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Control. Power. Command. Akila was an unusual woman. She was a woman who lusted over that above all else. She was not a woman that would bow to the whims of a man- or anyone really. She had killed for control. Akila did not even blink when she, a mere child, slit the throat of her husband and watched as he choked on his own blood. Control was the one thing that Akila would do anything for.
But she knew it wasn’t worth it without a little fight. So she was annoyed for only a second when he lifted her from the table and plopped her on the bed. His knee nudged her thighs open, to which she happily obliged. There was no space between them. Their chests were pressed up against each other, sweat rolling from one to the other. His weight was over top of her, keeping her still. And his lips meshed against hers, tongues tangling with one another. Even there it was a fight for power, for dominance.
Her hands roamed his body. Her fingers lightly traced the muscles in his arms, they grazed the curvature of his back. So light, like a feather on skin. Meanwhile, everything else was quite the opposite. She could feel him as he slid in and out, as he likely felt her clench against him. Her touch was light where their rhythm was anything but.
Up her hand went, past the stinging scratch she had left earlier, past his neck and to his hair. Once again, finding their home there. Her mouth wandered down his jaw, kissing and sucking. Down his throat, she went, trailing all the way to his shoulder.
“Greeks don’t listen very well, do they?” She teased, her lips twisting and eyes sparkling with amusement. “Very, very stubborn.” Though she supposed she couldn’t blame them too much. They did, after all, lose a war. They were probably very sore losers.
“Perhaps you should be punished.” She said mischievously as her hand yanked at his hair and her teeth bit down on his shoulder. The Greek should be used to this- Egyptians were fighters. Akila may not be in the war, she may not be a soldier, but she was a fighter. That was for fucking sure.
She smirked as her mouth moved back up to him and his lips. Her hot breath panned against his face. “That’s why Greeks should learn to share.” She sucked on his bottom lip. All Greeks could do were take from Egyptians, and of course, Egyptians would bite back. Not that Akila at the end of the day really cared. As long as she still had money in her pocket, whatever the two kingdoms did were none of her damn business. Of course, in this bed… that was another story entirely.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Control. Power. Command. Akila was an unusual woman. She was a woman who lusted over that above all else. She was not a woman that would bow to the whims of a man- or anyone really. She had killed for control. Akila did not even blink when she, a mere child, slit the throat of her husband and watched as he choked on his own blood. Control was the one thing that Akila would do anything for.
But she knew it wasn’t worth it without a little fight. So she was annoyed for only a second when he lifted her from the table and plopped her on the bed. His knee nudged her thighs open, to which she happily obliged. There was no space between them. Their chests were pressed up against each other, sweat rolling from one to the other. His weight was over top of her, keeping her still. And his lips meshed against hers, tongues tangling with one another. Even there it was a fight for power, for dominance.
Her hands roamed his body. Her fingers lightly traced the muscles in his arms, they grazed the curvature of his back. So light, like a feather on skin. Meanwhile, everything else was quite the opposite. She could feel him as he slid in and out, as he likely felt her clench against him. Her touch was light where their rhythm was anything but.
Up her hand went, past the stinging scratch she had left earlier, past his neck and to his hair. Once again, finding their home there. Her mouth wandered down his jaw, kissing and sucking. Down his throat, she went, trailing all the way to his shoulder.
“Greeks don’t listen very well, do they?” She teased, her lips twisting and eyes sparkling with amusement. “Very, very stubborn.” Though she supposed she couldn’t blame them too much. They did, after all, lose a war. They were probably very sore losers.
“Perhaps you should be punished.” She said mischievously as her hand yanked at his hair and her teeth bit down on his shoulder. The Greek should be used to this- Egyptians were fighters. Akila may not be in the war, she may not be a soldier, but she was a fighter. That was for fucking sure.
She smirked as her mouth moved back up to him and his lips. Her hot breath panned against his face. “That’s why Greeks should learn to share.” She sucked on his bottom lip. All Greeks could do were take from Egyptians, and of course, Egyptians would bite back. Not that Akila at the end of the day really cared. As long as she still had money in her pocket, whatever the two kingdoms did were none of her damn business. Of course, in this bed… that was another story entirely.
Control. Power. Command. Akila was an unusual woman. She was a woman who lusted over that above all else. She was not a woman that would bow to the whims of a man- or anyone really. She had killed for control. Akila did not even blink when she, a mere child, slit the throat of her husband and watched as he choked on his own blood. Control was the one thing that Akila would do anything for.
But she knew it wasn’t worth it without a little fight. So she was annoyed for only a second when he lifted her from the table and plopped her on the bed. His knee nudged her thighs open, to which she happily obliged. There was no space between them. Their chests were pressed up against each other, sweat rolling from one to the other. His weight was over top of her, keeping her still. And his lips meshed against hers, tongues tangling with one another. Even there it was a fight for power, for dominance.
Her hands roamed his body. Her fingers lightly traced the muscles in his arms, they grazed the curvature of his back. So light, like a feather on skin. Meanwhile, everything else was quite the opposite. She could feel him as he slid in and out, as he likely felt her clench against him. Her touch was light where their rhythm was anything but.
Up her hand went, past the stinging scratch she had left earlier, past his neck and to his hair. Once again, finding their home there. Her mouth wandered down his jaw, kissing and sucking. Down his throat, she went, trailing all the way to his shoulder.
“Greeks don’t listen very well, do they?” She teased, her lips twisting and eyes sparkling with amusement. “Very, very stubborn.” Though she supposed she couldn’t blame them too much. They did, after all, lose a war. They were probably very sore losers.
“Perhaps you should be punished.” She said mischievously as her hand yanked at his hair and her teeth bit down on his shoulder. The Greek should be used to this- Egyptians were fighters. Akila may not be in the war, she may not be a soldier, but she was a fighter. That was for fucking sure.
She smirked as her mouth moved back up to him and his lips. Her hot breath panned against his face. “That’s why Greeks should learn to share.” She sucked on his bottom lip. All Greeks could do were take from Egyptians, and of course, Egyptians would bite back. Not that Akila at the end of the day really cared. As long as she still had money in her pocket, whatever the two kingdoms did were none of her damn business. Of course, in this bed… that was another story entirely.
He’d needed this. Whatever his reservations, there was no denying that his body had craved this closeness, the feeling so very alive that came with sex. Now, as the Egyptian girl’s hands traced featherlight patterns over his skin, Achilleas burned with it, like her finger’s brushed sparks over his skin. It had been too long since knowing the touch of another and now it made him heady, his hands and lips urgent where they pressed against her skin.
‘Greeks don’t listen very well, do they.Very, very stubborn’ .Achilleas made a low sound in his throat, distracted and not listening terribly well even then, not with other things demanding more of his attention.
The egyptian was not meek nor gentle, not even now caged beneath his weight. She took as much as he gave and so he shouldn’t have been surprised when she was not impressed at him denying her request, the sharp tug at his hair and the rasp of teeth against his shoulder enough to have his hips stutter and pause and for his eyes to cut sharply to hers where they remained even as she kissed him again.
He didn’t think he minded per se.His last lover had not been the most gentle but Achilleas was a little taken aback at the temerity of this girl, Akila, who had claws and teeth that he had not come across in a woman before. Certainly not what he would have expected from a common born woman he’d taken to his bed. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond, if he was annoyed or if he liked it. Perhaps it was both.
But as Achilleas looked down at the amused face of Akila he realised this wasn’t his bed, nor even his country. And these were a barbaric people. Maybe he should adjust his expectations to the unexpected.
‘That’s why Greeks should learn to share’ He smiled slightly and shook his head at that.
“Or perhaps Egyptian’s should be less demanding and be gracious about what they are given ” he replied, punctuating his words by driving deeper, leaning down to silence her by slanting his mouth across her own.
He hadn’t all day to accommodate her wants anyway, he was supposed to be on duty and that was enough for him not to want to linger too long upon this unplanned assignation, no matter how warm and welcoming her body was around him.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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He’d needed this. Whatever his reservations, there was no denying that his body had craved this closeness, the feeling so very alive that came with sex. Now, as the Egyptian girl’s hands traced featherlight patterns over his skin, Achilleas burned with it, like her finger’s brushed sparks over his skin. It had been too long since knowing the touch of another and now it made him heady, his hands and lips urgent where they pressed against her skin.
‘Greeks don’t listen very well, do they.Very, very stubborn’ .Achilleas made a low sound in his throat, distracted and not listening terribly well even then, not with other things demanding more of his attention.
The egyptian was not meek nor gentle, not even now caged beneath his weight. She took as much as he gave and so he shouldn’t have been surprised when she was not impressed at him denying her request, the sharp tug at his hair and the rasp of teeth against his shoulder enough to have his hips stutter and pause and for his eyes to cut sharply to hers where they remained even as she kissed him again.
He didn’t think he minded per se.His last lover had not been the most gentle but Achilleas was a little taken aback at the temerity of this girl, Akila, who had claws and teeth that he had not come across in a woman before. Certainly not what he would have expected from a common born woman he’d taken to his bed. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond, if he was annoyed or if he liked it. Perhaps it was both.
But as Achilleas looked down at the amused face of Akila he realised this wasn’t his bed, nor even his country. And these were a barbaric people. Maybe he should adjust his expectations to the unexpected.
‘That’s why Greeks should learn to share’ He smiled slightly and shook his head at that.
“Or perhaps Egyptian’s should be less demanding and be gracious about what they are given ” he replied, punctuating his words by driving deeper, leaning down to silence her by slanting his mouth across her own.
He hadn’t all day to accommodate her wants anyway, he was supposed to be on duty and that was enough for him not to want to linger too long upon this unplanned assignation, no matter how warm and welcoming her body was around him.
He’d needed this. Whatever his reservations, there was no denying that his body had craved this closeness, the feeling so very alive that came with sex. Now, as the Egyptian girl’s hands traced featherlight patterns over his skin, Achilleas burned with it, like her finger’s brushed sparks over his skin. It had been too long since knowing the touch of another and now it made him heady, his hands and lips urgent where they pressed against her skin.
‘Greeks don’t listen very well, do they.Very, very stubborn’ .Achilleas made a low sound in his throat, distracted and not listening terribly well even then, not with other things demanding more of his attention.
The egyptian was not meek nor gentle, not even now caged beneath his weight. She took as much as he gave and so he shouldn’t have been surprised when she was not impressed at him denying her request, the sharp tug at his hair and the rasp of teeth against his shoulder enough to have his hips stutter and pause and for his eyes to cut sharply to hers where they remained even as she kissed him again.
He didn’t think he minded per se.His last lover had not been the most gentle but Achilleas was a little taken aback at the temerity of this girl, Akila, who had claws and teeth that he had not come across in a woman before. Certainly not what he would have expected from a common born woman he’d taken to his bed. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond, if he was annoyed or if he liked it. Perhaps it was both.
But as Achilleas looked down at the amused face of Akila he realised this wasn’t his bed, nor even his country. And these were a barbaric people. Maybe he should adjust his expectations to the unexpected.
‘That’s why Greeks should learn to share’ He smiled slightly and shook his head at that.
“Or perhaps Egyptian’s should be less demanding and be gracious about what they are given ” he replied, punctuating his words by driving deeper, leaning down to silence her by slanting his mouth across her own.
He hadn’t all day to accommodate her wants anyway, he was supposed to be on duty and that was enough for him not to want to linger too long upon this unplanned assignation, no matter how warm and welcoming her body was around him.
Akila didn’t much care about politics. She didn’t much care about the division of Greeks and Egyptians, nor did she care about the ramifications of the war. This war was fought near her entire life, certainly her entire life at sea, so this banter the two had served only to entertain Akila more than piss her off… especially knowing how much the Greeks were going to give.
Not just now, with the pirate crew and his ship, but in the future too. Their men, their children, their women, their food and money and goods… the Greeks would keep giving, and the pirates would keep taking. Akila would be very grateful indeed.
And perhaps she would have said something cheeky in response. She was having fun, after all, and in such a playful mood. But he dove deeper and deeper still and Akila found herself moaning despite herself against his lips. It’s been a while since she had sex that actually entertained her. The men of her ship weren’t necessarily the… type of men she would prefer- Khalid aside. Especially her captain, who upon looking at him brought vile to Akila’s throat. Shaved or unshaved, she’d take any Greek over her captain.
And this Greek was hot. Stubborn, yes, Akila would much prefer to be on top. But he took her violent tendencies like a man. He probably even liked it. That would make up for the fact that he was absolutely getting the losing end of this, wouldn’t it? Look at Akila being nice. She could have made this really boring, vanilla sex. Who would want that?
“Fuck,” she breathed, the last syllable making a sharp sound in the back of her throat. She tilted her head back and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. Akila could be appreciative of how much the Greek was giving her right now. She could feel him throb within her. If only he could appreciate the same, as she rocked her hips even faster to meet his.
Akila was greedy. She always had been, she always will be.
Be a good little whore, her captain had said as he smacked her on the ass to send her towards the Greeks. Keep him nice and distracted.Ugh, that asshole. Like Akila didn’t know what she was doing. Why did he have to pop into her head now?
Akila lowered her hips and tilted head back up. Her lips went to his, but they didn’t mesh like before. They hovered tantalizingly close. “Tell me what you want,” She whispered to him. She moved her lips closer, gently sucking on his bottom one. Aggressive, then calm, then aggressive, then calm, Akila was like the ocean. She was a tide pulling back before it crashed forward onto the coast.
And, well, Akila did have a sense of humor. “You wanted me to be gracious after all.” And if he wanted a good little whore, Akila could be just that. “Tell me what you need.” Her lips curled into a smirk, hips meeting his in emphasis.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Akila didn’t much care about politics. She didn’t much care about the division of Greeks and Egyptians, nor did she care about the ramifications of the war. This war was fought near her entire life, certainly her entire life at sea, so this banter the two had served only to entertain Akila more than piss her off… especially knowing how much the Greeks were going to give.
Not just now, with the pirate crew and his ship, but in the future too. Their men, their children, their women, their food and money and goods… the Greeks would keep giving, and the pirates would keep taking. Akila would be very grateful indeed.
And perhaps she would have said something cheeky in response. She was having fun, after all, and in such a playful mood. But he dove deeper and deeper still and Akila found herself moaning despite herself against his lips. It’s been a while since she had sex that actually entertained her. The men of her ship weren’t necessarily the… type of men she would prefer- Khalid aside. Especially her captain, who upon looking at him brought vile to Akila’s throat. Shaved or unshaved, she’d take any Greek over her captain.
And this Greek was hot. Stubborn, yes, Akila would much prefer to be on top. But he took her violent tendencies like a man. He probably even liked it. That would make up for the fact that he was absolutely getting the losing end of this, wouldn’t it? Look at Akila being nice. She could have made this really boring, vanilla sex. Who would want that?
“Fuck,” she breathed, the last syllable making a sharp sound in the back of her throat. She tilted her head back and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. Akila could be appreciative of how much the Greek was giving her right now. She could feel him throb within her. If only he could appreciate the same, as she rocked her hips even faster to meet his.
Akila was greedy. She always had been, she always will be.
Be a good little whore, her captain had said as he smacked her on the ass to send her towards the Greeks. Keep him nice and distracted.Ugh, that asshole. Like Akila didn’t know what she was doing. Why did he have to pop into her head now?
Akila lowered her hips and tilted head back up. Her lips went to his, but they didn’t mesh like before. They hovered tantalizingly close. “Tell me what you want,” She whispered to him. She moved her lips closer, gently sucking on his bottom one. Aggressive, then calm, then aggressive, then calm, Akila was like the ocean. She was a tide pulling back before it crashed forward onto the coast.
And, well, Akila did have a sense of humor. “You wanted me to be gracious after all.” And if he wanted a good little whore, Akila could be just that. “Tell me what you need.” Her lips curled into a smirk, hips meeting his in emphasis.
Akila didn’t much care about politics. She didn’t much care about the division of Greeks and Egyptians, nor did she care about the ramifications of the war. This war was fought near her entire life, certainly her entire life at sea, so this banter the two had served only to entertain Akila more than piss her off… especially knowing how much the Greeks were going to give.
Not just now, with the pirate crew and his ship, but in the future too. Their men, their children, their women, their food and money and goods… the Greeks would keep giving, and the pirates would keep taking. Akila would be very grateful indeed.
And perhaps she would have said something cheeky in response. She was having fun, after all, and in such a playful mood. But he dove deeper and deeper still and Akila found herself moaning despite herself against his lips. It’s been a while since she had sex that actually entertained her. The men of her ship weren’t necessarily the… type of men she would prefer- Khalid aside. Especially her captain, who upon looking at him brought vile to Akila’s throat. Shaved or unshaved, she’d take any Greek over her captain.
And this Greek was hot. Stubborn, yes, Akila would much prefer to be on top. But he took her violent tendencies like a man. He probably even liked it. That would make up for the fact that he was absolutely getting the losing end of this, wouldn’t it? Look at Akila being nice. She could have made this really boring, vanilla sex. Who would want that?
“Fuck,” she breathed, the last syllable making a sharp sound in the back of her throat. She tilted her head back and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. Akila could be appreciative of how much the Greek was giving her right now. She could feel him throb within her. If only he could appreciate the same, as she rocked her hips even faster to meet his.
Akila was greedy. She always had been, she always will be.
Be a good little whore, her captain had said as he smacked her on the ass to send her towards the Greeks. Keep him nice and distracted.Ugh, that asshole. Like Akila didn’t know what she was doing. Why did he have to pop into her head now?
Akila lowered her hips and tilted head back up. Her lips went to his, but they didn’t mesh like before. They hovered tantalizingly close. “Tell me what you want,” She whispered to him. She moved her lips closer, gently sucking on his bottom one. Aggressive, then calm, then aggressive, then calm, Akila was like the ocean. She was a tide pulling back before it crashed forward onto the coast.
And, well, Akila did have a sense of humor. “You wanted me to be gracious after all.” And if he wanted a good little whore, Akila could be just that. “Tell me what you need.” Her lips curled into a smirk, hips meeting his in emphasis.
Achilleas wasn’t doing nearly as much thinking as his companion. Having gotten his way he was now more focused on reaching his end, on the silken warmth he buried himself in over and over. If he just shifted her a little… A muscled arm hooked under her knee, pressing it up so he could slide even deeper and Achilleas could at least agree with appreciative ‘fuck’ that the girl let out. They cursed in the same language he registered momentarily, before losing himself once more in the act of pursuing that release that he could feel building, a ribbon of tension running down his spine, waiting, nearly..
‘Tell me what you want’ she breathed,and the Greek man’s eyes focused in on hers, lust blown pupils ringed with a seam of brilliant blue.
‘You asked me to be gracious after all. Tell me what you need’
Achilleas stared at her, trying to keep his rhythm and wishing she’d realise that he didn’t have the brain power for word games right now. He wanted to come, and then he needed to get back to the ships and more than anything he wanted to go home. But he was also a man and so not immune to so tempting words from the lips of a beautiful woman. He was sure he could think of.a good few things he could ask of her if he had more time. But his tongue felt thick,thoughts foggy.He was drawn tight as a bow string, so instead of words he shut her up by shoving his tongue into her mouth, telling her what he needed was less questions.
When he did finish it was with a grunt that he stifled against the skin of her neck, his breath leaving him in a whoosh as he rode out the last of his release, slowing his movements. She felt the press of his weight on her then as he sank down onto her, limbs gone heavy and lax. For a few moments he was quiet aside from the rapid sounds of his breath, but it didn’t take too long for the lord to realise he was crushing her into the thin straw mattress and he rolled off to the side.
Throwing an arm over his face as he recovered, Akila was treated to a fine view of that musculature she had so admired earlier, tensing and relaxing with the rise and fall of his chest.
Perhaps there would have been sweet pillow talk or they might have helped one another master the other language to a more acceptable level, or maybe he would have just pushed up off the bed and been on his way with little more than a thank you for her trouble. There was no way of knowing what natural conclusion their tryst might have come to. Because before either of them had made a move, there was the sound of wood scraping against dry earth and then an outraged squawk of indignation as the house’s real owner returned to find two very uninvited guests in her home.
Achilleas, shocked from his post coital stupor by the appearance of an aged Egyptian woman shouting things too quickly for him to understand, shot up to sitting, doing his best to cover himself whilst he glanced wide-eyed from Akila to the angry grand mother at the door. Was she a relative?
He scrambled from the bed to reach for the discarded chitoniskos, unable to address the woman whilst he was naked, and he’d raised his hands placatingly. Achilleas tried to ignore the flush of embarrassment that he could feel stealing over his face and grasped at his understanding of the rapid Coptic being fired at him.
“What?” He said uselessly, almost certain she’d just called him something unpleasant. “What is she yelling for?” He dares look away from the old woman only long enough to glance toward the Egyptian girl he’d followed here, hoping she could explain and pacify the other.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Achilleas wasn’t doing nearly as much thinking as his companion. Having gotten his way he was now more focused on reaching his end, on the silken warmth he buried himself in over and over. If he just shifted her a little… A muscled arm hooked under her knee, pressing it up so he could slide even deeper and Achilleas could at least agree with appreciative ‘fuck’ that the girl let out. They cursed in the same language he registered momentarily, before losing himself once more in the act of pursuing that release that he could feel building, a ribbon of tension running down his spine, waiting, nearly..
‘Tell me what you want’ she breathed,and the Greek man’s eyes focused in on hers, lust blown pupils ringed with a seam of brilliant blue.
‘You asked me to be gracious after all. Tell me what you need’
Achilleas stared at her, trying to keep his rhythm and wishing she’d realise that he didn’t have the brain power for word games right now. He wanted to come, and then he needed to get back to the ships and more than anything he wanted to go home. But he was also a man and so not immune to so tempting words from the lips of a beautiful woman. He was sure he could think of.a good few things he could ask of her if he had more time. But his tongue felt thick,thoughts foggy.He was drawn tight as a bow string, so instead of words he shut her up by shoving his tongue into her mouth, telling her what he needed was less questions.
When he did finish it was with a grunt that he stifled against the skin of her neck, his breath leaving him in a whoosh as he rode out the last of his release, slowing his movements. She felt the press of his weight on her then as he sank down onto her, limbs gone heavy and lax. For a few moments he was quiet aside from the rapid sounds of his breath, but it didn’t take too long for the lord to realise he was crushing her into the thin straw mattress and he rolled off to the side.
Throwing an arm over his face as he recovered, Akila was treated to a fine view of that musculature she had so admired earlier, tensing and relaxing with the rise and fall of his chest.
Perhaps there would have been sweet pillow talk or they might have helped one another master the other language to a more acceptable level, or maybe he would have just pushed up off the bed and been on his way with little more than a thank you for her trouble. There was no way of knowing what natural conclusion their tryst might have come to. Because before either of them had made a move, there was the sound of wood scraping against dry earth and then an outraged squawk of indignation as the house’s real owner returned to find two very uninvited guests in her home.
Achilleas, shocked from his post coital stupor by the appearance of an aged Egyptian woman shouting things too quickly for him to understand, shot up to sitting, doing his best to cover himself whilst he glanced wide-eyed from Akila to the angry grand mother at the door. Was she a relative?
He scrambled from the bed to reach for the discarded chitoniskos, unable to address the woman whilst he was naked, and he’d raised his hands placatingly. Achilleas tried to ignore the flush of embarrassment that he could feel stealing over his face and grasped at his understanding of the rapid Coptic being fired at him.
“What?” He said uselessly, almost certain she’d just called him something unpleasant. “What is she yelling for?” He dares look away from the old woman only long enough to glance toward the Egyptian girl he’d followed here, hoping she could explain and pacify the other.
Achilleas wasn’t doing nearly as much thinking as his companion. Having gotten his way he was now more focused on reaching his end, on the silken warmth he buried himself in over and over. If he just shifted her a little… A muscled arm hooked under her knee, pressing it up so he could slide even deeper and Achilleas could at least agree with appreciative ‘fuck’ that the girl let out. They cursed in the same language he registered momentarily, before losing himself once more in the act of pursuing that release that he could feel building, a ribbon of tension running down his spine, waiting, nearly..
‘Tell me what you want’ she breathed,and the Greek man’s eyes focused in on hers, lust blown pupils ringed with a seam of brilliant blue.
‘You asked me to be gracious after all. Tell me what you need’
Achilleas stared at her, trying to keep his rhythm and wishing she’d realise that he didn’t have the brain power for word games right now. He wanted to come, and then he needed to get back to the ships and more than anything he wanted to go home. But he was also a man and so not immune to so tempting words from the lips of a beautiful woman. He was sure he could think of.a good few things he could ask of her if he had more time. But his tongue felt thick,thoughts foggy.He was drawn tight as a bow string, so instead of words he shut her up by shoving his tongue into her mouth, telling her what he needed was less questions.
When he did finish it was with a grunt that he stifled against the skin of her neck, his breath leaving him in a whoosh as he rode out the last of his release, slowing his movements. She felt the press of his weight on her then as he sank down onto her, limbs gone heavy and lax. For a few moments he was quiet aside from the rapid sounds of his breath, but it didn’t take too long for the lord to realise he was crushing her into the thin straw mattress and he rolled off to the side.
Throwing an arm over his face as he recovered, Akila was treated to a fine view of that musculature she had so admired earlier, tensing and relaxing with the rise and fall of his chest.
Perhaps there would have been sweet pillow talk or they might have helped one another master the other language to a more acceptable level, or maybe he would have just pushed up off the bed and been on his way with little more than a thank you for her trouble. There was no way of knowing what natural conclusion their tryst might have come to. Because before either of them had made a move, there was the sound of wood scraping against dry earth and then an outraged squawk of indignation as the house’s real owner returned to find two very uninvited guests in her home.
Achilleas, shocked from his post coital stupor by the appearance of an aged Egyptian woman shouting things too quickly for him to understand, shot up to sitting, doing his best to cover himself whilst he glanced wide-eyed from Akila to the angry grand mother at the door. Was she a relative?
He scrambled from the bed to reach for the discarded chitoniskos, unable to address the woman whilst he was naked, and he’d raised his hands placatingly. Achilleas tried to ignore the flush of embarrassment that he could feel stealing over his face and grasped at his understanding of the rapid Coptic being fired at him.
“What?” He said uselessly, almost certain she’d just called him something unpleasant. “What is she yelling for?” He dares look away from the old woman only long enough to glance toward the Egyptian girl he’d followed here, hoping she could explain and pacify the other.
The time for words was evidently over as he recaptured her mouth with hunger. She felt the tightening of her stomach. She was clenching around his throbbing member. The Greek was deep within the Egyptian, and Akila herself was losing breath and her mind just melding to the moment. She felt tense. She felt tight.
He had finished before her, sinking down onto Akila. Um, hello? Akila thought, annoyed at the sudden ending. The man was like a dead fish… a crushing dead fish. When he finally rolled off of her, Akila almost said something. Could he not have waited even half a minute longer? What, he just blew his load and decided that was it? And people call Akila the asshole.
She went to snap when the creaking of wood alerted her to someone inside the house. Suddenly, she heard the shouts of a grandmother coming at the two of them. If this were another man, Akila would have been less nervous. If it were a woman, she’d have been fine. But a grandmother was a different story. Don’t piss off an elderly Egyptian woman. Those bitches fight harder than soldiers in a war.
Luckily her attention was mostly on the Greek. She was yelling slurs at a rapid pace, faster than even Akila, who spoke fluent Coptic, could catch. The few things she caught did make her want to smirk, though—Grecian insults, bronze brains, robbers and murders, the likes that Greeks deserved. But Akila had absolutely no interest in standing around and listen to the grandmother yell, nor did she think quelling the situation was in her best interest. She had distracted the man long enough.
She scooped up her clothing from the floor, and as the grandmother went for the broom to begin whacking Achilleas, Akila took a few quiet steps back. By the time she had heard What is she yelling for? Akila was already mostly out the back window, slipping away from the scene.
Akila couldn’t see anything that was going on, but she did hear thumping from presumably the broom. Whether it was hitting Achilleas or someone else, Akila didn’t stick around to find out. She sprinted through the alleys of Alexandria, away from the docks and the housing area. She ran as quickly as her feet could carry her, only stopping when she was sure that no one was following her.
“Idiot.” Akila snickered under her breath, finally taking the time to fix her clothing. She looked over her shoulder once more before starting her journey out of Alexandria. It took a few hours of walking, but eventually, she happened upon a cove hidden from plain view. There, inside, were drunk pirates celebrating their victory, retelling some exciting tale in their overzealous manner.
“The Greek shit himself, literally shit himself. ‘Oooh, Hades,’” Khalid screwed up his face and tried to, awfully, mimic the Greek accent. “So, of course, my spear went through his heart. This is fucking Egypt don’t be praying to your bullshit.”
“Ain’t he up for a rude awakin’ when he gets to Anubis with no heart.” Chaths roared as Akila made her way up, grabbing one of the mugs of alcohol left by who knows who cares. “Oy, Akila. How’d your date go?”
“Eh,” Akila replied. “Left him getting beatin’ black and blue by some grandmother walking into her own home. Lady grabbed the broom like it was a fucking khopesh.” Akila tipped back the drink, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
The imagery just got the pirates laughing harder. The group was rowdy, riding a high like no other. Akila saw her captain stand out of the corner of her eye, and she fought the look of disgust from flicking on her face. Her night wasn’t over yet.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The time for words was evidently over as he recaptured her mouth with hunger. She felt the tightening of her stomach. She was clenching around his throbbing member. The Greek was deep within the Egyptian, and Akila herself was losing breath and her mind just melding to the moment. She felt tense. She felt tight.
He had finished before her, sinking down onto Akila. Um, hello? Akila thought, annoyed at the sudden ending. The man was like a dead fish… a crushing dead fish. When he finally rolled off of her, Akila almost said something. Could he not have waited even half a minute longer? What, he just blew his load and decided that was it? And people call Akila the asshole.
She went to snap when the creaking of wood alerted her to someone inside the house. Suddenly, she heard the shouts of a grandmother coming at the two of them. If this were another man, Akila would have been less nervous. If it were a woman, she’d have been fine. But a grandmother was a different story. Don’t piss off an elderly Egyptian woman. Those bitches fight harder than soldiers in a war.
Luckily her attention was mostly on the Greek. She was yelling slurs at a rapid pace, faster than even Akila, who spoke fluent Coptic, could catch. The few things she caught did make her want to smirk, though—Grecian insults, bronze brains, robbers and murders, the likes that Greeks deserved. But Akila had absolutely no interest in standing around and listen to the grandmother yell, nor did she think quelling the situation was in her best interest. She had distracted the man long enough.
She scooped up her clothing from the floor, and as the grandmother went for the broom to begin whacking Achilleas, Akila took a few quiet steps back. By the time she had heard What is she yelling for? Akila was already mostly out the back window, slipping away from the scene.
Akila couldn’t see anything that was going on, but she did hear thumping from presumably the broom. Whether it was hitting Achilleas or someone else, Akila didn’t stick around to find out. She sprinted through the alleys of Alexandria, away from the docks and the housing area. She ran as quickly as her feet could carry her, only stopping when she was sure that no one was following her.
“Idiot.” Akila snickered under her breath, finally taking the time to fix her clothing. She looked over her shoulder once more before starting her journey out of Alexandria. It took a few hours of walking, but eventually, she happened upon a cove hidden from plain view. There, inside, were drunk pirates celebrating their victory, retelling some exciting tale in their overzealous manner.
“The Greek shit himself, literally shit himself. ‘Oooh, Hades,’” Khalid screwed up his face and tried to, awfully, mimic the Greek accent. “So, of course, my spear went through his heart. This is fucking Egypt don’t be praying to your bullshit.”
“Ain’t he up for a rude awakin’ when he gets to Anubis with no heart.” Chaths roared as Akila made her way up, grabbing one of the mugs of alcohol left by who knows who cares. “Oy, Akila. How’d your date go?”
“Eh,” Akila replied. “Left him getting beatin’ black and blue by some grandmother walking into her own home. Lady grabbed the broom like it was a fucking khopesh.” Akila tipped back the drink, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
The imagery just got the pirates laughing harder. The group was rowdy, riding a high like no other. Akila saw her captain stand out of the corner of her eye, and she fought the look of disgust from flicking on her face. Her night wasn’t over yet.
The time for words was evidently over as he recaptured her mouth with hunger. She felt the tightening of her stomach. She was clenching around his throbbing member. The Greek was deep within the Egyptian, and Akila herself was losing breath and her mind just melding to the moment. She felt tense. She felt tight.
He had finished before her, sinking down onto Akila. Um, hello? Akila thought, annoyed at the sudden ending. The man was like a dead fish… a crushing dead fish. When he finally rolled off of her, Akila almost said something. Could he not have waited even half a minute longer? What, he just blew his load and decided that was it? And people call Akila the asshole.
She went to snap when the creaking of wood alerted her to someone inside the house. Suddenly, she heard the shouts of a grandmother coming at the two of them. If this were another man, Akila would have been less nervous. If it were a woman, she’d have been fine. But a grandmother was a different story. Don’t piss off an elderly Egyptian woman. Those bitches fight harder than soldiers in a war.
Luckily her attention was mostly on the Greek. She was yelling slurs at a rapid pace, faster than even Akila, who spoke fluent Coptic, could catch. The few things she caught did make her want to smirk, though—Grecian insults, bronze brains, robbers and murders, the likes that Greeks deserved. But Akila had absolutely no interest in standing around and listen to the grandmother yell, nor did she think quelling the situation was in her best interest. She had distracted the man long enough.
She scooped up her clothing from the floor, and as the grandmother went for the broom to begin whacking Achilleas, Akila took a few quiet steps back. By the time she had heard What is she yelling for? Akila was already mostly out the back window, slipping away from the scene.
Akila couldn’t see anything that was going on, but she did hear thumping from presumably the broom. Whether it was hitting Achilleas or someone else, Akila didn’t stick around to find out. She sprinted through the alleys of Alexandria, away from the docks and the housing area. She ran as quickly as her feet could carry her, only stopping when she was sure that no one was following her.
“Idiot.” Akila snickered under her breath, finally taking the time to fix her clothing. She looked over her shoulder once more before starting her journey out of Alexandria. It took a few hours of walking, but eventually, she happened upon a cove hidden from plain view. There, inside, were drunk pirates celebrating their victory, retelling some exciting tale in their overzealous manner.
“The Greek shit himself, literally shit himself. ‘Oooh, Hades,’” Khalid screwed up his face and tried to, awfully, mimic the Greek accent. “So, of course, my spear went through his heart. This is fucking Egypt don’t be praying to your bullshit.”
“Ain’t he up for a rude awakin’ when he gets to Anubis with no heart.” Chaths roared as Akila made her way up, grabbing one of the mugs of alcohol left by who knows who cares. “Oy, Akila. How’d your date go?”
“Eh,” Akila replied. “Left him getting beatin’ black and blue by some grandmother walking into her own home. Lady grabbed the broom like it was a fucking khopesh.” Akila tipped back the drink, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
The imagery just got the pirates laughing harder. The group was rowdy, riding a high like no other. Akila saw her captain stand out of the corner of her eye, and she fought the look of disgust from flicking on her face. Her night wasn’t over yet.
Any lingering sense of satisfaction that Achilleas might have been in possession of was dwindling rapidly. Struggling into his clothes he was more confused than anything by the intensity of the old woman’s outburst, the odd words he did make out certainly not complimentary. When he turned to the Egyptian girl for help in translating the woman’s ire, the Greek was just in time to see the back of her as she shimmied out of a window and abandoned him to his fate.
“Hey!” he called, but Akila was already gone and Achilleas looked back to the squawking Egyptian woman who was now brandishing a broom threateningly in his direction. “No fight” he managed in what was probably horribly mangled Coptic. “No trouble” He reached to gather his things only to retract his arm swiftly when she whacked it with the broom handle.
“Fuck” What followed was an awkward exchange of him trying to retrieve his helm, xiphos and cuirass all whilst fending off repeated swipes from the broom wielding Egyptian woman, whose squawking was beginning to attract attention from her neighbours. When a particularly stinging blow caught him on the thigh, Achilleas had had enough and he caught the offending item, yanked it from the old woman’s grasp and snapped it over his knee before discarding the pieces behind him.
More than a little flustered and angry, he had one hand on the sword fastened back around his hips as he spoke. “Enough! No fighting!”
It was deterrent enough for the old woman to stand back, joined now by a couple more who had come over the street to see what all the racket was about, and Achilleas had the excruciating experience of putting himself back together under the cross gazes of several old women. He managed to piece together enough of the rapid-fire Coptic to understand that this was the broom wielder’s house and assumed that as his bed partner had departed so suddenly that it wasn’t her home. The more rational part of his mind could appreciate the woman’s annoyance but it was his wounded pride that had his motion sharp and jerky and his expression thunderous as he gathered his things.
He’d been an idiot. That was the undeniable and yet unpleasant realisation that made his skin crawl and a flush creep his neck. And as he awkwardly moved past the Egyptian women, Achilleas pushed a gold coin at the homeowner, not meeting her gaze.
It was quite possibly one of the most humiliating experiences of his entire life,but as he sulked and scolded himself on the way back to the docks Achilleas could not have known that his day was about to get substantially worse. It was the smell of smoke that first had him glance up from his brooding, look down toward the bay where sure enough there was a dark plume climbing skyward. And he’d broken into a run as he drew near enough to see the small crowd of villagers gathered...looking at something.
The something turned out to be the men he’d left behind loading the ship. The smoke curled lazily from the ship itself, flames extinguished now but with black scorch marks that showed the damage. Achilleas felt sick as he shouldered his way through to speak to the greek soldier, trying to keep the panic from his face as he asked what happened.
‘Ambushed, Captain. Bloody pirates, took near but all the provisions. Emrys got cut up pretty bad” The look on the man’s face said it all, and the Mikaelidas man felt a cold clutch of fear and guilt that he had not been present. “And the lieutenant?” He asked after Krysto, a cold sweat prickling at his neck as he wondered how he was going to explain himself. How could he?
He should never have let his head be so easily turned, and now he had a damaged ship, stolen goods and injured men to explain, all whilst he hadn’t even been there. Had been too busy fucking whilst his men got fucked.
“Alright well...get your eye looked and that get some rest” Achilleas ordered, trying to remain composed even as he seethed at himself, at Akila and at this gods forsaken country that would not stop taking even after the war was won. He hated Egypt. He never wanted to come back.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Any lingering sense of satisfaction that Achilleas might have been in possession of was dwindling rapidly. Struggling into his clothes he was more confused than anything by the intensity of the old woman’s outburst, the odd words he did make out certainly not complimentary. When he turned to the Egyptian girl for help in translating the woman’s ire, the Greek was just in time to see the back of her as she shimmied out of a window and abandoned him to his fate.
“Hey!” he called, but Akila was already gone and Achilleas looked back to the squawking Egyptian woman who was now brandishing a broom threateningly in his direction. “No fight” he managed in what was probably horribly mangled Coptic. “No trouble” He reached to gather his things only to retract his arm swiftly when she whacked it with the broom handle.
“Fuck” What followed was an awkward exchange of him trying to retrieve his helm, xiphos and cuirass all whilst fending off repeated swipes from the broom wielding Egyptian woman, whose squawking was beginning to attract attention from her neighbours. When a particularly stinging blow caught him on the thigh, Achilleas had had enough and he caught the offending item, yanked it from the old woman’s grasp and snapped it over his knee before discarding the pieces behind him.
More than a little flustered and angry, he had one hand on the sword fastened back around his hips as he spoke. “Enough! No fighting!”
It was deterrent enough for the old woman to stand back, joined now by a couple more who had come over the street to see what all the racket was about, and Achilleas had the excruciating experience of putting himself back together under the cross gazes of several old women. He managed to piece together enough of the rapid-fire Coptic to understand that this was the broom wielder’s house and assumed that as his bed partner had departed so suddenly that it wasn’t her home. The more rational part of his mind could appreciate the woman’s annoyance but it was his wounded pride that had his motion sharp and jerky and his expression thunderous as he gathered his things.
He’d been an idiot. That was the undeniable and yet unpleasant realisation that made his skin crawl and a flush creep his neck. And as he awkwardly moved past the Egyptian women, Achilleas pushed a gold coin at the homeowner, not meeting her gaze.
It was quite possibly one of the most humiliating experiences of his entire life,but as he sulked and scolded himself on the way back to the docks Achilleas could not have known that his day was about to get substantially worse. It was the smell of smoke that first had him glance up from his brooding, look down toward the bay where sure enough there was a dark plume climbing skyward. And he’d broken into a run as he drew near enough to see the small crowd of villagers gathered...looking at something.
The something turned out to be the men he’d left behind loading the ship. The smoke curled lazily from the ship itself, flames extinguished now but with black scorch marks that showed the damage. Achilleas felt sick as he shouldered his way through to speak to the greek soldier, trying to keep the panic from his face as he asked what happened.
‘Ambushed, Captain. Bloody pirates, took near but all the provisions. Emrys got cut up pretty bad” The look on the man’s face said it all, and the Mikaelidas man felt a cold clutch of fear and guilt that he had not been present. “And the lieutenant?” He asked after Krysto, a cold sweat prickling at his neck as he wondered how he was going to explain himself. How could he?
He should never have let his head be so easily turned, and now he had a damaged ship, stolen goods and injured men to explain, all whilst he hadn’t even been there. Had been too busy fucking whilst his men got fucked.
“Alright well...get your eye looked and that get some rest” Achilleas ordered, trying to remain composed even as he seethed at himself, at Akila and at this gods forsaken country that would not stop taking even after the war was won. He hated Egypt. He never wanted to come back.
Any lingering sense of satisfaction that Achilleas might have been in possession of was dwindling rapidly. Struggling into his clothes he was more confused than anything by the intensity of the old woman’s outburst, the odd words he did make out certainly not complimentary. When he turned to the Egyptian girl for help in translating the woman’s ire, the Greek was just in time to see the back of her as she shimmied out of a window and abandoned him to his fate.
“Hey!” he called, but Akila was already gone and Achilleas looked back to the squawking Egyptian woman who was now brandishing a broom threateningly in his direction. “No fight” he managed in what was probably horribly mangled Coptic. “No trouble” He reached to gather his things only to retract his arm swiftly when she whacked it with the broom handle.
“Fuck” What followed was an awkward exchange of him trying to retrieve his helm, xiphos and cuirass all whilst fending off repeated swipes from the broom wielding Egyptian woman, whose squawking was beginning to attract attention from her neighbours. When a particularly stinging blow caught him on the thigh, Achilleas had had enough and he caught the offending item, yanked it from the old woman’s grasp and snapped it over his knee before discarding the pieces behind him.
More than a little flustered and angry, he had one hand on the sword fastened back around his hips as he spoke. “Enough! No fighting!”
It was deterrent enough for the old woman to stand back, joined now by a couple more who had come over the street to see what all the racket was about, and Achilleas had the excruciating experience of putting himself back together under the cross gazes of several old women. He managed to piece together enough of the rapid-fire Coptic to understand that this was the broom wielder’s house and assumed that as his bed partner had departed so suddenly that it wasn’t her home. The more rational part of his mind could appreciate the woman’s annoyance but it was his wounded pride that had his motion sharp and jerky and his expression thunderous as he gathered his things.
He’d been an idiot. That was the undeniable and yet unpleasant realisation that made his skin crawl and a flush creep his neck. And as he awkwardly moved past the Egyptian women, Achilleas pushed a gold coin at the homeowner, not meeting her gaze.
It was quite possibly one of the most humiliating experiences of his entire life,but as he sulked and scolded himself on the way back to the docks Achilleas could not have known that his day was about to get substantially worse. It was the smell of smoke that first had him glance up from his brooding, look down toward the bay where sure enough there was a dark plume climbing skyward. And he’d broken into a run as he drew near enough to see the small crowd of villagers gathered...looking at something.
The something turned out to be the men he’d left behind loading the ship. The smoke curled lazily from the ship itself, flames extinguished now but with black scorch marks that showed the damage. Achilleas felt sick as he shouldered his way through to speak to the greek soldier, trying to keep the panic from his face as he asked what happened.
‘Ambushed, Captain. Bloody pirates, took near but all the provisions. Emrys got cut up pretty bad” The look on the man’s face said it all, and the Mikaelidas man felt a cold clutch of fear and guilt that he had not been present. “And the lieutenant?” He asked after Krysto, a cold sweat prickling at his neck as he wondered how he was going to explain himself. How could he?
He should never have let his head be so easily turned, and now he had a damaged ship, stolen goods and injured men to explain, all whilst he hadn’t even been there. Had been too busy fucking whilst his men got fucked.
“Alright well...get your eye looked and that get some rest” Achilleas ordered, trying to remain composed even as he seethed at himself, at Akila and at this gods forsaken country that would not stop taking even after the war was won. He hated Egypt. He never wanted to come back.