by Nadia Aidan
“Let go, Basha, do not hold back. Just let go, and drench my fingers with your sweet honey.”
His heated words struck a chord inside her and she sobbed. Her entire body pulsed around him as she gave herself over to the euphoria of her climax, the sweet contentment that only Ulysseus could give her with just the sound of his whispered words in that deep, husky voice of his.
He held her to him, his arm clasped around her waist as she shook with the after-effects of her release. With his free hand, he undid the laces of his pyterges, releasing a ragged moan that was a mixture of relief and desire as his cock sprang forth, bobbing in the air.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he rasped.
She didn’t hesitate to obey his command and he shoved her chiton out of the way, his callused hands stroking the bare skin of her thighs, goosebumps dotting her skin everywhere he touched.
She quivered in his arms, the strength of him easily holding her suspended against him, almost as if her weight was that of nothing but a feather.
Clasping her arms tighter behind his neck, she clung to him, while his hands beneath her chiton clutched her hips, as he slowly guided her down the length of his engorged shaft.
“Ulysseus,” she gasped, clenching her eyes shut as she lost herself in the wondrous sensation of him stretching her, filling her with his hard, unyielding flesh until he was buried to the hilt.
He growled out her name, his face tucked against her neck, his warm breath tickling her skin. “I have missed this,” he whispered, and this time the sob she’d held back did break free. She had too, and she imagined that, when he finally did leave her, the loss of him would be unbearable. But in that moment she didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to ruin the time they still had left together.
“Fuck me, Ulysseus, please,” she begged, and, not waiting for him, she moved her body up and down on him, impaling herself on his cock, taking him deep within her gushing wet sheath until she thought she would die from the pleasure.
She rode him, her movements frenzied, and he let her—he simply held her hips while she set the pace.
“Basha,” he groaned against her neck, that single word a tortured plea to her ears. She clenched her channel around him, dragging another ragged moan from his lips. She was on fire, felt as if she would burst into flames at any moment. Her body was needy for him—it ached for him, every single vessel inside her straining to absorb his essence.
Her entire body trembled in his arms as she rode him, taking his thick cock deep within her welcoming body. She closed her eyes, letting her other senses take hold of her as she filled her lungs with the scent of him, revelled in his skin sliding against hers, driving into her. Even now, she could taste him on her lips and she wanted more.
She moved faster, taking him harder, burying his ruddy shaft inside her with deep, stabbing strokes. He was close—she could feel it, his loosening restraint vibrating through him. She worked herself harder and faster on his cock, until he was panting, his breaths shallow.
“Come for me, Ulysseus. Fill me with your seed.”
It was as if her words sparked a flame inside him, and he went up like a wild blaze, his body jerking as he came on a violent shudder. His climax triggered hers and she found herself bucking wildly against him, her cunt dripping with liquid heat as she coated his thrusting length.
She screamed out her pleasure at the same time that he grunted her name, and his hands tightened around her hips, holding her against him as he continued to erupt inside her, filling her with his essence. He pumped his warm seed deep within her until the walls of her cunt were drenched, and their combined juices spilled forth from her channel.
Breathless, they clung together, their sweat-soaked garments sticking to them like a second skin. She slowly uncurled her boneless body from around him, her legs wobbly. He held her against him, steadying her until she could stand on her own.
Lifting her head, she smiled up at him, but it quickly died on her lips when she glimpsed the expression on his face.
“Ulysseus, wha—”
“Is this what our marriage has been reduced to?” he demanded harshly. “Your obsession with having a child?”
The blood in her veins ran cold, and for just a moment she feared he’d discovered the truth, but she knew that was not possible. She’d been so careful.
“I do not know what you speak of,” she said tentatively, wondering what it was she’d done to reveal that she hadn’t let go of her desire to have his son, even though she’d assured him otherwise.
“Of course you don’t. With you, it is so unconscious you do not even realise you do it.”
“Do what? I have no idea what you speak of, Ulysseus—”
“Come for me, Ulysseus. Fill me with your seed. You said that right before I came,” he mocked, and she hated it, the sound grating her ears.
Had she said that? She couldn’t remember—she’d been lost so deep in her own climax—but if she’d said such a thing then she could understand why he was upset.
Those were the same words she used to call out before, while in the throes of her release, back when she’d been on the edge of desperation to conceive. It had not always been that way. In the beginning she’d screamed them out of passion, but her obsession had twisted their erotic meaning. Ulysseus hated when she said them now. You make me feel as if I am some breeding animal and not your husband. She’d been careful never to utter them again, something that had not been difficult, since they hardly made love these dawns.
“I do not remember uttering those words, but I am sorry if I did. I promise you I did not mean it in that way.”
His eyes flashed. “But of course you did, Basha.” He tunnelled his hand through his dark hair, something he only did when he was furious. “I thought we agreed to concentrate more on us and less on having a child.”
Before she could stop herself, she snapped, “No. You agreed.” She quickly realised her mistake when he froze, but still she did not regret her hasty words.
His idea of agreement had been to tell her to stop thinking so much of having a child, and that had been it. There’d been no discussion, no communication—he’d simply stormed out, and she’d been supposed to accept his words as final.
He sighed, his expression sad, and it hurt her heart to see the look upon his face. “Our marriage is falling apart, but you do not seem to care. All you care about is one thing—”
“That is simply not true.”
“Yes, it is, and we both know it.” His eyes darkened, and anger swirled in their murky depths. “You still think we should take lovers. I can tell,” he added, cutting her off when she tried to protest. “You know how much I am opposed to the idea and yet you still will not put it to rest.”
“But it is the only way, Ulysseus,” she said quietly, her gaze dipping when his expression twisted into a harsh frown.
“Damnation, Basha. Can you not even hear yourself?” Anger poured off him in waves, the heat of his fury blistering her skin.
“Where are you going?” she asked when he spun away from her with a sharp curse.
“I need some time away from you. To think—”
“But—”
He slashed his hand through the air, cutting her off. “I do not wish to hear you, Basha. You think if you take a lover and you get with child that I would accept it as my own—and I would, because you are my wife—but what you suggest is not the solution to what ails our union, for our problems are greater than just having a baby. I wish you could see that. I wish you could understand that the reason why I will not take a lover has nothing to do with my pride, and everything to do with how I feel about you.”
“Ulys—” His retreating back silenced her momentarily. She called after him again, but he was already gone, his large frame disappearing from the courtyard.
* * * *
Ulysseus was so full of anger by the time he made it to his brother’s home that, when he stormed into his courtyard, he didn’t even take notice
that Thanos already had a guest.
“Basha still wants to take a lover.”
“Basha wants a lover? Then what am I still doing here?”
The seemingly disembodied voice startled him and he whipped around to confront whoever was foolish enough to even dare go near his wife.
“Adonis.” He glared at Sparta’s future king, not surprised at all. Adonis had graced the bedchambers of many Spartan wives, widows and tavernas whores. But Basha would not be one among them.
“You will not go anywhere near my wife.”
“Why not?” Adonis’ lips twitched. “If she needs a lover then I am happy to see to her needs, since it is obvious you have neglected them.”
He advanced on the smirking boy, but stopped when Thanos’ hand grasped his shoulder.
“Adonis, don’t you need to return to the barracks shortly?” Thanos boomed from behind Ulysseus.
“Actually, no, I—”
“Well, then I am ordering you to return to your barracks.”
Adonis wanted to protest, the displeasure was there on his face, but he didn’t even part his lips. As foolhardy as Adonis could be, he was still wise enough to realise how unwise it would be to challenge a direct order from his general.
“Yes, Sir,” he said crisply, as he snapped to attention, and, in the blink of an eye, he transformed from a playful youth to the battle-ready hoplite. Seconds later he filed out of Thanos’ home, heading back to the barracks where the rest of the young men in Sparta’s army lived.
“I apologise. He’s—”
“Adonis,” Ulysseus finished for Thanos, since they both knew how the young soldier could be. One dawn, Adonis would grow and mature to become a great king and general, but there was a daring about him that sometimes worried Ulysseus. He’d trained the boy into a man, had watched him grow under his and Thanos’ tutelage, so he knew Adonis’ skills were impressive, but Adonis was a risk-taker, sometimes forsaking his training and acting on instincts alone. Thus far, his gambles had paid off, but Ulysseus knew the dawn would come when Adonis would act on impulse, without thinking first, and he worried about the price the young man would have to pay for his hasty actions.
“I know you did not come here to talk about Sparta’s resident charm-wielder.”
Despite his sour mood, he could not help but grin at Thanos’ very accurate description of Adonis, and he twisted around to face his brother.
“No. I think I’ve had enough of Adonis for one dawn.”
An almost helpless breath rose out of him as Ulysseus raked a hand through his hair. He didn’t even know where to begin. It was hard to admit the failures of his relationship with his wife to anyone, even Thanos. Most men in Sparta wouldn’t have even bothered, but he didn’t always think and act like most Spartan men, and that was what made him different, what set him apart, which was something Basha didn’t seem to realise…or she just didn’t care. He hoped it was the former, but of late he couldn’t be so sure. Basha had done everything in her power to push him away, and, had he been like most Spartan men, he would have taken a lover and ignored the deep-seated problems in his marriage, but he couldn’t do that. He loved her too much.
“Basha wants to take a lover—that much I caught when you stormed in here.”
Ulysseus gave his brother a weak smile, grateful that Thanos had broached the subject, since he couldn’t seem to, now that his anger had waned some.
“She thinks it will solve everything. Actually, she wants us both to take lovers, but she does not realise doing so will solve nothing.”
Thanos nodded. “I could imagine how that would make you feel. Most men would prefer not to know if the child their wife bears isn’t actually theirs.”
Most men wouldn’t, but that was not what troubled him. “You and Lamia have recently adopted your helot Armine, no?”
“Yes,” Thanos answered with a puzzled frown.
Ulysseus nodded, gesturing for him to hear him out. “I know it takes time to develop a bond with a child you’ve adopted, but, even in this short time, I see how you dote on her, how focused you are on her instruction. You care about that child.”
“Yes. She’s lived in my home for many annos, but, until Lamia came, I rarely saw her. Now that Lamia and I must prepare her for the agoge, I am with her quite often, and our bond has grown in a short time…but I do not see your point.”
“Let me ask you this,” Ulysseus continued. “Do you somehow feel less responsible for Armine because she is not the child of your loins? Do you think Lamia cares that she did not carry Armine inside her body and give birth to her?”
Ulysseus watched a myriad emotions cross Thanos’ face, and he knew his brother was sifting through his words.
“No. I care for Armine as if she were my flesh and blood, just as Lamia does.”
“How you feel about Armine is how I would feel about any child of Basha’s. She is my wife. I care not about whom the father is, because it would be the child of my wife, and that is all that matters.”
“But?”
He smiled at his brother, who, besides Basha, knew him better than anyone else. Of course he realised there was more. “I know Basha does not feel the same as I do. She hasn’t said it, and she won’t, but I know her far too well. She hopes she would conceive with a lover, but if she didn’t, and in turn I planted my seed inside another woman, it would destroy her. She doesn’t say it, because she doesn’t even want to think it, but if I were to have a child with another woman she would never forgive me.”
That was the truth of it…mostly. He’d never thought the dawn would come when he would believe his wife could ever be dishonest with him, but it had. He’d offered her many opportunities to tell him the truth, but she hadn’t, and that was also why he’d refused to entertain the notion of going outside of their union to conceive a child.
If he took a lover and they had a child, he would tell Basha, no matter how painful it was, no matter how much he knew it would hurt her. He would tell her the truth because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t, but he knew Basha did not share his sense of honour, at least not when it came to this. She would carry another man’s child and pass it off as his for as long as she could hide the truth, and that was unacceptable to him.
She was his wife, the other half of his very soul. They should have been able to share anything with each other, but they couldn’t, and that was why he refused to bring an innocent child into their union.
Their marriage was broken—splintering apart at the very seams. And Basha’s ‘solution’ would only add more tribulations to a union that already had far too many to contend with.
* * * *
Lamia knew as soon as she glimpsed the strained expression on Basha’s face that her sister within the law and Ulysseus had quarrelled. Yet, even if she hadn’t seen Basha’s face, Ulysseus barrelling out of the courtyard, nearly knocking her over with just a muffled apology, would have been her first clue.
She walked with hesitant steps towards the woman, who stood as still and frozen as a mountain of ice.
“I came here seeking advice about my own marriage, but I am wondering just how sound this advice will be, since I believe you might be a bit partial at the moment.”
A faint grin tugged at Basha’s lips as she shook her head. “I do not even want to laugh, much less smile, but thank you.”
“For what?” Lamia moved closer, only realising then that Basha had been crying, if her swollen eyes and red nose could serve as testament.
“For making me laugh.” Basha smiled. “I needed that.”
“Do you wish to talk about it?” she asked quietly, still reeling from her surprise that this woman, who seemed as impenetrable as the Spartan phalanx, could actually cry—that Basha wasn’t without her own weaknesses, her Achilles heel. She was human just like the rest of them, just as flawed and vulnerable as everyone else.
“Of course not. When does one ever want to admit they are not perfect?”
“None
of us is perfect, Basha.”
Basha curled her lips into a bitter smile as she stared off at something behind Lamia’s head, and it was clear to Lamia that, wherever Basha’s thoughts were taking her, the journey was far, far away.
“I know that. I hear your words, but believing them is something else entirely.”
Basha’s gaze snapped to her face, as if she was coming out of a trance, and when she finally spoke, Lamia had to strain to hear, her words were so faint.
“I was the only child of the union between my parents, but like most Spartan men my father wanted a boy, had to have a boy. So I had to be better than everyone in everything in order to prove that my Egyptian half did not make me weak, just as being a girl did not make me less valuable as his child.”
Lamia moved towards Basha, not sure what she would do, but sensing that the woman needed comfort. She grasped Basha’s hand in hers, holding her gaze. “I am sure your father loved you.”
“In his own way.” Basha smiled, but it was hard and brittle, making Lamia wonder if she should even call it a smile.
“And in his own way he loved my mother, but he hurt her, most of it unknowingly. When they did not have a son, he looked for someone else who could. She’d left her homeland, everything she knew, and it killed her to watch him take lovers. He never managed to have another child, but it did not matter. My mother never forgave him, and deep down, I knew she hated him for what he did.”
Basha’s words crawled over her skin like an icy serpent, chilling Lamia where she stood. Her heart ached for Basha and a woman she would never know, but whose story could one day be hers. How could she hate Thanos for being who he was, for living according to how he was reared? But, like Basha’s mother, she knew she would.
Thanos’ actions suggested that he did not desire an open marriage, but what if they didn’t have children…or what if they had girls, but not a son? She had no doubt that his position would change, because in Sparta one had to have children and they had to be boys.