Chapter Text
He had spaced out, like when he suffered the sunstroke, like with the infection. Like those nights filled with nightmares. How embarrassing to have that happen in public. So far, only Eurylochus had witnessed it, and probably Schedius during guard duty.
His mind climbed his way back to a demolished body. Arms numb and useless, lust possessing him like a marionette, face in the wide hands of Zeus, painfully tightened in his hair and pulling on his collar to guide his spearing of his aching throat again.
Freed from his apathy to find himself completely useless, constrained and subdued still.
He felt like it was somewhat unfair. Like he shouldn’t have come back until it was better – but he hadn’t spaced out on purpose, nor he had been brought back on purpose. Like the waves on a beach, his torment was ebbing and flowing arbitrarily.
At least Zeus didn’t last long, he was already bursting. Just a few jabs and he came in him. Odysseus wasn’t ready, his mind just resurfaced from his detachment. He choked once more, coughing it out.
He was a dirty, shaking, wheezing mess, collapsing further down on his knees at the point of keeling over, folding on himself like a throw-out rag.
Zeus laughed.
Odysseus felt a familiarly vigorous tug on his belt and he was stretched up by his neck again, pushing on his knees to gain a few inches on the belt from which to breath from – and he was so painfully out of air, still wheezing and shaking, but in full view now. Especially Zeus’, that had knelt down in front of him, towering over him all the same; a mischievous, malicious glint in his eyes. Odysseus hoped that wasn’t supposed to be comforting, because it was truthfully terrifying to see him up close. Like before the kiss… right before the zap.
Zeus eyes followed the white that had dribbled from his mouth, down his lips and chin, some on the wood. Almost idly he gathered it up, keeping Odysseus tense and breathless as he did, eyeing as he worked.
“You missed some.”
Without warning, he stuffed it all back in his mouth. And not just there, all the way into his throat. With his burning godly eyes on his glistening dazed ones, he kept the hand inside him, waiting for him to swallow it all. Odysseus felt his face growing redder as he squirmed trying to comply before passing out. Fighting a wave of disgust. Fighting the shame, for already his first instinct had been to obey, like a trained dog. Fighting how his blood rushed this close to Zeus, despite the kiss that got him zapped. Because of the kiss that got him zapped.
Would there even be something left of him, when Zeus was done with him? Or would he be just a heap of lusting flesh?
On top of that, he had to fight his mind, which was trying to send him away from there again. He seriously considered letting it happen. There was no point in being here, nothing he could do anyway.
Odysseus forced himself to take a few uneasy intakes of breath through the nose, then he gulped, earning the right to breathe again with the hand retracted. He had survived this one too. He’d make it through. He wanted to look back at the god defiantly, but for once, he chose prudence.
“My turn with the needy bitch now!” – Large Meriones. – “I’ll make him come in a minute, then o king of gods he’ll be yours again.”
Odysseus hated how those words inflamed his cock, still painfully throbbing and wetting itself. He was a mess, such a mess. He had let his men have their way, he had been debased to such an extent… and worse. He still ached for it.
But he needed to come anyway, so Meriones was as good as anyone else. Yes, it was just a calculation, nothing to do with his size having rubbed between his cheeks long and intensely, making his entrance almost twitch in anticipation. A promise ever denied.
That would be denied still, since Zeus had ordered them to keep to the outside. He wanted to be the one to breach him; and in his need even that humiliating notion, to be kept untouched like a maiden readied for his first night’s ravishment, had him yearning for it.
“Divine being, may I ask you to give his arms back?” – asked Large Meriones again, after a quick back and forth with the crew for having claimed Odysseus for himself alone. They had settled quickly, certain as they were that they would get their turn still.
Odysseus hated that, and all the more that he immediately after started wanting for it too. Except Letius and the occasional rude hand, there were some decent lovers…
No, no. He couldn’t let his pathetic need get the better of him. He needed to be a king still after all of this. They would get to Ithaca, where he’d rule it. He wanted to march back to his palace, not be brought in as someone’s bed slave. Or at this point, everyone’s bed slave. No more letting himself be spread open that way again.
“Do not touch yourself.” – threatened him Zeus.
Odysseus swallowed and nodded, perhaps too enthusiastically. He would finally have his arms back. He would finally be allowed to come, and that alone almost sent him back to weeping.
Zeus touched his wrists, where the skin had turned sensitive with the prolonged ministrations of the god’s thumb, sending such a powerful shiver through him that he gasped, head arching. Again, that was followed by his crew’ delighted sounds. Someone even came on him.
While as his mind spaced out he hadn’t minded it, now he found it infuriating. Their lack of restraint was really… Zeus let his wrists go, at long last.
Odysseus extended his arms, flexing them, exhilarated to have their control back. Then he thought of Survivor Disippo moving them as he pleased, as he struggled helplessly, and part of his excitement ebbed. Then he groaned. The thing he wanted, no, needed to do the most with his hands had been denied to him.
He needed to come, he needed it so much it had bordered pain and was firmly on that side. He looked up at Meriones, anticipation mixing with distrust. Needy bitch? Not like he wasn’t, right now, he couldn’t deny it, and yet…
“Crawl to me.” – his soldier said, haughtily noticing his yearning look.
“I brought you with me to see Ajax Telamon train, so you could learn from the very best.” – was all he could think of saying. He had cared and helped him flourish into a great soldier. And for what? ‘Needy bitch’, that was his thanks, ‘crawl’ was all his gratitude.
“You brought me with you to make me witness how better they were compared to me, and how better than me you could fare.” – he snarled. – “Where are they now? Nowhere.” – his eyes shined of something spiteful. – “I heard of Ajax Telamon, you got him killed too, like so many of us, like Polites.”
Odysseus flinched, which was a mistake. Polites… Ajax in the Underworld, giving his back to him.
“There is just me now, little king. You can’t do better. Crawl.”
Odysseus closed his fists. He didn’t want to. But it hurt and he needed, needed, needed…
He pushed himself forward, on all fours, keeping his eyes on the wood. He had feared he could never unsee the hunger and lust of his crewmen. One day this would be over and he’d still need to rule over them. They would look at him in a certain way, to remind him of this day. The power they had over him. He could ignore them without his mind sending him back to here if he kept the blindfold up. He would not see their eyes, they would not be marked in his memory, permanently intertwined with his debasement. Then, after this day, he could ignore them freely.
He couldn’t pull the blindfold up just yet. He couldn’t let his mind drift like that again.
He couldn’t let them spread him again… he shivered. It had felt so exposed, so vulnerable. They had pinched him and taken advantage in any possible way… he stopped, overcome by the need to just grab himself and be over with it.
The smell of his burned flesh… he didn’t want to be zapped by Zeus again though.
He pushed himself forward again, trying to keep his mind blank this time.
“I didn’t ‘do’ Ajax and I’d never do you either, if it wasn’t needed to save your worthless life.” – he hissed instead, finally getting at his feet, sitting back on his heels. Thighs closed. Not looking up.
“You chose me for your ship. Do you think I’d buy that thing about my skill with knots?”
Odysseus did look up this time, frowning. – “Why else? We’re on a ship and you were chosen for your family, I had to choose the one with actually useful skills.”
Large Meriones laughed, scornfully. – “Is this what you tell yourself?”
“What other reason could there be?”
The soldier grabbed a handful of his curls – with his large hands, it meant almost all of them – and pushed him bluntly back on all four.
Odysseus managed to contain his pleased whimper, letting transpire nothing but a light quail. This used to be so fun with Penelope, his body still remembering the good times.
“You can feel it, don’t you? This is right.” – Meriones placed himself behind him.
Odysseus had to stop himself from fretting, just another quake escaping. He knew Meriones wasn’t allowed to take him. His need had driven him out of his mind enough that he’d welcome it anyway.
“The little must be the plaything of the strong. That’s how it’s supposed to be, and finally we are pushing you back into your rightful place.” – he knelt, his thighs squeezing his. Odysseus lost the struggle with a hoarse groan, hanging his head. How much longer would he take?
“This is where you belong. Squashed under people like me.” – Meriones draped himself over him, like a fur in a chilly night. – “You escaped for so long, but I got you in the end.”
His back weighing down his, his legs imprisoned between his, one arm over his, dwarfing it, the other laced in his hair, tight. Odysseus had already closed his eyes, breath shallow and fast.
The warmth, the heaviness. The long, dreadful, tormented wait to get here. Odysseus was ready to come on the spot, but he forced himself to wait just a little longer. He didn’t like how the soldier was talking to him, so he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“I know you like it.” – his growling voice right over his ear, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine, down his abdomen and lower. He did like it. – “You pretend, but we know this is your place. People like you will always fall under people like me. In the end, you’ll be grateful to me for subjugating you, back to your rightful place under me.”
He yanked at the belt, tearing a defenseless yelp out of him.
Unfortunately, all this talk had Odysseus deciding he’d rather cut his own cock out rather than having to even indirectly agree with this asshole. He’d fought half his life against people who wanted him to crawl beneath them because something as stupid as his stature. He had never let them win, and he wouldn’t this time. At all costs. It sucked it was always him to be paying the costs.
Meriones slid his own size beneath his squeezed thighs, rubbing his entrance and his sack in one stroke.
Odysseus hunched under him, choking a debauched moan, succeeding only in half. This… this very feeling had been tormenting him for all the time the others had their way with him. He had craved this. He had wept and pushed his hips backward again and again to feel it again, and now… now that he could enjoy it fully and let himself go… Meriones had to go and ruin this for him.
Odysseus didn’t even want to speak and have Zeus incinerate him (and all of them with him). He wanted to beat him at his own game. Show him. He’d remain dry.
“You’re still too little for me, Meriones.” – he coughed breathlessly. – “once Zeus…”
Another yank at his hair, another unwillingly released indecent moan.
“I’m your Zeus now.” – as Meriones said it, Odysseus heard Zeus chuckle.
Meriones started to move, that pounding motion that almost sent Odysseus over the edge again. He dragged his nails in the wood, thrashed against his captor’s firm, warm body, fighting wave after wave of pleasure, his need aching with renewed strength.
Soon he was howling, an aching, desperate sound. A dissonant song under Meriones rhythm of satisfied grunts and growls as he rubbed himself over his soft, tender spots, sending his eyes rolling backwards, his flesh shaking violently under him, robbing him of his breath at every motion.
Every time he thought he had it somehow under control Meriones would pull on his hair, squeeze his thigh harder, drag his cock a little more against him, enough to touch his, and he would be crying out again, shameful need, torn pleasure.
Around them men were coming at the spectacle, on the both of them, now an intertwined mass of sweaty flesh.
It felt like it had gone on forever, Odysseus’ harrowing battle against himself, all that pleasure and creeping exhaustion to keep at bay with nothing on his own.
Ever so often, maybe even every push, the blinding wave of orgasm would hover over him, ready to crash and destroy him with it. A wave made of Meriones low tones vibrating in his skull, his firm muscled rubbing over his spent body, the absolute control he had achieved over him. A wave made from his throbbing need so, so, so long neglected, his ever-growing tiredness begging him to let himself go, a miserable voice telling him that at least if he belonged, like an object, he’d be taken care for and perhaps, not abandoned again. Not a scapegoat, not a cow, just a pet.
Odysseus felt like he had reached and overstepped madness a few times. Felt like none of this was worth it, but he was too lost in his own struggle even to remember what he was struggling for.
Meriones came between his thighs, howling in turn over him, for once him being the one shaking. Pulling at his hair like he was about to rip them out, the other arm leaving his to squeeze his hips.
He rubbed a couple more times too, until his cock came too weak to, then just rested over him.
“Say it. I’m your plaything. Say, I love being your plaything.” – mumbled Meriones, huffing over him, still holding his hair. – “Say it.”
Odysseus tried to crawl away, weeping and shaking in utter desperation, still on the edge, ever on the edge. He vaguely remembered a time in which it was fun for him and Penelope to push each other on the edge and see how long they could last before yielding.
Meriones snatched him back after a few seconds. Spent and breathless and still stronger than him.
“I’m no plaything.” – coughed Odysseus, throat dry by all the screaming and howling to keep himself grounded. – “If that how it had been… I’d be spent now.” – he swallowed, trying to line up words and sentences from the wild mess they rose up in. – “I’m not, and I’m no one’s plaything.”
It felt good after all. He had thought that in the end it might feel empty after how he has consumed himself for this, instead he had still one part of his left that still wanted to be proven right.
“You… aren’t spent?” – repeated slowly Meriones. A murmur ran among his men.
They didn’t even notice? He felt that cold feeling of being alone and neglected again.
Meriones grabbed him.
Odysseus screamed, shaking so much he was seizing. And yet, once again, he reined in the orgasm, even though openly crying in frustration, precum uselessly dripping.
“No, you came and you are hard again. must be it. Mh, very hard.” – shook his head Meriones, finally letting go of his hair. He yanked him by the collar, having him stand back, or to be precise, sway, on his knees, leaning despite himself against the solider, whose hand was still wrapped possessively on his dick.
The men watched him and murmured again.
“I didn’t.” – uttered again Odysseus, strained so much he felt like he might faint. If they didn’t believe him, what would all of this been for? He emitted a helpless, broken sound. – “…I didn’t. I’m… I’m no play… thing. Not… any… one’s--”
The belt tightened sharply, cutting off his ragged words. Then another vigorous jerk, powerful enough to drag him up and away from Meriones’ tyrannical arms. Up and away still until he was hanging by the collar, hands desperately pulling on the leather so he could breathe at least a little.
“You are someone’s plaything.” – that thunderous voice.
Odysseus sobbed, half passed out, naked, dribbling in Meriones cum and his precum, saliva coating his mouth for his hard breathing and drooling, not one inch of himself not covered in sweat and his men’s cum, held in the air like a naughty pup. Half choking on his leash, feet not touching the wood of the ship below himself.
He’d never felt this dirty, this unworthy. Maybe even Penelope wouldn’t have accepted him, if she could see him now. Passed around like a whore and still needing.
“Hands.” – ordered Zeus.
Painstakingly, Odysseus obeyed, letting his weight move back to his neck, strangling him, to lift them. Zeus grabbed them and let go of the belt, letting his body fall until his arms tensed up, shoulder screaming in pain at the sharp motion.
As Zeus touched his wrists (the lazy warmth of the honey, the prickly sharpness of silver), Odysseus almost come again, but the intense pain in his shoulders diverted him, denying it once again. His last chance? What if Zeus now didn’t allow him to anymore? He couldn’t wait anymore. Couldn’t. Just… couldn’t. He needed it. Needed.
“Say it.” – commanded Zeus again.
Even at the borders of madness, he was ever the liar. He needed to, or all what Meriones had put him through – he had put himself through – would have been for nothing.
“I’m not someone’s plaything,” – he croaked, nothing smooth or sultry in his shattered voice. – “the chief god, the king above all forces of nature, no less than the titan slayer…” – he took a labored breath. – “that’s who claimed me. It’s an honor and a pleasure to be yours, my king.” – another struggling breath, to keep his voice steady, as much as he could, and his words coherent. – “My huge king.”
“Say it. You’re my plaything.”
Odysseus sobbed again, his head hanging between his captive, stretched arms.
“I’m your plaything.”
“You’re my pet.” – went on Zeus.
Not, he was Athena’s. He didn’t want to mix anything that had to do with her with… this.
“I’m your pup, your dog, your bitch.” – he cried weakly. – “Please, father of gods, slayer of titans, please touch me. Let me come. I’m your plaything. Your broken toy. Let me, please.”
A moment of silence. Please, please.
“Why should I? It seemed to me you implied you wouldn’t be grateful to be taken by your betters.”
He didn’t want him to come, was that it? He wanted him to suffer still. They all did. All the time. From that fateful moment he had been forced to… to let… to let the infant go… it had only been a cruel game for the gods and the fates. For his crew too, alternating between hiding behind him and, from there, stabbing his back. Nobody wanted anything from him that wasn’t more pain.
He lost what little will he had left to conduct himself and he let his words flow as jumbled and as pathetic as they came to him.
“I was… keeping myself for… for you… my-my huge king.”
Silence again. Odysseus was too far gone to lift his head and to find out why. Probably Zeus was laughing it up for his pitiful lies. He resumed his pathetic, abject begging instead, interrupted by broken sobs.
“I need... hugh… I … no, please…” – he didn’t even know what he was saying.
He would have given up the crew, now and then, for a corner he had pushed himself to – the last push at least. This was too much. But Zeus either didn’t listen to his thoughts, or was too eager to have his turn in breeding him to cut him free now. He didn’t tempt him. Didn’t ask for his one word.
“My master… my erastas…” – he wept still.
“Look at me.”
Odysseus pushed his head up, drained, still hostage of his painful need.
Zeus giant hand closed on him, at the same time he rubbed his thumb on his wrists again, on the skin softened so by the warm honey, made sensitive by the silver shards.
Odysseus came, howling, the release strong enough to hurt. The relief almost stronger than the pleasure. He thrashed, hanging by his wrists, like a freshly caught fish. Like a plaything, shaken in boredom by an indifferent kid.
It subdued, then another wave of pleasure seared him, making him see nothing but white, another series of fits and gasps for air. This time, without the pain, at long last just his deserved ecstasy.
One more wave of shuddering bliss, more delicate this time, shaking him, eyes closed, head resting upturned amidst his taxed arms. Taking the pleasure, for once, in the very same helpless way he had so many times been forced to take the pain instead.
He might have been releasing a long, breathy whine. Unraveled and undone.
“Look at me.”
Odysseus opened his eyes, even though he wasn’t sure he could actually see anything, used and worn almost to the threshold of Hades as he was.
Zeus hand had been on his cock still, all this time. How long had it been? Odysseus had felt like time had stopped once he had been free of his coiled frustration.
Then, one gesture from the god, and he once again came, wailing, spasming naked in front of him, hard and long until he was utterly spent and hung his head. Still hanged by his arms, helpless and exposed to the god and his crew mates. So tiny in front of the huge godly shape.
The strain was heavier than the pleasure this time. He probably had been running on fumes for some time now, Circe’s potion had done what it could on a ravaged, starved, wounded, electrocuted body. Odysseus had a suspect he was about to find out if it was possible to die of exhaustion during an orgasm. Or right after it.
And yet it felt so good, after. Intoxicating, poisoning. Leaving him weak and feverish and unable to want anything else than more of this.
The subsequent, duller waves of pleasure, like the first time, were much better. Odysseus had been sure he had passed out until he heard him again.
“Look at me.”
…again?
“Please, no.” – he managed to breath, almost inaudible. – “Enough. No.” – he’d have thrashed, but he couldn’t even find his body. – “Stop… please… n-no…”
The grip on his wrists tightened, little jolts of electricity shooting down his veins.
Odysseus struggled and struggled again, until his fatigued eyes finally found him.
Zeus mercifully, surely not intentionally so, didn’t make him come this time.
He looked him in his eyes and showed him his place. It was insignificant. For a moment Odysseus saw the world as the gods do, that paper castle of fleeting lives and pliant matter. Then Zeus showed him how he saw the little king, with his little lies and his little pride in a world that would forget him in the blink of an eye, among people who had already turned on him. A drop of salty water in the endless ocean.
Zeus must have let him fall, but Odysseus didn’t remember hitting the ship. He was sobbing against the wood, trying to piece his wrecked mind together. He felt so… tiny.
Then he laughed madly, among his tears. Because he had glimpsed a little thing, when Zeus showed him his perspective. He had seen Zeus throwing on a fake image of himself for him and the crew to see while he sucked him, since the real Zeus had been squirming and moaning freely.
The walls of Troy had been erected by gods and yet they fell under a mere mortal trick… indeed.
…I didn’t know I was this good.
There was no deity big enough to dwarf his life, his tricks. His need to see his wife again without more civil war or more wandering in the way.
He hated him, he realized. He hated his entitled, omnipotent oversized ego. He’d get fucked a thousand times over by Zeus and he still wouldn’t say the word. Because fuck him.
Bad choice of words, but alas.
“That was fun and all.” – in the face of his resolve, he shrank hearing the thunderous voice again. – “But it’s high time my turn comes. Time to unravel the liar to his true nature.”
Terrible choice of words, for it seemed he was indeed about to get fucked by Zeus – albeit hopefully, not a thousand times over.
“Do lie at first, I don’t mind. No, I’ll enjoy fucking it out of you.” – Zeus had taken his chin in his hands with feigned pitifulness. – “Enlighten me, king of Ithaca, why are you really putting yourself through this? Why would anyone… but why are you?”
Odysseus frowned, still more than half out of it. – “To… to save them? That is… the b… the deal…? You… you asked me… I don’t…”
“First lie!” – Zeus let him go, sharply so. – “Or second. What was that bit with Agamemnon? No matter.” – his smile grew, smug and predatory:
“I’m about to find out.”