Chapter Text
“Ares, he is just lovely!”
The praise shivers through Zagreus, a welcome dose of approval. Ares strokes his back, firm and possessive, and the touch is almost feverish in its intensity. Zagreus tries not to react, but his eyes flutter shut all the same, his breath hitching in his throat.
Aphrodite coos, delighted. “How did you do it? He should be screaming for it, it’s just burning him up!” she traces his jaw with a fingernail and he shudders again, silently desperate. “Oh, poor thing, piteous Zagreus! But so very well-trained…”
“It was only thanks to your charms,” says Ares, and pets Zagreus again, like a dog. It feels so good, so good…he wobbles, dazed, biting his lip. “I am pleased to present him to you. Take your pleasure as needed; he will oblige, and be patient in the meantime. Won’t you?”
“Yes lord,” Zagreus breathes, trembling under his palm. Ares grips him at the base of his skull and lifts, urging him up, and Zagreus scrambles onto the bed, chest heaving, dropping to his elbows on all fours. A finger slides inside him without preamble, thick and rough, probing dispassionately. Then another, and they flex together, and Zagreus sobs into Aphrodite’s fleece bedthings.
“My, you’re cruel to him,” Aphrodite croons. “But you like it, don’t you, godling?”
“Yes, my lady,” says Zagreus, muffled. There’s nothing else to say. Ares chuckles behind him, fingers splitting to stretch him wider.
“Fuck him,” says Aphrodite–a blunt, unsoftened command which Ares follows without question. And Zagreus (poor thing) can hardly object.
He hasn’t been filled in almost ten minutes, after all.
Time passes. Zagreus is obedient, sits quiet and tormented when no one is using him. Offers himself enthusiastically when commanded. He falls asleep being fucked, and wakes up in a new room, still being fucked. (Heeyyyy, he’s awake! Zag, man, we made you come like five times while you were out, I think that’s a record!) Dionysus stuffs his throat, fills him up with that exquisite, tempting flavor, and Zagreus drools for it.
Time passes. Aphrodite is fucking him against a wall, trapping his lips with soft, clinging kisses. He is perfectly permissive. How wonderful it feels to be good.
“Now, darling, do you love me? Oh, say you do!”
“I do, I love you…”
“Say it again.”
“I love you!” Zagreus rasps. “I love you, Lady Aphrodite, yes– yes–!”
Time passes.
Zagreus wakes up.
Soft arms around him. Soft breathing behind him. His body is burning still, but his mind feels clearer, somehow. He shifts on the bed, freeing himself and peering over his shoulder at the vision of slumbering loveliness behind him. Is this the first time Aphrodite has slept since all this started…? To his knowledge, it is.
And there’s no one else around.
Biting his lip, moving with terrible slowness, Zagreus sits up and slips off the bed. He staggers, grunts–freezes, looking back. Aphrodite hums in her sleep, but her eyes stay closed.
Alright.
He’s halfway to his destination when he realizes he’s still naked, but it’s alright. It's fine. Half the gods around here go about nude anyway–just not usually for ease of public, humiliating access. Zagreus stands tall as best he can, nods to passers by, and then, with shameful relief, jogs up the last flight of marble stairs towards’ Zeus’s residence.
Even if he hadn’t been here before, he would know immediately who lived here. And not just by the sheer size of the place–by the wall hangings in gold and purple, the murals of Zeus’s heroic achievements covering every available surface, the smell of ozone and the crispness of the air.
He finds Zeus in the throne room, blessedly alone, examining a mountainous heap of offerings. Whether he’s trying to select one or simply admiring his riches is unclear. Zagreus opens his mouth inanely to ask, but then Zeus catches sight of him, and blusters over like an affronted stormcloud.
“Well, if it isn’t Zagreus– young man, where have you been?”
“Ah,” says Zagreus, taken aback.
“I’ve sent out servants to invite you to thing after thing, you know, terribly bad form to ignore me.”
“I’ve been a bit…preoccupied?”
Seemingly for the first time, he takes in Zagreus’ lack of clothing. He pauses, raises his eyebrows. “Mmm…I see, I see. Then, has the comely Aphrodite played one of her little pranks on you, perhaps? She is a troublemaker, haha!”
“Yes,” says Zagreus, relieved. “Precisely, and the others, erm…”
“Now, you expect to have this conversation from all the way down there? Come.” Zeus takes a seat on the throne, patting his thigh. “Sit with me, hm?”
“If you don’t mind, I think I’d like–”
“No trouble at all, young man!” A hand closes around Zagreus’ forearm, pulling him bodily up. He clambers awkwardly onto Zeus’s lap, and feels himself pulled close by an arm around his shoulders. Huge. Irresistibly strong. “Now, what was that about the others?”
“Well, they…” Bodies against his, tangled together, sweat and saliva and– “Dionysus and Ares, they were…in on the prank, I suppose…”
“They can be difficult, those boys.” Stroking his arm. Zagreus shivers, his concentration wavering.
"Hh…rather, yes. So, I thought you might–”
“And what dreadful things did they do to you, hm?” The hand is around Zagreus’ waist, now. The contact makes him tremble.
“They–” He squirms, willing his body not to react, but he can already feel the flush of blood, the liquid heat building in his groin. “More to the point, Lord Zeus–you’re the king of the gods, and so I thought, surely you could undo Lady Aphrodite’s–”
“I believe I asked you a question.” The hand on his waist squeezes, and Zagreus fails completely to stifle a groan. “Now, you know better than to be fresh with me…or I thought you did.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Zagreus pants. “Could I not…tell you later, perhaps? After you–?”
“Afraid not, little Zagreus. Have to know all the details before I can even think about addressing the issue, you see. Terribly bad form otherwise.”
“But…”
“Now, here’s an idea: if you’re going to be so ridiculous about telling me…”
He lifts Zagreus, flips him around, bringing them face-to-face–or face-to-chest, rather given Zeus’ size. Straddling his lap, Zagreus can feel something huge and blunt prodding his ass, and his body thrills even as his heart sinks.
“...why don’t you just show me, hm?”
“I’m…not sure what you…”
“Come, now.” Massive fingers close on his chin, drawing it up. Complete, impenetrable self-interest looks back at him from golden eyes as cold as coins. “Don’t play coy. If my pantheon has been partaking in some new delicacy, it’s only fair that their king samples it as well…and as soon as possible, at that. Wouldn’t you agree?”
It’s unjust. Cruel. Indecent. The last of his hope, dashed.
He’s dripping for it.
Zagreus swallows. This is what you are, now. Bitch takes cock.
“Yes, lord,” he says. Zeus is pulling at his own chiton, exposing himself. Blood and darkness, the size of him…
“You’ll cease these silly objections?”
“Oh…yes, lord…” He lifts himself on shaking thighs, trying to find the best angle. He’s had a lot inside him, the past few days, but this…
“Good. Now, give me that filthy, sopping little cunt of yours, already.”
He lets his eyes fall shut, trying to breathe. Circling his hips patiently down until at last, impossibly, the tip slips inside. Just this, he thinks, trembling. Gods. This ought to be enough. “Ah–! Ah, and…after that, the curse…?”
A blustery snort. Hands seize his hips, big enough to encircle his waist, and force him all the way down in one slick rush. Zagreus wails obscenely, filled so suddenly and completely he can hardly bear it. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, now.”
“Uuuhh,” says Zagreus, dazed, quivering–and then yelps as he’s lifted bodily, dragged up the Thunderer’s length like a toy and pushed back down again. His vision blurs, tears welling at the sheer force of sensation.
“I can’t imagine why you’re complaining so–they had the right idea! Just look at you.” A thumb strokes his cheek. “Tight as a virgin, though of course–” another stomach-flipping wrench, up and down, “--you’re nothing of the sort…must simply be your size, hm? Is there some mortal in you, perhaps? Well, I suppose there must be now, if Ares has shared you with his toy soldiers!”
A great, rumbling laugh, melting into a rough grunt as Zagreus is hoisted yet again. He sways, helpless in those giant hands, then squeaks as he’s filled again. Falls forward and tries weakly to brace himself on Zeus’s thick forearms.
“In future, though, I’d like you to do your own work. I can’t be bothered to move you about myself every time.”
“Hh–!”
“Speak up, there!”
“Nnhyes,” Zagreus manages. “Yes, Lord Zeus, I–!”
“That’s more like it. You’re having just a lovely time here on Olympus, aren’t you?”
“Oh– yes, it’s–such! Hospitality, ah–!” Faster now, Zeus’s hips rolling up to meet him each time he’s slammed down. The pace is dizzying, alarming. “Not so–” he starts, but Ares’ stern face flashes before his eyes and he bites the objection back.
“Mm? What was that?”
“Nothing, sir!”
“Don’t you try that with me. Not so what?”
“Not so…fast, please,” Zagreus mumbles, and then he’s hoisted up and the world spins, and the next thing he knows he’s on his back, legs akimbo.
“Now look what you’ve done.” Fucking into him–different, sharper, slapping and squelching– “I hadn’t planned to take any exercise today, you know.”
“Oh,” says Zagreus, feeling himself writhe as though possessed. Any control he had over his body has ceased. “‘M sorry Lord–!”
“And so ungrateful. You ought to beg for more, instead.”
“More,” Zagreus parrots numbly, his eyes rolling back, his voice jumping with each thrust. “–Please. F– hhh- faster–”
“There’s a good boy,” rumbles Zeus, punctuating each word with a slap of his hips, making Zagreus cry out. “Good…little…slut. Little beast, howling for my cock–”
It’s never felt more true than it does right now, every nerve devoted to the feeling of being fucked, his senses bent on it. It brooks no other thoughts, dominates him, mind, body, and soul. Ensnares him and owns him.
And he loves it.
How can he not? How could there be anything better than this? Zagreus arches up, trying to form words that turn into shapeless, ecstatic noises–then, at last, “Thank…you…!”
“That’s more like it! And let it not be said I am ungenerous to good boys.”
A hand trails from collarbone to groin, scattering electric sparks as it goes, a thousand dancing pinpricks. Muscles twitch in their wake; every hair on his body stands on end. Zagreus shudders, keening, feeling himself clench down in quick bursts. He feels almost like he’s coming already, but he can’t be, Lord Zeus is still going, still plowing into him quick and strong with all the gentle consideration of a wild stallion, and if this isn’t it then what will it feel like when–?
“Tell me, how do you like the air up here? Rather thin, compared to what you’re accustomed to, I should think.”
A great fist closes in the air above him, and for a moment Zagreus doesn’t understand, but then–
He gasps, really gasps for air, trying desperately to suck in oxygen. His face prickles. His eyes water. Hands bruising-tight on his waist, lifting him up off the throne, fucking him furiously as he suffocates on nothing.
“Just you wait.” More electricity, between his legs, inside him. Zagreus’ eyes roll back, his head pounding. This shouldn’t–too much–more sensation than the body was made to bear without relief- “You’ll like this trick of mine, everyone does.”
Vision blurring. Fingers tingling. Can’t breathe.
“Wait for it… and–”
Zeus slams into him with a growl, deep and hard, and oxygen floods his lungs, and– Zagreus first feels it as a hot, twisting clench in his gut, growing and burning, accelerating until it erupts and his vision goes white. It rolls through him like an earthquake, shaking him from head to toe, a searing pinnacle bordering on incomprehensible, wave after stunning wave as he whines and pants, his hips working frantically.
A resounding, breathless chuckle. “Well? Am I your favorite, little whore? You like my prick the best?”
“Yes!” The last stabs of pleasure are somehow the most intense, hooking him like a fish, jerking him up. Words pour from his mouth at last, without stopping to ask his brain. “Uh–! Lord Zeus–! I–love you, I, oh! Oh–!”
“How sweet.” Pulling out, a long, slow drag. Now that Zagreus has grown accustomed to it, the absence feels terribly wrong–he stays as he is, body pulsing, legs splayed in the desperate hope that Zeus will change his mind. “I’ll have you again later…I’m sure you can wait a while.”
Zagreus groans, broken, starving for more, but– “...Yes, I…I’ll be good…please, just…as often as you like…”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” A massive arm scoops him up. “Here, rest on my lap, and I’ll summon your little playmates, so that I may tell them how often I shall be pleased to share you.”
“Yes, lord,” murmurs Zagreus, clinging to gold silk and flowing, cloudy beard. Somehow, he feels he's ended up where he started.
Zagreus: son of Hades, prince of the underworld. Pet project of Olympus.