Chapter Text
It’s been a long time since he’s died.
Prematurely, that is. It was a mistake, this time. A slip, a hail of golden bullets, a hooked horn that gored him vertebra to navel.
Presently, Meg’s nail spirals around said navel, which shivers beneath her touch.
“Whole and unblemished again,” she murmurs. “We’ve got to do something about that, don’t we?”
She glances up then, not at him, but Than. They divested Zagreus of his clothing to examine him, every centimeter of Styx-washed skin, which Meg rated with a clicking tongue. Now Than takes the cue, and gives something back: a blindfold, which comes down, impermeable, sealing Zagreus in darkness.
“Hands,” Than says, and Zagreus swallows, and offers them. So new to him still, Than’s voice commanding him, much less binding his wrists as Meg’s nail draws a line now down the inside of Zagreus’s thigh. Meg pets Zagreus’s stirring cock absently.
“How long do you have?” Meg asks.
“The afternoon,” Than replies. “Or evening. Or morning. Whatever.”
Meg’s voice is bright. “What a coincidence.”
:::
Recently their game has been How many times can we make Zag come, and they’d gotten good at it, with much less practice than it was taking Zagreus to manage even a slightly pleasant sound from the harp getting dusty in the corner of his room. Their record, recently attained, was five, in an hour, achieved by emptying him relentlessly on hands and knees into a spare Nectar bottle, until his spasms didn’t yield a single drop.
Presently, between the rustle of cloth as they undress, he hears the sing of glass again. He feels himself tense.
“He thinks we’re going to milk him again,” Meg says. “So eager to be our cow, aren’t you, Zag? Maybe we should let the Minotaur know. He can add to our handiwork next time, instead of erasing it.”
“It’s not Nectar this time,” Than says.
They seem to already have some idea of what they’re going to do. Zagreus swallows. “You plan things out now? When I’m not here?”
There’s a pause. He imagines them looking at each other. Or maybe looking at how he’s getting harder. Zagreus is thinking about this new information. Thinking a lot of things about it.
Meg speaks first, low. “Zag, please. You have no idea the things we get to when you’re not here. If I waited for you I’d be getting off once a month.”
Is that — true? Or just part of the game? Zagreus turns to where he thinks Than is, and jumps when he feels the bed creak from the opposite direction. Damned phasing. Than brushes his lips to Zagreus’s ear.
“Megaera’s been teaching me quite a bit,” he murmurs. “All the things you like, of course. But some things that I’m learning I like, too.”
What?
“We wasted so much time pining after him,” Meg sighs. “Didn’t we?”
What?
“It’s fine. We have all the rest of time to make up for it.”
There’s a sound then, that sounds suspiciously like a kiss, followed by another laugh from Meg, a rare kind which he definitely recognizes, too warm and too genuine to be a lie. Zagreus starts; his binding strains.
Blood and —
“Take the blindfold off,” he tries, suddenly. “I — want to —”
See whatever it is they’re doing. Ropes and blindfolds have nothing on the idea of — that. Meg and Than. Together. He knows about their history already, but assumed, for some reason, that it was all in the past. But if it — wasn’t —
His mind plunges, wantonly. What was their dynamic like? Did Meg still prefer the top, when it was him? Somehow it seemed different. Maybe their long and close history means his two lovers come together with ease and easiness, Than spreading her legs with uncommon assertion and Meg accepting the whole breadth of him with uncommon welcome, like he’s belonged inside her for centuries.
“Look at that.” Meg, with surprise. “We’ve hardly even touched him down there.”
“And now we don’t need to,” Than says. “Good to know.”
“You’re even more of a pervert than I thought, Zag. I really never would have guessed.”
“Let’s get started. Could you please hand it to me?”
“Cheers,” Meg says, imitating Zagreus’s accent. A moment later, Zagreus gasps as he is drenched, completely. His muscles spasm in the cold; above him, something glugs, and he hears liquid splash across the bed and floor as Than upends the bottle. Zagreus’s open mouth catches some errant streams, and identifies the drink immediately: not water, and not even Nectar. Ambrosia.
As light on his tongue as snowfall, as sweet and breathtaking as a first kiss. Stolen behind the laurels. Given in the secrecy of a dark hood.
They settle around him; Than behind, Meg in front. Meg pinches her fingers on Zagreus’s cheeks until his jaw parts, and the bottle clicks against his teeth as it yields its last drops, faintly copper, faintly sweet. Then, with his mind beginning to sway, they begin.
Meg had always loved to leave kissmarks on him — small ones, peppering his nape and back — in places no one would see even when Cerberus’s rightmost head yanked and chewed on his robes. The habit belongs to the three of them now, to both her little bites and Than’s broader marks of passion, and Zagreus is often left with spots too enthusiastic to be discrete, but which he likes too much to curb entirely. Anyway, he gets bruises all the time, in the Underworld. Right?
They are just not this pleasant to obtain. Zagreus groans as Than hugs him into his lap, laving, sipping Ambrosia off his shoulder blades, grazing his teeth on each trembling protrusion of Zagreus’s arched spine. Their hips rock together, slowly, firmly, though Zagreus’s rhythm is unsteadied by Meg kissing and licking his face, his throat, his pebbling nipples, her tongue seeking every stray drop, pulling his skin into her mouth until it darkens. She sucks his fingers that flutter in their bindings, laves his groin that Than exposes for her with a well-positioned knee. Gods, they’re going to lick every centimeter of him. He has been moaning for a while, he realizes. His whole body is thrumming. Ambrosia tastes different every time, but the effect tends to be the same. His humming mind is separating from itself — and honing — anchoring on every sensation. Their hot, wet tongues. Their hot, wet bodies.
“Ah...gods...gods...”
Meg pinches his ear, murmurs into it. “It’s us here. Not them. Do they ever give you boons like this?”
The bed creaks as she shifts — she thumbs open this mouth, pets his tongue, guides his chin up until he is kneeling, a bit, separated from Than’s cock hardening against him, but for good reason. Something fits into his mouth, something deliciously hot and so so so soft — Meg’s breast, whose nipple he purses hungrily between his lips.
“Gods, Meg, it’s been forever since I —”
“I know. Don’t get rowdy and suck it off. Go slow.”
“But I want to —”
His plead falls apart as Than caresses his backside, and then, without further preamble, slides an oiled finger inside him. Meg holds his face and Zagreus judders and groans and tries to maintain control of his mouth around her as Than pumps into him, well-acquainted now with how Zagreus likes it, steady and almost artless, a rhythm even more relentless for how it maintains even as Zagreus’s insides wetly clutch around his second, third fingers.
“So easy,” Than says. “I always thought Meg had to put a lot of effort into...training you. But your body craves this.”
Hearing Than talk that way is never going to get old. Zagreus is sure that they both see the goosebumps flush up across his entire body.
“Not just this,” Zagreus moans, needy. “You. Both of you. Please fuck me. Please.”
Meg laughs above him, wraps her arms around his head to smother him against her breasts.
“See why I always use a gag? He’s even more chatty in bed.”
“I don’t mind it,” Than says. “I’ve always liked listening to him.”
And as if to prove it, he holds Zagreus’s elbows, and yanks him down, filling him in one, easy, thick slide. Zagreus chokes out, “Gods,” even though, as Meg said, it is the farthest from the truth — the only electricity here is the jagged throb through his spine as Than jogs him on his cock — the only waves the sweet crush of his heart as Meg fills his mouth with her tit and sighs against his hungry suck.
“Is it time?” Meg asks, hopefully.
“Time?” Zagreus asks, but she wasn’t talking to him. Than pauses to reach around Zagreus’s hips, encompassing his cock.
“Yes,” Than says. “Try it.”
The bed creaking again, dipping on his left side, and then his right, as Meg repositions. For a moment Zagreus has no idea what is happening — and then, he does. He holds his breath in disbelief as Meg lowers herself onto him, hot and incredibly, deeply wet.
“Ah — ah —“
She organizes — makes it work, somehow — her legs part around his hips, and as she settles onto him Zagreus feels himself fill her, and feels her weight make Than fill him as well, exquisite. He has no words now, just ragged breathing. This is — is — a lot. Even for him.
“Zag?” Meg calls. Than rubs his back.
“I’m — I’m fine,” Zagreus gasps. “I...gods, I...”
He’s out of himself. The Ambrosia, maybe. And the cock. And cunt. Assured, they kiss him.
“Just what you wanted,” Than murmurs, and they begin to move — a unison that takes his breath away — Than thrusting and Meg grinding — gentle enough not to peak the nerves of his sensitive body, hard enough to push and push him higher, pausing when his breath grows too jagged so they can suck at his skin, insatiable. Marks for every time they leave him aching on the edge of himself, signatures of their work.
Stupid that he tries to pass the kissmarks off as medals from his Underworld work, he thinks, dizzily. It’s been a while now since any enemy there made him feel anything. Than and Meg are the only ones that move him, the only ones that pierce right through his swelling heart.
Even with some limbs pinched and pressed awkwardly, they make their way, together — Than first, his arms clutching as he thrusts and cries hoarsely into Zagreus’s nape — and then, with some effort, Meg, who spasms around Zagreus’s cock as he sets his teeth on one nipple, just the way she likes. Then, it’s just him, and this time when he begs, they oblige him, loosening the rope, the blindfold. His hands drag and grab and hold them greedily as he fucks himself against and into them, as he comes apart and joins both of them in a panting, heady mess. They collapse together, tired, and sticky with Ambrosia and sweat and spend.
“I love you both,” Zagreus blurts. It comes too strongly and suddenly to stifle. “I love you. So much.”
Hearing it, they both blink. Meg grimaces; Than’s aura flares green, as if he might flee. But they both stay, beside him.
“I love you too, Zagreus,” Than says, after taking a steadying breath.
“And me,” Meg sighs heavily, covering her eyes with a draped forearm. “I…feel that too. For you. Love. Ugh.”
Zagreus flushes, with happiness. “Great.”
They lie a while. Meg allows her hair to be combed with an idle hand; and Than holds the other, fingers intertwined. “Good idea with the Ambrosia,” Zagreus remarks, contentedly. “How much do we have left?”
“None, actually,” Meg says. “We were saving our last bottle for this. So you’ll have to go back to Elysium. Eventually.”
“Ah. Well. Maybe I’ll get through them next time,” Zagreus says. “Asterius and Theseus, I mean.”
“Or maybe you won’t,” Than says, tracing a kissmark on his shoulder. One of his own, by the size of it. Zagreus smiles.
“Or maybe I won’t.”