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Athena was never the biggest fan of wrestling, but she understood its importance. Odysseus needed to know how to do it in order to gain a proper reputation among his peers, and it did build muscle and physical awareness, so it was her job to make sure he could do it.
He had a knack for it too, spotting weaknesses in the moves she showed him and understanding very quickly what did and did not work for him at his current size and strength. He couldn’t beat her regardless, but he was starting to make her put in some effort for her victories.
For example, just now he’d managed to string their match along until Athena lost her patience and finally wrapped herself around him and restrained him fully. The position had him pressed against her full body, and Athena felt an odd surge of joy at that. She’d won, he was hers.
That joy fled when she realized she could feel something odd at her crotch.
As a deity, Athena could look however she pleased. Her form was fluid, and often shifted minutely to match her emotions. And something about pinning her student against her had made her body manifest a very erect cock. She really wanted to get off.
Odysseus began to wriggle, trying to work himself free. Athena kept him in her hold, determined to make her win official, trying to ignore the erection she was sporting. Hopefully he would do the same, or at least stop grinding against her like he was.
She finally released him from the lock, only to instantly regret it when the friction on her crotch stopped. Odysseus took one step away from her, letting her get a good look at how well-muscled he was for a boy his age, how much work she’d put into developing him.
Athena let out a low growl and pulled Odysseus back against her. Her cock throbbed as it made contact with him again, and her hips jerked slightly.
“Hold still,” she snapped, and then shoved him into a more optimal mounting position.
“OW- Athena-?!” Odysseus yelped, but she pressed herself over him and wrapped a hand around his mouth.
“Stay quiet. This won’t take long.”
Getting to properly grind against Odysseus’ ass was a welcome relief. After hours of having him squirming underneath her, it was incredibly satisfying to have him pressed to her aching length, giving it the friction she’d been craving.
“You’re a healthy young man,” she murmured in his ear, “this is something you will be expected to perform, when you go to war. You can use this to your advantage; those recently sated are more likely to listen to you, and be more lenient.”
The friction was nice but not enough. Athena snapped away their clothes and pressed her length between his cheeks, thrusting downward between them. She could feel his hole with every thrust, but resolved to see if she could avoid such a thing with her student. Even so, her cock slicked itself as she moved, easing the slide.
“With mortals you will need some form of lubrication or this will be unpleasant for you both.”
Odysseus wriggled beneath her, and she pressed down on him harder. This was better, but still not enough. Athena angled her hips and in one merciless thrust, shoved her full erection into Odysseus’ ass. He screamed against her hand, and she shushed him, taking a moment to stroke his hair.
She was also adjusting to the incredibly tight grip his body had on her cock. It felt wonderful.
“Again, with mortals, I would advise using fingers to stretch the hole out before proper penetration,” Athena said, keeping her voice perfectly clinical.
It wasn’t easy; Odysseus’ hole was milking her cock, and after hours of training she was more worked up than she wanted to admit. A quick orgasm was precisely what she needed, and she had to restrain herself from seeking it too fast. Odysseus was new to this sort of thing. She didn’t want to hurt him.
Athena rolled her hips experimentally. Odysseus whimpered, but didn’t flinch, so she was probably good to go. A few slow thrusts turned rapidly into a brutal pace as Athena sought her pleasure, sliding in and out of Odysseus at speeds she would later regret submitting him to.
He felt as good as she’d hoped. Athena grit her teeth against a moan as she moved, feeling Odysseus clench and shudder around her. She wondered if her student had done this before, or if her cock was the first he’d ever experienced like this. Some covetous part of her hoped she was his first; Odysseus was her mortal first and foremost. It was only right that she was the first to claim him in such a way.
“If you can convince them that they are your first, they will be even more likely to give you preferential treatment,” she said, employing all her willpower to keep her voice steady, “Everyone wants to feel special.”
Although they wouldn’t be. The most any mortal could claim was being the first man, or the first mortal, to sleep with her student. Athena was the first. Her student belonged to her before all others.
Athena clenched her teeth to resist trying to bite Odysseus’ shoulder. This was not some mating ritual, and Odysseus was not actually hers to keep. This was simply a way to relieve herself of her built-up desire.
She still let out a hiss as she crept up to the edge of her orgasm, hearing Odysseus whimper beneath her, quaking and small as her cock buried itself in his ass again and again, rhythm breaking down as her orgasm neared.
Athena bit her tongue hard enough to taste ichor as she slammed her hips forward and pulled Odysseus up against her body. Her student, her mortal, her prize.
Odysseus let out a low cry when he felt her cum begin flooding his guts. Athena rolled her hips, enjoying his little wriggles as she filled him. He did very well for his first time taking a god, all things considered. She pressed a hand to his sweaty, rounding belly and felt a surge of satisfaction at just how stuffed he was. Very well for his first time.
Athena clung to Odysseus until her cock went completely flaccid. Only then did she pull out of him, watching her cum gush from his probably very sore hole.
“You did well,” she told him, “Both in wrestling and in physical intimacy.”
Odysseus was limp in her arms, and Athena awkwardly set him on the ground, noticing with a pang of guilt that what little survived of his clothing was a mess. She snapped her fingers, repairing his clothes and, although some part of her hated to do it, removed her cum from him as well.
“You have the rest of the day off,” she said, and teleported away, trying to ignore the fear that was pointing out just how empty Odysseus seemed, lying limp in the dirt of the clearing where they practiced.