Alexander & Hephaestion

[Thank you so much for your votes and e-mails -- I hope you enjoy this next instalment. It is slightly different to what I have written so far... Please remember to vote at the end, and I always welcome feedback!]

*

The men were roused and ready for the comparatively short march south to Babylon. It was certainly shorter than the vast distance they had travelled from their homes in Macedonia across the dark Aegean Sea to Asia and the Persian Empire. The going was always easier when a tantalising city holding an almost mythical place of beauty and sensuality in their minds awaited their arrival.

Each soldier had just one thought in mind during the march under the sweltering heat of the hot Eastern sun: luxury. This luxury meant as many men or women as they desired, as much treasure as they could carry and long, cool baths to wash away their exhaustion and memories of the arduous battles they had fought, losing blood and friends along the way.

Alexander rode alongside his men atop his pride and joy, Bucephalus. This horse he was proud to have broken in after his father's men had failed to tame it. It was huge and black and towered over not only the soldiers but also the horses of his generals who rode with him.

He looked carefree as he rode, his blonde hair freed from the leather thong he often used to tie it back with, particularly when he was wearing his plumed helmet. Alexander always cherished these moments after a successful battle, knowing there would be time for them all to enjoy life, which battle showed was so easily lost, and each other's company. He valued each and every one of the soldiers who trusted him as they trusted their own fathers and believed he would take them to the immortal planes of history and paradise.

***

At length, the army reached the banks of the river Euphrates. After their initial wonder at its size and the speed at which it travelled to the Persian Gulf, they broke ranks and leapt into the water's edge. They laughed and pushed each other under the clear blue waters, revelling in the freshness of the cool, rippling waves.

Just beyond the river was the city of Babylon and ... Barsine.

Alexander had pondered her presence there. He hadn't seen her for months, not since he had killed her husband, Memnon, in hand to hand combat. He had seen her cradle his enemy's head in her arms, her tears and long, brown tousled hair covering Memnon whilst blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth until his body shuddered and finally lay dead in her lap. Alexander had turned away from the sight but turned round once more when he heard Barsine speak.

"I curse you Alexander! I curse you and all your line! You will all die as my husband died," she spat at him, hate filling her beautiful brown eyes which ran with unending tears, testament to her grief which was overflowing her heart.

Alexander sighed inwardly as he walked smiling and waving through the monumental gates to the adulation of thousands. He knew Barsine would be in Babylon, though he tried not to think of the curses which she had rained down upon him and his future sons. He knew he would have to face her... he knew he would have to have her...and he knew it would destroy Hephaestion.

***

Having left his soldiers and generals who were raucously enjoying their men, women and copiously flowing wine in the palatial barracks, he turned to face Hephaestion who had followed him out of the doorway still carrying a jewelled goblet of the richly aromatic Persian wine in his large, strong hand.

Placing a hand on Hephaestion's shoulder, Alexander looked deep into his lover's playful eyes and said quietly, "Please my love, please give me a few moments to myself... so much has happened, I need to think."

The smile slowly faded from Hephaestion's face and he looked intently at Alexander who did his level best not to look away, but after a few moments his blue eyes left Hephaestion's and focused on the richly veined marble floor yet they saw nothing. Hephaestion shook his head and shook off Alexander's hand, then turned and walked back into the room full of revellers.

Alexander raised his anxious eyes from the floor and watched Hephaestion's tense back as he returned slowly to the barracks. He knew he had hurt him deeply. He wondered if their friendship would ever be the same again. He shook his head in an attempt to clear these dark thoughts from his mind and turned to walk through the torch-lit hallways to get to the harem.

***

As Hephaestion re-entered the revelry, he took a deep draught of his strongly spiced wine and a smile once again graced his beautiful face. This smile wasn't the warm loving and carefree one he had worn as Alexander had entered the room, but a hard, dark almost cruel smile. He was well aware what Alexander intended to do to Barsine. He knew him as well, if not better, than he knew his own heart and soul.

He took another deep drink of the wine needing it to blot out these thoughts from his mind before holding out the empty goblet to be refilled by a rather innocent looking boy who couldn't have been much older than twenty years old. This innocent look belied the experience Hephaestion knew he would have, having been trained in giving pleasure to his masters.

Hephaestion smiled a hard smile at him before throwing the contents of the goblet down his muscular throat and reaching out, he pulled the boy and his large brass jug towards him. He needed to be drunk, very drunk. He also needed to forget and this delightful slave with his gently muscled torso which peeked out from the one-shouldered, finely woven tunic would certainly help a little.

He pushed him to his knees between his thighs and the boy knew what he wanted. He tentatively ran his fingers across Hephaestion's taut and heavily muscled chest which was revealed by his opened tunic and began to press butterfly soft kisses across his pectorals, pausing to pay homage to the tight dusky pink buds of his nipples. Laving them with his tongue and sucking them before nipping them with his teeth.

At this Hephaestion groaned. He needed some soft agony in his love-making tonight. The slave acknowledged that he knew this man needed and began to pull and squeeze the growing length peeking out from under the pure white tunic, edged in saffron-coloured embroidery. Hephaestion pushed the boy's head down to his heavily veined cock, watching his teeth nip at his foreskin before sucking the angry red head into his moist mouth. He pinched the heavy sacs at its base and then smacked them repeatedly before Hephaestion's cock jumped in his mouth.

It was all he could do to stop cumming in the boy's mouth. He threw the goblet to the floor and hauled the boy to his lap, his arm muscles straining only a little at the effort. He pulled at the boys clothing, minimal as it was, frantically tearing it off his lithe body as the sexual slave positioned Hephaestion's cock at his entrance which was readily oiled for the pounding he knew he was going to get.

Hephaestion simultaneously pushed him down onto his thickly swollen length and thrust his cock upwards into his dark, tight channel. He cried out at the bliss of having him. He roughly and repeatedly rammed his cock up his silky smooth and perfectly lubricated ass, the slave holding onto Hephaestion's strong shoulders, sucking and licking his neck and ear lobe until at last Hephaestion shuddered and began to spurt ropes of his thick, pearlescent cum deep into his bowels.

Hephaestion closed his eyes as the sweat ran down the ridge at the centre of his chest.

The slave lay still in his arms for a few moments, before gently lifting his beautifully toned ass up from Hephaestion's lap, the cock which had been so rigid only moments before, fell out of his ass with a slight pop as it passed through his tight ring. He found a soft towel and began to wipe Hephaestion's body down before feeding succulent meats from a tray brought to them by another of the many slaves serving Alexander's men.

Hephaestion had found some refuge from the hellish thoughts of Alexander in another's arms, however briefly.

***

Barsine was laughing with her sisters who were all reclining around a central fountain on feather-filled pillows of brightly coloured silks, echoing the soft fabric which was sewn to fall in enticing drapes over their soft yet firm curves. The room was lit by a myriad of tall, tapering candles scented with patchouli and sandalwood, which were reflected by the crystal fountain and the small colourful mirrors embedded in the darkly polished wooden walls.

Barsine raised her long, slender arms, the golden bracelets delicately jingling, as she tried to illustrate the story she was telling them about the eunuch who had tried to walk as a man by filling the front of his loincloth with grapes. They all began to laugh anew, their delightful voices travelling through the marble corridors to envelop Alexander.

He stopped and listened, trying to make out Barsine's throaty voice from the others, after a few moments he heard it clearly. His breath caught in his chest and his heart almost stopped beating. It was her. After so many long years he once again heard her beautiful, unique tones. He quickened his pace to get to her.

A eunuch stepped in front of him as he neared the entrance to the room he had heard her voice emanating from. Raising one beautifully arched eyebrow and folding his arms across his large, round belly, Bagoas pursed his lips, looked Alexander up and down appreciatively, and asked, "So, my beautiful man, what do you want here, eh?"

Alexander was taken aback by his attitude and words, no one had ever had the audacity to speak to him like that. "Do you know who I am?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course. Who else would wander through the harem looking like a Macedonian god?" he retorted, smiling suggestively at him.

Alexander had to suppress a laugh at the cheek of the man, well, part man he reasoned, pretending to cough into his fist, but fooling neither of them. He had heard about these Persian eunuchs. They didn't even do obeisance to the Persian King of Kings but rather taunted and teased them. Their sharp wit and sharply observant humour was appreciated by the royal court and only once had one been put to death for relentlessly needling the founder of the Achaemenid dynasty, Achaemenes, who was not known for his kind nature, about a rather touchy subject -- namely being a man in body but almost as incapacitated as a eunuch.

Alexander reached into the small leather pouch which hung from his heavily embroidered belt and handed him a large silver medallion with his own profile impressed at its centre.

The eunuch peered at it and then looked questioningly at Alexander. "What would you have me do with this? Use it as a mirror to gaze upon my beauty?"

Alexander laughed softly and replied, "No, although that would be interesting. I would have you give this to your mistress Barsine."

The eunuch stiffened.

"Please," urged Alexander. "Do this and I will have you entertained by my very own masseuse."

"Entertained...? Ah! I catch your meaning," chuckled the eunuch who smiled broadly and whose eyes twinkled. He may have enjoyed all the pleasures that could be had in Babylon, but he had never yet experienced the intense bliss that could be drawn out by the thick, strong fingers of a Macedonian masseuse.

He turned his back on Alexander and, pushing aside the gauzy drapes that fell across the archway leading to the fountain room where Barsine and her harem sisters were enjoying themselves, approached Barsine. He touched her shoulder gently and when she turned, smiling, to face him, he discreetly showed her the medallion which Alexander had given for this purpose.

Alexander watched all of this as he stood at the very centre of the archway, barely concealed only by the gauze.

Barsine took the medallion slowly and a shocked expression covered her fine features. She swallowed. Almost immediately her wide eyes flew to the entrance, where they landed on the static figure of Alexander. They narrowed and the eunuch and all the women discreetly rose and quickly exited the room. When the last woman had left, she shrieked and violently threw the medallion at Alexander, who was pushing the gauzy curtains to one side and walking into the room, as she rose to face him.

"You!" she spat at him. "You dare show your face to me?"

Alexander had entered the room and continued to approach her fiery person, a neutral expression on his face. Her dark skin glowed in the candlelight making her look like a sultry goddess. The silks she was wearing were so fine that they were almost transparent and Alexander was sure he saw her nipples pressing against the folds of her dress. He felt his balls tighten and his manhood begin to swell under his tunic.

Barsine refused to back away. She stood her ground and glared at him. "What do you want with me? What more harm can you do? My husband is dead -- at your hands! -- and my children..." a sob caught in her slender throat and she pressed her hand against her chest as if it ached, "...my children are gone. Not until I die will I see my loved ones again. How can you face me?"

Alexander stood only inches from her body which was gently shaking with a depth of emotion that only came from tragedy and love. He looked into her deep, dark brown eyes which were welling with tears. One crystal clear drop fell from the corner of her eye and traced a line down her beautiful high cheekbone as she dropped her head.

Alexander reached towards her face and began to brush away her tear with his thumb. Barsine snapped out of her grief-stricken reverie and stepped away from him.

"Barsine," Alexander said softly, "you know I want you. You know I have always wanted you. Your husband taunted me at every turn, calling your name to me and knowing I would do anything to have you. He sold himself for Darius' gold... he sold himself into Persian service. I could not allow that to go unchallenged. No Greek, no Macedonian could ever allow that. Surely you must realise this?"

Barsine shook her head. "Alexander, I am a Persian! How can you say these things to me? I have lost all those I love! All of them! And all at your hands!"

"All?" Alexander looked at the floor and only spoke after a few long moments. "I had nothing to do with the death of your children, Barsine. That I would never do."

"I was told..."

"You were told a lie!" Alexander's eyes snapped back up at hers, they blazed with rage. "How could you believe me to be capable of that, Barsine?" His large, strong hands took her by the shoulders and shook her violently.

It was Barsine's turn to look away, her tears now falling readily. She tugged herself out of his clasp and slumped to the floor, back to the wall and hugged her knees, sobbing. She knew in her heart that he could not have killed her two beautiful children. They were only toddlers when they were butchered in cold blood. She had seen their blood-stained bodies when she returned from the battlefield with the body of her husband. She had thought she would lose her mind, so stricken with grief she was.

Alexander approached her and knelt by her. He ran his fingers through her long black curly locks of hair and kissed the top of her head, pulling her into his embrace and holding her as she sobbed into his chest.

He had loved this woman since he had first seen her as a young boy of eleven. She had been travelling with her father, a high-ranking Persian ambassador related to the King himself, when they entered Macedon with their retinue. Their fathers, though on opposing sides, had enjoyed each other's company, sharing the same interests and concerns.

Alexander and Barsine had been allowed to play in each other's company, sometimes under the supervision of his teacher, Aristotle, who noted the complementary nature of their personalities and who sighed to himself knowing that theirs was a love that could never grow and form the natural union of marriage. Instead it would be full of passion, torment and violence that may weather bleak storms, but would never die and leave one another in peace to find a restful soulful love with another.

Alexander remembered their time as youths and pulled her closer into his arms, closing his eyes. He thought back to their second meeting in Sardis when they were older. Then they had shared their bodies with one another, amazed at the depth of emotion and bliss they had found in each others arms. Barsine had lost her virginity to Alexander, and this had been the only time Alexander had slept with a woman.

They had known that this was as much as they could offer to one another, that Barsine had been promised to Memnon, a powerful Greek general, in order to cement an alliance between Persia and Greece. She had wept for weeks after her union with Alexander, doubting she would ever find love again. But she had found a gentleness with Memnon. He was as patient and loving with her in private as he was hard and brutal in battle. Memnon had known she would always carry Alexander deep in her soul, but still he loved her and cherished her. Their union had produced two beautiful children that they placed at the centre of their world, until it had been shattered. Barsine had blamed Alexander for so long, but in her heart, she knew that it could not have been his fault. There were always powerful currents around Alexander that affected all who knew him, but she knew he was a good, though tormented, man.

Barsine's tears eventually stopped falling and she stilled, comfortable, in the warm circle he had created around her and, wiping her eyes, looked up at him. He opened his eyes at her movement and their eyes met. He looked into her face and his gaze lingered on her full, pink and brown lips. She unconsciously moistened them with her tongue and he groaned against her, finally pressing his mouth against hers.

His tongue teased the seam between her lips and as she tentatively opened her mouth he pushed his tongue in to taste her. He found her as beautifully fresh and gently spiced as he had remembered. Their tongues entwined as the kiss grew deeper and fired the lust that had always smouldered between the two of them.

Barsine's hand moved up to caress his cheek and gradually up to his soft blonde hair which she wound around her long, slim fingers, losing herself in his arms and his kisses. Alexander hardened and pulled her onto his lap, his hands kneading her curvaceous ass, where she ground herself against him. He gasped and, pulling away from her mouth, he threw his head back, the muscles in his neck straining.

She kissed and nuzzled his neck, moving down to his collarbone before pulling away from him and looking up at him as she began to open the top of her silk dress. Alexander looked down at her, awestruck, as she freed her full, round breasts from the confines of her clothing. Her skin was the colour of warm, golden sand and her pert breasts were tipped with dusky nipples. She had filled out and become a woman since he had last taken her. With such sultry beauty before him, he could wait no longer.

Alexander frantically pulled her dress from her body, ripping part of the fine fabric but caring little about it, before pulling his own pure white linen tunic over his head and throwing it to one side.

He picked Barsine up and carried her over to a large pile of huge silk cushions, laying her gently down among them. She gazed up at him, his long, slightly wavy, blonde hair falling forward, his rippling muscles taut under skin that glowed bronze under the candlelight above and around them, and she pulled him down to her.

Alexander looked into her eyes before kissing his way down her wonderfully soft and curvy body, cupping her full breasts with his warm hands and taking a dark nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting gently on it before moving further down on his journey to her molten core.