by L. J. Hamlin
“Oranges. I hate oranges, and it’s not a sexy word. What if I have a question? Like, this is all new to me. What if I just need a minute to talk to you but don’t want to stop everything?” Carl asks.
“Smart boy. Safety is very important. If you just want to pause for some reason, say yellow, like traffic lights.” Kristian nudges Carl’s legs apart with a large but gentle hand and then climbs between them.
“Yellow, okay. I can remember those.” Carl nods.
Kristian strokes Carl’s thighs softly, and then, without warning, one of those big hands wraps around Carl’s hard length. It feels different, having someone else’s fingers on him. Kristian’s are so much bigger, the skin a little rougher, his grip firmer. And then there’s simply the feeling of being touched.
“You can move as much as you like, and you can talk. In fact, I want to hear your voice. Don’t curse me out if I tease you, but swearing is allowed. You understand?” Kristian rubs Carl slowly, making his whole body buzz.
Carl can’t help letting out a little moan, and he sees Kristian smile like he’s pleased.
“I understand,” Carl says when Kristian stops stroking, and as soon as he speaks, Kristian’s hand starts moving again.
“Be careful not to choke me. I’ll hold you down if I need to, but be polite,” Kristian warns Carl. Then he leans forward, lips parted, his breath fanning over the tip of Carl’s cock, and Carl wants to arch closer, but he wants to follow the rules, be polite. It would be rude to rush Kristian.
In the end, Kristian doesn’t make him wait long. He takes Carl’s cock in his mouth, and the warm wet feeling makes Carl moan so loudly that he’s almost embarrassed, but he can’t cover his mouth. His hands are literally tied.
And that makes things even hotter—the restraints at his wrists, not being able to reach out and touch. It makes Carl shiver almost as much as the incredible sensation of having his dick sucked for the first time by someone who clearly knows what he’s doing. Kristian is no inexperienced virgin, and Carl can’t keep the moans from spilling out of his mouth.
Kristian takes him deep, and the head of Carl’s cock touches the back of Kristian’s throat. His eyes roll in his head and then close tight, and that’s when Kristian stops, lifting his head up off Carl’s cock and making him whimper.
“Keep your eyes open. I want your eyes on me the whole time. That’s all you have to do, and I’ll make you come,” Kristian says in a rough voice. It’s so sexy that Carl thinks he would agree to anything.
He nods. “I’ll keep my eyes open.” As soon as he speaks, Kristian’s head lowers again, and he starts sucking.
Carl doesn’t think he’s going to last long, and he garbles warnings amidst curse words and moans. Kristian keeps easing off, encouraging him to last longer, until Carl is a babbling mess. And that’s when Kristian sucks harder, goes deeper and faster. Carl feels his orgasm building and building, pounding through his veins and up and out of his cock.
Kristian pulls off and strokes Carl through his orgasm, and then, hands still a sticky mess, he unzips his pants and pulls out his own hard cock. He jerks off, Carl’s slick on his hands mixing with his own as he pumps hard and fast, pushing himself to come, and he does on Carl’s stomach.
Once he comes, Kristian leans up and slowly unties the ropes. He rubs Carl’s hands and wrists after he’s untied them, making sure they’re okay.
“You did a good job. You didn’t have to stop at all. Such a good boy.” Kristian leans down and kisses Carl, and Carl kisses back, his heart still racing, even though he’s come.
“Let me clean you up.” Kristian leaves long enough to get a damp cloth, then cleans Carl’s stomach and chest before getting into the bed beside him and throwing an arm around his shoulders.
“Did you like it?” Kristian asks.
“Yes. God, yes.”
“I’ve got a lot more that I could teach you, so much more, if you think you’re ready?” Kristian asks.
“I’d like to learn some stuff, if you want to teach me,” Carl says softly.
“Call me an old fool, but a kid brave enough to go into the Cherry Bomb on basically a dare? Well, you have the kind of balls needed to learn about my world,” Kristian says, reaching out to stroke Carl’s blond hair.
“I’ll have to thank my frat brothers for pulling this joke on me.” Carl grins.
“Never thought I’d be tying up a frat boy in my bed. I guess I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. I look forward to learning all about you, not just how you taste,” Kristian says, giving Carl a teasing kiss before tucking him in against his side. “Want to stay the night? Tell me about yourself?” Kristian asks.
Carl thinks about getting out of this bed, going back to the frat house. But then he thinks about being here with Kristian, and it’s an easy choice. Almost as easy as it had been hard to go into the club in the first place.
“I’ll stay the night.” Carl nods.
He rests his head on Kristian’s chest. The first man to give him an orgasm, and he doesn’t feel like a stranger. Maybe it’s just post-orgasmic haze talking right now, but Carl thinks that love always starts as lust for people like him, no love at first sight like the fairytales, for some friendship builds to love, all kinds of love, and he thinks he has a friend in Kristian too, so it might just work out.
In Love with Zeus’s Son
It’s a beautiful day in Greek paradise, but then it always is. Eros is lounging by the pool in his home, sunning himself, when his Cupid phone goes off. It’s a glass ball on a plinth that glows and hums when someone is summoning him.
Reluctantly he gets up from where he is lying and he goes over to his orb. He places his hand on the orb, and is surprised to see who is calling for him. Sotirios Ioannidis, one of the many, many illegitimate children of Zeus—gods know that man can’t keep it in his pants. You’d think an all-powerful god would grasp the concept of condoms, if not fidelity, but it’s 2014 and children are still popping up.
Sotirios is one of Zeus half-human children; he lives on earth, and is a friend, which is why it is strange for Sotirios to be summoning him like this. Curious, and a little worried, Eros puts both hands on the orb and lets his magic flow into it. One second he is standing in a beautiful sun lit room in paradise, and the next he is standing in a small, slightly shabby apartment in New York.
“Sot, why on earth are you summoning me?” Eros asks.
Sotirios looks up from where he is sat on the floor. He’s sat cross legged in front of a candle, which he blows out, and starts to clear away the things he had out from the ritual.
“You weren’t answering your cell phone,” Sot replies, standing up.
He’s taller than Eros, and broader. He’s similar in build to Zeus, typical Greek god body, totally perfect, muscular, tanned skin. But he has his Norwegian mother’s pale blond hair and icy blue eyes. He’s beautiful, something Eros does his best not to notice; they’re friends, and he’s a good many centuries older.
“I must have left it in the house. What’s so urgent that you’d summon me when I didn’t answer a phone call?” Eros asks, wondering closer to Sot. He can see them both in the large mirror Sot has, which he insists makes his apartment look bigger. It doesn’t.
“I went on a date,” Sot says, and Eros’s heart clenches. He really wants Sot to be happy, he does, but Eros also wants him to be single. Because it doesn’t matter how much he shouldn’t be in love with Sot, he most definitely is. Since Psyche left him for one of her handmaidens he’s been lonely. He’d fallen for Sot when he finally joined the world again, and Sot never mocked him like the other gods for losing his love when he was the god of love, but he guesses it wasn’t a soul love. He never looked because it’s forbidden to look at a full god’s future, so he never saw Psyche wasn’t meant to stay with him.
“And?” Eros asks, trying to sound like he doesn’t really care. Could he convince someone to curse this new guy? But though it’s a pleasant fantasy, he could never bring himself to a
ctually curse someone, and he wouldn’t do that to his closest friend. Sot might not be the god of anything, but he has enough god blood in him that he would sense his new lover had been cursed anyway, and wouldn’t that just raise a few uncomfortable questions—not that Eros has ever cursed a human, and if he ever does, he likes to think it’d be for a good reason.
“It was a disaster,” Sot complains, going over to his couch and flopping down. He’s the very picture of frustration, and no less beautiful for it.
“Must have been a bad date if it had you summoning me instead of waiting for me to call you back,” Eros sits beside him, keeping a gap between them. He has this silly fear that one day he’ll touch Sot and not be able to stop, won’t want to stop, and he’s pretty sure Sot would object to that.
“I guess it wasn’t my worst, but it got me thinking. What if I’m like my father?”
“What do you mean?” Eros almost laughs because Sot is nothing like Zeus, who is a vain, selfish, greedy sex fiend. He’s also not exactly a great father. He’s pretty much in the habit of knocking up their mothers and then never being seen again.
“What if I can never find love? He’s never happy with anyone, is he? What if I’m like that?” Sot bites his lip, and he looks so stressed, so sad, that it breaks Eros’s heart to see.
“Zeus’s problem is that he finds love every five minutes. He’s a child. His interest can only be captured for so long. You’re nothing like that.” Eros has seen how deeply Sot loves. He loves his friends and family in a way Zeus could never understand, is incapable of.
“I’m not talking about momentary interest. We all know Zeus ‘falls in love’ often. I’m talking about true love, real love. He has never found that, not in all these years. What if I’m doomed to live the same life? What if his fate is mine?” Sot asks.
“No two men have the same fate. I’ve told you this before. Your path is not your father’s. Do I have to take you to see the fates so they can explain? Each thread is different. You aren’t Zeus, you are nothing like him, and not just because you are half human, trust me,” Eros says firmly.
“I know no fate is identical. I know I’m not like Zeus, but we are related, as much as I sometimes hate the fact. There are bound to be some similarities between us. What if this is one?” Sot asks.
“Sot, you are not doomed to anything. You’re twenty-two; you have a lifetime to fall in love,” Eros replies.
“Do I have a soul mate?” Sot asks. You can tell, can’t you? It’s one of your powers, to tell if a soul is connected to another.”
Eros goes still. Surprise and hurt coil through him. “You didn’t just summon me to complain about your date. You want me to use my powers. I’m not here as your friend; I’m here as the god of love.”
“I’m sorry. I dithered forever. I hate to ask, but I really need to know: Will I find love, or should I just stop looking?”
“And if I do this, and the answer isn’t the one you want? If I give you bad news? What will that do to our friendship? You’ll hate me if I’m the one who ruins your dreams of love.”
“It won’t ruin our friendship if you give me bad news. You’re my best friend. I could never hate you. But I need to know.”
The ache in Eros’s chest is getting worse, along with the sick, clawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. The back of his throat feels scraped raw. “And if you aren’t destined for love, what will you do then? I don’t want to be responsible for that, for killing that part of you. How can you sit here and ask me to do something that might break your heart?”
“You won’t be breaking my heart. You’ll be giving me a reality check.” Sot stares at his hands, resting splayed in his lap, shaggy hair hanging in his face. “I don’t want to spend my time on a fool’s errand. I don’t want to search for something that doesn’t exist. I can be happy without a soul mate, but right now it’s all I can think about.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Eros says, but the words come out weak. He can never say no to Sot. It’s been that way since they met five years ago.
“But you’ll do it?” Sot asks hopefully.
“Yes. But if you don’t get the answer you want, no getting angry with me. It’s not my fault. I don’t give people soul mates. I don’t connect souls. I find soul love, but it’s the fates who are in charge of souls. I can create a bond, but not one that is soul deep,” Eros says firmly.
“I know, but you can see the connection between souls and that’s all I want.” Sot turns to face Eros more fully. Eros has explained how this works before.
“All right. But don’t say I haven’t warned you,” Eros replies with a sigh.
Sot rolls his eyes. “Yes, I get it. I’ve been duly warned. Now let’s do it.”
“That’s not how you ask for a favour,” Eros replies, giving him a look.
Sot winces. “Sorry, sorry. I know you’re doing me a favour. I’m sorry I summoned you. I should have waited. I just got so stressed after my date, I knew you’d be able to help.”
“It’s okay. I’ve been told this can feel a little weird, so brace yourself,” Eros says.
“It’s okay. I can handle weird for a bit,” Sot nods.
Eros reaches out with his left hand and places it on Sot’s chest, over his heart. It’s beating steadily, maybe a little fast, but that’s probably from nerves. Eros clears his mind and calls on the magic inside of him. He closes his eyes and lets the sound of Sot’s heartbeat fill his head.
His hand grows warm, tingling slightly as energy flows from him to Sot, connecting them. Eros calls to Sot’s soul. After a few moments he feels it, bright and strong, glowing a faint blue-purple colour. Eros concentrates on it, on feeling for connections.
Eros has seen many souls, but the thread he finds connected to Sot’s is bright shining red, a colour Eros has never seen before. He’s curious, and concerned about what kind of person Sot might be connected to. He touches the thread and is immediately thrown back with such force from the soul that he slams back into his body and flies off the couch into the nearest wall. His vision whites out.
“Oh my God!”
When Eros opens his eyes, his head buzzing, Sot is leaning over him, pale and worried, but thankfully unharmed by whatever just happened to Eros.
“Ouch,” Eros says, rubbing the back of his head.
“Are you all right? What happened?”
“I’m fine.” Eros gladly lets Sot help him to his feet and back to the couch.
“What happened?” Sot asks again.
“I don’t know,” Eros replies.
“Was it me? Did I do something to hurt you?” Sot still looks pale. “I’m sorry. I never should have asked you to help me.”
“No, no, you had nothing to do with it. You have a soul mate, Sot. I. But this soul—I’ve never seen a soul like it before. I tried to see who it was, which I’ve done before. I don’t know what happened. It’s like I wasn’t meant to touch it.” Eros frowns.
Sot scowls. “I have a soul mate? One with a weird soul?”
“Yes, you have a soul mate, and I didn’t say weird, just not like anything I had seen before.”
This entire incident is making him feel even more depressed. His best friend has a soul mate, his powers are acting weird, and everything hurts from being thrown across the room. His good day has turned to shit.
“Is there someone you can ask about this? I mean, I’d like to know why my soul mate’s soul caused you to fly across the room,” Sot says, reaching out, cupping the back of Eros head, carefully feeling around, probably looking for a bump. When he finds a sore spot that makes Eros hiss, he stops, dropping his hand.
Sot touches him so casually, it drives Eros a little crazy, but he would never ask Sot to stop. He likes it too much. He craves Sot’s touch.
“We could ask my mother, I suppose.” Aphrodite. If anyone would know what’s going on, it’s Aphrodite, but Eros would rather be thrown across the room again than involve his mother.
“You co
uldn’t sound more reluctant if you tried,” Sot says.
“She’ll lecture me for using my powers on a friend, and a god, even a half god,” Eros grumbles.
Sot replies, “I can come with you, if you want.”
“Fine.” Eros takes Sot’s hands because as a half god, Sot can’t just take himself to paradise without performing a whole ceremony. It’s much easier for Eros to just take them there.
He envisions his mother’s temple, and they appear in the entrance way.
“That always makes me feel a little sick,” Sot says.
“Must be your human half.” Eros shrugs.
Eros leads the way through the temple, to where he can sense his mother in the throne room.
“Eros!” His mother says brightly, standing up, her handmaidens moving out of the way quickly as she strides across the room and wraps Eros in a hug, like she hasn’t seen him in months instead of days.
“Hello, Mother,” Eros says, hugging her back.
“And you brought Sotirios. Hello, Sotirios, are you going to visit your father?” Aphrodite asks.
“Probably not,” Sot says honestly.
“Well, I can’t say I blame you. Come sit down.” Aphrodite motions to opulent chairs that have been placed at the centre of the room.
Eros and Sot take seats opposite Aphrodite, who is wearing beautiful robes. She’s one of the more old fashioned gods, still wearing Greek robes, whereas Eros is sitting in front of her in a pair of purple knee length shorts.
“What brings you both to my temple?” Aphrodite asks.
“Something strange happened when I was using my powers earlier,” Eros says.
“And what were you using your powers for?” Aphrodite asks suspiciously. She knows Eros is prone to breaking rules.
“I asked him to see if I had a soulmate,” Sot says before Eros can reply.
“And what happened that has you concerned?” Aphrodite asks.
“Sot has a soul mate, but his thread was unusual. It was bright red, which I’ve never seen before. When I tried to take a closer look, I wound up thrown across the room.”