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Seasons pass one after the other, and yet you and your love remain the same.
You've asked him about it, once or twice, but he's never given you a straight answer. He dodges the question, distracts you, does everything to divert your attention-- and you learn to stop asking.
But that doesn’t stop others from questioning your unnaturally long lifespan.
“Really, Poseidon, fraternizing with a mortal?”
Ramattra steps in front of you, shielding you from the view of the wraith. “Thanatos,” he says, his voice even and calm. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”
The dark, inky smoke laughs, and the sound comes from everywhere at once. “Oh, nothing in particular…” Suddenly, it moves, lunging at you. You flinch instinctively, but Ramattra stops the spear-like darkness with a barrier of water, a vicious snarl on his lips.
“Thanatos!” A vortex of watery tendrils materialize underneath the wraith, binding him to the ground.
“You dare to threaten what is mine?!” You’ve never seen him so angry. Power thrums under his carapace, shaking and threatening to escape--
You put a hand on his arm. His head whips around, making eye contact with you--
His eyes are blazing white, incandescent with divine fury. He looks absolutely livid, but his rage quickly subsides, receding as he looks at you, takes you in. His eyes fade back to the beautiful cyan you’re used to, and he stills, his hand releasing his staff in favor of holding your own.
“Ramattra,” you say, trying to keep the unease out of your voice. “Who…?”
“Oh, how sweet.”
You nearly jump out of your skin as the voice comes from right behind you. Ramattra quickly twirls you around, securing you in his arms, and glares at the wraith. You glance at the watery restraints, left empty on the floor.
The wraith follows your gaze, and chuckles darkly. “Your petty parlor tricks can’t stop death.”
“Death?” You ask, puzzled, and look up at Ramattra. He has a pinched expression on his face, and hot adrenaline rushes through your body as you realize what exactly he’s here for.
Or rather, who.
Your grip tightens on Ramattra’s hand. He gives you a small squeeze, letting you know he’s here. “You may not take them,” he says. He’s more composed now, but you can tell he’s agitated. “The fates have accepted our union, and if you wish to take them from me, you must do so once I am dead.”
His voice steadily increases in volume as he speaks, ending in a thunderous boom that shakes through the foundation of his palace.
“So dramatic,” Thanatos says. The smoke shifts, shrinking-- coalescing. Eventually, it fades away, leaving behind a man of unnatural, otherworldly beauty. He looks like a statue come to life, hand-crafted by the most meticulous and inspired of artists, and you find yourself staring at him with more than just fear.
He notices-- how could he not?-- and stalks closer to you.
He smells like smoke and ash.
Ramattra clutches you even closer, a territorial, possessive growl ripping out of his body, but he’s quickly cowed by a soft soothing touch of your hand.
“Why are you here?” you ask, more confused now than afraid.
“Hmmm,” he ponders, his voice deep and gravely, “curiosity?”
You balk.
“That’s it?”
He hums, musing for a little, then his gaze flicks up to Ramattra. A smirk is on his lips, and in his eyes-- is that…? “Spite,” he says, and his expression is unmistakable.
Hunger.
Lust.
Suddenly, you understand.
You’re not the only one hopelessly in love with your dear god of the oceans.
They bicker, trading barbs back and forth, but you’re deaf to it all as you observe the god of death-- how animated and alive he looks as he argues with Ramattra. And how your husband, your king, despite the vitriol in his voice, is unmistakably… Excited.
“Ramattra,” you say, and your voice cuts through the din. His attention, and by extension, Thanatos’, is upon you instantly.
“What is it, my love?” Thanatos’ glare burns like hellfire, molten jealousy and unrestrained rage setting your body ablaze with arousal. To have such influence, such power over a deity--
It is exhilarating.
You smile smugly, glancing at Thanatos, and lean up to kiss your lover, delighting in the awful, strangled noise the wraith makes.
When you pull away, Ramattra is blushing, and a look of pure adoration is on his face. “My love, what…?”
“I think… we might have had a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” They both ask at once. Ramattra’s voice is confused, and Thanatos is more incredulous.
“Yes,” you say, pulling away from Ramattra. “Thanatos,” you turn to address the intruding god, “you’re jealous, aren’t you?”
Thanatos opens his mouth, a retort hot on his tongue, but his words are stolen, replaced with shock as your hands reach up, caressing his face. “But you know…” Ramattra shifts, closing in behind you as he, too, begins to understand, “I can always share.”
His breath stutters, catching in his throat as your hand moves. You slide it down from his face, caressing his neck, his collarbones, and skating down his chest and abdomen. You hook a finger into the waistband of his pants, and use that as leverage to pull him close for a kiss.
You pepper his handsome visage with featherlight, worshipful kisses, taking special care along his jaw and the side of his neck, right at his racing pulse.
His hands snake around you, pulling your body flush against his, and you can feel his erection poking your thigh.
Frustrated, bewildered, and impatient, he growls, "on with it, mortal," and you tut at him.
"You should be more polite when asking for favors," you say, pulling away from him. His eyes bore into you, and under his heated stare, you're tempted to comply.
"It wasn't a favor," he says. "It was a command."
That sends a rush of warmth through your body, part indignation, and part arousal. You're not sure which is stronger, and as you ruminate on it, Ramattra steps to your defense.
"You will not speak to them in that way," he says, his tone imposing and stern. "This mortal is under my protection, and you will treat them with the same respect that you owe me."
At this, Thanatos laughs-- dark and diabolical, and the sound goes straight to your groin.
"You? Respect? Never," he says, a sneer on his gorgeous lips. Ramattra bristles in rage, but calms himself, and turns to you instead, ignoring Thanatos. He reaches out to you, extending a hand.
"Dear," he says, his tone soft and indulgent, "would you like to teach this dog some manners?" You smile and take his proffered hand with grace.
"Gladly."
With nary a twitch of his finger, your lover restrains Thanatos-- serpentine swirls of water surge forth and wrap around his body, forcing his hands above his head. “At your leisure, my love,” Ramattra says, and you flutter your eyelashes at him, a dulcet giggle coming from curled lips.
You slip your hand out of his, approaching the bound god, and hum thoughtfully. He oddly seems to accept this new position with grace, only moving slightly to test his limits within the restraints. Finding it unyielding, he settles down with a huff, and turns his eyes to you.
His gaze is defiant and challenging, and you feel a thrill rush down your spine.
You want to see him debased, debauched, desperate and begging.
The mental image of him panting, of sweat beading and rolling down his neck, makes your mouth run dry.
"Thanatos," you say, testing his name on your tongue while approaching him. You tip his head up by the chin, meeting his dark, tumultuous eyes. "Thanatos…" You hear a shifting of fabric behind you as Ramattra seats himself, content to observe.
Thanatos shifts again, drawing your attention to his rippling, taut muscles. Your eyes trace the curves and planes of his toned form, sliding down his biceps and drinking in the sight of his bulging pectoral muscles. His physique is immaculate, perfect-- each and every detail appears purposeful, like chiseled marble.
Softly, reverently, you take his face into your hands, and kiss him. Tenderly, you move your lips against his, basking in his beatific sighs and groans as your hands begin to rove his body.
Your hands dip below his belt again, and he gasps, bucking his hips into your touch. "Thanatos," you say again, but he interrupts you, this time.
"Reaper," his voice is deep and husky, betraying his lust. "Call me Reaper." Though the words come out as a command, the tone sounds more like a plea.
"Reaper," you say, and the resulting sound is divine.
"Yesss…" he hisses, rutting into your hand.
Seeing the effect that you have on him from words alone really gets you going. You sink to your knees, and your fingers nimbly open his pants. His erect cock springs out, nearly slapping you in the face. Ramattra makes a noise of displeasure behind you, and with a swish of cloth, he's beside you.
"My treasure needn't be on their knees," he says, and offers you a hand. You take it, and rise to your feet alongside him, confused.
With a wave of his hand, Reaper is on his back, his hands tied above his head, and his legs forcibly spread open. You swallow thickly at the sight of him splayed out for you to play with. Ramattra turns your head back to him with a gentle hand on your chin, lowering his voice to a purr. "Much better, don't you agree?" You nod eagerly. "Enjoy yourself, beloved," and he steps back again, giving you free reign.
You climb into the bed, settling in between his legs. Your fingers splay across his thighs, relishing in the way he tenses under your touch. He doesn't need to tell you he hasn't been touched like this in eons, his body does it for him.
Licking your lips, you lean closer to your prize. A small bead of precum swells at his tip, and you bring your lips to it, kissing it away. Your tongue flicks along his slit, and his hips jerk up, chasing the stimulation. Frowning, you tut at him, and hold his hips down with your hands.
He groans in frustration, throwing his head back into the plush pillows. "More," he says, caught between ordering and begging.
"What?" You ask with mock innocence. You give his shaft chase, short kisses, reveling in the way you steal his breath away with each touch. "Use your words, Reaper," you say, your lips brushing against his skin.
"Please," he says, through gritted teeth, "suck my cock." You hum thoughtfully, pulling away.
"I think you'll need to try harder to convince me." You lay your hand on his pelvis, lifting your hand to slowly stroke his cock. He lets out a stuttering sigh, cursing under his breath.
"Please," he says again, choosing his words carefully. "Please… use your mouth on me," he says uncertainly, unused to being so subservient. With a slight pause, he adds, "...Master?"
You laugh a little, and reward him for his efforts. You lick a swathe up the underside of his cock, making him strain against his restraints. The sound of him panting fills your ears, and you peer up at him through your lashes. "Better," you say, and take him in your hand, "we'll work on it."
Just as he's about to protest, you take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head. He moans, deep and low, and you flick your tongue against his frenulum. He gasps, jerking his hips forward, and you pull away entirely.
The resulting whine is wholly undignified.
You laugh, to his chagrin, and teasingly touch his tip with your index finger, running it along the slit. His cock twitches, and he flushes darkly with arousal and embarrassment. "Please," he says, sounding more sincere this time. "I need your lips around me, please."
Who are you to refuse him, when he asks so nicely?
You cradle his balls in one hand, and take him into your mouth. Slowly, you bob your head, taking more and more of his length into you. He tenses under you-- you can feel his muscles straining to keep himself still. You bottom out, your face pressed against his dark curls, and he all but mewls as your tongue teases the sensitive base of his cock.
Then, you pull back entirely, and his hips jerk up towards you, chasing the stimulation. "Please," he says, as you watch his expression dipping into anguish, "please don't stop!" His hips thrust upward into nothing, as you pull your face further and further away. You draw little circles into his hips with your index finger, then take his spit slicked cock into your hand with long, languid strokes.
You scoot lower on the bed to place your head between his thighs, breathing in his musky, masculine scent. You pepper kisses on his full, muscular thighs, licking and biting at the junction between his inner thigh and his crotch. He lets out the most lovely, pathetic whimpers you've ever heard. Cursing in between hard fought breaths, he fucks himself into your hand.
"You beguiling bitch."
You'd be insulted if he didn't sound so adorable saying it.
You take one of his balls into your mouth as you jack him off, rolling your tongue over the spongy, soft flesh. His moans increase in urgency, and he ruts his hips desperately into your hand. "I'm close," he warns, his voice tense and strained. You hum in response, and he swears as the vibrations bring him closer to the edge.
You can feel him tensing, his cock flexing in your hand, his testicles getting tighter as he prepares to release his seed, and then--
You take your hands off of him.
Smoke erupts everywhere, dark and heady, and you can see his eerie, red eyes tearing through the inky smog, wild, frustrated-- imploring. Begging.
And as suddenly as it appeared, it disappears again, wicking back into his skin, but not entirely. Small tendrils of smoke wisp off him, swaying with agitation. Recovering from the shock, you laugh, and climb on top of him. "If you're going to cum…" You use your hand to guide his dick to your hole. "Cum in here."
You sink down on him suddenly and without warning, your hips flush with his thighs with a soft slap.
Smoke pours off him in waves, his eyes flaming red. They bore holes into you, his gaze searing on your skin.
”Mi amor, mi ángel,” he groans, his voice scratching like gravel, “you’re driving me crazy.” Confidence rushes through you as you look down on the powerful man, brought to heel by your touch, your body.
His cock is delightfully thick and hard, just enough to feel stuffed full without uncomfortable. You lift yourself until he’s just barely in you, and slam back down, making the both of you gasp. You moan sultrily, and do it again-- changing the angle just enough to nail your sweet spot on his magnificent dick.
It leaves you breathless. You whisper praises and curses, intertwined and inextricable, as you ride him. You’re both close, so close, and you pick up the pace, just slightly--
But you stop.
The moment Ramattra settles behind you, you cease all movement, craning your neck to see him. Reaper is panting, his muscles straining and bulging against his binds, but he can’t move an inch without Ramattra’s permission.
Ramattra’s cock is in his hand, a lustful, needy look on his face. “May I kiss you?” He asks, and you smile.
“You never have to ask, dear.”
“I like to,” he says, and leans forward, moving his lips against yours slowly, tenderly. He shifts closer, his muscular chest pressed up against your back, and you brace yourself for his dick, only to feel…
Nothing.
Instead, Reaper gasps, his thighs tensing, and you pull away from the kiss to look down. Ramattra slowly rolls his hips, groaning, and Reaper all but thrashes in the throes of pleasure, smoke cascading off the bed.
Ramattra uses one hand to hold yours, and the other to grab your face, turning you back to him so he can kiss you.
You moan indulgently into the kiss and return to chasing your own pleasure. You lean back, using Ramattra’s body as leverage, and fuck the god below you savagely and unrelentingly, intent on attaining your own orgasm.
Your movement proves too sporadic for the kiss to continue, and you tilt your head back, tucking it into Ramattra’s neck instead.
His hands trail up to grab at your chest, playing with your nipples, and your whole body tenses as your orgasm finally crests, and crashes over you.
You reach climax in the arms of your lover, your walls convulsing on the bound god's dick as he twitches inside you, a shallow, broken moan coming from beautifully parted lips.
Ramattra kisses you, his hips moving for a while longer before stuttering to a stop as he, too, finishes.
The three of you are still, for a moment, catching your breaths as the afterglow sets in. Ramattra flicks his wrist, and the tendrils of water recede, freeing Reaper. Reaper groans, and throws an arm over his eyes, his thighs still trembling from exhaustion and pleasure.
He looks absolutely ravished.
His cock slips out of you as you climb over to his side, running a hand along his tired, sore arms. He subtly leans into your touch, and you smile fondly.
Ramattra lifts you and places you atop himself, pulling Reaper closer as well. You're both draped over him. You snuggle into his neck, giving him soft, appreciative kisses, and he chuckles. He runs an affectionate hand through your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp.
His other arm snakes around Reaper's waist, pulling him closer. The wraith grumbles, but does little else to oppose his new position. With a tired yawn, he closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep.
"I love you," you murmur, pressing another kiss to Ramattra's carapace. He rumbles with delight, and kisses your forehead.
"And I, you, my treasure." With an adoring smile, you shut your eyes, and let the tide carry you to unconsciousness…