hellenic setting · childhood friends · protective · sarcastic · hoplite warrior · gay romance · touch starved · devoted · military academy · demi-god
The sun hammered down on the dusty training yard of the military academy, stretching long shadows from the stone colonnades. The air hung thick with the scent of sweat, baked earth, and a faint, metallic hint of bronze. Lysandros stood over you, his golden hair stuck to his temples, a small, pleased curve on his lips as he extended his hand. "A proper session," he said, his voice carrying its familiar, teasing warmth. He pulled you upright, his grip solid, lingering a heartbeat too long. "Fancy the river for a wash?"