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“Please…”
Poseidon watched through teary eyes as Odysseus paused mid-swing. For a moment, Poseidon was convinced he was about to be stabbed again anyway.
And then his trident hit the rock they were on with a clang.
For a moment, he and Odysseus stared at each other. The man, the maimer, the monster that Poseidon had been chasing for years stared at his crumpled, bleeding form with disconcerting intensity.
“After everything you’ve done,” Poseidon rasped, if only to break the tension, “How will you sleep at night?”
Odysseus sneered at him.
“Next to my wife,” he growled, and then licked the ichor that had reached his face off his lips.
Poseidon, for a moment, was struck by a feeling of disbelief. After everything, this was what was going to kill Odysseus? Tasting ichor at the moment of his triumph?
But Odysseus didn’t fall. He didn’t scream, or flinch, or grimace. His eyes fluttered for a moment, and then he was walking back toward his raft as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just done something that should have, by all rights, killed him.
Poseidon watched him sail away, confused and unnerved.
The ichor thing bothered him the entire time he healed in his palace, and continued to do so afterward. Odysseus was fine. Better than fine, the stupid mortal had apparently made it home, slaughtered every man who had been courting his wife, and reclaimed his life, his home, and his family. Ithaca was doing unreasonably well given its circumstances.
But Odysseus should have been dead. Tasting Poseidon’s ichor should have killed him. But it clearly hadn’t. Why not?!
Poseidon finally decided that he would investigate. He would have to be careful; Athena was always on Ithaca nowadays, and if she reported to Zeus that Poseidon was still hanging around after everything, he would be barred from Ithaca “for his own good”.
(Worse than that, Hera would give him those big sad eyes of hers and ask him to take better care of himself, and if Poseidon was weak to anything, it was Hera worrying about him.)
Luckily for him, when he crept up to the northern beach of Ithaca he almost immediately found Odysseus. The mortal was pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. His hands were in his hair, and he was… definitely muttering to himself.
Maybe being Hermes’ descendant had made the ichor drive him mad instead of just killing him. Or maybe being Hermes’ descendant just made people go crazy. It was a possibility.
Poseidon watched Odysseus pace back and forth for a while. His voice was just too low to hear, but he was definitely repeating something. Over and over, the same sounds.
Well. There were no godly implements around, and Poseidon was no cat. He could indulge his curiosity.
“What are you saying?”
Poseidon manifested from the surf, stepping onto the beach directly in front of Odysseus. To his irritation (and, admittedly, amusement), Odysseus just gave him a thoroughly disgusted look and turned away from him.
“I asked you a question, mortal,” Poseidon growled.
“Good for you, Lord of Tides,” Odysseus grumbled, stalking through the sand away from him.
As much as Poseidon wanted to be angry at the man’s impertinence, he was more intrigued by Odysseus’ erratic behavior than anything. Maybe the ichor had driven him insane. But why? Did Odysseus even know?
“How are you alive?” Poseidon asked, following Odysseus down the beach.
Odysseus’ shoulders hunched.
“Because you couldn’t kill me?” he suggested sarcastically, not looking at Poseidon.
Poseidon couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips. Perhaps he was being petty, but the sheer annoyance Odysseus was displaying was keeping Poseidon from caring much about his disrespect. Poseidon wanted to keep pushing and see if he could get a proper reaction out of Odysseus.
“Yes, but I’m talking about the ichor.”
Odysseus stopped dead. Poseidon paused too, fascinated as Odysseus slowly looked over his shoulder at Poseidon. His eyes were wide, and… scared?
“How do you know about that?” Odysseus rasped.
Poseidon didn’t know about anything, but he wasn’t about to admit that. He smiled broadly at Odysseus, putting on his smuggest affectation.
“It’s pretty obvious,” Poseidon said with a slight shrug, “And you really ought to be dead by now. Why aren’t you?”
Odysseus scoffed and looked forward again, but Poseidon could tell he was unnerved.
“A simple addiction isn’t going to be the thing to kill me now,” Odysseus snapped.
Poseidon’s eyebrows rose without his permission. Addiction? Addiction to… now how could that have happened? Odysseus was moving again, and Poseidon followed him.
“Your resolve is impressive, I suppose. I would like to know how you survived it. Every mortal I know that has tasted ichor has died almost immediately. And yet here you are, claiming addiction to it.”
Odysseus stopped. His breathing was picking up. Sensitive subject, then? Maybe he wasn’t handling his addiction as well as he claimed.
Suddenly, Odysseus turned around. He looked furious, and for a moment fear panged through Poseidon. He shook it off quickly. This was an unarmed, unarmored mortal. Odysseus had no godly assistance of any kind now. He posed no threat to Poseidon.
(Poseidon ignored the part of him that whispered he’d thought that of Odysseus before, and they both knew how well that had gone for the great God of Earthquakes last time.)
“Maybe, if I hadn’t been trapped on an island with a goddess determined to keep me forever, I wouldn’t have this fucking hunger for it!” Odysseus snarled, his hands clenched into fists, “Maybe, if she hadn’t been given years to study me and acclimate me to it, it would have killed me!”
Poseidon cocked his head a little. He had learned that the reason he had lost Odysseus for years was because he’d been on Ogygia, but no one had told him the specifics of what had happened. That Odysseus had escaped at all was a feat in itself.
“So it was Calypso? She, what, fed you her ichor in an attempt to keep you?” Poseidon asked.
Odysseus bared his teeth and hissed, “She snuck it to me- I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t say you did. And now-”
“Now I need more. It burns inside me, driving me insane; I can’t even watch Athena train my son because all I can think about is the ichor in her veins!”
Odysseus was tearing at his hair as he spoke, eyes wild and beginning to gleam a deep red color. The sight sent a thrill of fear and… something else down Poseidon’s spine.
(In his defense, he’d always had a thing for passion and even at the height of his enmity with Odysseus, he had to admit Odysseus was nothing if not passionate. Obsessive, even. Something about seeing a person so caught up in their emotions and yet so focused on a singular goal just… encouraged Poseidon to appreciate them.)
“You haven’t asked her to donate?” Poseidon asked playfully, and the look Odysseus shot him was downright poisonous.
“No. I respect Athena too much to do such a thing,” Odysseus answered, with the perfect inflection to imply that Athena was the only one who held said respect.
Poseidon was torn between wanting to keep pushing, and pushing Odysseus into the sand to test just how far that insolent mouth stretched.
(...Poseidon may hate Odysseus but he also had eyes. Penelope was a lucky woman in that regard, at least.)
“So you’re in withdrawal, and you came down to the beach to pace around and mutter to yourself like a madman,” Poseidon said, amused.
Odysseus scowled at him, and through gritted teeth ground out, “Why are you here, Poseidon?”
Poseidon shrugged.
“I was curious.” He eyed the faint pallor of Odysseus’ skin, and his reddened irises, and was struck by sudden inspiration. “Tell me, what do you plan to do about your condition? Surely you don’t believe it will simply go away because you’re denying it.”
Odysseus narrowed his eyes, then crossed his arms across his chest.
“Why do you want to know?” he asked icily.
Poseidon couldn’t hide the grin that spread over his face as he answered, “Well, if you don’t have a source, I’m sure we could find a mutually beneficial arrangement. You know what I taste like, after all.”
Odysseus stared at Poseidon like he was some strange creature of unknown aggression or threat level. Poseidon waited. He had more time, of the two of them. He could be patient.
“...what exactly are you suggesting?” Odysseus asked, and Poseidon noted with satisfaction that Odysseus had trailed his eyes over Poseidon’s throat and chest before snapping them back to his face.
If he were that desperate, Poseidon had options about approaching this.
“I’m suggesting feeding you my ichor for a price. As much as you want, even, depending on what you’re willing to do,” Poseidon said, still grinning.
“Willing to… don’t be vague, what do you want out of this?” Odysseus snapped.
Poseidon could hear the strain in Odysseus’ voice. He really was in bad shape, wasn’t he? No reason not to be direct, then.
“I want you on my cock while you feed, and I want to fuck you once you’re done,” Poseidon said with a smirk.
He could see Odysseus trying to consider his words, but it was clear the man’s cravings were winning over his rational mind. He needed ichor, and Poseidon was right there and offering.
Just to encourage him, Poseidon bit his lower lip, teeth slicing into his own flesh and causing ichor to well up to the surface. Odysseus’ eyes snapped to it, dilating like a cat’s.
“...just that?” Odysseus asked, fixated on the drop of ichor slowly rolling down Poseidon’s chin.
“Just that,” Poseidon agreed.
“Whatever I want?” Odysseus asked in an almost dazed voice.
He took an uncertain step toward Poseidon, eyes never leaving the drop of ichor. Poseidon reached out and took Odysseus’ hand in an almost gentle manner.
“Give me what I want, and it’s yours,” Poseidon purred.
It really wasn’t his smoothest seduction attempt, but Odysseus didn’t seem to care much. And for that matter, neither did Poseidon. This wasn’t some lovely mortal he had taken a fancy to, this was an old foe that he had a solid advantage over for once. The only things Poseidon really wanted out of this was sex and a chance to feel some control over Odysseus.
Odysseus nodded slowly, swallowing as the drop of ichor finally fell from Poseidon’s skin. He looked drunk. Poseidon cupped the side of his face, but Odysseus didn’t take his eyes off the thin streak of ichor on Poseidon’s chin.
“Say it aloud, or it’s not binding,” Poseidon ordered.
“I’ll do as you said if you give me what I want,” Odysseus said in a monotone voice.
Good enough. Poseidon let go of Odysseus’ face and led him toward a nearby outcropping of rocks that would be much nicer to lay on than sand. Much less messy too. Contrary to popular belief, Poseidon did not enjoy getting sand on or (Olympus forbid) in his genitalia.
Odysseus followed like an obedient dog, holding Poseidon’s hand with a trembling grip. Poseidon had no idea what withdrawal symptoms from an ichor addiction looked like, but he was beginning to suspect Odysseus had been downplaying them while they talked.
That being said, Poseidon was… suspicious when Odysseus allowed him to lay him down without a fight. Odysseus was being too obedient. Too pliant. Poseidon wasn’t sure what his plan was, but there was definitely a plan happening.
He would just have to make the most of this show of submission while it was present.
Odysseus did let out a sound of complaint when Poseidon ripped his chiton off, but Poseidon hushed him.
“I won’t make you go home naked,” he promised.
“Penelope made that one for me,” Odysseus grumbled in response.
Poseidon snorted and said, “Then I suppose I’m taking even more from her than I thought.”
He… might have felt a little bad about that. Penelope had never done anything to draw his ire, save being loved by Odysseus. She didn’t deserve this betrayal.
As if he heard Poseidon’s thoughts, Odysseus scoffed and said, “As if she won’t want to hear every single detail so she can “punish” me for it later. She’ll probably thank you if anything.”
…Poseidon would think about that later. He would focus on the present, and not some hypothetical future where he might get to watch Odysseus be “punished” by his wife. He was plenty hard already.
He made a show of digging around in his himation before summoning a vial of lube to his pocket and pulling it out. Odysseus glanced at it for a moment before his eyes went back to Poseidon’s lips.
“Is that really something you carry around with you all the time?” he asked sardonically.
“I like to be prepared,” Poseidon said with a grin, pouring the liquid onto his right hand.
Odysseus rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything else. His eyes were locked on the dried ichor streak down Poseidon’s chin.
Which, if he was that desperate…
Poseidon leaned over and kissed Odysseus, smirking a little when he felt Odysseus hold the kiss for all of a second before he started lapping at Poseidon’s lip where the cut had already healed.
He was so focused on it that he barely reacted when Poseidon slid his first, slicked finger inside him.
Poseidon broke the kiss, only for Odysseus to surge up and capture his lips again. It was adorable for all of a minute, until Poseidon realized that Odysseus was trying to tug Poseidon’s lips between his teeth.
He pulled away with more force and pressed a hand to Odysseus’ chest, keeping his back firmly on the rock. (His chest was delightfully soft under Poseidon’s hand. Something to think about later.) Odysseus looked ready to argue, but Poseidon beat him to it.
“You’ll get your meal when you’re on my cock, not before,” Poseidon growled.
Odysseus’ mouth moved like he was about to snarl something in return, but a second finger turned his retort into a low moan.
“Just relax,” Poseidon soothed, “I won’t dally.”
That was less for Odysseus’ benefit and more for his own. His cock throbbed under his clothes, and if he weren’t worried about consequences if he truly hurt Odysseus, he would already be balls-deep inside him.
Luckily for both of them, Odysseus’ ass opened deliciously around Poseidon’s fingers, allowing the third inside quickly. Poseidon briefly wondered if maybe he should take his time, and make Odysseus beg for him, but decided he wasn’t patient enough for that. Perhaps another time.
Poseidon withdrew his fingers and with a thought vanished his clothes.
Odysseus, who had been mostly quiet save for some quiet gasps, grumbled, “Oh, sure, your clothes get to remain intact…”
Poseidon smirked at him but didn’t respond. He ran his slickened hand up and down his cock, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of Odysseus all spread out and eager for him. All the man’s precious wit and cleverness, and all it took was a few sweet words and a promise of ichor to have him willing to submit. What Poseidon wouldn’t do for this to be their norm.
He grabbed Odysseus by the hips, and spun them, causing Odysseus to yelp at the unexpected movement. Odysseus latched onto Poseidon’s shoulders to keep from falling over as he was suddenly placed over Poseidon, scrambling a little before catching his balance.
“I think it will be easier for you if you don’t have to reach up to bite me,” Poseidon said.
The fact that he wanted to see Odysseus speared on his cock from below was his own business.
Odysseus’ eyes flashed that deep red color and he snarled, “Would you hurry the fuck up?!”
Poseidon scoffed but readjusted his grip on Odysseus’ hips, shifting him around until the head of Poseidon’s cock found his gaping entrance. The control Poseidon had over Odysseus’ body almost made his cock twitch out of place. He was the one in full control, for once.
Poseidon pushed into Odysseus, groaning at the tight grip the man’s hole immediately placed around his cock.
“Feels like all of you wants me inside you,” he panted, sinking Odysseus down onto his length until their hips rested together.
This was exactly what he’d wanted. Odysseus’ eyes were rolled back slightly as he adjusted to Poseidon’s size, and Odysseus’ cock was fully erect, bobbing slightly as he breathed. Penelope was a very lucky woman. She deserved it after everything that happened to her, Poseidon supposed.
Poseidon distracted himself from the urge to bounce Odysseus on his hips by massaging the divots in his hips. Odysseus was delightfully solid, a soft layer of fat cushioning thick muscle beneath giving Poseidon’s hands the perfect amount of give. Seeing Odysseus’ frame filled out properly instead of starved was bittersweet; he had suffered, certainly, but he had recovered. Poseidon’s son could not do the same.
Odysseus’ eyes slid forward again, pausing on Poseidon’s face before slipping down to his chest with a curious, ravenous look. Clearly, he was done waiting.
Poseidon snorted and tipped his head back, baring his throat and collar to Odysseus.
“Go ahead. I gave my word.”
Odysseus exhaled shakily, and leaned down over Poseidon’s chest, lapping at the top of Poseidon’s left pectoral muscle before closing his lips around the same spot.
He was expecting, eagerly anticipating even, the feeling of Odysseus’ teeth sinking into his skin. He was not expecting Odysseus to bite down and keep going until his teeth met again and he pulled away with a mouthful of Poseidon’s flesh. The agony flared white-hot, and then joined the simmer of arousal in a way that made Poseidon’s hips jump a little.
“I thought you said you wanted ichor!” he still yelped, although the look of pure bliss on Odysseus’ face did make up for the shock of it.
Odysseus took a moment to chew and swallow his prize, flicking his tongue over his lips, then smiled down at Poseidon like a cat who’d finally found a way into the birdcage.
“Calypso started with ichor, sure, but I only realized what was really happening when she served me cuts of her thighs.” Odysseus took a shuddering breath, and Poseidon moaned as his body clenched around his cock. “You said I could have whatever I wanted as long as I did as you asked. I want to have my fill of your flesh and your blood.”
Poseidon probably shouldn’t have found that as arousing as he did.
He groaned as Odysseus bit into him again, his hips flexing against his will. He watched as the mortal pulled away slightly, mouth smeared with ichor, and wondered if it would be worth the risk to ask Odysseus to suck on his cock. The low groan Odysseus let out as he swallowed the chunk of flesh he’d bitten off did not help either argument.
(He could have Odysseus suck him to orgasm and then let him eat his cock… he needed to consider that sort of thing when he wasn’t too horny to think clearly. Just because it made his cock twitch as much as it could in its incredibly tight confines didn’t mean it was a good idea.)
Odysseus lathed his tongue over the gouges he’d left in Poseidon’s chest, ichor smearing into his beard and dripping down his chin when he sat up again. His expression of pure euphoria made Poseidon flex his hips again. It wasn’t fair how good he felt and looked and sounded, seated on Poseidon’s cock and dripping with his ichor and groaning at his taste.
Odysseus looked almost enamored as he leaned back down to bite into Poseidon’s right pectoral, and Poseidon wanted little more than for Odysseus to always look so entranced by him.
(Poseidon reminded himself that he was needed only for his ichor, but that did little to cool the rising heat in his gut; Odysseus needed him. Needed him so badly that he was willing to be Poseidon’s cocksleeve so long as he got what he needed while doing it. He was dependent on Poseidon. It was everything Poseidon had wanted and more.)
Poseidon found himself gripping Odysseus’ hips a little harder and grinding him onto Poseidon’s cock. The little moans Odysseus kept letting out each time he took a bite of Poseidon were making it very hard to not just give in and fuck him hard. They had a deal, Poseidon reminded himself, and he could handle a little wait so long as he got to feel Odysseus feed from him.
Getting literally eaten alive should not have felt so good. The pain of Odysseus’ teeth digging into his flesh and tearing it away should have put a damper on his mood, not made his cock pulse. The sight of Odysseus literally dripping with his ichor should have been horrifying - it had been horrifying a few months ago - but now it made something in Poseidon’s core purr with satisfaction.
Odysseus sealed his lips around one of the gouges and sucked it at. His tongue pressed into the raw flesh greedily, lapping up the ichor leaking from it.
(...Poseidon was going to have to have Odysseus suck him off at some point, risks be damned.)
Finally, Odysseus sat up again, running his tongue around the outside of his mouth. Ichor dripped from his beard onto his chest, leaving little tantalizing streaks of gold on his skin. Poseidon considered sitting up and licking them away, but decided against it. He liked the look of it. Odysseus had fought so hard to escape him, and now Odysseus was so desperate to have him he’d given up all dignity for him.
“Okay,” Odysseus gasped, his tongue flicking out again to swipe at the ichor still in his beard, “Okay. That’s- that’s enough. Let’s get this over with.”
Poseidon raised an eyebrow. It didn’t look like Odysseus had had enough; he kept licking at his own face and was refusing to look at Poseidon again, like he had before. But Poseidon’s cock ached with need, and if he could get Odysseus to abandon his self-control even more later… well. Poseidon was never one to turn down an opportunity.
He shrugged a little and said, “If you’re sure.”
Poseidon lifted Odysseus’ hips. He wished he could bottle the look of pure shock Odysseus gave him as he did, and he laughed when Odysseus’s hands latched onto his shoulders again, clearly trying to keep his balance.
“I have you. Relax,” Poseidon assured him.
He then released his hold, dropping Odysseus back onto his cock without warning.
“FUCKER!” Odysseus snarled.
Poseidon moaned, ignoring him. The pain in his chest was dulling already, the missing chunks sealing over and refilling, and some twisted part of him mourned it. There was a certain pleasure in feeling just how badly Odysseus needed him.
Just as he’d hoped, the moment he began lifting Odysseus again, Odysseus got his legs under him and lifted himself.
“I’ll handle this if you’re just going to drop me over and over again,” Odysseus grumbled, although Poseidon noted that his cock was still fully hard and throbbing too.
Poseidon would have personally preferred a faster pace, but having Odysseus ride him of his own volition made up for it. He just had to hold Odysseus’ hips as Odysseus raised and lowered himself, his scowl softening a little as he settled into the rhythm of it.
The sheer sight of Odysseus fucking himself on Poseidon’s cock was almost equal to the slick, wet slide of his ass. His mortal enemy was remarkably skilled at it. Poseidon almost wanted to ask if any of Odysseus’ other partners had measured up to him, but was pretty sure he would only get a sarcastic answer at best. Odysseus was on his cock now. The past didn’t matter.
(Mostly, anyway. There was a reason he was enjoying having Odysseus pleasure him, and it had little to do with any newly-sprung feelings.)
Poseidon pulled Odysseus down with a little more force, grinding up into him for a moment. Odysseus was flushed, his eyes a little hazy as his hips twitched in Poseidon’s grip. Poseidon’s mortal nemesis, reduced to a blushing whore on his cock. Being stabbed was worth this.
Odysseus allowed Poseidon to lift and settle him again, his thighs trembling around Poseidon’s hips. When Poseidon thrust up into him, he actually moaned a little, his cock twitching and drooling. Poseidon could listen to those punched-out sounds all day.
Odysseus’ hazy eyes wandered as Poseidon thrust up into him again, lingering on the mostly-sealed wounds in Poseidon’s chest. Poseidon smirked.
“Do you not have enough of me inside you already?” he asked, punctuating his words by shoving Odysseus down hard while his hips thrust up, burying his cock as deep as it could go.
Odysseus growled at him, but it sounded like his heart just wasn’t in it. The wolf defanged by its hunter, pretending it didn’t enjoy being fed. Poseidon laughed and pressed his left wrist to the man’s lips.
“Well? Go on,” he teased, which turned into a moan as Odysseus did as he asked and sank his teeth into Poseidon’s wrist.
Feeling the mortal lapping at his wound made Poseidon’s hips stutter. The poor thing really was insatiable. Poseidon would just have to fill him some more. He regained his rhythm and thrust harder into Odysseus.
He had to pull his wrist away when he almost over-balanced Odysseus by trying to bounce him using only one hand. Odysseus actually whined when he did it, making Poseidon sit up and kiss him furiously for a moment, his ichor smearing over both their lips. It was such a pathetic, needy sound. Poseidon wanted more of it.
(Hearing his mortal whine for him, so desperate for every part of him- Poseidon wanted to set a day aside to teasing out every possible sound Odysseus could make. Would he cry if Poseidon kept him hard for hours and drip-fed him ichor? Would he beg? Would he promise fealty, worship, service so long as he could taste Poseidon again? Those were dangerous questions.)
Poseidon was closer than he really wanted to be as he laid back down, driving up into Odysseus with quick snaps of his hips. It was a shame he wouldn’t get to have his mortal for longer, but getting to fill Odysseus further, saturating him in Poseidon’s essence inside and out, was plenty enticing.
As if he heard Poseidon’s thought, Odysseus fell forward and latched onto Poseidon’s throat. At first simply kissing it, then mouthing it, and finally biting with just enough force to make Poseidon hiss.
And then he bit down properly.
Poseidon’s vision went white as he felt Odysseus chew into his throat, ripping flesh and veins alike as he did. It was euphoric. Poseidon could feel his breathing gurgling ineffectually around the sensation of Odysseus’ teeth grinding into his flesh. His mortal was so desperate for him that even being fucked couldn’t keep him from taking more of Poseidon’s flesh.
That thought, combined with the feeling of Odysseus guzzling the ichor no doubt spraying from the severed veins and arteries in Poseidon’s throat, made him jerk his hips up hard, grinding into Odysseus as he came.
Time became shaky for a little while, his orgasm mixing with the white-hot agony of Odysseus chewing deeper and deeper into his throat, but eventually Poseidon came down from his high. He focused on Odysseus, curious but mostly pleased with himself.
Cum was splattered across their chests, and Odysseus’ cock hung spent between them. The man certainly looked satisfied, panting with his gold-streaked tongue leisurely flicking in and out of his mouth, cleaning his lips. Poseidon was content to simply stare at him, feeling his cock thicken a little at the sight.
“Satisfied?” Poseidon whispered hoarsely, his voice shredding through the damage to his throat.
Odysseus sat up properly, also apparently coming out of his haze. He grimaced and pressed one hand to his mouth and the other to his stomach, letting out a painful-sounding burp.
“So you do have a limit,” Poseidon rasped smugly.
The withering glare he received should not have made his cock pulse, but it did. It wasn’t helped by the visual of Odysseus, splattered in ichor and cum both, stuffed so full of Poseidon he looked ready to be sick with it all.
Poseidon hummed to himself, placing his hands back on Odysseus’ hips and tracing his thumbs up the curve of his stomach.
“I wonder how much you could take if you really tried,” he murmured.
“If you try to fuck me again, I will vomit all over you,” Odysseus threatened through gritted teeth.
Poseidon laughed and was almost tempted to do it anyway, but decided against it. This was pleasant enough, having his mostly-hard cock held snugly in Odysseus’ ass while he got to ogle the rest of the man.
“You look good in gold,” he said roughly, eyeing Odysseus’ ichor-streaked chest.
It didn’t hurt that some primal part of Poseidon was incredibly pleased with just how soaked Odysseus was in his essence, inside and out. This was his nemesis, his mortal, stuffed to the brim with Poseidon and thoroughly his-
Poseidon froze. Then, unceremoniously, he lifted Odysseus off his cock and laid him down despite the man’s protests.
“That was fun, but I think you’ve had about as much of me as you can take,” Poseidon said with forced smugness.
Odysseus looked confused, but Poseidon simply snapped in a set of deep blue robes for Odysseus to wear, and vanished back into the surf.
He had no claim to Odysseus, and certainly couldn’t afford to be seen as trying to set one. That feeling of ownership was not allowed, not even after their little agreement.
Poseidon scrubbed his hands over his eyes. He was not going back to Ithaca. Not for a while. If one quick tryst was enough to make him feel like that, he needed to stay far away from Odysseus.
For both their sakes.