I will kill you and eat you raw.

Leader, warrior, figher. I will be the best of my generation. Enjolras/Achilles multi-verse, multi-everything, multi-para. please read about & verses!

[achilleio]

Oh, look who's popped up.

[achilleio]

WHO IS THE B LO NdE KID YOU POS TING ABOUT??

I have NO IDEA HOW OLD THIS IS sorry

but niels schneider mainly! 

[achilleio]

P much tempted to give up on Achilles. Basically all the threads I like have been dropped so idk

[achilleio]

A Gift

[kinofodin-deactivated20151211]

Read More

[achilleio]

His mouth opens willingly to those fingers and his tongue moves over them as if there is nothing in the world more important. He doesn't care that Ragnar is being rough with him because he quite likes it, he does care that the other man is angry. He thinks maybe he should have been a little more coy, a little kinder maybe asked a little nicer, but the again he isn't a woman, he is a man, a prince and as much a warrior as Ragnar is. He has no need to bend his knee than the other man does.      Ragnar bites kisses into his skin and Achilles yanks at the other's belt before pulling the lacing of his trousers open. He wants to see Ragnar in his full glory, he wants to worship at the altar that is the man, for Ragnar certainly is much manlier than he is, than any of his men or country people. He it tall and broad and his skin smells of musk, of sweat. How he wants it.      His hand wraps around the other's cock, stroking already, and he feels the loss of fingers in his mouth. Ragnar's bigger than he's used to, between the legs, bigger and thicker, and he would be worried were it not for the intense curiosity and, well, arousal.

[achilleio]

A Gift

[kinofodin-deactivated20151211]

Ragnar cupped Achilles’ face in his hands, studied his bright eyes and tanned face, then ran his hands down his neck and tightened his grip around it "You may be a prince where you come from, but you hold no power here, boy." He pressed him against the wall, pressed his own hips into his. "I will take you, prince, but not on orders."

[achilleio]

He thought for a moment that there may be some tenderness between them but it's thrown out of the window as soon as those hard hands are wrapped around his throat. And it's not as if Achilles minds, he expected nothing less from the likes of Rangar and his men, and he wanted nothing less. His tongue moves over his lips and he feels the other's hips against his body. He can't help but push back, press his thigh between the other man's. He presses himself, hard cock and all, against him, against his hip.      Ragnar and his men are all much taller than he is--taller and heavier--which is no good in battle but very good between the sheets.      'As you please, Earl Ragnar.'      He is a Prince. Here and home, he is a Prince and he will take the dues owed to him, but now... now he is more than happy to, well, bend the knee, and take what is coming to him.      'I am yours.'

[onewhostays]

So you're the priest I've heard so much about.

You’ve heard about me..?

[achilleio]

'Earl Ragnar has nothing but.. illuminating words.'      Illuminating. More like incriminating. He smiles, doesn’t bow or anything because this man is a Priest, not a Prince, and Achilles is a prince. A prince and a warrior.      ‘Good words. I am Achilles. I see why he’s so fond of you.’

[onewhostays]

Athelstan bowed his head politely, his cheeks turning slightly pink from the compliment. “Y-You are a friend of Ragnar’s?”

[achilleio]

'Yes, you could say that, I stumbled across his little town some time ago.'      He smiles knowingly, for they are friends, friends of a certain kind. Ragnar has spoken of Athelstan and Achilles could not help but be curious. An academic like himself, smart, handsome. He wonders how he is with his mouth.       'And you, you are his friend, too?'

[achilleio]

A Gift

[kinofodin-deactivated20151211]

Ragnar raised an eyebrow. When the other man had reached for the folds of his clothing at first he thought that he was going to ask much more of him and his mouth, and he felt the pang of insult.  "That is your wish? To be treated like a spoil of war for your victory?”

[achilleio]

Achilles smiles because he knows already that customs are different. He wraps the material loosely around his waist and steps forward to the other. His fingers touch at Ragnar's beard briefly before moving down his chest, gentle touches. Ragnar is glistening, little bits of sweat and the hard body of a seasoned warrior, Achilles can barely take his eyes off of him.      In his mind Ragnar is the spoil of war, in some way, he has won and he will have the other man.      'In my lands it's not uncommon. Perhaps you would like it there. You must visit some day.'      Down his fingers trail before dipping into the waist of the other's trousers, nails grazing over the skin, and he presses his thigh between Ragnar's legs. He wonders if Ragnar would rather him on his knees, rather him play innocent and coy, of which he is neither. Achilles is a price and he has no problems asking for what he wants.      'Is that a problem?'

[m0risha-deactivated20170725]

[enofinaldodia]

[megaetyaworld-deactivated201406]

[achilleio]

A Gift

[kinofodin-deactivated20151211]

Ragnar swallowed as the cool blade pressed against his neck. He realized that he was panting, out of breath from their short confrontation. He moved so quickly - it was impossible! And he could never agree to those terms. He was the Earl of Kattegat. "I will not go with you."

[achilleio]

'I hope your pride is not hurt. But, you know, I could settle, I think, for something more immediate. More pleasurable.'      His lips turn up into a smirk as he lowers the sword and throws it to the side. His hands gather the folds of his clothes up and lift, and soon enough he's naked before the other man, just as hard as he had been at the dinner table.      'I'm sure the Earl knows how to give a good fucking, no?'

[achilleio]

A Gift

[kinofodin-deactivated20151211]

Ragnar was surprised by the skill and speed which the Prince possessed, and found it difficult to keep up. He blocked and dodged as many of his attacks as he could, but he was taller, larger, and slower. "I cannot do that.”

[achilleio]

'Are you afraid to commit because you know you will lose?' he asks, a smug look on his face. The large man was good on the battlefield, no doubt, he looked it, strong and rippling with muscles, but it was no contest one-on-one with a small, quick lad.      'Or simply that you don't want to make a bet at all?'      He laughs as he moves forward, it's effortless, but he is born of a goddess, he's cheating in a way, Ragnar doesn't know. But soon enough his sword is at Ragnar's throat, tip against the soft, pink skin.      'I win.'

[onewhostays]

So you're the priest I've heard so much about.

You’ve heard about me..?

[achilleio]

'Earl Ragnar has nothing but.. illuminating words.'      Illuminating. More like incriminating. He smiles, doesn't bow or anything because this man is a Priest, not a Prince, and Achilles is a prince. A prince and a warrior.      'Good words. I am Achilles. I see why he's so fond of you.'

[achilleio]

A Gift

[achilleio]

Achilles looks him over, that hungry glimmer in his eyes again. He looks at the sword, too, it’s not quite what he was expecting but he can’t say no to a good fight. He takes it in his hand and half contemplates stripping down but instead he lunges forwards, prodding the sword lightly into the other’s chest.      ‘I will beat you, Ragnar. What are the stakes? If you win, which is impossible, what do you want as your prize?’

[kinofodin-deactivated20151211]

"Land." A cold smile spread on his lips and he slid Achilles’ blade away from his chest with his own. "If I win - I want you to give me a piece of your land. In your Kingdom across the sea." 

[achilleio]

'It is not just across the sea, Ragnar,' he replies, his own smile warm in comparison. He knows he'll win so it doesn't matter, but he wouldn't mind anyway. He wonders vaguely if Ragnar would be able to survive the heat, he wonders just how much the northmen would improve the view. No doubt they'd hardly be dressed.      'Sea and land and more sea. But fine. Land. You can have some. And, if I win, you come home with me.'      He hits him properly with the sword this time, little light hits, because he doesn't want to hurt him. But he's quick. Very quick.

[achilleio]

A Gift

[kinofodin-deactivated20151211]

"It will not be long before they are too drunk to miss their own wives." Ragnar replied simply. He was stripped to the waist and waiting for him, a sword in each hand. He offered one, hilt first to the Greek Prince.

[achilleio]

Achilles looks him over, that hungry glimmer in his eyes again. He looks at the sword, too, it's not quite what he was expecting but he can't say no to a good fight. He takes it in his hand and half contemplates stripping down but instead he lunges forwards, prodding the sword lightly into the other's chest.      'I will beat you, Ragnar. What are the stakes? If you win, which is impossible, what do you want as your prize?'

[achilleio]

A Gift

[kinofodin-deactivated20151211]

Ragnar smirked at him from behind his drink. The Prince really was ｉｍｐａｔｉｅｎｔ. "So sorry that you are not accustomed to such.. barbaric behavior, your highness.” He drained his cup and set it on the table with a clunk. "Come, let me show you better hospitality, hm?" He winked at him before he stood and bent down to whisper in his ear - brushing his lips against his ear as he spoke. "Follow me after the tallest serving girl fills your cup." And then he was gone, headed out one of the side doors.

[achilleio]

Achilles feels his cock harden between his legs, under the havy folds of fabric. He was cold and now, well now he's nice and warm, now the young man's cheeks are flushed and he's almost tittering in anticipation. This Ragnar, these northmen, they were much calmer than he had anticipated upon seeing them, Ragnar's voice is low, quiet, and his manners are careful and calculated. Achilles knows he is be a very dangerous man.       The tallest serving girl comes past some minutes later and filles his cup, he nods his thanks, took the cup, sipped and then stands up. With a quick word about talks to one of his men he left, following Ragnar out of the side door. He wonders what Ragnar is doing, what he's wearing, if he's wearing anything at all, and cautiously exits the great hall.      The corridor he finds himself in is dark and for a moment he stands, trying to adjust to the light, he walks though, keeps moving until he hits another room. This room looks more inviting.      'Are you sure your men won't miss you at dinner, or you wife, Earl Ragnar?'

[xregicide-deactivated20140812]

✕ —- ♟

                             A gasp escaped his lips at the sudden action, and he                              jammed his eyes shut. Though, for the life of him he                              couldn’t understand as to whether this kiss was                              unneeded or of vital importance.                             

                                 ❝ —— Do you really think your                                                    title would make me any more willing? ❞

                              Mordred’s words are hushed, his brain and body                               working against each other to try and decide whether                               it likes the younger man's advances or not, and for a                               few moments he remained silent, looking over him before                                he leaned down to kiss him.

[achilleio]

His eyes are on Mordred's, half-lidded, bedroom eyes, a little smile on his face. He could see the thoughts running through the older man's head and it seemed that Mordred made up his mind. Their lips were pressed together again. Achilles wraps his arm around the other's shoulders and lets the free hand snake between them, dancing over the other's torso. Mordred smells sweet like a light slumber, tastes, well, like something, he's not entirely sure, whatever it is he likes it. His tongue slides against the other's, his thigh pressing between the other's legs and his crotch pressing against the other's thigh. 

     'I don't think you need to be any more willing,' he mutters, arm moving down, palm moving across his skin, his back, shoving the shirt up.