by L. J. Hamlin
The last thing he expects is that his mother will start laughing, but she does, loudly, looking highly amused.
Eros glares. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh my dear boy, do you know nothing about souls?” Aphrodite asks.
Aphrodite laughs even harder this time.
“Red represents the souls of gods of Love, and I certainly am not your soul mate.” Aphrodite smiles brightly, like still wants to be laughing, and is trying desperately not to.
“You’re saying it was Eros’s soul that was red?” Sot asks softly, he looks surprised, but not unhappy.
“And you can’t touch your own soul, Eros. That’s why you were thrown out. Did you not read the scroll of Love I gave you when you took over your duties? It explained how to see your own soul mate. Now don’t you feel better? Aren’t you glad we had this talk?” Aphrodite smiles.
“What are you saying? I read most of it. I skimmed it—it was in ancient Greek which is so boring.” Eros asks.
“Really, Eros? You’re the god of Love. Did it never occur to you that you might have a soul mate?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Eros admits. He thinks about love a lot; it’s his job after all. But he’s used to dealing with other people’s love, not his own.
“I think you boys should go talk,” Aphrodite makes a shooing gesture at them both, stands up, and heads back to her throne.
Eros gets up, and Sot follows him, not saying anything all the way back to Eros’s home. In his living room, he drops onto the couch.
Sot stands in the middle of the room looking lost, like he hasn’t been there a hundred times—but then, everything has changed. Sot probably wishes he were anywhere else in the world.
Before Eros can figure out what to say, Sot blurts out, “You don’t have to let me down gently. I understand.”
“What? I don’t understand,” Eros says, because he doesn’t.
“I’m not good enough for you,” Sot says simply.
“What is that supposed to mean? Not good enough for me? That doesn’t—” Eros stops. “Wait. Does that mean you want me?”
“You’re the god of love, and I’m the bastard son of Zeus, the biggest player to ever exist. You’re better than me by leagues,” Sot says.
“Why would you think that? I have never thought I was better than you.”
“I know you don’t think so, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’m surprised your mother didn’t have a fit. I guess she’s saving it for when I’m not in the room. I know what most of the older god’s think of half-humans, what they think of Zeus’s children especially.” Sot stares at the floor.
Eros gestures impatiently. “What other gods think doesn’t matter. And my mother likes you. She seemed happy for us. The only thing I care about right now is what you think. Are you mad I’m your soul mate?”
“No. Of course, I’m not mad,” Sot replies.
“I’m not mad either,” Eros says. “Now seems like the time to tell you. I’ve been in love with you for years.” Eros can’t keep it a secret now, not when they have a chance of having something, something real. Sot is his soul mate, and even though not all soul mates end up together, it means something.
“You’re in love with me?” Sot looks like he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.
Eros sighs. “Yes. I never told you, because we’re friends, and the age gap. I understand you not wanting me.
“You think I don’t want you?” Sot asks.
“Am I wrong?” Eros counters.
“Yes!” Sot surges forward and before Eros can even draw breath to reply Sot is straddling him.
“Sot? I never…You never said,” Eros says, shocked. He’s no stranger to passion, but he wasn’t expecting this at all.
“I was intimidated—still am. I mean, you’re the god of love. I, please tell me I’m not making a fool of myself here.” Sot sounds so nervous, and Eros wants to show him that he has no reason for his nerves.
Eros has always been served well by his instincts, so he goes with them now. Eros threads a hand in the back of Sot’s pale blond hair, and draws Sot down for a kiss. Eros means for it to be a simple meeting of lips, but Sot gasps, and Eros can’t help deepening the kiss.
His heart is beating so fast in his chest, and Eros can feel his soul calling to Sot’s and being answered as their energies meet, the strands of their souls tangling together. When the kiss ends, they are both panting, and Sot’s cheeks are flushed.
“I’ve never felt like that from just a kiss,” Sot says softly. “It always felt like I was kissing the wrong person.”
“We really are soul mates,” Eros says in wonder.
“And you are truly okay with a half-human being your soul mate?” Sot asks.
“I’ve been in love with you forever,” Eros replies. “I couldn’t be happier. I didn’t think there was a chance you could ever be mine.”
“But I am. I’m yours,” Sot says, and leans in to claim another kiss.
With each kiss, every touch, the bond grows stronger. Deeper. It leaves him giddy and breathless.
Pulling back just enough to speak, Sot says, “Take me to bed.”
“I don’t want to rush you. I don’t want to mess things up,” Eros says, but his body gives away what he really wants, his cock hard in his shorts, his hands stroking down Sot’s back to cup his ass.
“We’ve known each other for years. I trust you. And we’re soul mates. I can feel it—I can feel you. It’s like my soul is dancing when we kiss. I want to connect with you in every way possible. Unless you don’t want to?” Sot asks hesitantly.
“I think it’s pretty obvious I want. I’m glad you can feel our souls too. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to. Come on, we’ll go to my room.”
Eros misses having Sot’s solid weight in his lap. He stands up too, and they walk to his bedroom. It’s a beautiful room, with a huge bed. Eros hopes the setting is romantic enough. Sot deserves all the romance in the world. And Eros is the god of love; he should be able to provided that.
“You are wearing far too many clothes,” Eros says.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Sot replies, tugging lightly at the waistband of Eros shorts.
“That’s a deal I’m perfectly happy with.” Eros smiles.
Once Sot removes his T-shirt, Eros removes his shorts, the only thing he’s wearing. He drops them to the floor, and watches as Sot slowly and carefully takes off everything he is wearing. T-shirt first, then shoes, then jeans, and finally his underwear.
Sot looks perfect. Eros can’t help but stare at his beauty, his perfection. He might only be a half god, but he is godly, and should be worshiped as such.
“You are amazing, everything I dreamed and more. I’m honoured to be your soul mate,” Eros says softly.
“I dreamed of you too, and the reality is better,” Sot says, stepping over his discarded clothes to get to Eros.
Eros isn’t sure who closes the final gap, but one minute he is looking at Sot, drinking him in, and the next their bodies are pressed firmly together as they kiss heatedly. Eros can’t keep his hands still. He runs them over every bit of Sot he can reach: his back, his sides, his ass. He truly feels he has perfection under his hands.
Sot breaks the kiss, breathless. “Show me how the god of love makes love.”
Only a fool would say no to that, and Eros is no fool. He smiles softly, resisting using his powers to zap them over to the bed—he knows now it makes Sot feel sick. So instead he just takes Sot’s hand and walks over to the bed, where they both climb on.
They could easily both lie in the bed and not touch at all, it’s that big, but Eros wants to touch. He rolls on top of Sot, pinning him to the bed with his hips, caging him in his arms, and he leans in, claiming another kiss.
Eros takes his time exploring Sot’s mouth, his hands running over Sot’s body, learning it like a sculptor with clay. After what could be minutes, or hours, time has lost meaning. Eros leaves Sot�
�s mouth to follow the path his hands took with his mouth.
He kisses, licks, and nips every inch of skin he finds, till Sot is squirming, breathing hard, and pleading.
“What do you want? Tell me. I’ll give you anything you want,” Eros promises.
“I want to come, damn it. I don’t care how. As long as it’s you making me come.”
“Let me worship you,” Eros says softly, and brushes his lips over skin he has not yet touched, working steadily down to Sot’s cock.
He teases with light touches, little flicks of his tongue, till Sot is whimpering. Only then does Eros begin in earnest. He licks every inch of Sot’s cock, getting it wet, tasting his musk. He sucks kisses on his skin, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room.
“Please, more,” Sot begs.
Eros opens wide and takes Sot into his mouth, sucking and licking, taking more with each bob of his head. And he can hear Sot babbling, words like ‘amazing’ and other praise spilling passed his lips. Eros uses every trick he knows to drive Sot wild, and it seems to be working.
Sot’s hands are fisted in the bed’s white sheets, crumpling the material. It’s clear he’s trying to hold on, trying to keep some control. Eros doesn’t want him to keep control. He wants Sot to lose it. He flicks his tongue over the head of Sot’s cock and Sot’s hips jerk, so Eros does it again, and again.
Sot is moaning, panting, and thrashing on the bed. Eros uses one hand to pin Sot’s hips and takes him deeper, sinking down and taking as much of Sot’s cock as he can. Eros swallows around Sot’s cock, and Sot shouts out, cursing loudly.
“I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” Sot groans.
And seeing as that is the idea, Eros keeps it up, sinking all the way down till Sot hits the back of his throat and swallowing. Sot curses over and over, and then his back arches beautifully as his orgasm hits him. Eros keeps sucking him through it, taking every drop Sot has to give. He pulls off before Sot becomes too sensitive, and returns to his mouth, sharing Sot’s own flavour with him.
“Oh hell, that was amazing.” Sot pants against his lips.
“You’re amazing.” Eros grins, and then his breath hitches as Sot’s hand finds his cock and strokes.
Eros kisses him again, slow, lazy, deep kisses while Sot strokes his cock. Even his orgasm seems lazy, building slowly and creeping up on him. One minute he is sucking on Sot’s lower lip, and then next he’s throwing his head back as his orgasm hits, his seed spilling over Sot’s hand and onto his stomach and chest.
Eros can feel their souls as he leans in to kiss Sot again. They are connected, and it feels wonderful. Eros has never, not in all his years, felt anything like it. He has found his soul mate. Love has found its soul mate.
* * * *
Eros walks out to his pool, two drinks in hand, and hands one to Sot before sitting down beside him. They are both sitting on the edge of the pool, with their feet dangling in the warm water. It’s a perfect, sunny day in paradise, made all the better by them being together.
“Getting used to living here yet?” Eros asks. They’ve been together four months, living together for three weeks. Some would say they are moving fast, but Eros doesn’t care. They are meant to be together; they are happy together.
“It’s amazing. But what I like best about it is having you here,” Sot says, putting down his drink and kissing Eros lightly.
Eros is about to draw Sot in for a deeper kiss, when two golden owls bearing scrolls appear. Eros has explained how messages are sent here, so Sot doesn’t look surprised. The owls swoop down, and each bird drops its letter. One on Sot’s lap, and the other on Eros.
“You won’t believe what it is,” Sot says, opening his first.
“What?” Eros picks it up and finds that it is not a letter, but a wedding invite. They have been invited to Zeus’s wedding, to some woman Eros has never heard of.
“Your dad is such a player. Are you going to go?” Eros asks.
“Only if you come with me, as my date.” Sot smiles.
“Of course, I’ll be your date.” Eros gives in to the urge he had before the letters had arrived and kisses Sot on his perfect lips.
Love and Cake
When his sister had come to the bakery to tell him and his partner, Ash, that her boyfriend had proposed, Rowan had happily offered to bake something tasty and pretty for her engagement party.
Now, back home, he’s up to his elbows in recipe books and starting to regret his offer.
“Have you narrowed it down?” Ash asks.
He hadn’t actually asked if Ash would be okay with helping when he had made the offer, but Rowan is lucky—he has an amazing boyfriend who had offered to help him out the moment Rowan had agreed to the party.
“Well…I’m thinking something simple would be best, like vanilla cupcakes with that vanilla frosting everyone likes so much, or chocolate cupcakes. Everyone likes chocolate. Maybe with buttercream frosting or cream cheese frosting on top, or…maybe something fruity?” He frowns at the recipes he’s been looking at—they are all successful recipes designed, tested, and worked on together by him and Ash.
“So…that’s a no to narrowing it down.” Ash chuckles.
“Kind of…the list was even bigger before, but I want this to be perfect,” Rowan says, groaning.
He knows a lot of guys who don’t get on that well with their siblings, but Rowan has always had fun with his sister. They’re friends. She was the first person he told when he realised he was gay, and he’d introduced Ash to her before their parents—her approval had meant a lot to him, and Ash had seemed to win it easily.
“Have you checked to see if anyone is vegan or has any food allergies?” Ash asks.
“Oh, shit.” Rowan moans this time.
“So that’s a big no,” Ash says, laughing as he drops down next to Rowan, who is sprawled on the floor. He rubs the tension bunching between Rowan’s shoulders with one hand. Ash is a big tall guy with fiery red hair, green eyes, and he’s covered in freckles, freckles Rowan likes to count with his tongue. He’s also tall, broad, and muscular, and strong enough to sling around huge industrial sized bags of flour.
Rowan isn’t a small guy at five nine, but back in the day, he was called a twink fairly often, largely for his white-blond hair and blue eyes, and the fact he’s not all that broad. Now he’s older, he doesn’t get as many pretty boy comments. It’s not like he hated being known as a pretty boy, but he’s more comfortable in his skin now, more at home with who he is. And he likes the way Ash looks at him, like he’s slightly stunned every time.
Ash is sexy as hell, and his strong hands have a way of making him melt. He’s still stressed about this cupcake business, but Ash’s touch does make him feel a little better, and more physically relaxed.
“I can call your sister,” Ash says, “take some of the stress off you, if you want.”
“I’ll text her, give her time to ask her guests if there are any special needs I need to know about. She’s not the one in charge of the party anyway. My mom and her future mother-in-law are.” Rowan yawns, too lazy to get up from the floor, where he is sat, surrounded by recipes. To get his cell phone, he stretches as far as he can until he reaches the edge of the coffee table where he snags his cell phone.
“Being a bride must be stressful, so it’s good that they’re helping her out,” Ash says as he smiles when Rowan begins texting.
“Gemma has always been lucky, so it makes sense that she would find a great mother-in-law. I mean…you hear all those horror stories about mothers-in-law from hell.” Rowan frowns as he notices an incorrect spelling and goes back to fix it. Maybe Ash has a point about him being a bit of a perfectionist.
“I know your mom isn’t officially my mother-in-law,” Ash says, “but she’s been great to me. She helped you plan my thirtieth birthday party last year.”
Most days Rowan can’t believe he’s thirty-three, and that Ash is nearing thirty-one. He still feels like he’s in his twenties, or sometimes
younger, even though he runs a business with his partner and shares a house with him. There are still days where he feels like the same nineteen-year-old that met Ash in a coffee shop where he’d been working part time.
He’d fallen madly in love that first week, and his feelings for Ash have only grown deeper over the years.
Love at first sight wasn’t something he believed in until he met Ash. It’s not like they’ve never had problems. It hasn’t always been smooth sailing, especially with the stress of pastry school and starting their own business. But they’d managed to stay strong through the hardships fate put in their path.
“I sometimes think my mom loves you more than she loves me,” Rowan says, laughing as he finishes sending another text.
“Well, I am pretty awesome.” Ash smirks, rolling closer to claim a kiss.
They don’t talk about Ash’s mother. She doesn’t like Rowan, hasn’t from the beginning, and she’s gone as far as accusing him of taking advantage of her then seventeen-year-old son, of leading Ash astray. Even after all these years, she still doesn’t accept Ash is gay and insists that being with Rowan is just a phase that Ash is going through, which is a little ridiculous, but some people just don’t want to face the truth.
It makes Ash sad that his mother is a bigot, so he tries to avoid bringing her up. Rowan got lucky, having a family that not only accepts him, but fully supports him and his choice of partner.
“Mmm, that was nice.” He smiles against Ash’s lips, enjoying their brief kiss.
“Would you want us to make the cakes for our engagement party, if we got engaged?” Ash asks, looking oddly serious.
“Probably. I’d want everything to be perfect,”
“I know you like things to be perfect, and I know you like romance,” Ash says, taking a deep breath. “I had this…thing all planned out.”
“What’s going on?” Rowan asks, his heart rate picking up speed, his mouth going dry. Ash couldn’t be talking about what Rowan thinks he is, could he?
Ash fidgets with his sleeve, like he only does when he’s nervous about something. “I didn’t know your sister was going to get engaged, and I don’t want to look like I’m jumping on the same bandwagon…I don’t want to steal her thunder, but I was going to propose to you on our anniversary next month. With Gemma getting engaged now, it kind of screwed with my plans, but ah…if you’ll have me, I’d really like to marry you, to be your husband.” Ash’s green eyes are wide and shining as he looks bashfully at him.