Khillea hesitated for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as she stood outside the tent. The air was thick with tension, and the noises coming from within stirred something deep inside her—something she had long kept buried. The sound of unrestrained passion washed over her like a wave, pulling her in, drawing her toward the edge of her own desires, ones she had suppressed for years.
Inside, the muffled cries of pleasure echoed, the voice of a woman lost in ecstasy—uninhibited, unashamed. Khillea felt a strange pull toward the scene unfolding just beyond the fabric of the tent, as if curiosity had taken root in her, compelling her to sneak a glimpse into a world she had denied herself. With a cautious glance over her shoulder, she lifted the edge of the flap ever so slightly and peeked inside.
"HAAAAAN! YES!! Ahahaannn❤️!! Harderrrr❤️❤️!!"
The woman's voice was breathy, filled with raw, sensual hunger. It sent a shiver down Khillea's spine, making her body tingle in a way that felt foreign, unfamiliar. Despite herself, her pulse quickened. She could see the woman clearly now—beautiful, ethereal in the dim light, her body arching as she clung desperately to the man thrusting into her with an almost primal intensity.
The woman's legs trembled on the man's shoulders, her face flushed, lips parted in a perfect expression of ecstasy. Her long hair spilled over the table like a silken river, her skin glowing with the sheen of sweat as their bodies collided rhythmically. The man—he was relentless, his powerful hips slamming against her as the table creaked beneath their weight.
Khillea couldn't help but be struck by the scene, a forbidden voyeur watching from the shadows. The man was handsome, undeniably so, his muscles taut as he moved with an effortless confidence. A lucky man, she thought fleetingly, to have a woman like this beneath him—beautiful and utterly lost in pleasure. Even Khillea, who had trained herself to ignore such things, found her gaze lingering longer than she intended.
"Do you want to get pregnant, Aisha?" the man suddenly leaned in, his voice dark and intimate as he whispered into the woman's ear.
Khillea's heart skipped a beat. Pregnant
.
The word struck her, sending a jolt through her body. She swallowed hard, the ache in her throat matching the strange, uncomfortable warmth building between her legs.
That was
her
wish. A wish she had harbored in secret for so long.
"Yesss! Haaaannn❤️! Make me pregnant, Nathan! Aahaaan❤️! Give me a baby!" Aisha moaned loudly, her voice a mix of desperation and bliss as she nodded frantically, her body writhing beneath his touch.
Khillea felt her pulse race, her breathing quickening as her body reacted to the words. Pregnant
.
. Achilles had given the order, and she was bound to follow through. It wasn't as if the man would refuse—no one refused the call of Achilles.
But just as she was lost in her thoughts, the familiar figure of Patroclus appeared in her path, stepping out of the shadows. His presence startled her for a moment, but she quickly masked it with a smile.
"Achilles," Patroclus said, addressing her formally at first, though his tone softened when he realized who it was. "What are you doing here?" He had just finished a strategic discussion with Odysseus and was on his way back to camp when he spotted his cousin.
Khillea's grin widened, her eyes gleaming with a spark of mischief. "I found someone ready to give me a child," she declared, her voice filled with excitement, as if she had just uncovered a long-lost treasure.
Patroclus nearly choked on his own breath, his face going pale for a moment. His eyes darted around, making sure no one else had overheard such a bold statement. He turned to her, his brow furrowed in disbelief.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice a hushed whisper, though laced with concern. His protective instincts toward her flared up immediately.
Khillea's expression didn't falter. In fact, she seemed more resolute. "I'm going to die in this war, Patroclus. That much is certain." Her tone was casual, but her eyes held a quiet determination. "So, I'll leave something behind. A child. It will be my legacy."
Patroclus opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He couldn't bring himself to argue, not when she spoke so bluntly about her own fate. The thought of Khillea—his cousin, the woman he had always treated like a sister—dying in this senseless war twisted something deep in his chest. But her mind was set, and he knew her well enough to understand that no amount of reasoning would sway her.
"Do you know him?" Patroclus asked after a pause, hoping, against hope, that maybe there was something more behind her decision. "Is he someone you've been seeing? Someone you care about?"
Khillea's laugh was sharp and short, almost dismissive. "What? No. I just met him today. But he's good enough to give me a child." She shrugged, as if the choice were as simple as selecting a new weapon for battle.
Patroclus stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. "You're really going to..."
"Yes," she interrupted, her voice firm. "I'm going to fuck someone I just saw. Are you going to help me or not?"
There was a finality in her words, a challenge even. Patroclus knew that nothing he could say would change her mind. He let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temple as he resigned himself to her plan.
"Fine," he muttered, still uneasy but unable to deny her. "What do you need me to do?"
Khillea's smile returned, softer this time, almost girlish. "As soon as he leaves the tent, call him over. Tell him I've summoned him to mine."
Patroclus frowned, understanding exactly what she intended, but he nodded nonetheless. "As you wish."
"Good," she said, her voice tinged with excitement. Without another word, she turned on her heel and hurried off toward her tent, her heart pounding in her chest.