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“Dad, please.” Telemachus sobbed, his throat torn and breaths ragged, “Please stop.”
Odysseus heard him. How could he not, especially when he was trained by the grey eyed maiden herself, and forged as the most skilled and cunning warrior through war? His ears pricked in delight at the pitiful pleads from his sweet boy.
His fist came down on the Pylian Prince again anyways. That time an awful sick crunch cracked through the room as Peisistratus gripped Odysseus’ wrist that held the collar of his tunic with a harsh intake of air.
Hard to do so when blood seeped from his broken nose, split cheek, and bloodied lips. He gasped shallow breaths as Odysseus drove a fist hard into his side. Dark bruises bloomed inkily there already.
He loved Telemachus more than anything. He was always meant to be with Odysseus. Meant to be Odysseus’. How could he not? With the way he begged so prettily for him, cried for him, moaned for him.
Odysseus couldn’t bear to be without him.
That’s why he had to do this. Because Telemachus needed to understand that he belonged to his father. And ruining that to spread his legs like a cheating whore was just unacceptable.
His stomach coiled in disdain and pure hatred for the Prince underneath him. He growled as he slammed his fist down and savored the way Peisistratus writhed in pain. He’d be lucky if his ribs were only bruised after this.
He didn’t want to enjoy it, but he couldn’t help himself. Jealousy snarled inside him like a wild beast, and he faintly wondered if the cracking he heard was from Peisistratus’ bones or Telemachus.
Teoemachus sobbed awfully so, wrists bound together above head to the headboard. He sounded miserable and terrified. He tugged against the harsh rope rubbing his skin raw as tears spilled down his cheeks, trying to break free and stop Odysseus.
Odysseus hated how hurt and small his poor child sounded. But he swore to himself he’d never have to do this again. Telemachus would learn to behave this time. And things could go back to being wonderful.
”Please!” Telemachus pleaded, “N-Nothing happened, I swear!”
”Oh, nothing?” Odysseus asked, standing to drive his foot down on Peisistratus’ calf, making the boy whimper and curl in on himself. “You didn’t seduce this bastard? Draw him to your sheets and let him fuck you?”
Telemachus said nothing in his defense, only continued to beg for Peisistratus. It made Odysseus scowl with petty jealousy, he knows.
”I trusted you.” Odysseus hissed, not turning to see the dread and horror that surely stained his son’s pretty face. He let disappointment and resignation seep in his tone and knew Telemachus flinched at the soft cruelty.
”You hurt me so fucking bad, kiddo.” He gritted as Peisistratus tried to block a blow thrown at his stomach. “Why’d you have to do that? Do you want me to be upset?”
”No, no!”
“But you did.” Odysseus sighed. And he slid a hand to his sheath, a sharp sound flicking through the locked chambers as he unsheathed his dagger.
”No! No! Stop!” Telemachus screamed, his struggles increasing, blood dragging under the rough rope as he sobbed in desperation, “I love you! I love you- Stop!”
”Yeah?” Odysseus growled, leaning over Peisistratus, pressing the tip of the blade against the delicate vulnerable skin. “You love him, too?”
”No, only you! I love you!” Telemachus sobbed, “Please, stop! I love you!”
He imagined plunging his dagger into Peisistratus’ throat, watching the boy’s eyes bulge as he gurgled a wet scream. Thrusting the blade in and out as blood splattered across the boy’s face and his eyes dulled.
Odysseus dragged the blade across Peisistratus’ neck, a thin red line softly blooming as the tip cut through skin lightly, and pressed the dull part of it to the boy’s arteries.
”Should I kill him?” Odysseus asked coolly to Telemachus, “Cut him up like Neoptolemus, do you think?”
Telemachus whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears spilled as he let out a small sob of pain at the reminder of the Achilles’ boy. A savage, who Odysseus never had a liking to, and chose to put his filthy hands on what was rightfully Odysseus’.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Telemachus sobbed like prayer, murmuring it softly for Odysseus as his throat contracted and he choked on another sob. “Please, I love you.”
Despite the circumstances, the words spoke true to Odysseus. He loved the confessions falling from his son’s lips. He gathered the decency not to carve Peisistratus’ face for Telemachus as he turned towards the bed.
Telemachus, for once, looked relieved as Odysseus walked over to his bed where he was sprawled unwillingly like a delicious offer. His hair was mused but his lovely thick thighs were spread invitingly for Odysseus and his chiton was pushed up high on his hips.
Odysseus felt somewhat guilty for the bruise blooming under Telemachus’ jaw. He hated hitting him but it was the only way to startle his sweet darling to pause his struggling. He moved on top of Telemachus and knocked his legs more open for room for him.
He gripped the underneath of Telemachus’ thighs and lifted them onto his hips for better leverage. He looked into his lover’s eyes and darted down to his wet lips, still swollen from his betrayal with Peisistratus. Odysseus’ expression cooled to a distant look of disdain and indifference.
He pressed his blade to Telemachus’ throat, delighting in the way the hollow of it bobbed. Telemachus looked up at him with pleading eyes.
“I love you.” He whispered, trying to tame the monster swelling in Odysseus’ chest and coax it. “I love you, I love you.”
Odysseus leaned in close, kissing Telemachus’ glistening temple before tilting his head and pressing his own throat against the opposing side of the blade.
It’d be so easy. To just slide the blade across both their necks and slit their throats together. Peisistratus couldn’t have him then. No one could. No one but Odysseus.
Telemachus whined as Odysseus’ hot breath husked along his ear before he tilted his head and pressed his lips against his father’s. Daring to lift his neck and let the dagger lick his throat if only to lean in closer to the kiss.
Odysseus groaned and pressed the blade lower as he leaned down and kissed Telemachus with fervor. Moaning as his boy’s lips parted and he let his tongue slip in, lifting the small part of Telemachus’ back and arching him better.
He sat up, a string of saliva connected them before Odysseus took slow, sure breaths. He watched Telemachus bite his bottom lip to stop from crying, eyes glossy with emotion.
Odysseus pressed the knife to his own neck and closed his eyes, ignoring Telemachus’ begging.
“Dad, stop.” He pleaded, “Please. You’re scaring me.”
“I would die for you Tele,” Odysseus murmured, “I’d carve out my own heart for you. Rip out my intestines, spear my own chest. I would- I have killed for you. I love you so much. You mean everything to me. You’re mine. My sweet child. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Telemachus miserably said back. Eyes shaking slightly, like he wanted to look back at where Peisistratus laid but didn’t dare to invoke Odysseus’ fury upon him.
“You won’t leave me, will you?” Odysseus demanded, “I would burn down all of Ithaca and plant my sword through my heart if you did. I would kill, innocents, if you tried to deny what belongs to me.”
Telemachus took a shaky breath as he shuddered under Odysseus’ touch. Odysseus hummed thoughtfully before letting the blade drop from his neck, feeling a dull sting but nothing more.
He moved up to Telemachus’ bound hands and cut them loose. His mind and body and cock thrilled when Telemachus immediately carded his hands through Odysseus’ hair, as their temples touched.
“I love you.” Telemachus said, tears pouring down his cheeks, and lashes damp with fear. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Odysseus kissed him again only this time it was slower, letting his mouth claim Telemachus’. He drew a hand underneath his son’s tunic and sank a finger into his already slick entrance, causing Telemachus to hiss.
“You love me. You want me. You need me.” Odysseus hissed, “Why else would you be so desperate for me? Your body craves the cock that sired it.”
He drew his heavy drooling length out and slid it between Telemachus’ buttocks, pushing into him with a slow, deliberate thrust. Telemachus whined as Odysseus bottomed out.
Odysseus groaned low and eager as he inched out, the pleasure of Telemachus clenched around him as he pulled out was perfection. He shoved his cock back in with a dirty groan and set a harsh pace.
“I hate that we must go through with this again,” Odysseus breathed, snapping his hips into Telemachus and his cock throbbing at the unwanted gasps of pleasure that he couldn’t contain. “But so long as you’re good for me, as long as you let me take care of you, as long as you’re loyal, I can be good too.”
He wrapped an arm underneath Telemachus’ waist and thrusted his cock in and out and moaned Telemachus’ name. And when his perfect boy arched his back and reciprocated, even if only a little, Odysseus let himself smile, a satisfied one.
Telemachus always felt divine whenever Odysseus fucked him. Even now, Odysseus knew he wouldn’t last long as he sheathed his length into Telemachus’ ass. He shamelessly moaned as he thrusted hard and fast. Stopping to roll his hips against Telemachus’.
”I don’t want to have to chain you, or leash you, or collar you, or brand you to get you to listen.” Yes he did. Gods, he did. Telemachus would look so ravishing with his claim strewn for all to see.
Odysseus gripped Telemachus’ smooth jaw and brushed his lips against it. His voice gravelly and possessive when he spoke
”Who do you belong to?”
”You.” Telemachus whispered instantly, his normal grin and witty behavior long forgotten in the face of Odysseus and his wrath. “You.”
“Good.” Odysseus hummed, “And if I tell you to listen to my rules, what do you say?”
Telemachus’ throat bobbed as he hissed out, “Yes, Father.”
“Why?” Odysseus pushed. Fuck, he was close. He moaned against Telemachus’ lips, enjoying in the slight shudder he received in return.
”B-Because I belong to you. I’m yours.”
”What are my words?”
”Law.” Telemachus breathed, “They are my law- please.”
“And who am I?” He growled as Telemachus’ climax washed over him. His eyes back arched and his pretty thighs shook as he tried to resist the pleasure of getting cock-drunk.
”King.” Telemachus moaned, “My king.”
Odysseus moaned and his orgasm crashed over him violently. He pulled out of Telemachus and spilled his seed over his chest and stomach, dripping down to his thighs and moaned at the pretty picture his boy painted.
Odysseus supposed he’d have to give the Pylian credit. After all, no man could resist this. Perhaps he won’t kill him.
As his orgasm subsided, so did his rage. Now, he was content with knowing Telemachus would never disobey him again.
“Good boy.” Odysseus said softly, smoothing Telemachus’ bangs out of his face and seeing his dark eyes glisten back at him, “You did so good for me. My perfect, wonderful son. I love you so much.”
”I love you too, dad.” A single tear rolled down Telemachus’ face, but Odysseus was quick to smear it away.
”Very good.” Odysseus praised, lifting himself up but pulling Telemachus with him and he sat on his knees with Telemachus straddled on his lap, wrapping his arms around Odysseus like a lifeline.
It was peacefully quiet as the torches crackled and the palace continued to sleep when Odysseus spoke again.
”You understand that after Peisistratus’ cruel attempt to accost you in your own chambers and I had to force my hand against him, we have to sever direct contact with Pylos besides trade, yes?”
Telemachus stilled, his head resting on Odysseus’ shoulder, no doubt looking at Peisistratus with a painful longing to slip away and hold him close.
He was quiet from the lie Odysseus will surely convince the entire island of, and make him play along too by having him confess to the council of what had happened. Which he will. Odysseus had no intention of letting any other confession leaving his lips.
Telemachus was his. Body and mind, everything he is belongs to Odysseus. His thoughts, his words, his tears, his pleads.
”Yes, Father.”