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Most of the time, Thanatos could make himself not think about it.
His work kept him busy; there were always dying mortals to attend to.
And it wasn’t like his life was devoid of happiness. He enjoyed talking with his mother, with Meg. He took variably begrudging pleasure in interacting with his siblings.
And he… he really liked the time he got to spend with Zagreus.
But sometimes…
Sometimes that only made it worse.
He couldn’t even remember what Zag had done this time. Laughing in that cute voice he had, or pushing away the hair that always hung in front of his face, or biting his red lower lip.
Whatever it was that triggered him, it always ended the same way; Thanatos whisking away to his chambers for privacy before he could embarrass himself.
Presently, he was desperately fucking himself on a fat obsidian dildo, whining and hitching his hips at every sweet impact on his prostate.
His cock drooled impotently, locked up in a tight metal cage.
Every time it swelled, he swore the metal pulled tighter around his tender shaft, like it was punishing him for daring to grow aroused.
The mark on his groin glowed with every thrust.
The brighter it glowed, the tighter that pleasure wound deep in his pelvis.
He let out a low wounded moan, his body flexing and shuddering as pleasure crackled through him.
His cock ACHED, throbbing against the confines of its cage like a heartbeat.
He wanted to cum so bad. His entire body longed for it.
But he knew it wasn’t going to happen.
The mark on his belly and the cage were linked together with magic. The cage ensured he couldn’t use his cock, and the tattoo prevented him from reaching orgasm.
No matter how much he stimulated his cock and prostate, he would never be able to climax unless the one who had caged him gave permission.
And the one who had caged him was now and forever imprisoned deep in Tartarus, pushing a boulder up a hill.
Thanatos sobbed.
It wasn’t enough to have been tricked, humiliated, and tormented by the mortal king; now he had to bear the evidence that he had been defeated and victimized for all eternity.
Was there a possibility that some magic of night or death could assist him?
He doubted it.
It didn’t matter anyway; he could never admit what had happened to him to Hades or his mother.
He’d lost enough of his dignity by being tricked by Sisyphus in the first place.
Perhaps this was a fitting punishment, then. A permanent reminder of his own failure.
The heat inside of him reached a delicious peak. Thanatos arched his back, hoping for one wild second that maybe, maybe-!
And then it faded into a dull, frustrating ache.
Thanatos flopped down onto the bed with a pitiful sob.
His ass contracted sharply, pushing the dildo out with an upsetting gush of lubricant.
His testicles throbbed painfully, his sack pulling tight as his poor little eggs tried to eject their backed-up load to no avail.
Briefly, he tried to massage them better, but it only made the pain worse.
He rolled over, wrapped his arms around his face, and cried.
Thanatos knew he would be stuck like this forever; humiliated, useless, and in pain.
He was doomed.