[Hey, here is the next installment of Alexander and Hephaestion's bliss... I always love to hear from you and any suggestions you may have to keep this story going! Your messages keep this writer writing!]
Alexander extricated himself from Barsine's arms as soon as he knew she was asleep. Guilt stemming from bedding her was already beginning to overwhelm him.
Although he had always been drawn to Barsine since he first set eyes upon her as an impressionable youth, his life was inextricably linked with that of his true love, his Hephaestion. He knew his coupling with Barsine would have tormented Hephaestion and that there would be a price to pay if he wanted to join him in his bed once more.
Beyond this, he knew instinctively that his seed had joined with that of the sleeping woman, and if the child was a boy there would be those in Babylon and elsewhere in his kingdom who would use any means necessary to use him as a pawn in the continual battle against the military and personal might of Alexander. Would he be able to kill his own son if it came to it?
Alexander shook his head and sent a prayer to his celestial father, the almighty Zeus, for a daughter. A beautiful daughter just like her mother.
Pulling on his tunic and brushing back his golden locks, he took a last, lingering look over Barsine's sleeping form. Her dusky breasts gently rising and falling with her deep, slumbering breaths, her long-lashed lids resting against her high cheeks and her beautiful, curvaceous body lying against the silken cushions which had borne the brunt of their urgent love-making.
He left. He was never to see her again.
****
Hephaestion awoke with a dull-ache in his temples. Oh Gods, all that wine… he groaned as he remembered the previous evening and his bleary eyes suddenly opened wide letting in the rays of the rising sun as he remembered all that had unfolded… he closed them once again and rubbed them hard.
By Apollo, it had been a long evening… and a tiring one at that. That slave-boy certainly knew how to entertain, and by the gods, he had kept him entertained for hours. He gave a wry grin as he remembered the soft buttocks he had grasped and that tight ass clamped around his long, hard cock…
He lay back and stretched his beautifully bronzed and muscular body on the hard bed he found himself lying on, squinting up through the small window high in the rough stone wall, watching the rays of the sun gradually begin to fall across his naked skin. He idly rubbed his chest and wondered if he ought to call a slave for some sherbet to slake his thirst when the slave from the previous night quietly entered the small room with his eyes dropped demurely to the floor.
"May I bring you anything my lord?" he asked in his musical voice.
Hephaestion smiled and thought he could get used to living in Babylon.
***
Within the main palace complex, Alexander aimlessly wandered through the cool, white marble corridors encountering no one at this strange time between night and day before eventually finding himself in front of a beautifully carved door of exotic teak wood inlaid in ivory and mother of pearl. Alexander ran his hands over its smooth, glossy surface wondering at both the workmanship and the use of such extraordinarily rare commodities in the form of a simple door. The Babylonian king may have lost to him in battle, but he had clearly known how to live. He thought that there must be something of special value behind such a door.
He put his ear to the door, listening closely for any sounds that might echo from beyond it. Yet, he could hear nothing. His curiosity aroused, he pushed the door and when it didn't budge, he put his muscle-bound shoulder to it and shoved. The door gave with a loud groan and, as Alexander quickly looked over his shoulder to check if the noise had alerted anyone, slowly edged into the room.
The highly trained senses he had been taught to develop since his childhood were as alert as if he were tracking a mortal enemy in a silent forest. He inched his way through the doorway into what he found to be a darkened room. He closed his brilliant blue eyes for a moment and then opened them, allowing them to adjust to the darkness within.
He wasn't entirely sure what he had been expecting, a storage room of the kings treasures perhaps, or even a tunnel leading out of the palace complex, and he raised one of his arched eyebrows in surprise at what he saw before him.
At the far end of what seemed to be a huge room, was a high throne the colour of bronze which glinted in the narrow strip of golden light which caught it from the door Alexander had opened. He ventured further in and pulled the door partially closed behind him.
There were couches covered in purple silk lining the edges of the rectangular room, glistening mosaics on the floor which could be glimpsed in those places where thick jewel-toned rugs didn't cover them and yet, despite these displays of ostentatious luxury, Alexander's eyes were drawn to that throne which he slowly approached.
It was magnificent. There was no other word to describe it. As he ran his hands over the cushioned seat of deep indigo silk and onto the sturdy solid gold armrests studded with pearls, rubies and sapphires among other sparkling gems and onto the back which was shaped like the fan of a peacocks tail and studded with precious stones to emulate the plumage of this glorious bird. The cost of this throne alone would pay his armies for a generation.
He was awestruck and moved to sit upon it.
****
As Alexander wandered through the palace and found the throne room to rival anything that had yet been seen in any empire of the world in riches or workmanship, Hephaestion held the slave boy on his lap whilst he was fed soft, ripe apricots. He enjoyed groping and fondling his lithe body and running his tongue over the small budlike nipples before sucking and teasing them with gentle nips. This really was the life.
He thought back to those wonderful youthful times spent getting to know Alexander, falling in love with him and learning to explore their lust with one another and exhausting their desires time and time again. As the older of the two in their relationship, he had initiated the physical aspect of their love, being the first to penetrate Alexander's hard buttocks into his taut, puckered anus which he had been first to take for his pleasure.
The hard physical exercise had begun early in life for Alexander and his Companions of whom Hephaestion was one. They were raised to fight together and support Alexander fiercely throughout his life although also to temper his judgements and rein him in when he got above himself.
Hephaestion was the first to be handed the thin strip of leather by their tutor Aristotle when Alexander had wilfully disobeyed him on one occasion too many. Aristotle had ordered Alexander to stand by the whipping post and Hephaestion to whip him until Alexander acknowledged that to put himself above the gods was sheer hubris, whatever the parentage his mother Olympia ascribed to him.
Hephaestion had run his hand down Alexander's back, whispering in his ear for forgiveness which Alexander refused to answer, before beginning a whipping that was to last one hundred strokes. Hephaestion had wept for Alexander's agony which lasted for days, but after which Alexander had kissed him in forgiveness for the pain he knew he endured for his own boyishly outspoken folly. Hephaestion remembered this kiss as one of the most tender they had shared.
It was in this reminiscence that he knew he had to go and find Alexander. He was deeply hurt that Alexander would share himself with another but had always been aware of the attraction Barsine held for Alexander. He also knew it was Alexander's duty to plant his seed in another, especially in light of the future hunt for Darius that would take them far out of the civilised world that they knew of and, gods forbid, might not come back from. Sons were, after all, the only true legacy a man left behind. Hephaestion gave a wry smile at the thought of another young Alexander dashing about with a head of blonde curls and earnest yet mischievous sky-blue eyes.
He took one more plump and juicy purple grape into his mouth from the slender fingers of the slave before kissing him firmly on his soft rosebud lips and releasing him onto his feet. The slave boy noted Hephaestion's eyes linger on the gauzy loincloth he was wearing and quickly removed it, tying it around Hephaestion's own hips. Hephaestion smiled at him in thanks as the boy walked from his room nude.
*****
Hephaestion left his room and wandered aimlessly, it seemed, through the palace complex. He stopped at a marble balcony that overlooked what he thought must have been the hanging gardens he had heard of from bards that sang of its mysterious trees and exotic flowers. He had always assumed it must have been either simply a story invented to fascinate men and women but had never in his wildest dreams thought it might be even more magnificent than the descriptions given over midnight recitations as the feasting in the Macedonian palace came to an end.
He heard a rustle behind him and saw a slave woman walk past the balcony entrance. He put out a hand to her and she came to stand before him immediately, eyes trained at his feet.