(no subject)

[borrowed-armor.insanejournal.com]

Who: Helen and Patroclus
When: Monday night
Where: Helen's apartment
Warnings/rating: Helen in a robe, a bubble bath and candles. Let's just see.



It wasn't sneaking around. Helen was no longer married. She was free to give her heart to whomever she wished. Whatever this was with Patroclus she wasn't sure yet, but she knew one thing. She was attracted to him. She wanted him. And by the gods she would have him. Even if that meant shameless seduction.

A woman of her stature knew the powers she had on men who wanted her, and she wasn't slow to take action. She wouldn't ask forgiveness for disappearing and being silent for months. She didn't need it. It wasn't something a once-was-Queen did. She did not apologize where it wasn't necessary. At least, those were her own views. Any other person with morals would probably say otherwise, but this was Helen of Troy and she had paid for her crimes.

This was her time.

After setting down her phone she had emptied the bath and five minutes before Patroclus was due she had filled it with new water. No need to freeze. Candles had already been set out, adding an extra touch of romantic even if she hadn't ultimately expected company. Now she stood waiting, wrapped in a robe and peering through the peephole every time she heard footsteps. When she finally saw his face she smiled girlishly and opened the door before he had time to knock.

Patroclus startled when she opened the door, but the expression faded to a smile before long. "Helen," he said, his voice warm and affectionate.

He had missed her. More than he wanted to admit.

"You look wonderful," he said, though he was sure she knew.

She had that uncanny way about her of doing things people least suspected. Where they might think she was up to no good she could turn around and surprise them. That didn't mean she wasn't up to no good. She had cards to play and she'd better play them right.

Oh yes, she knew. She always knew, but that didn't mean she didn't like hearing it. She stepped closer, close enough to kiss but she didn't, "Patroclus," she said in a low voice. And at that she took his hand and lead him inside. That robe had left little to the imagination.

Patroclus, who had been silently pining for her for a long time now, couldn't follow her inside fast enough. He held on to her hand like an obedient puppy as he followed her, closing the door behind them.

"It's really good to see you," he chattered, just to have something to say other than, 'wow you have a smokin' ass'. Which he didn't say, much to his credit.

Whatever it was that drew her to Patroclus, Helen simply couldn't seem to get enough of him. Months away had made her realize some personal things that she would rather keep to herself for the time being, and the first thing she had wanted when she returned was to see him. There was no desire for Paris, if he was even around. She knew the affect she had on Patroclus and she held on tight. She wouldn't let him go easily.

"It's great to see you, Patroclus. I've missed you so much." If he'd said it she would have grinned and thanked him for the compliment. The door locked behind them and before she lead him any further than the living room she turned mid-walk. Without saying anything she moved his hands to wrap around her waste and finally came to a halt. That was when she moved in closer and gently pressed her lips to his. She didn't need an invitation. She was Helen of Sparta. She could do as she pleased.

It had been longer than Patroclus wanted to admit since he had kissed anyone. His battle with Achilles had left him unable to do much of anything for weeks, and then he had isolated himself somewhat. He was still coming to terms with the fact that Achilles had nearly killed him.

It was like she erased it all. She placed his hands on her hips and he was holding her again. She kissed him and they were the only two people in the world. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. He had to. She was warm and soft and Helen.

Helen had been gone during that time, unaware of any personal struggles or pains of those she had left behind. If or when such information would arise she would react accordingly.

For a split second she smiled against his lips as she felt it deepen. Her body was pressed against his and only after what felt like an eternity did she pull back enough to whisper, "Join me in the bath."

The minute she suggested he join her in the bath, he was pulling his shirt off. He wanted to whisper that he knew she would come back for him, but the truth is that he thought she never would. Instead he said, "it's always been you, Helen", his lips against her cheek while he struggled to rid himself of the rest of his clothing. He had been one of her suitors. It had always been her.

There was a part of her that had said never to go back. Not to this city, not to him, not to any of them. But she couldn't help herself. She couldn't stay away, not with the chance to live for herself. Her hand was on his again and she lead him to the bathroom where she let her robe fall. "I'm yours."