Achilles is used to a life with rules and structure. Being attracted to men doesn't fit into what he considers structured. But he's used to burying things deep down, and this is just another item on the list.
Xander crosses into his life, and he's...
Also—I said earlier Xander had a birthmark kind of mark on the back of his neck. It's more of a scar because Achilles bit him and it's not super big.
—probably like that big, as big as that tattoo.—
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~Xander~
"What do you mean you're fully booked?" I heard Achilles try to whisper just as I was getting home. I took my time to take off my winter jacket, putting it up in the closet, and removing my boots. I eavesdropped as Achilles failed to secure yet another reservation.
I walked into the room Achilles was using as his study, seeing that he'd been working on his work project. Apparently, some architects made 3D models of future development plans and I wasn't sure how he did it but I saw a little neighbourhood on the large oak desk, with a few skyscrapers.
He looked frustrated but stood up when he saw me. We embraced quickly, Achilles giving me a quick peck before asking about my day.
"Were you trying to to make a reservation for Antonio's?" I asked.
He froze before frowning, "C'mon Xander, you told me I could take care of Valentine's day."
"It's nothing." I said, sitting down in an arm chair and pushing my knees under my chin, while hugging my bent legs. "I could just ask one of my friends if you're having trouble finding a spot."
Achilles was shaking his head, sitting on the arm of the chair. His hands carded through my hair, "No connections. I'll take care of it. How was your session with the doctor?"
It was my turn to frown, "It was okay." That's what I always said whether it went well or poorly. Whether I had to remember things I didn't want to think about it, or if we talked about coping methods. It was always very emotionally exhausting. So often, I wanted to skip the sessions but I knew Achilles would be disappointed so I told myself I would try it for three months. But, I considered it my own thing, not something I would willingly talk about or discuss, not even with Achilles.
The doctor told me it was important to form meaningful and lasting positive relationships as part of my recovery. Even if I wanted to isolate myself it wouldn't be the right thing to do.
Achilles was still touching my hair, moving down to squeeze the back of my neck. "Oh, fuck." I said, "Please, don't do that. That spot is—" Somehow the place where Achilles had bit and marked me was weird. When I touched it, it made my extremities tingle and my heart beat faster. But, when Achilles touched that spot, it put my entire body on some strange aroused edge that only he could relieve.
Achilles removed his hand but the damage was done. I was sufficiently hot and bothered. I tugged at my collar, feeling like I was sweating.
He was almost laughing, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Are you sweating?"
