lover's shoulder to push him aside. The quick look, the broad smile followed by a sideways kiss on his arm, the murmured "Thank you," deterred Alexander from his path. Stopped the destructive urge before it bore bitter fruit. The declaration of love that followed tore the choking vines away from Alexander's heart and soothed the fear he hadn't been able to recognize.
Hephaestion was not leaving him.
He was not lost in the delights of another.
He was, as he had always been, Alexander's.
Cyrene watched the interplay silently. Her eyes followed the expressions on both men's faces until Alexander began to relax. Then she closed them, knowing that she had no place even observing their intimate exchange.
Theirs was a real love, and it was something she felt she had no place in. She could not leave, and would not if she could, but she could do them the courtesy of not watching.
Her body continued to move, and would as long as Hephaestion's did. But for this moment, the time that belonged only to these two men, she bit back the sounds of her pleasure so they would not intrude. She was out of her depth, felt misplaced. And part of her hoped she might be able to get out sometime tonight and find something to kill.
Some creature that needed killing.
When breathing ceased to be a laborious process, when the red haze faded away Alexander turned his attention back to Cyrene. Closed lids greeted his gaze, closed lids and a closed heart. Her hands still guided Hephaestion but there was no joy, no spark of life to be seen in her.
She had retreated into the brittle shell that surrounded her less than two hours past. Back to the moment when she stumbled into the tent, the cords around her wrists so tight that blood trickled into the palm of one hand. Dust mixed with more blood dotted her shoulders and her thighs. Driven to her knees by a careless shove, Alexander had been ready to dismiss her until she lifted her head for a moment and he found himself looking into the past... into Hephaestion's eyes before he'd been granted the name.
Those changeable eyes had earned her a bath and a retying of her wrists with something more suited to the purpose. Alexander sent a messenger across camp to Hephaestion, curious what his reaction would be to a woman in their bed. When his breathless lover flipped open the door to their tent and found her there, the quick glance and unspoken questions led them to where they were now.
Nothing was going to dim his lover's pleasure. Nothing...
Alexander leaned forward and caught her mouth with his own. Biting kisses meant to draw a reaction. Slow kisses to take away the sting... hot kisses to melt the ice around her heart.
Tears sprang to her eyes, closed though they were, when Cyrene felt Alexander beginning to knock down the walls she was struggling to put up. Her low cry was taken into his mouth and she stopped fighting it. If he wished to shatter what was left of her spirit, so be it. She could not find it in her to believe that this would be permanent, but perhaps she could find an easy way to die when he sent her back out into the real world.
Perhaps at that time she could find a way to spend a night on the periphery of the army, and get herself taken out by one of the demons that followed in its wake, taking advantage of the carnage each battle caused. Demons were always more than happy to target her.
She could let one of them finish the job.
Another kiss, this one full of warning before his mouth trailed across one cheek. His voice, no more that a breath into the shell of her ear, continued that warning. "Give him everything. He deserves that and more. You're his first, Cyrene... make sure he remembers you."
Alexander had said something that made her stiffen. Hephaestion could feel the sudden tension in her stomach, in the legs wrapped around his waist, strong thighs so tight he couldn't breathe for a dizzying moment or two. He caught a flash of teeth against her skin, the swipe of a tongue across a stinging bite... an action that had nothing to do with apology.
Without a word, Cyrene accepted the command. She would give everything she had to give, though it tear her to shreds later. Her eyes opened, huge and dark and deep and sparkling with tears she would not allow to fall. The cold flatness was gone, replaced by determination and warmth.
Her mouth fell open again and her soft cries took up their earlier path in spilling from her lips. Her hands sought Hephaestion's chest and traced it gently. And she decided that she didn't care if it made them ask questions, she would use her muscle control to follow Alexander's command - Hephaestion would never forget her and, unless they met another Chosen after her death, they would never find another like her.
Her fingers found and teased Hephaestion's nipples at the same time as her sheath tightened around him. Her legs flexed, pulled him in as deeply as she could, and she caught him there. Held him briefly, then released to allow him to complete the stroke and slide back again.
Liquid flood of words, all of them strange. Startled by the out-burst, Alexander lifted his head from the curve of her shoulder. His eyes narrowed, breath quickened as he listened to the flow of sound more like music than anything else. Hephaestion's native tongue, something he spoke only while under great duress.
Tight, so tight. Stronger than anything he'd ever felt before and Hephaestion could do nothing other than drive further into her. His fingers caught the edge of a low table, a trunk, anything that he could hold onto. At the bottom of the next thrust, he stopped and waited to feel the squeeze. When it came, he cried out again.
Something close to pain on his lover's face, something that hovered between agony and ecstasy. Weighted more toward agony on the next stroke. The sharp sting of harpy claws in the pit of his stomach a breathless shock as Alexander reached behind him. She was a warrior... how better to destroy Macedonia's general than to torture and kill his lover.
When Hephaestion cried out again, Alexander's hand was at her throat. A hand which was no longer empty. Slim blade, the edge so fine that a false breath on her part left a line of blood underneath her chin. The sting of cold bronze was nothing in comparison to the ice in his eyes or the frigid river of his voice. "Hephaestion... is she hurting you?"
Cyrene froze in shock and released Hephaestion when the chilled metal of the blade bit into her throat. Her eyes flashed briefly with a hint of something other, something fiercer. Then she tilted her chin up and whispered, "Kill me, then. I would rather die right now, by your hand or his, than be thrown out anywhere else because you cannot trust me. Either way, I will die. But I would prefer this."
Icy calm had returned, and once again her eyes went dull. Death held no fear for her, and at this point she almost welcomed it. Warriors did not take well to slavery; at least with these two, they had respected her because of what she had been. She didn't get that respect, out there, and it would kill her in the end. All warriors wished for death to come in a time of their choosing. If she had to pick between these, she knew her choice.
"Alexander, no." A huge hand covered his own, implacable strength pulling the blade away from Cyrene's throat. Alexander knew better than to struggle, his lover could break bones without a second thought. "She's not hurting me." Storm-grey and angry eyes raised from the study of their captive's face. Only to be met with a slow smile, the only possible way to deal with Alexander in a murderous rage. "She's got... incredible control. That's all."
The dagger slipped from Alexander's grip as he drew his legs underneath him and sat up. "Show me." Cyrene hadn't evidenced anything like that when he'd been inside her which left Alexander curious... angry but still curious.
Her desire for death, Alexander understood. If he was in her position, he might have chosen the same path. But only after months of trying to free himself.
Unsure of how to accomplish his lover's request, Hephaestion drew his own knees up until they bracketed the outer curve of her hips. He guided Alexander's hand into place, shivering when he felt a finger slide in alongside his phallus. "Cyrene... please. Do it."
With a nod, she closed her eyes and concentrated. Her muscles clamped down on them with a vise-like intensity, holding tight and drawing them in deeper. She held it for a moment, then released them. Repeated the process, very deliberately. She took a deep breath when she stopped and opened her eyes. Awaiting judgement, as it were.
Tight and hot and stronger than anything he'd ever felt before. The groan from Hephaestion was proof enough that what his lover was feeling was pleasure. "Cyrene, are you a woman or a goddess? Have you come down from Olympus to see how mortals live?"
She could be Athena in her breast-plate with her owls, sprung forth full grown from her father's skull. Or Artemis, Apollo's twin sister who ran with the hounds and protected the young. Or Aphrodite, round of haunch and ever eager for a lover's touch.
Wisdom or chastity or carnal pleasure... take your pick.
Eyes wide, Cyrene shook her head emphatically. "I am not one of your goddesses. I was named for one of my own, once, but that matters little anymore. I am quite mortal, my lord." Supernatural, yes. The Chosen, and therefore not entirely human, which is why she didn't use the term. But she was not a goddess.
"I am just different. But that should have been apparent from the outset, my lord. Female warriors are few in number, and fewer come as far from home as I have." She tilted her head slightly, then shook her head again. "You bade me give him everything, my lord. But I will cease, if you prefer."
"She's not hurting you?"
"Not at all." Hephaestion shivered as he felt Alexander's fingers retreat. He caught the look in his lover's eyes as well as the subtle nudge against his shoulder. Although not entirely certain what was wanted, he slipped his arms around Cyrene's shoulders and on the next nudge, rolled until they were side by side.
With a smile, Alexander wound his own arm around Hephaestion's waist as he settled in behind Cyrene. His half-hard phallus fit perfectly into the small of her back. Given his earlier level of activity it was doubtful that he would take advantage of the position but this way he could feel her move. "Give him everything. All of it. Everything that you are... everything that you will be."
With a nod, Cyrene began to move again. She lifted her upper leg and wrapped it around Hephaestion's thigh, and her hips resumed their rocking motion. Every time her hips rocked back, she pressed into Alexander's body, which was both a thrill and a tease - likely for both of them. She found Alexander's free hand with one of hers, and she wrapped it around her body, under her hip, until his palm rested just above the apex of her thighs.
"If you press here, you can feel it when I do this," she murmured as she clamped down on Hephaestion again. She released both of them when her hips moved back, and then tightened her body when she rocked forward again.
With the next rock of her hips, she pressed forward and caught Hephaestion's mouth with her own. She kissed him long and deeply and with every trace of emotion she had within. Her only hope was that she didn't break when this was all done. If they cast her out, she would surely shatter.
Alexander felt the first flutter under his hand and found himself moving with her. The glide of Hephaestion's hard length muffled by a layer of skin and muscle was a unique sensation. No stranger to the dip and sway of a rounded ass, the hard grind against his own phallus brought it back to life. Somewhere in their bed... where had he left it?
Next to the dagger there was a glass vial filled with the orchid scented oil he'd bought somewhere along the line. So easy to reach for it, to slick the contents over his fingers, to glide a portion of it down the length of his phallus. He spread a thin trail of it along her hip and under the curve, moving until the tips rested against her currently unused opening. "Tell me, Cyrene... have you ever taken two at once?"
Cyrene's eyes went wide and she had to break away from Hephaestion's mouth in order to answer. "No, never," she answered softly. What a novel concept - she didn't know if she could fit two of them inside her small body at the same time. It was a little... intimidating. But if that's what he wanted....
Alexander owned her. He could do anything he chose with her body. If he wanted to put his cock in her at the same time as his lover, she couldn't stop him. So instead she leaned forward slightly. Her forehead rested on Hephaestion's chest and she tried to make her body relax.
Quiet acceptance of her fate and while that was right and proper given her station, the look Hephaestion gave him over her shoulder filled Alexander with a puzzling emotion. Remorse and quite possibly caution. The hand that curved around the back of his skull was gentle, as gentle as Hephaestion always was but it too held a warning.
Admonishment came in the form of a kiss, sweet and aching before words were added. "Don't push. She's already frightened enough... Ask... don't take."
Anyone else would have been spitted on Alexander's sword for being so bold in front of a slave. But this was Hephaestion - his lover and the keeper of his conscience. "Cyrene... if you don't want this, I can wait."
Cyrene considered very carefully. She didn't know what she wanted, and wasn't aware that what she wanted mattered until this moment. She took a moment to examine her feelings and her thoughts. There was a part of her that was curious about the whole idea. And there was a part of her - the part that was Buffy, deep down - wanted it very much. The rest of her was less certain.
Finally she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I am not afraid of you. I am willing to try, if that is what you want... but is there a way to start out slow?" If he was gentle enough, it might actually work without literally tearing into her body. Maybe. She was resilient, but this was outside of her experience.
"Of course. Keep your leg locked around Hephaestion." When she nodded, Alexander nuzzled the nape of her neck. Dragged his lips over soft skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses behind. He could do this blind... had done it in the pitch-black of a moonless night in an Thebian alley-way. Hephaestion standing with his legs spread wide, hands braced on a stone wall, patiently waiting for the first thrust.
Slow circle around the hole, tiny dip inside... not enough to stretch or alarm her. When she moaned in quiet encouragement, he returned to the spot and pressed inward. It took a moment for the muscle to give way but when it did, he sank in to the second knuckle.
Cyrene's body went tense and her eyes closed tightly at the sudden intrusion. It felt very strange, not entirely unpleasant but somehow very different. But her body adjusted and she slowly began to relax again. And she was very relieved that he was actually moving slowly with her. Alexander's touch was patient rather than demanding, and that also made it easier to handle.
When she felt she was ready for it, she shifted her hips just a tiny bit and murmured her assent as a signal that he could move again. That she wasn't hurt. And she couldn't help but smile when she felt a gentle hand in her hair, fingers combing through it in a soothing manner.
Out of deference to what they were doing, Hephaestion stopped moving. The hand around Alexander's head shifted to the bright gold of Cyrene's hair. Summer wheat and sun-baked beaches were nothing in comparison to this glorious color. "Where did you come from?" he whispered in her ear. Anything to distract her from what Alexander was doing.
Slow push all the way in until the palm of his hand cupped the curve of her haunch. Aphrodite now - not lean Artemis with her silver arrows or sharp-tongued Athena with her riddles. A woman, round and full in his hands. Breasts and belly and a high, firm ass that was his for the taking. One finger became two, sinking into consummate heat.
"A very, very long distance away. To the north and west," Cyrene managed to answer between gasping breaths. "My homeland is called Lagin."
Her eyelids fluttered and she pressed her mouth to Hephaestion's chest as another cry bubbled up from her throat to spill past her lips. The invasion of her body continued, but the sensations were changing as her body adjusted to it. Slowly, it was beginning to feel good.
His mother, Olympias, would be appalled at this. She'd been trying to steer him away from men and towards women in the hopes of achieving immortality. His conjugal visits with Roxane were strained at best, usually ending in something like this... only without the addition of Hephaestion's company. Taking his round-hipped bride from behind, blaming his inevitable invasion of the wrong channel on poor lighting. Anything to keep her from breeding.
Spending his seed in Cyrene had not filled him with the same ancient dread. And at some other time, Alexander would examine that fact in great detail. But not now... not when the third finger was stretching her almost to the breaking point. He waited for the trembling to stop, calmly stroking Hephaestion through the thin barrier.
Non-movement was driving him insane. Hephaestion buried his face in the golden fall of her hair, tasting soap and sweat instead of sorrow. Soon... Alexander would join them soon and movement would begin anew.
Once again, when she felt comfortable with what was happening and her body had stopped shaking, Cyrene pressed her hips back lightly. Just enough for her lovers to be able to feel the movement. "You need not wait any longer," she murmured softly. "I do not think you will hurt me now." There was no way for her to be sure, but if she was wrong... well, she was a warrior and pain was a fact of life.
Up to a point, she could keep her pain under control and prevent it from making her tense. To some extent, she could keep her body from betraying her. And honestly, it couldn't be any worse than had been done to her prior to her arrival here.
With more care than he'd shown anyone in his life, Alexander removed his fingers. He poured another measure of oil into the palm of his hand before smoothing it over his phallus, taking the time to make certain every inch of skin was covered. Closing his hand around the base, he pushed forward and stopped when he felt the first breach.
The trembling was back, along with a quiet cry muffled by Hephaestion's shoulder. A quick slither forward, a shift of his hand from phallus to shivering flank and the head lodged into a passage so tight, Alexander had to grit his teeth to keep silent.
It was Hephaestion who brought about the next move. The hand in Cyrene's hair skimmed down Alexander's back, curved around his hip and pulled him in. Head, followed by shaft, followed by a groan into Cyrene's ear. Long slide in until nothing separated them but air.
Her cry echoed Alexander's and her whole body went taut at the sudden invasion. Her breathing became harsh and her hands fisted while her body struggled to cope with the pain/pleasure sensation of being entirely full in a way that she never had been before.
Nothing in her life had prepared her for the intensity of being caught between two men, her body filled to the brim by both of them. Cyrene bit the inside of her lip until she tasted blood as she fought with herself to relax and control her breathing. She didn't have to do a thing, at the moment, to tighten her body around them... she was as tight as she could get for long moments until the tension began to bleed away.
"Hush... it fades." Young voice in her ear, hesitant despite his earlier bold action. Hephaestion stayed perfectly still until she started to relax. Behind her, Alexander followed the same course, stroking her with his hands, leaving trails of oil on her skin. He mouthed her throat, her shoulder, Hephaestion's shoulder as well.
She would never be completely at ease and Alexander knew that. He had enough experience with women, either as captives or with camp followers, to know this was painful. At least she was lying on clean carpets and cushioned with soft pillows instead of being taken on a dirt floor or on top of a table while the city around her burned.
Cyrene nodded and waited quietly until the tightness eased and her body relaxed fully. "It doesn't really hurt, anymore," she murmured a breath or two after the last of the tension seeped away. "It just feels a little strange. But I think... I think I can adjust to it." Her body could adapt to nearly anything; it was one of the advantages of being the Chosen. She might even end up enjoying this, given that the pain had faded away.
Her hands still tightly fisted, she wrapped her arms around Hephaestion's neck and leaned lightly into him. To her surprise, and probably theirs, she was the first one to start moving. Just a slow, slight shift of her hips back and then forward again. And that little bit of careful movement did indeed feel good to her.
Given his lover's lack of experience at this, Alexander took over. He hooked an ankle around Hephaestion's, providing an extra anchor and slid his hands up underneath Cyrene's arms to lock them over the ball of her shoulders. Most men would grab the breasts but that would only bring about more pain. And pain was not what he sought here... not if he hoped to tie this woman to them for the rest of their lives.
Alexander set the pace, half-way out and then back in. Short thrusts, letting her get even more used to the feeling. The oil made this so much easier, made sliding in and out of her an absolute joy.
After a few false starts, Hephaestion caught the rhythm. His strokes were longer, deeper - one to every two of Alexander's. Giving in to his youth, the kisses that followed were sloppy. Wet and open-mouthed, half missing the target... clear sign of his being lost in the sensation.
Cyrene moaned and her head fell back as pleasure began to fill her body. She found that her body acclimated quickly to the motion, once she was adjusted to being so thoroughly possessed. She could not find a way to match the differing rhythms her partners used, so she held still.
Just let them take her.
She returned Hephaestion's kisses, then leaned back again and twisted her head to kiss Alexander too. "It feels good," she murmured softly to him when her lips were free again.
"Good... Get used to it, Cyrene. You'll be feeling this... very often." Alexander held back, waiting for Hephaestion's next inward stroke which he matched. They both paused at the end of the inward push and pulled back in unison.
There was a golden collar in his trunk, spoils from the last city they'd sacked. It was delicate enough to fit around her throat without being obtrusive. Hephaestion had the bracelets and Alexander was certain his lover would part with them. Once they adorned her neck and arms, no one would touch her.
"Gods... yes." They didn't need her agreement, but that's what it was. Both an agreement and an exclamation of pleasure. She had no problems with getting used to this, to any of it. Did he... might he actually be planning on keeping her and not just playing with her? Perhaps... perhaps he was.
The sensation of both of them, the slick slide into and out of her body in two places at the same time... the waves of pleasure that rocked her body were unbelievable. The cries she made began softly but slowly grew in volume as her body began to shiver again, this time not from pain.
"Mine," muttered against her shoulder. Hard thrust, breaking the pace and throwing his lover off. "Mine," hissed into her hair, one hand fisted in the hastily hacked off locks. A hard shiver wracked Hephaestion as he watched Alexander claim his own. "Mine," growled into her ear along with another harsh thrust that buried him completely into the accepting body.
The last word would have been followed by a bite if Hephaestion had not intervened. He gripped Alexander's shoulder, shook him once and the youthful voice was replaced by a deep tone. An echo of the man he would become. "No. Not yours, Alexander... Ours."
He wanted her just as much as Alexander did. Wanted to keep her in their lives and in their bed. Not just for tonight... but forever.
Cyrene didn't know how to react to this sudden and vehement claiming of her. It was startling in the least and she had absolutely no frame of reference for what she should do or say, or even if she could say anything.
She would not refuse them, were she given the choice. If they truly wanted her... they could have her. They could have anything they wanted of her. But she did not know what they meant or what they wanted.
And as a slave, she could not say no even if she wished to. The choice was not hers to make.
His spate possessiveness dissipated in the face of Hephaestion's admonishment. "Yes, Hephaestion. Ours..." The frantic thrusts slowed, finding an easier pace. An indolent slide in and out, better suited to a late afternoon of leisurely coitus. This was a day of rest, meant to be spent in the company of one's lover. How fortunate that he now had two.
A tiny sound from Cyrene caught Hephaestion's attention. Despite her being held between their bodies, she was distancing herself from them. Pulling more and more inward. "Cyrene... look at me."
A world of pain lived within the look she gave him. A look that Hephaestion remembered seeing on his own face years ago. A reflection in the river when his captors brought him down for a wash, eyes desperate and wide followed by resignation when a broad hand gripped the back of his neck and he was pulled to his knees. 'This one's very pretty. Just Alexander's type... here's hoping he lasts the night.'
Alexander had bristled earlier at the sight of the bruises on her hip. There were men outside who were going to be reeling from the punishment for that transgression and yet... they were doing the same things to her. Using her body, slaking their thirsts without a thought for how she felt.
Which was wrong.
On so many levels.
He felt Alexander's assessing stare without having to see it. The weight of his lover's eyes were upon him and rather than speak, Hephaestion kissed Cyrene. They would finish this and he would be as tender as possible with her. Once Alexander left their tent to do his evening sweep through camp, Hephaestion would do what he had to.
Give her clothes and food and one of his horses. Lead her to the edge of camp, kiss her one last time and send her home. Let her go back to Lagin... let her find a woman to settle down with and live out her days far from the place where she'd been enslaved.
Alexander would be angry.
But at least she'd be free.
*****
Go back to the Smallville page.
Authors: Lex's Lady & Mistress Ace
E-mail: winter@sapphire-dragon.net & rosewood@inreach.com
Feedback: It's the icing on the cake. We write because the story demands to be told. Feedback lets us know if we struck a chord with you.
Distribution: Our website, of course, www.fandomwriters.com. The list archives are welcome to it also. Anyone else, please ask first. We'd like to know where our fic is going.
Rating: NC-17 (eventually – or maybe quickly depending on the whim of the muses)
Category: Crossover, Romance, Angst
Spoilers: All of season 1 of Smallville and season 6 of Buffy: The Vampire Slayer
Pairings: Buffy/Clark/Lex, m/f, m/m
Disclaimer: We don't own the characters at all (however much we might wish we did). Buffy and all references to BTVS are property of the great god Joss Whedon, et al. Clark, Lex and the Smallville storyline belong to Miller-Gough et al. We're just borrowing them for a while. We promise to put them back unharmed and perhaps a little happier.
Notes: ** denotes internal thought, * = italics.
Summary: What if the Summers girls moved to Smallville? What if Buffy discovered that Clark had a secret and thought he could use a confidant?
Dedications: From Em: To Ace, for her never-ending support and her willingness to work on this with me. She writes both Clark and Lex in a way I could never hope to achieve, and I couldn't possibly have done this on my own.
From Ace: To Em for reminding me why I love Buffy. To Beth for being my Smallville watching partner even when the scripts were awful. To the whole Clark/Lex list for opening my eyes to the potential here. And finally to Christina for her great story; Runaway Trains at 3 A.M. which was part of our inspiration. You can find it at: this site.