Fic: Like Mars Himself (Alexander/Hephaistion) Rated R

Holy shit, I wrote a fic.

Tomorrow is musesfool's birthday, but she gets this today because she won't be around tomorrow. Lucky girl.

Title: Like Mars Himself
Author: Devil Doll
Summary: "Alexander felt none of that, it was obvious." Kinda angsty, but a little schmoopy, too.
Rating: R for slight slashy naughtiness.
Website: Fan Fiction I Wrote Yay!
Disclaimer: I don't own Alexander or Hephaistion, and neither to do you. I make no money off this, and intend no harm to their reputations as a world conqueror and his gay lover. Any resemblance to any other works, professional or fan-made, is purely coincidental.
Notes: Inspired by the Renault books and that infamous "Hephaistion's thighs" quote. Written for one of my best friends in the whole wide world, musesfool, who has written me many stories. It was time I returned the favor. Happy birthday, Vic. I don't know what I would do without you and Bethy. *wxwx* And I'm sorry you had to beta read it yourself!
Date Posted: July 14th, 2005



He called from the ship to his comrade Patroclus, who heard him in the tent and came out looking like Mars himself... From "The Iliad" by Homer, translation by Samuel Butler.*

---

The very first time, Hephaistion knew it was no accident, no impulsive act to be regretted later. Alexander never did anything that wasn't decided upon, and if he had decided against this there would have been no swaying him.

And yet.

While Hephaistion sank into the bed, feeling as if his bones had pleasantly turned to warm oil, Alexander was silent and still, except to sigh.

Hephaistion's heart, so recently buoyed by love, sank.

He raised himself up on an arm so he could see Alexander's face, and it was a small comfort when Alexander's hand slid into his hair. Familiar fingers traced the curve of his ear, dipping into the notch left behind by a sword he'd been too slow to duck.

Alexander sometimes teased him about the scar, perhaps haunted still by how close the blade had come, but tonight there was no teasing. Alexander shifted, taking Hephaistion's weight readily enough when he eased over him, but did not smile.

Hephaistion felt near to bursting with smiles. He felt as if he could laugh and whoop and thank the gods for finally granting his most fervent wish.

Alexander felt none of that, it was obvious.

And all of Hephaistion's smiles turned to fear.

His fingers dug into Alexander's shoulder, clinging not just to him, but to this moment. It was a moment he'd hoped to have many times over, when their legs were a tangle beneath the sheet and Alexander's lips were kiss-bruised, and for once he didn't feel as if the longing in him would drive him mad.

There was a plea hidden in the tightening of his grip, and that much Alexander, who never seemed to miss even the smallest indications of what Hephaistion was feeling, recognized at once.

His hand slid to the back of Hephaistion's neck and gripped it tightly, strong fingers giving weight to his words. "I wanted to."

It was no small relief, and Hephaistion made his own fingers relax.

"I know," he said, lest Alexander think he did not believe him, though Hephaistion was not entirely certain Alexander spoke the whole truth. "Are you hurt? Next time I could --"

But Alexander shook his head and looked past Hephaistion in that way he had that always made Hephaistion think the gods had given him the gift of foresight. It was not a blank look, or a dreamy one. It was as if he truly saw.

This once, Hephaistion was not sure he wanted to know what Alexander could see. His words had a way of becoming truth. Perhaps it was a truth Hephaistion did not want to confront.

"I will always want this, now," said Alexander.

So unaccustomed was he to what he heard in Alexander's voice, it took Hephaistion a moment to recognize it as hopelessness.

Hephaistion was silent, as was his way, while he considered Alexander's words.

Alexander prided himself on going without. He didn't need rich foods or dancing girls or more wood on the fire when it was cold. He didn't need extra water or constant reassurances of his wisdom and authority.

But he needed Hephaistion, of that Hephaistion was certain, and he needed the things they did together. He needed the touch of Hephaistion's hands and the warmth of his mouth, and the weight of him between his thighs.

And it was beyond his control.

It had not been lack of desire that had made Alexander delay this moment, Hephaistion realized--it had been fear of unleashing that desire.

For an instant, Hephaistion felt the weight of his power, and imagined what he could do with it.

There had been a moment of surprise when Alexander had shown him what he wanted with nudges and soft noises, squirming beneath Hephaistion, rolling onto his belly. But Hephaistion had long ago overcome his tendency to question his luck where Alexander was concerned, to hesitate when opportunity arose.

In all those nights of fantasy--alone in his bed, or as Alexander dreamt the dreams of the gods' favorite against his shoulder--only rarely had Hephaistion allowed himself to contemplate this. Everyone else had long ago assumed him claimed by Alexander--not even Hephaistion had dared imagine the reverse could be true.

As Hephaistion had pressed forward, jaw clenched against the unexpected ferocity that rose in him, Alexander had moaned his name and arched between Hephaistion's braced arms, and Hephaistion had seen something he would never forget--Alexander at his mercy.

He tried to draw it out, but when he remembered it later it seemed to last only a moment before it was over. It had been sweaty and fleeting, and sweeter than any success on the battlefield. Alexander had been conquered, and it was a victory Hephaistion intended to claim again and again.

But now, he remembered that feeling and was ashamed.

For years he had imagined it all wrong. He'd thought himself subject to Alexander's wants and whims, always hoping and watching for the barest hint of more. He hadn't known he'd been the one with the power.

But he would not hold it over him

Alexander claimed he would always want this, and Hephaistion was quick to realize that sometimes the knowledge of the wanting would have to suffice.

"So will I," he said. "When you are king --"

"And you are a general," Alexander said, smiling, pleased as always when they spoke of glories to come, because it would never occur to him that they might not materialize as he envisioned them.

Whatever thought Hephaistion had been about to voice deserted him then as he felt Alexander stir against his belly. The hand in his hair slipped slowly down his back.

Hephaistion did nothing; it was not unlike Alexander to spurn something just when he longed for it most. He kept himself still and struggled to say something that might reassure Alexander, something that would make it clear Hephaistion understood, but would never abuse his place.

But Alexander smiled, and Hephaistion's heart quickened to see it, and then his body did the same. And in that smile Hephaistion saw that Alexander already knew, and he realized that if Alexander hadn't already trusted him, this wouldn't have happened at all.

There was nothing to say.

So Hephaistion kissed him instead.

The End

Comment on this story at my LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/devildoll/630315.html

*Yes, I know Mars is the Roman name for the god of war, not the Greek one. But that line in the Butler translation has always stuck with me, and "Like Ares Himself" just doesn't have the same ring to it. I'm sure Alexander and Hephaistion won't care. *g*