Major Tags: None Other Tags: sort of underage?, as in two teens together, discussion of age gap relationships Word Count: 481 words
You don’t know how much I love Alexander the Great/Hephaestion, I WROTE A MODERN AU OF IT ONCE, I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Kept this short, I didn’t have the heart to write up to Oikawa!Alexander getting married and conquering and dying. Just teens in loves.
***
The heat of the room is sticky-humid, the fine linens of Alexander’s bed dampened with cool water to let the boys sleep in peace. Hephaestion cannot sleep for Alexander’s nearness; Alexander cannot sleep for Hephaestion’s beauty.
They linger there together, lying awake and longing.
*
“I want no erastes,” Hephaestion says, tickling Alexander’s chest with a daisy. Golden pollen smears over Alexander’s golden muscles; he is crowned by gold, even bare-headed, and the sight of Alexander always inspires Hephaestion to think thoughts most blasphemous.
(Should Apollo himself come down and ask Hephaestion to judge between himself, Eros and Alexander, Hephaestion would choose Alexander though he die for it. Eyes love-blinded cannot be dazzled by the glory of the gods.)
“Why not?” Alexander asks, stretched out on his side and watching Hephaestion fondly. “Many in my father’s court have already suggested they would be open to the honor.”
“So I have heard,” Hephaestion says, eyes on Alexander’s muscles rather than his friend’s face. “But I would have none of them.”
“They can help you rise,” Alexander cautioned but he reached out and let one hand rest on Hephaestion’s bare skin. The skin was sunwarmed, stretched thinly over developing muscle, and Alexander heard the catch of Hephaestion’s breath.
Suddenly, Hepheastion was on him, just as when they were children and play-wrestled. He leaned over Alexander and blocked out the sun, unholy and unrestrained.
“I want no favor that does not come from you,” Hephaestion murmurs and Alexander drinks the words down like the nectar of the gods.
Alexander would never be an eromenos, would never have an erastes. He was the son of a king and could never yield to another.
But to take Hephaestion, who was so close in age to him…
Hesphaestion’s tunic hem dragged against Alexander’s thighs and a rich moan spilled from Alexander’s lips. Under the sun, in his friend’s shadow, he was lost and found and remade.
*
“Would you have really wed her?” Hephaestion asks later, much later, when the elders of Alexander’s circle have been sent away and Alexander has received a proper tongue lashing from his father over the Pixodarus affair.
“No,” Alexander says bluntly, raising a goblet to his mouth and then to Hephaestion’s. “But I would have made sure of it that she did not marry my father’s bastard. He has no right to a throne, even if it is only the throne of Caria. I would not allow him to gain so much power.”
“But one day,” Hephaestion says, the wine bitter in his mouth, “You will wed.”
“Yes,” Alexander admits after a short pause, turning to press his mouth to Hephaestion’s, murmuring his words against Hephaestion’s mouth, “But I will never love any other but you.”
He brands his promise into Hephaestion’s lips with a fire-forged kiss and Hephaestion feels the truth of them settle into his very bones.
FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T
Other Tags: sort of underage?, as in two teens together, discussion of age gap relationships
Word Count: 481 words
You don’t know how much I love Alexander the Great/Hephaestion, I WROTE A MODERN AU OF IT ONCE, I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Kept this short, I didn’t have the heart to write up to Oikawa!Alexander getting married and conquering and dying. Just teens in loves.
***
The heat of the room is sticky-humid, the fine linens of Alexander’s bed dampened with cool water to let the boys sleep in peace. Hephaestion cannot sleep for Alexander’s nearness; Alexander cannot sleep for Hephaestion’s beauty.
They linger there together, lying awake and longing.
*
“I want no erastes,” Hephaestion says, tickling Alexander’s chest with a daisy. Golden pollen smears over Alexander’s golden muscles; he is crowned by gold, even bare-headed, and the sight of Alexander always inspires Hephaestion to think thoughts most blasphemous.
(Should Apollo himself come down and ask Hephaestion to judge between himself, Eros and Alexander, Hephaestion would choose Alexander though he die for it. Eyes love-blinded cannot be dazzled by the glory of the gods.)
“Why not?” Alexander asks, stretched out on his side and watching Hephaestion fondly. “Many in my father’s court have already suggested they would be open to the honor.”
“So I have heard,” Hephaestion says, eyes on Alexander’s muscles rather than his friend’s face. “But I would have none of them.”
“They can help you rise,” Alexander cautioned but he reached out and let one hand rest on Hephaestion’s bare skin. The skin was sunwarmed, stretched thinly over developing muscle, and Alexander heard the catch of Hephaestion’s breath.
Suddenly, Hepheastion was on him, just as when they were children and play-wrestled. He leaned over Alexander and blocked out the sun, unholy and unrestrained.
“I want no favor that does not come from you,” Hephaestion murmurs and Alexander drinks the words down like the nectar of the gods.
Alexander would never be an eromenos, would never have an erastes. He was the son of a king and could never yield to another.
But to take Hephaestion, who was so close in age to him…
Hesphaestion’s tunic hem dragged against Alexander’s thighs and a rich moan spilled from Alexander’s lips. Under the sun, in his friend’s shadow, he was lost and found and remade.
*
“Would you have really wed her?” Hephaestion asks later, much later, when the elders of Alexander’s circle have been sent away and Alexander has received a proper tongue lashing from his father over the Pixodarus affair.
“No,” Alexander says bluntly, raising a goblet to his mouth and then to Hephaestion’s. “But I would have made sure of it that she did not marry my father’s bastard. He has no right to a throne, even if it is only the throne of Caria. I would not allow him to gain so much power.”
“But one day,” Hephaestion says, the wine bitter in his mouth, “You will wed.”
“Yes,” Alexander admits after a short pause, turning to press his mouth to Hephaestion’s, murmuring his words against Hephaestion’s mouth, “But I will never love any other but you.”
He brands his promise into Hephaestion’s lips with a fire-forged kiss and Hephaestion feels the truth of them settle into his very bones.