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“It’s just that you’re not trying hard enough, dearest.” Aphrodite does not say this to Zagreus, that much he’s aware of. She is speaking over his shoulder to Ares, behind him.
Ares, who is pulling on his hair, bending him back towards him. Aphrodite runs a finger down Zagreus’s bare chest, as if drawing out her point. Zagreus shivers right on cue, and Aphrodite laughs pleasantly.
“You see?” she says, “he really is quite sensitive. It is all just a question of whether you know what you’re doing. Perhaps you’re holding back?”
Ares grunts, pushing his fingers deeper into Zagreus’s ass. Zagreus squirms a bit uncomfortably, but he doesn’t dare to say anything about Ares’s almost abrasive technique. He had nothing to add that Aphrodite hadn’t chided him about already. Besides, the more anyone thought to critique Ares, the more frustrated he became, and the only source he had to vent it on was Zagreus, who was quickly becoming putty in his hands.
“Lord Ares, might I make a suggestion?” Aphrodite asks. She cups Zagreus’s face with her gentle hand. She’s so soft—a million times softer than any person had a right to be. And she smelled so good it made his head swim. Zagreus couldn’t help the gentle whine that escaped his lips, as if begging Ares to listen to whatever suggestion Aphrodite deigned to give him. As if Aphrodite could only make this situation even better.
And, really, of course she could. She was the goddess of love. Who wouldn’t want to listen to her advice.
“After berating me?” Ares asks, spreading his fingers inside of Zagreus. Zagreus could feel him carving his way into his insides, as if he meant to pry them open by brute force. It takes his breath away. He struggles in his hold, writing against his fingers. “Look, he clearly likes it. Do you see how he moves? Why should I do anything different?”
“Why indeed?” Aphrodite muses, her eyes glittering. She presses a hand on his thigh and that’s all it takes to still him. He comes to rest, leaning back against his legs where he’s kneeling between them, his hand gripping the sheets. For a moment, he almost wishes she’d bound them. That’s something he would do with Meg. She’d tied him up an down and every which way. It was always pleasurable, reassuring. There was something right about fighting bonds.
But they hadn’t given him that. Instead, Ares and Aphrodite expect him to stay still by his own accord, somehow. That was a much more difficult prospect. It required him to have self-discipline, and concentration, and—
“No, please, do go on,” Ares grumbles. Zagreus can feel his knuckles pressing at the ring of muscle at his entrance, as if threatening to keep going. Ares slips a third finger inside of him and he groans low in his throat, caught between the sensation of Ares’s fingers drilling into him and the simple touch of Aphrodite, so gentle and yet holding him fast. “Tell me what you think I am doing incorrectly, Lady Aphrodite. As if I have never had another man before.”
Aphrodite laughs, soft and yet somehow derisive, as if Ares could not even begin to grasp all the things he did not know about the pleasure of men. To hear her, it must be true. As good as he felt from Ares, Zagreus could not even begin to imagine what secrets Aphrodite held.
“Watch my fingers,” Aphrodite says. She removes her hand from his face to demonstrate to Ares, curling her fingers as if to say come hither, “Do this inside of our little godling and watch him sing. If you do it will, his cock will fully rise for you without even touching it.”
Here, Zagreus blushes, “Lord Ares, I….”
“Shh, now, dearest, let him concentrate now,” Aphrodite interrupts. All he wanted to do was assure Ares that he liked what he was feeling, that even though he wasn’t hard yet, it wasn’t a failing of Ares, only just a matter of working up to it, that he had no small amount of interest for what he was presently getting.
And then Ares does what Aphrodite told him, and Zagreus’s vision goes white. He cries out, falling back against Ares’s hands.
“See?” He hears Aphrodite’s voice breaking through the fog, and then he feels her hand cup his balls before sliding up the shaft of his cock. He practically purrs at the touch, every bit the song Aphrodite promised. “Now let up, dearest, and then you may continue your assault when you are ready.”
Zagreus does not think that’s really the right term for what they’d doing, but he can feel Ares warm and happy behind him, as if the fighting terminology was something he wanted (or maybe needed) to hear. Almost in response, he can feel Ares’s substantial cock coming to hardness against him.
Zagreus draws in a breath. The feeling of it; the weight—would he take all of that? No wonder Ares had been so thorough with his hands. Thanatos had always seemed impressive himself, but this—were all the Olympians so blessed?
Somewhere in between that thought, Ares had let up on his prostate. He took the chance to try and focus, to try and breathe easily at least for the moment, while he still could. His eyes settled on Aphrodite again, shimmering and shining before him. He didn’t know how she could seem so cool and relaxed. But then again, no ones fingers were twisting around her insides and forcibly feeding her pleasure. His own fingers twitch against the bed sheets as if he might be able to do that for her, but he can’t seem to will them to leave the bed sheets.
“It’s alright, dearest, just focus on yourself,” Aphrodite tells him, but her eyes remain on Ares. There’s a fire behind them that wasn’t there before. She is waiting, just as he is, to see what Ares does. But what he can’t tell is if she’s more interested in what Ares chooses to do or what it does to him. But he figures it doesn’t matter too much. If she’s happy, he’s happy. He’s lucky to have found a place between them at all.
Ares takes his time. He lets Zagreus languish. He’s sure that Ares is sharing that same look with Aphrodite, as if they are challenging one another in this. As if he is meeting her challenge, proving to her what he can do to Zagreus. Then at last his fingers curl again. He pulls back on Zagreus’s hair, bending back back towards him. Zagreus’s moans echo through the room. Spit gathers on his lips and drips down. The way Ares holds him keeps his neck bared, as if ready to be sliced. Ares’s cock throbs against him.
“That’s it, my death-dealing kin, it makes your blood run, too, does it not? The pain? The fear?” Ares’s voice is deeper now; darker. He leans in close and whispers it. He bites down on Zagreus’s ear, his teeth linger in his flesh.
Aphrodite’s hands remain on him all the while. The one on his thigh holding him down. The one on his cock stroking so sweetly. It is in all ways the opposite to Ares’s attention. He feels like he’s been strung up, hanging on a precipice between them. Dangling on their whims.
Aphrodite’s hands are so nice, so deft. Like velvet gliding upon his cock. She treats it just right, a loving attention absent from the pounding certainty coming from Ares inside of his body.
“I….” Zagreus tries weakly, but he can’t form any other words. It feels as if he’s suddenly lost them all, as if no other words have meaning.
Aphrodite kisses his bared throat. Her lips are incredibly soft. He melts against her, melts back into the intensity of Ares. Ares knees his legs apart, he pulls he back up into his lap. Ares’s cock is between his legs, Aphrodite pushes them back together to close around them.
“Dearest,” Aphrodite coos to Ares, “let up again.”
Ares does, giving Zagreus a momentary reprieve, of sorts. Aphrodite continues to stroke him, a little more meaningfully now, but not fast. She was saving it—saving him—for later, he was sure.
Aphrodite fixes her gaze on Zagreus, then, all of that intensity and desire for him now instead of just for Ares. “Little godling, tell me, do you want Lord Ares’s divine member? Do you want him to pierce you with it? All you need to do is say the word, and he’ll let you have it. It feels good between your thighs doesn’t it dear? So strong and delectable?”
The way she says it leaves him speechless. He images Aphrodite sucking Ares’s cock, and the image is almost too good; almost too much. But surely it was the other way around? Surely she had Ares at her beck and call, perhaps on a collar, between her legs. Zagreus shallows thickly. He shouldn’t let his imagination get away from him like this.
“Yes,” Zagreus says at long last.
“Yes what, dearest?” Aphrodite asks. She draws a circle around the slit of his cock with her index finger, teasing him. Precum starts to bead at it, just for her.
“Yes, I…” Zagreus trails off. He looks down. Her gaze is too strong and too potent to stare directly into as he says this, “I want to take Lord Ares’s cock.”
“What was that?” Aphrodite responds sweetly, “I don’t think he heard you, dearest. Speak up.”
“I…” Again, his throat catches. A whine follows, “I want…” Ares presses down against his prostate.
Zagreus screams.
“Full sentences, now,” Aphrodite prompts, pulling through her stroke this time. It feels like it lights up every nerve in his body.
“Tell her what she wants to hear,” Ares says, licking the shell of his ear. A shiver runs down his spine. He clenches around Ares’s fingers as he continues speaking, “she’ll draw it out forever if you don’t. Absolute torture.”
Some part of Zagreus wants to ask how Ares knows. He wants to hear how he learned, he wants to imagine what it had been like for them. But there’s no time. His body feels like it will burst if he doesn’t get what he wants.
“I wanna be pierced by…by Lord Ares’s cock,” he begs, staring up at Aphrodite in supplication as best he can with how his body is contorted in Ares’s clever hands.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Well, you heard the little godling, didn’t you, dearest? Stop playing around and fuck him already.”
Wordlessly, they work in tandem. As if they have done this a thousand times before. Ares removes his hand from Zagreus’s body, and together he and Aphrodite reposition him. Zagreus, still on his knees, is moved and lowered back onto Ares’s cock, lubricated with Aphrodite’s power. The tip breaches him easily enough, after all that preparation.
But the rest isn’t so easy.
“There you go,” Aphrodite tells him. Her hands are on his hips as she guides him down. Gravity does the rest. He feels impossibly full already, and he knows he’s barely taken any. But Aphrodite speaks to him as if he were already doing wonderfully.
Ares is rough. One hand is on his waist, squeezing, enjoying himself. The other is on his shoulder, pushing him down onto his cock.
Zagreus chokes on it. He can feel tears pooling at the corner of his eyes but he refuses to let them come. He will be strong in front of these Olympians. He will be strong for them.
“Take it,” Ares says from behind gritted teeth. Holding himself back from simply skewering him and having his way, if Zagreus had to guess.
“Do you want him to be gentle?” Aphrodite wonders. When Zagreus nods, she says, “then tell him so. Go on.”
“Lord Ares…” Zagreus starts, “please…Please be gentle with me. Your cock is so big. It feels so good, but it’s so big. You have to go slow, I’m—I’m still getting used to it.”
“Good job, dearest,” Aphrodite’s praise makes Zagreus want to melt.
Ares’s hold becomes a little softer, at least for now. He rocks his hips up into Zagreus, easing him into it. “You’ll learn how to take it yet, my kin. I will help you grow to be even stronger.”
“Thank you,” Zagreus responds, in part because he knows he should.
When he is at last seated fully upon Ares’s cock, he feels like he has been split in two. His breathing is laborious, his vision hazy. But he is still upright, still awake. He counts this as a win. Ares puts his arm around his chest to hold him close. It isn’t quite a lover’s embrace. Instead, it feels like Ares is holding him steady. Preparing him to take it, just as he has prepared him for everything else.
And then Aphrodite seats herself upon him with a simple grace. She slides into his lap and takes hold of his cock so she can guide it into her body. Zagreus gasps as she does. She is wet and warm and perfect, clenching him just tight enough to be pleasurable but not too much to hurt.
“We aren’t too much for you, are we dearest?” She asks Ares, but he clearly has no problem with their combined weight. He shakes his head and pulls Zagreus back against him. Aphrodite’s breasts press up against them both. Her hair falls in a cascade around them.
Aphrodite and Ares start to move in tandem. They are so in sync it feels like they are fucking one another, and not him. Zagreus isn’t sure what to do. He is overwhelmed, out of his mind with pleasure. But also, he has no idea how he is supposed to find a way to make his own rhythm between them.
Aphrodite surges forward and kisses him, her lips upon his, her tongue pushing in right after. Ares bites his neck. Zagreus moans against Aphrodite, the sound swallowed by the press of her mouth.
He feels as if he cannot breathe. He is smothered between them, perfect and content. Their movement builds, it crescendos together. Each time Aphrodite presses down upon him, Ares surges up in return. He fucks harder. He moves like he means to rend Zagreus in two, as if he might find a way into Aphrodite if he could just get through Zagreus. Zagreus groans with the thought. Perhaps he has been around death for too long, that he should find it so attractive.
They banter between kisses. Aphrodite accuses Ares of getting tired; Ares tells her he will prove her wrong. Ares tells Aphrodite to fuck Zagreus harder, he reminds her how much blood Zagreus has spilled and that he, like Ares himself, relishes the violence. Aphrodite laughs at him. It becomes background noise, somewhere behind the pleasure.
Anyways, it’s not really for him.
What is for him is the constant pounding of Ares’s cock and the clenching press of Aphrodite’s weight. The slick of their combined sweat as their bodies move together, flesh sticking and rubbing and slapping against each other. Ares’s hard muscle. Aphrodite’s soft and tender flesh. Kisses, everywhere. Hands tugging and pulling and soothing. Bruise after bruise. Love mark after love mark.
Zagreus cries and tries to keep up.
“Stay with us,” Aphrodite says.
Zagreus tries.
But how can he stay with them, when he feels her tense and tighten and come around him? How could anyone live through such a divine blessing? And then, when Ares meets her and spills inside of Zagreus’s body, how can he stay focused?
“More,” Ares growls against his neck. His hips push up into him so sweetly. Zagreus keens as Ares fucks the orgasm out of him. Aphrodite sighs sweetly when he does.
“Again,” Aphrodite agrees.
Again, they go. Again, in tandem. All moving hips and and hands and teeth. Zagreus comes first, the second time. And also the third. Until he’s sagging against them, held up by their bodies.
Lucidity starts to leave. He clings to it, clings to them. Afraid to lose them, when he’d worked so hard to get here. Afraid to lose them, when every time the attempt takes so long.
But it’s no different than any other time. Zagreus slips through their fingers. Aphrodite kisses him goodbye.
***
“Welcome back!” Hypnos waves as he steps out of the pool of blood. Zagreus is a little embarrassed to find he’d still hard, but at least he’s clothed, which was not a given, well, everything. He waves back. “So, what was it this time? Natural causes, again? You know, that’s getting pretty boring! Maybe you should find some other way to die, like—” Hypnos looks down at his clipboard, “—wait a second.”
Zagreus smiles a little sheepishly.
“What a way to go!” Hypnos responds, “No need to be embarrassed! You’re hardly the only one. I see it a lot more often than you think. But, really, I have to say, I’m pretty impressed, this time! Keep up the good work!”
Zagreus laughs. He certainly would try.