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Chapter Text

Telemachus slammed open the door to his room, clenching his left arm in pain from the hit it had taken as he limped towards the bed. He sighed, blood still heavy on his tongue. Thankfully, no teeth had been knocked loose, but the ache in his jaw was reminder enough of the true danger he was in—that his mother was in.

He felt ready to cry, tears already pricking his eyes, but he wouldn't. Telemachus refused to shed any more tears over those beasts. He would be strong, he had to be. After he tended to his wounds, that was. It was an arduous process, cleaning and wrapping all the wounds into a decently neat mural of cloth. It would do, but the prince would rather not have these injuries at all.

Those rotten pests, they still dared to try and force him into submission, to make him bare his neck and say "take me," as if he was not worthy of respect.

Never. In fact, he would rather die than kneel before such men. Most were the same as he, young men left behind by their fathers for the war in Troy, so what set them apart from him? Surely their mothers had tried to tame them, to keep them on a tight lease. So what had turned them into such fiends?

That, Telemachus had no answer for. And so all he could do was pray. 

The prince weakly stumbled over to his altar, knees aching as they made contact with the floor. He didn't have the energy to reach over and grab a pillow from his bedside. Everything hurt, both inside and out. He was powerless in the face of over a hundred men, all stronger and more brutal than him. Even so, his faith in the world wasn't allowed to waver. They would never take his hope from him, no matter what. And so, he prayed, as he always did. 

"Divine and mighty gods of Mount Olympus, I ask of you to lend me a single ear and hear my pleas. I, Telemachus, Son of Odysseus, beg you to grant me a blessing. Something that will aid me in taming the beasts that plague my home. It does not matter how, for I am strongwilled and clever, but..." he paused in his words, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Telemachus let the tears he had been holding in slip, falling down his soft cheeks. "Please... anyone, just help me..." He thought of his mother, his dearest Mama who was struggling to stay strong with each day that passed. Each day, the prince feared for her imminent death, perhaps at her own hands or the suitors'.

A lone tear, full of agony and despair, landed on the altar, seeping into the wood.

Far away, above the clouds, a goddess heard it. The tear was powerful, full of devotion and love that shook her to the core.

Aphrodite smiled, leaving her garden to meet that pure soul. It was truly beautiful, so precious and... Oh! A strong love for their mother!

The goddess felt herself smile wider as she dug into the deep feelings of that anguished soul. She would grant it whatever they so wished, no matter the cost! Such a soul was rare to come by, and she swore to protect it with her heart and flesh.

There, in the royal palace of the island Ithaca, she crept through the different sceneries with her divine essence until she found the poor soul, knelt in front of the altar on bruised knees, yet he still stayed there without any pillows to aid his suffering. So incredibly precious, this one!

The prince of Ithaca himself, Son of Odysseus and... the absolute cutest boy on the planet.

Chubby cheeks that had not yet grown into adulthood, big doe eyes that showed a deep amber, chestnut brown curls that had been oiled to perfection and a small stature to top it all off! Aphrodite felt her heart clench. So adorable, and yet he had been treated like this? He was a prince!

The goddess inched closer to hear his prayers clearly. She showed her presence with a small flick of the wrist, extinguishing the torches in the room. Telemachus gasped as the bedroom suddenly became shrouded in darkness, but he didn't dare to stop and risk the god losing interest in him.

"I... I need help, My Mighty Divine. Perhaps you have heard of Queen Penelope's 108 suitors. She is my mother, the kindest and wittiest of them all. I would do... anything to keep her safe, so please, please grant me the blessing to overcome these men, to reign them in, c-control them."

Aphrodite's interest was peaked. He was asking for help to protect his mother, when the prince himself looked black and blue. The goddess reminded herself to not swoon for mortals. Alltho perhaps... Sweet, sweet Telemachus could make an exception. 

With that, Aphrodite decidedly agreed to the prince's request. The question however, was what kind of blessing she would give. The goddess waited in silence so that the answer could eventually reveal itself.

Telemachus sighed a sigh of relief, knowing he had finally been answered. He knelt for a while longer in gratitude before starting to get ready for bed. The prince unpinned his light-blue chiton, letting it fall onto the floor.

Aphrodite nearly drooled at the sight of the man's bare body. He was even softer under the cloth, cute, squishy skin clinging to his tiny form. But the true highlights were the perky rosebuds that portruded from his chest. Adorable little nipples that practically begged to be played with.

He was perfect. A delicate flower unraveled.

Aphrodite immediately knew the blessing she would bestow as she watched Telemachus run a hand over his chest, shivering from the nightly chill. A blessing, that would give the prince an endlessly milkfilled chest, stuffed full of creamy heaven with proprieties that turned any consumer into a docile and devoted pet for him. It gave him everything he longed for—control, safety and most importantly, care.

The goddess could barely keep from gobbling Telemachus up as he snuggled under the sheets, covering up those puffy nipples. The man seemed exhausted from the injuries he had sustained, as he fell asleep in a matter of minutes, drooling slightly onto his pillow. 

Aphrodite carefully moved closer, setting her divine body down on the bed before caving and getting under the covers as well. She wrapped her arms around the prince's small frame, holding him gently in her arms, just as he deserved. Her hand finally slipped down to hover over Telemachus chest, before a soft glow began to emit from it. 

There. It was done. 

The prince looked unaffected, but soon enough the milk would start to flow. Aphrodite couldn't resist any longer and lovingly kissed Telemachus' soft cheeks and forehead, and then a final one on his lips.

Then, she silently slipped away into the night.

•••

As Telemachus blinked his eyelids open to the first rays of Helios' light, he grew confused at an odd ache in his chest, not painful like his other injuries but... heavy. Full, almost. 

And sticky.

The prince braced himself for another unknown injury he had not noticed yesterday, but instead of the typical sight of blood and bruises, he found his bedsheets soaked with a strange liquid. Not blood, no, but something else. Telemachus sniffed the air, and found it smelled sweet. Like...

Like milk.

When he went to touch the wet spots, the prince was horrified at the sight of more milk squirting out onto the sheets. In a panic, he threw the covers aside, and what he found was downright terrifying.

His chest was swollen, creamy-white milk gushing from his nipples in a continous waterfall.

What the fuck.

Telemachus felt ready to cry as he lightly took his left pec in hand and more milk ran down over his fingers. Shit, it was actually real...

Okay, Telemachus, breathe.

 The prince took several deep breaths, gulping down oxygen as if it would soothe his panic. He rummaged through his mind, and eventually understood how this situation had occurred. The god. They had given him a blessing, but how was this in any way supposed to help him?! He had just turned into a stuffed cow!

Telemachus let out an agonized whine as his chest stabbed once again. It... hurt! The pain was uncomfortable and strange in all the wrong ways, and the worst part was that he couldn't stop it.

Telemachus struggled to focus on anything else but the heavy feeling in his chest, but eventually managed to stand up and stumble his way to the bathroom. The prince struggled to heat up the water without hurting himself, and it only made him more emotional. He couldn't believe this was happening. 

Telemachus sat down on the marble floor of the bathroom, silently waiting for the water to grow warm as he held his knees and curled in on himself.

When the prince finally crept into the water, he heaved a shaky sigh of relief. It felt better than ever on both his bruises and chest, alltho the ache didn't go away fully. Telemachus feared that the solution was exactly what he thought, that he had to squeeze the milk out.

As he looked down at his suddenly chubby chest, Telemachus couldn't stop the tears from flowing any longer. He sobbed once, twice—until he was wailing. On top of dealing with the suitors, he now had to hide something so shameful as this. He wasn't even a woman!

The man's hands shook as he slowly lifted them to clutch around his pecs, sniffling. Tentatively, he gave a firm squeeze. 

Shhhhh!

Telemachus squeezed his eyes shut at the sound. He didn't want to see how much it actually was. It's okay, it's okay, he weakly assured himself. he only had to empty it out. Then he could throw out the murky water along with all his shame. 

Shhhhh! Shhhhh! Shhhhh!

The prince worked methodically, keeping his eyes closed the entire time as he squeezed. Like a goddamn cow...

Telemachus bit his lip, tugging and massaging his chest. They still felt full, heavy like winejugs. He couldn't keep the startled moan from escaping his mouth at a certain squeeze, before hastily clasping a hand over his mouth. No, gods no. There was no way he felt turned on by squeezing genuine milk out of his chest.

But the noises continued, no matter how much his lip bled from how hard he was biting it or how much he struggled to find it uncomfortable. Telemachus keened and squealed like a whore, and he had never felt more ashamed.

Chapter Text

When Telemachus reached the dining hall, he was absolutely exhausted both physically and mentally. He really wasn't looking forward to the inevitable taunts and jabs that the suitors would throw his way, especially after the recent fight. At least all the milk had been squeezed out of his system for now.

Once the prince stepped inside the dining hall, he was met with the loud clattering of utensils, the murmurs and loud cackles of shameless men who were clearly still drunk from last night and scurrying maids that carried breakfast to the tables hastily. He looked around silently for an empty table, but was immediately pulled along by an arm around his shoulder. Eurymachus, the acclaimed leader of the suitors. 

"Where are you going, Puppy? Come and sit with us." Telemachus had no chance to slip away before he was firmly plopped down on the bench inbetween Eurymachus and Antinous, Amphinomus enjoying his meal on the opposite side.

Shit.

"So, Prince," the title was practically spat, contempt and mockery rolling off of it. "it seems you've licked your wounds clean. Perhaps we should refresh them, hm?" The men all around them cackled, like wild hyenas awaiting to pounce. 

"Another time, Eurymachus," Telemachus growled out between clenched teeth. He had no patience to deal with these rats for longer than necessary, and so the prince looked around for an exit. Unfortunately, he was stuck.

Eurymachus' favourite maid, Melantho, pranced over with a smile that was too wide for her face as she distributed their breakfast. The suitor in question gave her a gentle stroke along the cheek in thanks, strangely affectionate.

Telemachus had to give it to her, she had played her cards well.

The prince's mood was once again dampened as the two large suitors moved closer, trapping his body inbetween theirs in a form of teasing. His chest had also already begun to ache again, nipples too sensitive for the fabric of his tunic, that rubbed against them with every movement.

Strangely enough, the suitors seemed to show the slightest glimpse of mercy as they all ate in relative silence. Telemachus didn't have much of an appetite, but he nibbled on the bread in front of him and drank his wine quietly. However, the peace didn't last long as he suddenly let out a gasp of suprise and fought to not touch his chest.

The men turned their heads to stare at him, eyebrows raised in questioning. "N-nothing." Damnit, he stuttered.

Telemachus bit his lip in a panic as he felt it again. The milk was already flowing again? He had just spent 15 minutes squeezing it out enough to move comfortably!

He felt the liquid run down his chest underneath his clothes. Why now? The prince had just wanted to eat in peace and leave.

"You look anxious, Little Wolf. Care to enlighten us?" The deep voice of Antinous echoed close to his ear. Telemachus didn't respond.

That clearly annoyed the suitors, and Telemachus felt the tension rise. Gods, he just wanted to head to his room. "Answer me." Telemachus was wholly unprepared for the two men beside him to smush him inbetween their bodies like a bug. And even worse, the pressure had his arms pushing right against his chest. 

Telemachus had no chance to stop what happened next.

Squirt!

The prince felt milk immediately soak his tunic, and all he could think of was to impulsively throw the wine in his goblet over the sight before the others noticed. The suitors were stunned as Telemachus drenched himself in wine, before he was frantically rising from his seat and rushing out of the hall. They called and yelled—but he didn't look back.

But he knew that the suspicion had begun to fester. 

•••

Telemachus slammed the door to his bedroom shut, before collapsing in a heap on the floor. He sobbed, whimpers and whines escaping him as he pulled off his chiton and threw it to the other side of the room. The prince leaned against the door, struggling to take deep breaths and calm himself.

When had it all gone wrong? This blessing was truly a curse in disguise, a prank to amuse some god. Perhaps it was Hermes that had decided to pay him a visit that night.

Telemachus didn't want to think about it. All he knew was that he needed to get this milk out. The man looked around, before spotting a vase in the corner, holding a large plant. Hastily, he moved to grab the vase and take out the plant, uncaring of the soil that littered the floor as he emptied its contents. The maids could clean it up later.

Telemachus immediately bent over the large vase, holding his chest over the edge before he finally began to squeeze. The milk squirted and gushed like a creamy fountain, the pattering of it hitting the bottom the only sound in the room, safe for the soft pants of the prince. 

Telemachus sank to his knees, straining to reach over the edge. A few droplets landed outside the vase, staining the floor with its creamy white. He moaned softly, tongue lolling out for a split second before he caught himself.

Why did it feel so good? Was he truly a depraved pervert at heart?

Telemachus didn't know how much time had passed when he let out a sob. "Please... Please, take it away... I don't want this.."

Alas, nobody heard his pleas this time, and the prince was left to look down at the alarmingly large amount of milk that had accumulated in the vase. He knew he wasn't even a third way done from being satisfied.

As time passed, Telemachus decided to stop groveling and sobbing over the hell his life had become, and instead tried to hide his condition the best he could. Every day, he would dump the collected morning milk out onto the rose bushes below his balcony. It was a ritual, every morning and evening like clockwork. In the mess of it all, Telemachus had started to grow used to the routine, forming a pattern that kept his schedule semi-normal. 

He still had to cover his chest in a thick layer of bandages to keep the milk at bay for the few hours he was outside his bedroom, and sometimes he even had to rush off to relieve himself in random places. Even so, he had settled on the fact that this was his life now. No god had answered his prayers after that night, and Telemachus was fully convinced that the divine hated him.

Unfortunately, the prince also took notice of the suitors' suspicions rising every time he ran off unprompted. They knew he was hiding something, and the thought of his condition being discovered had him anxious day and night. But he couldn't very well stop the milk from flowing. It seemed almost endless. 

He had quickly learned that fifteen minutes was not enough to get it all out, and more so an hour of constant milking was necessary. But it never went away. Surely a regular woman didn't make so much, and so quick? He had no idea. But his condition proved more difficult everyday, which led him to where he was now.

His mother had asked him to fetch a basket from the kitchen since her maids were occupied, and it was meant to be a simple task.

But of course the gods were against him.

Telemachus rummaged through the thousand different spaces. Who knew they had such a large kitchen? 

The prince let out a soft gasp as he felt his chest begin to ache badly once more. It had only been 2 hours since his last emptying...

He looked around for anything to squeeze into. The wine in the pots couldn't be wasted, and the baskets would just leak through. By the gods, he still had to get back to his mother, he didn't have time for this! 

Bottles would have to do.

Telemachus hastily grabbed the 15-something bottles and uncapped them all. He had no idea when the maids would come back, but he didn't want yet another chiton of his to get soiled either. It would be hard to explain to Eurycleia why he had spilled milk on himself for the third time in only two weeks.

The prince felt his chest start to ache even more, before the first few trickles began running. Telemachus fumbled with the pin to his tunic before finally unclasping it, freeing his chest. The cold air hit him like a ship, sending a shiver down his spine.

Bending over to position his nipples over the bottles was difficult, but eventually he managed to do it, albeit uncomfortably. Telemachus promptly began the process of squeezing and massaging his chest, letting the milk gush out into the bottles. He bit his lip, struggling to keep the moans low. "Mmh..."

Telemachus continued like that, switching out two bottles at a time, all the while trying to keep quiet while he milked. Only when he was down to the last bottle and his chest felt relatively empty, did the sound of footsteps become clear.

Shit.

The prince scrambled to stand up, head whirling left and right in search of a hiding spot. There, behind the large wine pots. He sprinted towards the alcove, making himself as small as possible and trying to control his breathing just as the maids stepped inside the kitchen.

Damnit, he didn't have time to get the bottles..!

The women were chatting casually as they carried the dirty tupperware to the counter. It was only morning, but many suitors tended to fall asleep in the dining hall, drunk and too heavy to carry, which had the maids having to clean up the morning after. "Dirty pigs, they've broken three more plates! It's only been a week!" One maid complained, clearly about the suitors.

"The queen cannot afford to spend any more coin on plates. We are already at our limit with supplies!" another one tsked, scooping up a bucket of water to begin washing.

"One can only hope this will all end soon..."

Telemachus saw the moment the maids caught sight of the bottles, suprised hums escaping them. "What's this? Has someone already milked the cows?" Eurynome looked around at the other women, but only received equally puzzled looks. "Huh... Strange. Perhaps Eurycleia did it before she went to the market?"

Telemachus heaved a small sigh of relief, but his face sank when Creusa spoke up. "Well then, let's get these to the dining hall for breakfast."

The prince's blood drained from his face as the words registered. No way in hell...

But as the bottles clanked on the tray and the maids began to carry out the milk-filled bottles, he understood that they were truly going to serve his... his breastmilk.

The gods must hate him. What did he do to deserve any of this?

Please, kill me.

Chapter Text

Aphrodite had been drowning with work for an entire two weeks now, no rest allowed in her busy schedule. All she wanted to do was check up on her sweet Telemachus! Surely he already had the entire kingdom under his command, sucking on his adorable chest like needy puppies. She could almost taste his creamy milk on her tongue. Perhaps she could disguise herself as a suitor and get a taste... 

Ah, the possibilites.

But as another task called to her, she knew it would have to wait.

•••

Telemachus had successfully sneaked out of the kitchen while the maids were busy cooking, and he now sprinted towards the dining hall, praying to any god that they hadn't yet distributed the milk. Oh gods, he would never leave his room ever again if that happened.

As the prince rounded the corner and opened the door to the hall, his face paled even more than previously. Creusa and Eurynome had just put down the trays, and the suitors were already reaching.

Melanthius was the first to speak up. "Hey, who the hell said we wanted milk with our meal? Bring the wine."

The man dared to say that, as if the palace wasn't already low on wine.

"Ah, we understand your concern, My lord, but this milk was freshly prepared this morning. Please, do give it a try." Creusa bowed, alltho her twitching lip gave away her annoyance.

No, for goodness' sake, don't try it! 

Telemachus wished he could scream and shout, but it would only be seen as strange if he grew so panicked over a little milk, and so he bit his lip and did nothing. 

He didn't want to see the sight, truly, but his eyes still stayed fixed on the suitor's lips as he poured himself a goblet before taking a sip. 

Instantly—and to his chagrin—Melanthius let out a suprised groan, face easing as he relaxed into his seat. Immediately, he took another chug, and another, until the goblet was empty and even then he looked like he wanted more—Needed more.

Telemachus, the suitors and the maids all appeared stunned at the sight. Melanthius looked drunk, even when it was only milk he had consumed. The man licked his lips mournfully before pouring himself another goblet. "Shit... What's in this?" he murmured, fascinated.

"It's just milk, My Friend. What the hell is up with you?" Amphimedon asked. Telemachus continued to stare in stunned awe as his confusion doubled down. Surely it wasn't that good? Alltho he had never tasted it himself.

This time, Melanthius downed the milk eagerly, groaning louder. He panted, wiping his mouth absentmindedly. "This... is the best fucking milk I've had in my life."

Telemachus wanted to die when he heard that.

The suitors grew even more curious at Melanthius' response, starting to reach for the jugs one by one as they poured the drink into their goblets. The prince felt tears of shame well up in his eyes, barely keeping the whine down in his throat. This was the worst day of his life. He beat his head against a pillar, but still, not a dream. 

More sounds of pleased suprise and excitement bubbled up among the suitors, everyone shocked at the heavenly taste. Endless praise leaked from their lips, and Telemachus' face burned with each comment. 

"Is this some divine cow or something?"

"Shit, it's better than wine..."

"You think this is what ambrosia tastes like?"

Enough...

"Mhm... Nectar of the gods.."

Telemachus couldn't take any more, his face as red as a tomato. Full of shame, he hurriedly escaped from the hall.

After that day, the prince had been holed up in his bedroom as much he could. He only attended dinner to keep up reputation and spent the rest of his meals with his mother whilst blaming it on wanting company. Of course, maybe that too after the hell of a month he had had.

•••

Dinner. Dreaded dinner. The sound of clattering plates and loud chewing, unabashed cackling and knife marks inbedded all along the benches. Telemachus hated it, but most of all, he hated the five suitors that sat beside him.

They had once again forced their way to his table, grinning and teasing as if they deserved to sit next to him at all. The prince's bandaged chest was already wet, a sensory nightmare in addition to the loud noise around him.

Safe to say, he didn't have a sliver of patience left.

"So, Little Princey~ It seems you haven't been attending your meals lately, hm? Why is that? You too scared to face us?" Eurymachus chuckled, but it was a dark, humourless thing. Like a hyena with its newfound prey. Telemachus clenched his fists. 

Don't respond, don't respond, don't respon-

"You better shut your mouth, Eurymachus."

Well, fuck my life.

The atmosphere at the table immediately sank. Antinous and Melanthius glared with their stupid intimidation techniques, Amphimedon grinned and Amphinomus' brows furrowed, silently observing the scene. 

Eurymachus' cold stare bore holes onto Telemachus' head, and the prince felt how sweat ran down his back. He didn't dare look up from his plate. "So the brat's got some bite, after all," the suitor laughed dryly, fists clenched. "Perhaps we need to teach you another lesson on who's got the upper hand here. Don't forget that you wouldn't want to defile your father's home with unhospitality, isn't that right?"

Telemachus wanted to knock that smirk off of Eurymachus' face and beat them all bloody. But he had never been strong—not like his father.

He was powerless.

The prince used one more futile attempt at easing the tension, fighting everything in his body to not just suckerpunch the suitor. "My apologies, Eurymachus. I... stepped out of line," Telemachus forced the words out, teeth clenched tightly.

But the bastard didn't let up. "No no, let's settle this like men. That's what you wish to be, right? Go ahead, show me."

Telemachus braced himself to raise his fists, but he was immediately put at a disadvantage as large hands grabbed his wrists, a body pressing up against his back and caging him. The prince thrashed furiously, screaming. "Let me go! Let me- go!" he wailed, but it only made the dining hall boom with laughter.

Telemachus shook with rage, his face downturned to the floor. Antinous laughed from where he held him. "What? Don't tell me you gave up that easily? Show us those big, bad teeth!" another torrent of cackles.

The prince breathed heavily, shutting his eyes momentarily before letting them open. "Sit...down."

Antinous only gripped his wrists harder. "What was that, Little Pup?"

"I said..." Telemachus practically growled, gaze feral as he turned his head towards the suitor. "Sit down!"

It was as if a switched flipped in that moment as the hall went silent, the suitors stunned and almost in awe. But the strangest of all, was that Eurymachus and Antinous obeyed. They sat down quietly, eyes wide as if they couldn't believe themselves either.

Telemachus stood there frozen, absentmindedly rubbing his sore wrists. Then, he silently left the hall, the clacking of his shoes the only noise that resonated in the room.

Shit, his bandages had leaked. 

Telemachus sighed exhaustedly, staring down at the two wet patches on his chiton. This day couldn't have gone more wrong.

•••

The next day, the prince found flowers outside his door. Several bouquets of them, littered around the floor in different shades of blues, pinks and yellows.

He stared and blinked once, twice, before eventually finding it in himself to move and pick up the bouquets one by one. Somehow, he could guess who they were from, but why?

Why the hell had the suitors decided to give him flowers after last evening's disaster?

Telemachus silently carried the flowers inside, holding them to his chest and taking a long sniff. Sweet oleander, refreshing rose and spicy carnation. The scent of them had the prince unwillingly relaxing, even as suspicion churned underneath the surface of his skin. 

Telemachus caught sight of Eurynome in the corridor and stopped her. "Eurynome, could you bring me the largest vase you have?"

The maid seemed confused by his request. "Of course, My Prince. May I ask what for?"

"Ah, just... a whole lot of flowers that need space."

She gave a light smile. "I see. You can hand them over to me and I'll trim the stems and arrange them nicely."

"Thanks, Eurynome. You're the best." Telemachus let out a sigh of relief.

"Anything for my favourite prince." With that, the maid opened the door to his bedroom, revealing the monstrous army of bright colours and strong scents. "Oh, wow... That's at least 15! Where did you get these, My Prince?"

Telemachus' hands were sweaty as he clenched them. "They, um, were just outside my door this morning. I don't want them to go to waste.."

Thankfully, Eurynome didn't prod any more and went to grab the heap of bouquets, gathering them up as simply as she could. But before stepping out of the room, she paused. "Ah... My Prince?"

"Yes?"

"There's jewelry attached to all of these."

A pause. "You've got to be joking me."

It wasn't a joke. Everyday was something new, food or clothes or blankets or tapestries, and Telemachus was exhausted from it, but even more so confused.  The suitors had never been keen on him, especially not to the point that they would send him gifts. They were vile, disrespectful dogs that wouldn't be able to distinguish high-quality fabric from the scraps they bought him.

And yet, he could never bring himself to throw the things away, his room only growing more cramped with each passing day. They were so strangely... sweet. Perhaps not very thoughtful, but still a show of appreciation. Telemachus had never felt so cared for in only a few days.

One gift stood out in particular. A blanket, so incredibly soft to the touch that you could melt in it. But the most shocking part was the pattern it had—stars. Constillations that spread out over the blanket in a beautiful pattern, a wonderful contrast against the dark blue fabric.

When Telemachus had pulled it out of its box, he'd been ready to cry. Whomever had commissioned it must've known how much he adored the sky and constillations that covered it. During the toughest days of his father's absence, Telemachus had always went to the library to read all of the scrolls on stars, the same ones his father had read in his youth. It was his connection to him, reunited by the sky. Even now, he couldn't let go of those scrolls.

The prince hadn't been able to part with the blanket, sleeping with it at night and holding on to it as he milked. He hadn't left his room in days, but the gift was suprisingly the push he needed to be brave and step outside for dinner, primmed and proper like a true prince.

If his father could do it, so could he.

He wore one of the gifted chitons, the only one with good quality and a stunning colour, albeit not Telemachus' usual style. It was a deep maroon, with gold hemming and accompanying jewelry. A necklace wrapped around his neck in a unique pattern, a tantalizing sight. The prince felt embarrassed to step outside so... seductive, but he wanted to look put together for his first public meal in a week. 

Unfortunately, that chiton was also the finest he had now after all of his clothes had been sullied with milk stains he had yet to wash. Telemachus hadn't had the courage to tell Eurycleia he'd "spilt milk" on himself again, but he didn't know how to wash the clothes without ripping them either.

The soft pattering of his feet against the marble floor echoed as Telemachus approached the dining hall. He was nervous, more than he had ever been around the suitors for years. But something had changed, he knew. 

It was like a bunny stepping inside a wolves' den when he opened the door. Silent and foreboding, with a hundred eyes directed at him, or more so his body. The chiton was shorter than he liked, revealing large expanses of milky white thighs, and Telemachus feared that if he bent over, his entire butt would be on display.

The suitor who had given him this was an absolute asshole guaranteed.

Amphimedon—ever the blabbermouth—was the first to let out a ridiculously loud comment. "Shit, is that Antinous' gift?"

Of course.

The words caused a riot. "Are you fucking kidding me?! I searched the entire market for the best jewelry!"

"Oh, shut it! I paid a fortune for that tapestry of Athena!"

"Why Antinous of all people?!"

Admidst all of this, Antinous grinned like he had won the lottery. He stood up and walked over to the prince leisurely with a pile of fur hanging on his arm, eyeing him up the entire time. "Well, aren't you a doll~" he cooed.

Telemachus was tense as the suitor's eyes lingered on his chest, almost knowing. The prince only sighed. "So I assume this was your gift?"

"Indeed, and it seems I was right." 

"About...?" The prince's hand was gently taken, fingers stroking his knuckles.

The suitor leaned down to whisper in Telemachus' ear, his voice a deep purr. "You look lethal in red."

Telemachus let out a shaky breath, his face flushing. The comment affected him more than he liked, trembles shaking his body. But Antinous wasn't known to let up, as his lips graced the prince's ear, lingering like a promise.

Or perhaps a threat.

Antinous straightened up, stroking Telemachus' cheek with his callused hand, so horrifyingly gentle that it had the prince shaking even more. 

"You're quivering."

"...Cold." Telemachus' voice came out a weak whisper. The other suitors all seemed furious as Antinous stole the spotlight so easily, going up to the prince and daring to touch him so shamelessly. Still, they were all curious to see how Telemachus would react. He was always cold and snarly from the start, a fire you couldn't touch nor put out. Their gift-giving had quickly grown into a competition of who would win Telemachus' heart first, and things weren't looking good.

Antinous chuckled at the prince's response. "Perfect then."

Telemachus was confused at the words, but quickly grew speechless as the suitor stepped behind him, before putting something heavy on his shoulders. The prince stayed frozen for a moment, realization hitting him as the softness of fur began to tickle his chin.

Wolf's pelt. A stunning, snowy white wolf's pelt that sat perfectly on his shoulders and matched Antinous' own grey one. The pelt showed an outspoken glamour that made Telemachus feel larger than he was, powerful even. He could almost laugh at the suitor's antics, and his suprisingly wonderful gift.

Always one for the dramatics.

Even so, Telemachus couldn't help the smallest quirk of his lips from gracing his face as Antinous guided him to his table, hand resting on his lower back. 

The rest of the hall stared in either jealousy or competitiveness, their eyes equally as leering. What in the world was going on with these men? Only a few days prior they had all wanted him dead and humiliated, despised him even. 

And why in the world were they going after him now?! Was his mother not enough?!

Telemachus felt nearly dizzy from the unfamiliar power that coursed through him. The attention felt good, strangely enough. He didn't understand why the spotlight was on him, but the prince suspected it had to do with the near-brawl that had taken place a week prior.

Well, he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Telemachus would hold onto this peace for as long as he could, and simultaneously keep the suitors' eyes off his mother. 

That was all it was for.

•••

The days flowed by in a flurry of gifts, praises and lingering touches. The men had now resorted to giving their gifts in person, all day, everyday. Shockingly enough, they seemed to have learned from their mistakes, as the gifts had gotten more and more personal with each passing day. Pastel clothes instead of the dark colours, well-crafted weapons and small, delicate jewelry instead of large specticles of wealth. Little by little, Telemachus found himself smiling and giggling more at the presents the suitors offered him, almost shy looks on their faces.

He hated to admit how adorable it was.

A tiny part of the the prince still held onto his suspicion. Why would the men do a full 180 unless it served them in some way? Surely it was not to get close to his mother, but Telemachus couldn't think of any other plausible reason. Still, he kept his guard up.

Well, as much as he could. It was hard to believe the blushing and stammering was faked. Most of the men had far too much pride for that. 

Telemachus' thoughts were interrupted as Melanthius approached him, a typical frown hiding his clearly nervous stature. In his hands was a box adorned with ribbon. Clearly not done by himself, as it was far too neat. 

Once the suitor stopped in front of him, there was only silence as Melanthius fidgeted with the neat ribbon. Telemachus couldn't help but pity the man, even if he had been an asshole for years. There was no way that was the same Melanthius from before—he was so awkward!

"Hello, Melanthius," the prince started. Go on, you're doing well already.

"...Hi."

Silence. Telemachus waited patiently, a gentle smile on his face while Melanthius' only got a deeper frown. The suitor looked almost furious with himself as he struggled to form words on his tongue. After another minute of painful waiting, he decided to just thrust the box into Telemachus' arms, his gaze almost glaring.

Telemachus blinked. The box was heavy, and he grew curious about what it contained. But when he quietly pulled loose the ribbon and opened it, he was met with rows of bottles, neatly arranged.

"It's... ugh. It's um... goat milk, for you," The man managed to stutter out, his bangs hiding his flushing face. "My sister helped me package it. It’s from our farm.."

A moment passed, then another, before Telemachus promptly began to giggle uncontrollably. He struggled to keep it contained, failing ultimately. "He...hehe... Hahaha!"

Who would have expected that out of all the gifts in the world, the man would settle on milk?

It was hilariously ironic, and Telemachus couldn't remember laughing this hard in months.

"Why the hell are you laughing at me?!" Melanthius gawked in horror, certainly not expecting such cruelty from the prince. He seemed on the verge of tears, bottom lip trembling.

But neither did he expect the feeling of soft lips against his cheek, the brief peck leaving a small trace of moistness on his face. Telemachus pulled back silently, before bursting out into laughter once more at Melanthius' horrified expression. "Oh, you're adorable!"

The words slipped from his lips easily, but the impact it had on the suitor soon registered like a stone. It was an absolute victory for the race to win Telemachus' heart, and Melanthius may just have gotten in the lead. Safe to say, he melted on the spot, slumping against the wall.

The prince chuckled at the sight, biting his lip in contemplation before giving another kiss, right at the edge of Melanthius' mouth. And Telemachus swore he heard a squeak. 

The prince gave a joyful smile at the lovestruck puppy in front of him, near heart-eyes in his gaze as he stared up at Telemachus. "You're perfect..."

Telemachus didn't know how to respond to that, so he only blushed, closing his eyes momentarily. When they opened, his gaze was almost knowing—calculative.

Experimental.

"If you're good, I'll keep rewarding you. Does that sound alright, hm?" his voice was a gentle purr, luring Melanthius in like a siren. He could only nod dumbly, like the clueless sailor he was.

The prince promptly turned around and left, box in hand as Melanthius watched his retreating back.

With that, the suitor was left to fawn over the lucky interaction he had just had, while Telemachus internally freaked out over what he had gotten himself into.

He was utterly, irreversibly fucked.

But deep down, it felt good to be so wanted, so in control. And Telemachus feared he would soon grow addicted as Melanthius' awestruck expression filled his thoughts.

Yep, fucked.

Chapter Text

Antinous couldn't explain what compelled him to break into the prince's bedroom. Perhaps it was the strangeness of that dinner a few weeks ago, or the way Telemachus had glared at him with such power and dominance, the kind that spoke volumes in itself.

Or maybe it was the two wet patches that had appeared on the little wolf's chiton, that had such a familiarly sweet smell to it.

It was ridiculously easy. The sorry excuses for guards were too busy talking with the young maids in the kitchen, he had overheard Melantho complain about during breakfast. Apparently, they begged for wine and food every friday. Antinous had jumped at the chance, strangely enough. 

His heart raced as he tested the door, only to find it unlocked. Naive little wolf, leaving his den unprotected and available to anyone. Antinous felt his lips curl with humour as he silently pulled open the door, revealing the bedroom of the prince.

It was... peaceful. Everything was light and pastel, the balcony open to let the soothing breeze in and rustling the light-blue curtains. Maps and tapestries hung on the wall, and the room was littered with plants. Bouquets.

Antinous stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Again, that sweet smell was present, so familiar and yet unknown. The suitor's head turned and twisted, struggling to remember where he had caught that scent before. Frustrated, he flopped down on Telemachus' well-made bed, before being hit with a giant scent of... milk.

What the fuck?

Antinous snuggled into the sheets, even more confused. He let out a sigh, inhaling deeply before noting something. It all smelled like milk, but not just any old cow's milk... No, that was the divine milk from a few weeks ago, there in the prince's bedroom, the scent soaked into all the pillows and sheets. 

Antinous felt his eyes droop sleepily, even as suspicion clouded his thoughts. The suitor could almost taste it on his tongue, the way the pillows and sheets were practically infused with the scent. And gods, it was heavenly. "Fuck..."

Antinous only sunk further into the bed, absentmindedly rubbing his face against the pillow. When his head finally emerged from its sanctuary, the suitor caught sight of a large pile of jewelry on the prince's vanity. It was obvious who they were from, as well as the bouquets.

Antinous felt jealousy churn in his chest. He had always been possessive of what was his, from the teddy bear he owned in his childhood to the doe-eyed little prince he'd nearly been able to hold in his grasp. He could picture it, just a hair's width away, a giggling Telemachus there in the bed with him, the smell of milk ever present as Antinous held the beauty in his arms. The prince’s airy voice would coo softly, nuzzling Antinous’ chest and shoving his hair in the suitor’s face.

Antinous had never been kind, or even caring in the slightest. It wasn't his way of life, and yet...

No.

The suitor hastily got up from the bed, not bothering to remake it despite the risks it pertained. He didn't care. Antinous had to get out of there before he truly lost his mind, that sweet milk scent wrapping around his brain. He gave one last inhale, relishing in it for a split moment longer.

The suitor swore to keep an eye on the little prince from then on as he left the bedroom. And if he took a clearly milk-drenched pillow with him, then let the gods be his only witnesses.

•••

Melanthius was clearly not good at keeping his mouth shut, as the suitors' efforts had doubled down not with gifts, but acts of service to impress on Telemachus. "May I carry that, My Prince?" "Let me help you!" "Do you need anything?"

The prince felt dizzy from all the attention, but it was oddly adorable how badly they all tried to impress on him. Just yesterday, Peisander had fallen down the stairs and broken his leg trying to help Telemachus carry some boxes. 

In the end, it had worked out for him since Telemachus was quick to get him some sweets and go visit him as an apology.

When he got to the infirmary, Peisander was groggily staring up at the ceiling. However, he immediately perked up when he understood that it wasn't another suitor wanting to tease him at the door. "P-Prince!"

Telemachus gave a gentle smile, moving to sit down next to him on the bed. "How are you? Is your leg alright?"

Peisander flushed, nodding. "It's fine... The physician got it..done. Are you, um... well, Your Highness?"

Telemachus would never get used to the suitors truly using his titles for once. "Don't worry about me. I'm sorry I got you in this situation..." A hand was placed on top of the suitor's, squeezing lightly. The man looked visibly faint, alltho that could just be the fact that he was very clearly on a lot of medicine.

"Hehe...he.. No worries..." The prince nearly laughed at the squawk in Peisander's voice, and the tight grip on his hand. "Oh, I almost forgot! I got you a gift to say sorry. It isn't much, but I know you like candy, don't you?"

Telemachus should have known by then that if he gave a dog a bone, it would soon want meat. Peisander suddenly pulled the prince in, holding his head before diving in for a kiss. "Ack-!"

It was sloppy and messy, even overwhelming when Peisander's tongue began to slip into his mouth. Telemachus thought about pushing him off, he knew he should've. And yet, he held that dog's face and guided it to ease. 

The kiss grew slow, gentle and affectionate. The prince felt how Peisander's breathing calmed, hands slipping down to hug him close. Precious was hardly enough of a word to describe the sweet puppy in his grasp. That control, once again in his hands.

It was addictive.

When Telemachus pulled away, Peisander eagerly followed like the lost puppy he was. "Shhh... Settle down..."

He did, obeying the order like it was nature. The prince pulled him closer, holding the suitor to his chest despite the risks. He wanted to smush that stupid man's head and simultaneously kiss him silly.

Gods, what's wrong with me?

Peisander squeaked, his arms scrambling to cling around Telemachus' waist. The prince's chest smelled wonderfully sweet, like milk, and he couldn't help but nuzzle against it. Telemachus saw the suitor visibly deflate in his arms. He could still taste medicine on his tongue, making his cheeks flush pink. "Feeling better?"

"Mmhm..." was all he got in response. Telemachus smiled, petting Peisander's head as his other arm reached for the bag of candy. He took one out, the small ball coated in a light layer of sugar, before guiding it to the suitor's mouth. "Open wide."

"Aaaa..." This time, Telemachus couldn't help but giggle at Peisander's antics. He was ridiculously cute, chewing absentmindedly on the candy while he nuzzled the prince's chest. Telemachus swore he felt his heart skip a beat.

With every little instance he had with the suitors, the prince felt his resolve waver. Were they really being sincere? And if so, how in the world did it happen? What caused the shift?

Telemachus sighed, looking down at the suitor, only to find Peisander staring right back up at him, sleepy eyes gazing into his own. His chin rested on Telemachus' chest, a small pout present which made him look almost childish. The prince chuckled. "More?"

A nod. The two continued that way, Telemachus' back against the wall with Peisander's head on his chest, being fed candy after candy until the small bag was finished. And when the bag finished, Peisander began to ask for kisses, and Telemachus hadn't found it in himself to refuse. He should've.

And yet he didn't.

 It was soft, sensual kissing, Telemachus having to guide the suitor despite being inexperienced. Neither were good in their state, but the kiss felt heavenly nontheless. It was gentle and loving, needy even as their tongues whirled around each other, saliva mixing and in Peisander's case, dribbling down his chin.

It was only when his bandages began to grow wet that Telemachus found it in himself to break away. "I have to leave, Puppy..." The nickname slipped from his lips easily. It felt fitting—right.

"Mmh... Nooo.." the suitor whined. The prince gave another long, hearfelt kiss, wiping the drool on Peisander’s chin. "Shhh... I know. I'll visit you tomorrow, okay? Be good."

It took another two minutes of sloppy smooching before Peisander felt near ready to let Telemachus slip out of his grasp, pouting. 

Telemachus heaved a sigh as the door closed behind him, solitude embracing him. Then, he sank to his knees, head in hands. "Fuck... Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

The prince looked left and right, finding the corridor empty. Shakily, he got back up and began the trek back to his bedroom. He would take a light break before seeing his mother, and try to forget everything that had happened in that room. He was slipping, and that wasn't allowed to happen at all.

Unfortunately, he didn't get very far as a maid stopped him. Melantho. Silently, she pulled him along into a storage room, away from prying eyes. When they were alone, she whirled around to glare at the prince. "How did you do it?"

"D-do what?"

"Get them to obey. I've seen you suffer at their hands for years, and yet they suddenly worship the ground you walk on? My Prince, the maids are losing power because of you. We only have our charm." Melantho trembled with desperation, narrowed eyes practically seething with rage, yet still seeming to beg for mercy.

Telemachus silently swore to give it, his hands clenched by his sides.

"Melantho, I can't explain why they've suddenly flocked to me," he partially lied. That was an attribute the suitors had taught him well, at least. "but I promise you, that I am not looking to take away your safety. In fact, with this newfound power, I can finally protect you all better than before. Trust me when I say that I do not seek to harm you."

Moments passed, the tension welling before it eventually let go. "...Okay," The maid sighed, her shoulders slumping. Telemachus only gave a reassuring smile, then turned away to continue walking. 

"Wait, My Prince."

He looked back. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry. I... I already told the queen everything. I thought..." Melantho didn't finish the sentence, looking away in shame.

Telemachus' heart sank, but he didn't let it show on his face. "...I see. Good bye, Melantho."

Things just got more difficult, as if he didn't already have enough on his plate.

•••

Telemachus didn't dare head to his mother's room as breakfast rolled around the next day. Argos laid beside him on the bed, snoring softly, but it did little to ease the anxiety that coursed through the prince.

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to explain to his own mother that a god had blessed him not with some heroic or admirable ability, and instead with unlimited breastmilk that leaked from his own chest? And that the suitors had tasted it?

The answer was clear: He couldn't. And so he hid, like the coward he was known to be. 

And he was still fucking milking.

The prince continued to rhythmically squeeze into the vase, or the milk-dumper as it had recently been reduced to. It had already been an hour, and Telemachus was extremely tired of milking himself like a cow every morning. That was mostly because he liked to sleep in, in all actuality, but the cramps in his hands were an added bonus.

And of course, the shame.

When Telemachus lifted the heavy vase and made his way over to dump it out over the balcony, he was suprised to see a strange sight. The rose bushes down below—that were very much not in season—had bloomed in full. In fact, they had even begun to climb the wall leading up to the balcony, the striking red stunning Telemachus where he stood.

The roses had never bloomed this early, and especially not in such eagerness that the maids hadn't had time to stop them from climbing the wall. Telemachus silently put the vase down, staring silently at the large amount of milk in it.

Was there truly a chance that... his milk had healing proprieties?

Absurd. Ridiculous. Absolute lunacy. Perhaps that is what his thoughts should have ended with.

But he needed to test his theory.

Sneaking into the barn at the side of the palace was difficult, even when traveling at night. There were several occasions where Telemachus was nearly caught, having not spotted the guards or servants in the dark. But still, he made it eventually.

The cows mooed in unison when he stepped into the barn, making Telemachus flinch. "yeah, yeah, calm yourselves. I'm practically one of you now," he mumbled under his breath, rummaging in his satchel. The prince pulled out two jugs he had stolen from the kitchen. Telemachus considered it compensation for using his milk. Ugh, he still hated thinking about it. The strange praise from the suitors, their loud groans and whoops...

Okay, Telemachus. Focus.

Coaxing the cow towards him with hay, Telemachus silently crept beside the animal's stomach, positioning the jug underneath one of the cow's nipples. The prince's face scrunched up in disgust, not used to handling farm animals unless it was for sacrifice, before he began to pull and squeeze. 

Little by little, the jug filled up, before Telemachus switched to the second one and repeated the process. He was two thirds of the way done when stark light suddenly blinded him. "Telemachus?"

Damnit.

The prince slowly turned his head to gaze up at Eurycleia, her old and wrinkled face showing an accusatory expression. "What in the world are you doing in the barn? And especially at night!"

Telemachus groaned. "Please. Just don't ask, Eury..." he practically pleaded, eyes squeezed shut as he slapped his forehead.

Eurycleia only sighed, shaking her head. She stepped towards him, helping Telemachus stand up and brusing off the hay on his chiton. "Come on, My Dear. Let's get you back to your bedroom."

Telemachus stayed silent as he followed, milk jugs hidden in his satchel. Thankfully, Eurycleia seemed to understand he didn’t want to talk about it, and avoided prodding. Even so, he could feel her eyes watching his every move skeptically.

The prince let out a sigh of relief as his bedroom door became visible down the hall. "Thanks, Eury… It won’t happen again, I swear."

"Well, I won’t pretend to know what you’re doing, but be safe, alright? Don’t get into any unnecessary trouble, My Sweet." The wetnurse held his cheeks before leaving a gentle peck on his forehead, before retiring for the night.

Immediately, Telemachus rushed inside his bedroom and locked the door, only then relaxing. He had almost gotten caught for real…

The prince turned to the two roses he had taken from the bushes down below, both in seperate pots. He pulled out the two milk jugs, opening one of them. Telemachus would let the two flowers grow for a week, one with regular milk instead of water, and the other with…

His breastmilk.

Telemachus quickly undressed, untying the wet bandages around his chest and leaving them in the laundry basket with the rest of his soiled clothes. He would have to ask someone else to help clean them, because he couldn’t continue like this.

The prince was exhausted, but he knew he needed to do his evening milking so he wouldn’t have an outburst of pain in the middle of the night. His pecs were slightly engorged, but other than that seemed unaffected by the horrendously large amounts of breastmilk they contained. Telemachus assumed it had to do with the divine side of it. After all, he wasn’t a real woman, and all of this was unnatural.

Telemachus made quick work of grabbing his milk vase, before starting to squeeze.

Shhhhh! Shhhhh! Shhhhh!

Ugh, he needed a better method than this soon enough. He hated sitting for an entire hour leaning over a vase and squeezing. But eventually, he finished. The prince took another jug and scooped up some of the milk to water the rose with.

When the last few trickles had left his nipples, Telemachus was panting. His thighs were tightly clenched, rubbing against each other needily. His cock throbbed, and the prince contemplated getting off, but the thought of cumming to milking himself disgusted him.

Frustrated, Telemachus tossed the gathered milk over the balcony before flopping down on the bed. He inhaled, expecting to smell milk, but instead was met with a shockingly familiar scent.

Why did it smell like Antinous?… And where the hell was his pillow?!

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be a simple trip to the market. Telemachus' jewelry stash had only gotten worse, the suitors relentless in their gifts with "jewels the colour of his ocean eyes" and "gold to pair with his pale skin."

Perhaps he shouldn't have snorted when they gave that tragic poetry, but he didn't possess the same grace as his mother.

Telemachus had overheard the maids once again complaining about funds, their treasury barely enough to have the palace scrape by. The prince's guilt had taken over, knowing he was enjoying luxury everyday while his hard workers suffered under his roof, and it wasn't long before Telemachus was picking up his large collection of jewelry and dumping it out onto the bed. 

For many hours, he sorted through the good quality gold and metal, evaluating how well someone would pay for them. Eventually, he had made a good pile. Telemachus sighed mournfully at the gifts he would no longer be able to keep, even if the jewelry was far too snobby and expensive for him. It was for him. 

Those two charming words. The prince felt guilt over relinquishing what the suitors had gifted to him, at the same time as he despised them for making his home poorer by the day. If anything, they deserved to be used to make the palace prosper again.

But Telemachus didn't have that strength, did he?

Perhaps not, but he did have the strength to take the pile of jewelry to Eurycleia, even with a sorrowful heart. His pout was not evident, but still visible as he handed the pile to his maid. "I heard from the other maids that we were running low on plates. We can sell this jewelry at the Agora and get some money, Eury."

Eurycleia hummed, observing the metals. "And you do not need it, Sweet Child?"

"I'm alright, I have too much of it anyway..." he chuckled weakly.

"Well then, I should take this to the markets right away. How about we go for a trip, you and I?" The wetnurse cradled Telemachus' face, gentle eyes crinkling at the edges. Telemachus nodded with his own smile, even as his stomach churned with anxiety. What if his bandages leaked? There would be too many people around for him to milk, and who knew how long they would be at the Agora?

But there was no time to evaluate, as before he could find the time to sneak away, they were already making their way down the hill towards the markets. It was barely noon, and the streets were bustling with people left and right. Perfect for selling. Eurycleia turned to Telemachus, who was looking around awkwardly, trying not to touch his chest which already felt full. "You can go have fun, My Prince. I'm sure there is something for you to buy here."

"If you're sure..." he murmured. With a friendly nod from Eurycleia, Telemachus set off on scouring the items being sold. He wasn't looking to get anything for himself, seeing as the suitors had given him everything he needed, from clothes to food to comforts, but perhaps it would do him well to get his mother a gift for when he eventually had to confront her. 

But suddenly, the faint sound of arguing reached Telemachus' ears, making him perk up.

"G-Get off me!"

"Come on now, I haven't had good fuck in—hic—ages! At least not with a beauty," a scraggly old voice laughed. Alarmbells rang inside Telemachus' head as he whirled around in search for the source of voices. As more incorrigable shouts and screams resounded near him, and a thud as well, the prince ran towards the assumed location in panic, straight into the forest.

"You- fucker!"

"Shut your mouth, Old Man!"

The third unknown voice suddenly let out an agonized scream, before heavy footsteps approached Telemachus and he was abruptly pushed to the side, the old man escaping. As he made his way to the small clearing inside the forest, the sight Telemachus saw distraught him.

"O-Ow... Gods, um.. Are you alright, Little Lady?" Amphinomus tentatively asked the teenage girl who sat a good distance away from him. Her eyes were wide with fear at the brawl she had just witnessed, but a small nod was expressed. Then, she broke out into a run, disappearing into the woods before either of the men could stop her. Poor thing was probably terrified.

Amphinomus tried to follow her, but was quickly shut down as his abdomen stabbed with pain. The knife was still inbedded in the wound, and every small movement stung worse than hell. Before Telemachus knew what he was doing, he approached the suitor. 

Perhaps he should have left him there, but Amphinomus had always been the kindest to him, easing situations where he could have gotten beaten or worse, and often speaking well of him even when no one was listening. He deserved a sliver of respect, no matter how much Telemachus hated him. 

"C-Can you move?"

Amphinomus' head whirled around to stare at him in shock, before looking down in thought. Then, he tentatively tried to stand up. Telemachus ran to catch him as he quickly tumbled to the ground, the suitor letting out a low groan. "Shh, shh, it’s okay… Um, gods, how do I carry you?"

Amphinomus was nearly twice his size, a true giant. Once upon a time, Telemachus had really liked that sight, having to crane his neck to meet the suitor’s gaze. Now however, it was only a problem. He couldn’t carry the man for more than a few steps, let alone to the Agora. Perhaps he could fetch a doctor instead?

As Telemachus was thinking, he suddenly froze up as he felt his chiton begin to stick to his chest. No, not now!

There was nowhere to hide now, not with a man bleeding out in front of him. Telemachus couldn’t very well abandon him to run and milk for an hour!

Wait a minute… The milk.

Of course, of fucking course he had that trivial option. Telemachus and his bullshit luck. But what other choice did he have? Run into the crowded Agora and let the islanders catch their prince with leaking tits?

No way in hell.

Time was ticking, and that was further affirmed as Amphinomus whimpered once more, clutching his abdomen. "Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck my life," Telemachus blabbered under his breath as he began to unpin his chiton, revealing soaked bandages. The suitor stared in confusion at the scene. "What are you…"

"Shut up. Just shut up and drink." Telemachus peeled off the bandages layer by layer, and the sudden strong stench of milk had Amphinomus backtracking. "Wait, it smells like…"

"Milk?! Yeah, I fucking know!" The prince felt on the verge of combusting, wishing he could tug at his hair and peel his skin off for some form of relief. Alas, nothing. And as the last piece of the bandages fell to pool around Telemachus’ waist, Amphinomus was finally greeted with the liquid heaven he had secretly been longing for. "No way…"

Telemachus’ teats glistened with milk, shining and dripping from how full they were. Amphinomus’ mouth began to water at the sight, even as his mind failed to comprehend what he was seeing. "You… Is this-? Gods, was that your milk I dr-"

"Please just drink, before I leave you here to die!"

The suitor had no more questions as the warm feeling of blood continued to coat his hand. He couldn’t lift his head, and only opened his mouth shyly, cheeks flushing bright red. Telemachus bit his tongue, before slowly guiding his chest down into the waiting mouth. 

That first suck was… a horrendous heaven, to say the least. Amphinomus was shockingly eager to suckle on his chest, like a puppy with their mother's milk. But the worst thing about it was the way the suitor gazed up at him like he hung the stars, wide and shining. Telemachus didn't know how to respond to that... joy? 

Why?

Telemachus' eyes rolled back in ecstasy, nerves alight with pops of joy at every suckle, and on ocassion—nibbles. A scrape of teeth had him mewling, but not loud enough to echo as he promptly bit down on his hand, blood gushing out. The prince trembled uncontrollably, his eyes full of terror at the mere notion of being found.

He hated it all. Why, why, why? Why him?

Silently, the tears began to fall, full of shame and contempt at his condition—his curse. Amphinomus' suckles slowed, a sturdy hand laying to rest on Telemachus' hand. It was a wordless comfort, and yet the prince sobbed around his bloodied hand. His secret was out, whether he liked it or not.

And he did. He did.

Telemachus squeezed the warm hand like a starved man. A sigh, a moan, a squeak. His chest was practically being consumed by a grown man, only one year his senior. But in that moment, Amphinomus was more alike a tiny babe than ever before. He looked vulnerable, weak, defenseless. Telemachus felt so oddly confident in the fact that he could kill the man right now if he wanted to.

Before that thought could wander, Amphinomus let go of the nip, gasping for air. It took—at most—five seconds before he was diving in again, desperate. Needy.

Telemachus legs clenched together at the barely audible noise that resounded in the air. It was a whine, soft but there. And it came from the man beneath him. So perfectly needy and dependent and weak-

Amphinomus felt the clench his hand was given, but he paid it no mind in favour of his liquid heaven. The suitor's head felt like it was spinning, or perhaps covered in cotton, the way everything blended into a hazy fuzz except his most primal senses— touch and taste. The squeeze of a soft, uncallused hand and creamy milk filling his mouth.

Maybe that was the bloodloss speaking, tho.

The stabs of pain in his shoulder dulled as Amphinomus suckled, even as the hand in Telemachus' mouth moved down to grip the knife's handle. What he wasn't prepared for however, was for the knife to be ripped out of his stomach in one swift movement.

Telemachus choked on a sob as teeth suddenly bit down on his chest. Amphinomus' muffled scream was a miracle, as Telemachus would've died if someone had stumbled upon them. Tears slipped from the suitor's eyes while he sobbed, and...

Oh, gods... So.. cute..!

Telemachus internally squealed at the sight as he bit his lip, Amphinomus' teary doe-eyes stirring inexplicable feelings in his body. The prince barely noticed his thighs squeezing together, completely entranced by the suitor. He could barely keep a blabber of cooes from slipping out. What was wrong with him?!

Amphinomus sniffled, but otherwise kept mostly quiet as he nursed. He was unaware of the prince's internal dilemma, too focused on easing his pain with more milk. Yes, more, more, more...

The prince felt blood pile on his lip from how hard he was biting it. His thighs rubbed together eagerly, cock throbbing between his legs. Gods, he would do anything for that face, so teary-eyed with snot dripping from the man's nose as he whimpered. Powerless. 

Telemachus suddenly pushed Amphinomus off in a moment of clarity, the suitor landing harshly on the grass and in turn aggravating his wound. He yelped, but by that point, Telemachus had already left him stranded. Amphinomus stared silently in confusion at the empty place where the prince had once stood, only the faint sound of thudding footsteps echoing in the forest. 

Meanwhile, Telemachus ran as he tightened his bandages back up, breath laboured. What the hell was he doing? Oh gods, what if Amphinomus used that against him, or even worse, told the suitors?

No, no, he wouldn't. Not without revealing his own shame at having nursed from the prince. But even with that reassurance, Telemachus' anxiety didn't ease. Amphinomus, would he... come back for more? 

And would Telemachus let him?

Yes.

That was the worst part. He would let that wretched suitor come back over and over again to suckle on his chest, if only to see the men that had invaded his home kneel to him for once.

Telemachus stopped to lean against a tree, his erection painfully hard now. He was a depraved pervert for sure, getting off to the thought of being some grown man’s personal cow. Still, he couldn’t stop his hand from slipping down.

The prince gasped as his hand finally wrapped around his throbbing cock, a tentative stroke making him keen. He hated himself for what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop. There was only the buzzing in his ear as Telemachus began a steady pace, albeit a quick one.

Behind his closed eyes, a myriad of scenes flashed, of Amphinomus’ absolutely pitiful face as he suckled milk from the prince’s tit. Gods, did he look like that when he…?

The moan that left him was downright shameful. Telemachus stroked himself faster, hips jerking the closer he approached climax. It only took one squeeze of his chest for him to burst, cum coating the grass below as he tried his best not to squeal.

•••

Eurycleia gasped in relief as Telemachus stepped out of the forest, hair tossled and face glum. "There you are! Where did you run off to, My Boy?"

The prince only shook his head, lips pressed thin. Eurycleia deflated, expression falling. It was the same silence she received whenever Telemachus showed up with bruises on his body, mind far away in the clouds.

The two made their way back in silence, the prince trailing behind as his thoughts stirred. He felt gross, his hand still too sticky to make him forget what he had done.

When Telemachus walked up the path to the palace entrance, he was met with a sight that made him freeze. "Mama..."

Penelope stood in front of the guards, her expression not unveiling a thing. She only held out her hand, silently awaiting her son to take it, as if he was the same clingy child from years ago. "Come, it is time we talked."

He obeyed.

The walk to Penelope's room was silent, her warm hand against his the only indication of trust in her own son. "Mama, I'm sorry.."

"Shh, I'm not blaming you, My Sweet. Let's find some privacy first."

The words assured Telemachus only slightly. They stepped inside the queen's bedroom, the familiar scent of cinnamon and Marjoram soothing the prince's frayed nerves. It was associated with so many memories, of his mother teaching him to weave, of a lightning-scared boy hiding his head in his mother's neck as she cooed, or being tickled until he had no breath in his lungs. It was the scent of safety, of trust.

Penelope pulled her son along to sit down, before taking the seat beside him. Then, she sighed. Telemachus swallowed the meager saliva gathered in his mouth. It was now or never.

"Telemachus, Melantho came to me a few days ago with concerning news, but I want to hear your story. Please, do not hide from me, My Dear. Tell me what happened with the suitors." Penelope's warm hand stroked his own, encouraging and patient, and Telemachus felt ready to cry again.

"I..." It felt difficult to speak. "It was, um... a couple weeks ago, during dinner. The suitors had been..." getting ready to beat me black and blue. "acting agressive, so I screamed at them. Ever since then, they've been so strange, Mama..."

Penelope hummed, but her gaze didn't let up. "You're keeping it from me, the whole truth. Telemachus, do you not trust me?"

The prince panicked at the mere notion. "I do, I do! I just... It's disgusting, Mama.." he whispered in shame, head hanging low.

"Try me." Penelope's face was determined, her grasp strong and steady. That alone was enough to make him choke on a sob. Telemachus pulled away, before his trembling hands began to unpin his chiton. The queen watched with furrowed brows, trying to make sense of the act.

When the chiton fell, bandages were revealed. They were already started to grow wet again, and Penelope's expression only grew more confused. Telemachus hesitated to unpeel the soaked cloth, eyes turned away from the sight and up at the ceiling. He inhaled once, twice.

"Do you need help?" Penelope asked calmly.

"Uh-huh..." Telemachus' voice cracked. When his mother's callused hands began to untie the bandages, he couldn't stop the tears from running. As the last part of the cloth unfurled, there was only silence.

"My Son, is this...?"

Telemachus thought she was referring to the milk and nodded weakly. "I had prayed to the gods for help to defeat the suitors, and they gave me... this."

Penelope watchfully observed the leaking chest. "Can I…?"

"..Yes."

She lifted her arm, pointer finger moving to collect the white bead that clung to Telemachus’ nipple. Penelope lifted it to her nose, taking a sniff. "By the gods… That’s most definitely milk…" 

Telemachus tensed up, fists clenched by his sides as he struggled not to sob. "I know. I’ve tried praying, but no one responds."

"..And the bite mark?"

What.

Telemachus slowly looked down, and there it was. A human-shaped bite mark circled around his right nipple, fresh and red. The sight only made him sob harder, crumbling. Penelope's concern skyrocketed. "Has someone assaulted you?"

"No!" he wailed.

"Okay, okay! Oh, come here…" Penelope sighed, pulling Telemachus into a tight embrace. The prince sniffled, arms loosely wrapping around his mother in return. He inhaled the comforting scent of cinnamon for what felt like hours, but was in reality minutes at most.

"Oh, My Darling Boy... I'm sorry you felt you couldn't trust me." A gentle kiss was placed atop the prince’s head.

 "Mama, don't say that... You're doing your best."

The queen pulled back, cradling her son’s face fondly. "We’ll fix this, I swear. I’ll begin praying to our patron goddess as soon as I can."

Telemachus nodded, wiping his tears and straightening. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. He didn’t need to cling to his mother for help. He should go hunting and find a good animal for offering if he wanted to reach that god again. It was time he stopped living like this.

It was no blessing, only a curse, and he would never again ask the gods for help after this.

When Telemachus got back to his bedroom, he found the two rosepots, one wilted and one in full bloom, its vibrant red colour reflecting into his eyes clearly.

•••

"Oh, fuck...!"

The bed creaked underneath Antinous' rocking hips, humping the pillow with all the pent up energy in his body. "Shit, Little Wolf..!"

If he fantasized hard enough, he could pretend the soft pillow was instead tight walls, clenching on his cock eagerly. He could pretend that the tiny prince was wailing out his name into his ear, an endless chant of "Antinous, Antinous, Antinous!"

The suitor was on the verge of climax, his hips moving errarically now. He was being loud, he knew, but fuck anyone that dared to bring it up later. He was so pent up he could explode, that milky scent driving him mad day and night. It was all he could think about, along with suspicions about why Telemachus of all people had it.

Antinous took a deep breath of the milky scent, groaning. "Shit, shit, gonna-!"

Cum coated the pillow in long spurts, virile and in large amounts. The suitor didn’t know how long he was coming for, his vision going white as he moaned. When he finally came down from his high, it was to the sight of the lightblue and frill-trimmed pillow soaked with semen. Fuck, it was ruined. 

Antinous flopped down on the clean part of the pillow, inhaling the now faint milk scent, as if that would ever satisfy him. The smell would fade soon enough, after all. But for now, the suitor enjoyed the sweetness of it, his mind picturing an equally as sweet prince.

He was screwed. 

Chapter Text

Finally, Aphrodite had managed to escape her duties for a little while. At least enough to visit her beloved mortal. She could almost burst from excitement, thoughts full of chubby-soft cheeks and big doe-eyes. 

As the goddess made her way down to the small island of Ithaca, her dove form began to shift into a more humanoid body. She took the appearance of a young male with curly, white hair and piercing pink eyes, and a tall but lithe body adorned in crimson cloth and gold. Unnatural, yes, but Aphrodite did not attempt to hide much, as she would reveal herself to the prince eventually. Oh, she could only imagine the adorable look on her Telemachus' face once he realized he stood face-to-face with a goddess.

And hopefully that would be after she had already ravaged him, both inside and out. Perhaps the prince would present himself again, eager to serve his precious flesh to the goddess.

It didn't take much effort for Aphrodite to sneak inside the palace. The guards were stupidly flimsy and weighed down by age, a pitiful sight. Soon enough, she would change that, so long as her Sweet Telemachus accepted her love with devotion. Yes, a proper offering of flesh and praise.

And... perhaps...

Ah, no time for that now.

When she stepped inside the dining hall, it was bustling with a large feast, the aforementioned suitors infesting every surface in the room. Aphrodite understood her beloved's struggle as she observed the pigs eat and drink with no manners, slamming the table as they demanded "More, more, more!"

Arrogant, selfish, ignorant. It all made sense, why her prince was willing to go to such lengths for his mother and kingdom. It was a battlefield in there. And by the current state of things, it seemed Telemachus hadn't quite gotten a handle on taming the dogs yet.

Looks like Aphrodite would need to get involved.

•••

"Oh! Mhf-!"

Telemachus' hands worked tirelessly, one squeezing milk haywire onto the floor, and the other jerking his cock eagerly. This was how his once semi-normal schedule now looked, tainted by images of a needy suitor with big eyes and an even bigger-

"Ah!" Telemachus spilled his seed onto the floor even as shame flooded him, mixing with the white substance. He continued tugging and squeezing his nipples, watching the puddle only grow larger and larger. It would be such a mess to clean up, and right before dinner too... But at least he knew no one would bother him- be

Knock, knock, knock. "My Prince?"

You've got to be joking me.

Telemachus' blood faded from his face, before he scrambled to dress himself and clean up the mess on the floor. "I-in a minute!"

Amphinomus waited patiently outside the door, a small box in his hand. It still hurt to move, but his wound had grown small in no time, most likely because of the.. milk? Whatever it was. It worked like magic, and Amphinomus couldn't help but be thankful to the prince.

The sound of frantic footsteps and thudding had the suitor concerned. "Are you alright?"

"F-fine!"

Telemachus threw his old blanket over the mess of liquids on the floor to soak up, while he hurriedly dressed himself with a clean chiton. He still looked a mess, with hair sticking out in every direction and a face that only post-orgasm could create. Thankfully, Amphinomus was truly clueless, as his face only lit up with joy when Telemachus eventually opened the door.

The prince felt ready to die.

"What are you doing here?"

The suitor lifted the box slightly. "I wanted to thank you for the other day. I know, perhaps, that you didn't want anyone to discover your situation, but I hope you know how grateful-"

Telemachus held up his hand, silencing the man. When the prince's eyes opened, there were tears of frustration clinging to his lashes, fists clenched. "I don't want to be thanked for t-that. Please, just... forget any of this happened. It's only a curse, not some wonderful blessing, even if it did help you that day."

"But..."

"No buts."

Amphinomus let out a light huff. "It's okay to be scared. I can't say I fully understand your situation-"

"You're right! You don't! So for goodness' sake, let me pretend for a moment that I'm normal!"

The silence that prevailed had tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Telemachus kept his gaze down at the floor, body trembling with rage, or perhaps sorrow in disguise.

He didn't expect the arms of the man to gently embrace him, pulling him to his chest.

Telemachus gave no resistance, becoming a ragdoll in Amphinomus' arms as the suitor huggedhim to his chest in a solid hold, not forceful, but stable. Telemachus inhaled Amphinomus' scent between sniffled, unusually flowery for such a man. 

He burrowed himself further in his arms, and Amphinomus hugged just a little lighter. Telemachus kept no track of the time, but eventually, his tears dried, and he left the warm embrace, even as his mind screamed no. 

He felt sleepy.

Amphinomus let his hands fall back to his sides, awaiting Telemachus’ next words, like a puppy expecting commands.

"C-come inside…?" It wasn’t meant to be phrased like a question, but thankfully, the suitor complied, stepping inside. 

Immediately, the smell of milk became much more prominent, clinging to every surface in the bedroom. The interior design was… cute, to put it mildly. "Do you like frills?"

"It’s, um… My mother," Telemachus lied, albeit not very smoothly. Amphinomus didn’t comment on it, but his smile was enough.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, the suitor caught sight of a blanket with stars and constellations embroidered into it. "That’s… my blanket, right?"

Telemachus stopped. "Huh?"

Amphinomus turned his head away, but not before the prince caught sight of a blush. Then, it clicked. "You made this…?"

"You’re always reading the scroll about stars in the library, so I suspected you liked the sky…"

Telemachus could barely contain the squeal that bubbled up in his throat. 

"Y-yeah, you’re right," the prince practically whispered, pulling Amphinomus along to sit down on the duvet. "You like embroidery?"

"Ah, a skill from my mother, although I tend to keep it a secret." He stroked the soft material of the blanket.

"… It’s beautiful."

Amphinomus turned to gaze at the other, eyes soft and gentle. "You’re beautiful."

Telemachus blushed, and was quickly reminded of his earlier arousal, his gaze roaming over the suitor’s body eagerly. Thankfully, Amphinomus remained unknowing. "Y-you… Gods, don’t say that…"

"Because it’s true?" Amphinomus leaned closer, dwarfing Telemachus with his size. "The gods have blessed you with such charm, such delicate beauty. So much so that I could gaze at you all day, My Prince."

"Don’t, please. I can’t-" Telemachus’ rebuttals were silenced as a hand moved to cup his cheek.

"Shhh... Just let yourself go.." Amphinomus whispered, like a siren luring him into the waters.

Telemachus should have been able to later say that he refused, or at least fought back, but no. He grew limp as Amphinomus gently laid him down on the bed, letting him kiss his lips oh, so softly. There was suddenly nothing in his head but fuzz as their tongues met and swirled in a leisureful, half-assed battle. 

When they parted, Amphinomus looked like the epitome of giddy, a dorky smile plastered on his face and his cheeks flushed in an adorable pink hue. 

Something inside Telemachus melted. There was no worry—or rather no thoughts at all—as he unpinned his tunic. Amphinomus stared down at the swollen, pouty nipples dazedly, barely blinking, and for a second, Telemachus thought he had broken the man. Then, the suitor dived in to nuzzle the soft chest, letting out a strangled squeal.

"Puppy," was all that Telemachus could think of in that moment.

•••

Aphrodite took the time to roam the palace while she awaited dinner, when she would properly see her prince. After all, she wanted to learn more about these suitors before she enacted her plan. They could very well turn aggressive if not tamed right.

After observing nearly every room in the so-called Suitors' Quarters without notice, she had come to one conclusion:

These men were stupidly horny.

It was all a cacophony of "Oou, fuck, Princey!" "Mmgh-! Squeeze your little cunt tighter!" "Yes.. Yes, yes~! Shit, gonna cu-uh-!" along with a ridiculous amount of whining. It was clear who they were masturbating to, but it was no fun all alone! Go get the boy if you want him so bad!

Her beloved truly had his work cut out for him as well, based on the sizes on a few of those men. Quite hefty amounts of inches for mortals.

All in all, Aphrodite only grew more steadfast in her plan. Sweet Telemachus... he really was a shy one, tucked away in his bedroom all alone again, it seemed. 

•••

"That's it... Ah.."

Amphinomus laid sprawled on top of the prince—nearly squeezing his lungs out in the process—while he nursed relaxedly. Every suckle seemed to drain the suitor impossibly more, and he could barely keep his eyes open by now. He paused for a moment, sucking in air for the first time in what must've been thirty minutes of consecutive drinking.

Telemachus sighed, his fingers absentmindedly playing with Amphinomus' hair. The suitor hummed contentedly at the tender touch, lips still tickling his nipple. "'m g'nna fall asleep..."

"Dinner will start soon, Amphi." The nickname slipped from his lips like butter, so thoughtless, albeit meaningful all the same.

"I'm stuffed..."

Telemachus laughed, carefree for once, as if nothing could phase him. "Just on milk?"

"I neve' want real food ever again.." The statement was amplified as Amphinomus moved to resume suckling, unbothered by Telemachus' obvious arousal. He couldn't stop, even as his stomach told him enough.

Telemachus struggled not to squirm, the suckles sending shocks of ecstacy to his nerves. He longed to touch himself, but it would be too obvious since Amphinomus was on top of him. He sighed, accepting his fate and continuing to pet the suitor's hair.

A knock on the door disturbed their peace. "My Prince? Dinner will be served soon."

Telemachus fought to not make any embarrassing noises as Amphinomus suckled. "I’ll be there, thank you. You’re dismissed."

As the sound of footsteps grew faint, Telemachus allowed himself to whimper, watching the suitor’s eyes go hazy with contentment. "Amphinomus, let’s go- mhf-!"

The suitor released his nipple, a bruised bite mark evidently showing around it. Telemachus’ guts only stirred even more in desire, and he promptly realized his still-visible problem would not go away.

Amphinomus hummed in satisfaction at the sight. "Would you like to do it alone, or have me take care of it?"

Telemachus could’ve probably started drooling had he imagined Amphinomus’ hands touching him below the waist for more than a split second, but surprisingly enough, he had some form of restraint left. "A-alone, please."

The suitor smiled, nodding. "Very well."

Telemachus gasped as a kiss was delivered on his lips, biting his bottom one teasingly. "You’re going to be the death of me…"

Amphinomus laughed, and for a second, Telemachus felt that everything was okay.

After a solo relief session, the prince had now settled down at a relatively empty table, after grappling with over a hundred men over who he would sit with. Over just a few weeks, the suitors had turned into clingy dogs instead of rabid wolves.

Telemachus didn’t admit he liked the attention.

The evening flowed by continuously smooth. No fights or broken plates, as the suitors seemed to be on their best behavior for him.

But of course, nothing could last forever.

Just as Telemachus felt the telltale signs of his chest overflowing, bandages getting wet, and he began to rise to take his leave, a warm breath tickled his neck. 

"Hello there, My Beloved Prince." Striking pink eyes stared him down, white curls framing the stranger’s face.

"Who are you?" Telemachus immediately grew defensive. What was a strange, unusual-looking man doing in his home? And especially so mysteriously?

The stranger did not answer, but he did wrap his arms around Telemachus’ waist. "You notice it, don’t you?"

"W-what are you talking about?"

"Do you not see the power in your grasp? The way these horrid men look at you?"

Telemachus' breath picked up, panic quickly filling him as he tried to pry the stranger's arms off. "L-let me go.."

The man's hold only tightened. "Look."

Telemachus' pounding heart eased like magic, albeit unwillingly. Feeling oddly pliant, he obeyed and glanced up. 

The suitors were watching them, jealous glares and sneers plastered on every single face, unmistakable and striking. 

"That’s it, keep looking…" Arms slid further up his body, unpinning the prince’s chiton and letting the wet bandages show.

Telemachus hastily pushed the stranger off in a renewed panic. For a moment, he had almost lost his inhibitions. "Get away from me!"

Several suitors stood up in a defensive stance, ready to defend their prince, but little did they know they had no real power. Confusion had now begun to fester amongst the men as they stared at the bandages.

Telemachus blinked, and suddenly the stranger was gone, only empty space left where he had stood. 

He had no time to register what was happening, before hands were slithering under his arms from behind and squeezing his chest.

Silence. 

Telemachus stood paralyzed in the middle of it all, milk dripping from his chest and onto the floor, nipples visible through the cloth. He stared at the floor, not at the faces, not at the hands still on his chest, just the floor.

Not even the floor was safe from his thoughts.

Nobody said a word, true silence embracing the dining hall for the first time in years, but it wasn’t appreciated. And as Telemachus found the courage to look up, he only saw a sea of stunned faces. They could smell it, he knew. The milk had a scent that was strong and cloying, able to wrap your mind in cotton as it did everyday with him.

Amongst the crowd, he found Antinous. Smiling, grinning with joy even.

That was what did it.

He took off into a run, pushing past the many bodies in his way, until he reached the exit. Telemachus didn't know where his legs were taking him, only that he needed to get away, away, away. Far away from that crowd of unyielding eyes and his own shame. 

How could I have let it get to this point?

He let his body guide him, past the tapestries of a hero, a warrior, a king, out into the garden and through the fields of flowers, until he stopped in front of a fountain.

Telemachus let himself collapse against the stone, feeling the coolness against his forehead where he leaned on it. On top of the dispersing water, a statue of Athena stood tall and regal. He despised the irony of it all, that he would run to the divine after such an event. He huffed bitterly.

The sound of rustling told Telemachus he was not alone, and he tensed. The person’s steps were calm and steady, leisurely strolling up to the prince. "So, my suspicions were warranted after all."

Telemachus sniffled, head leaned over the fountains edge. His hands gripped the stone tightly, as if that would stop the trembling. The predator only moved closer to its prey. "Are you scared?" Purred the lion. 

Telemachus didn't think he'd ever felt so cold, but it wasn't from fear. Numbness, perhaps, or the stinging feeling of emptiness. Chilling, but a calm thing. "Humiliated."

"Hmph," the lion huffed. And Telemachus felt no fear as Antinous approached him, a lone hand trailing down his spine in a tantalizing manner. The prince shivered, simultaneously as his body came alive in sparks. The flames of rage licked him from the inside, almost identical to the lion who's clawed paw wracked down his body. 

"You don't have to feel ashamed in my presence."

As Telemachus' gaze shifted up to stare into the suitor's own, he crumbled. Tears welled in his eyes, furious and glaring in unison with his furrowed brows. "Fuck me..." he whispered, broken at last.

Antinous' heart beat just a bit faster. He smirked, but it was a weak mask to hide the way his cheeks flushed with colour, despite his thick skin. "Beg me, then."

But what he wasn't expecting, was for Telemachus to pull him down by the tunic, gaze near manic as he growled. "You're not making any fucking demands this time, or you can forget tasting my milk. I'm not degrading myself unless you work for it, you pig.

That shouldn't have been so hot. 

The lion stumbled, and missed its prey. It came across the wolf instead, who's fangs were sharp and dangerous, bared in the moonlight. "Fuck..." Antinous gasped, silenced for once in his life.

His hands fumbled with Telemachus' clothes, before growling and ripping them apart. The prince bit his lip until it broke skin, cock throbbing. "That's it, Big Boy..."

Antinous' response was to tug his own clothes off hastily. Anyone could walk by them at any moment, but the chance only seemed to stir excitement in Telemachus' groin. Gods, he was depraved.

Who fucking cares.

Antinous looked wrecked before he'd even shed Telemachus' last layers, like a starved beast that wanted its next meal—or a fawn that awaited its mother's milk. 

The prince wanted both.

Antinous was a big lion, clearly eager to mate, and Telemachus gently let his fingers run over his erect cock teasingly. The suitor grumbled, but knew to behave, lest he lose his reward.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

Telemachus suddenly gripped the manhood, making Antinous stutter on a gasp. He stroked slowly, feeling along the veins and his balls like he was inspecting an item. The suitor hated how that turned him on.

"You all make me dizzy with want... With the thought of how easily I can control you. It's absurd," Telemachus laughed dryly, before his features sank and he looked up at the suitor, eyes searching. "Tell me it's real. No lies, no tricks. Do I mean even the slightest thing to you, Antinous?"

The suitor found it hard to think past the mind fog, opening and closing his mouth several times. But eventually, a whisper made it past his lips. "You are everything."

"Then why do I feel like nothing?"

Antinous grew silent. He knew he had caused that, they all had. It was a quiet shame that lurked amongst the suitors, how they had treated the man they now adored. Beaten him down into a shadow of himself.

Telemachus let out a soft gasp as Antinous leaned in until their noses were nearly touching. Sea-blue eyes met fiery amber, gazing at each other as if they possibly knew the answer to their attraction. Their unspoken adoration.

"Then I'll prove myself to you."

Antinous finally closed the gap.

Sparks erupted between them, passion and hatred mixing with their saliva. Telemachus' lips were soft and plump, more like a princess than a future king. The prince's hands gently stroked Antinous' jaw, touch so incredibly sweet. All of him was sweet, from his mouth to his chubby chest, which Antinous had now visibly seen leak milk. 

Even just the thought had his cock twitching with interest. 

Telemachus pulled away first, before the suitor was being attacked with kisses. Telemachus was almost aggressive with them, a big smooch to his cheeks, nose, forehead, anywhere he could reach. Antinous felt dizzy, barely able to keep his smile at bay.

Of course, the prince noticed. "What a good puppy you are, smiling and obeying your master," he cooed, teasing. Antinous would have purred if he could, Telemachus fullheartedly believed. Instead, he settled for a grumble.

"Sit."

"You're seriously playing into this?"

"Sit, Mutt."

Antinous obeyed, sitting down on the fountain ledge. Telemachus got on his knees, grabbing a hold of the thick thighs beside his head and kneading them. He nuzzled one, before biting down hard on the muscle. Antinous grunted, glaring down at his prince. "You brat.."

Telemachus licked his lips, piercing blue eyes making the suitor shiver. He wanted, oh, how he wanted.

When the prince took in Antinous' cock more closely and from that angle, he hesitated slightly. "By the gods..."

It had good length, but Telemachus could truly quiver at the sheer girth of it. It was nearly two inches wide! 

Antinous smirked at his reaction, before the prince had the cock slap him in the face. He whimpered, half his face covered by the manhood. The suitor only grew more arrogant at the sight. "Go on, say how big it is."

"Shit..."

Another hit to the face, the musky scent making Telemachus' head spin. "I-it's big..."

Antinous swore he saw heart-eyes in the prince's gaze.

Telemachus acted on instinct, mind in sudden shambles from how tiny he felt beneath the suitor. He was definitely discovering a lot of things about himself these days. Something to mull over in the solitude of his bed.

But for now, he relished.

He pulled his face back, admiring the sight fully, before he was holding the base and leaning in to plant a delicate kiss on the tip. Then another, until Telemachus was practically making out with the cock.

Antinous watched fixatedly as the prince kissed and sucked on the tip, lips pouted outwards. "You're still a virgin, aren't you?"

Those were the lips of a whore, either way.

Large doe-eyes gazed up at him, and Antinous felt any inhibition leave him. "Fuck… Keep your teeth out of the way."

That was all the warning Telemachus got before he was choking on the cock, struggling to breathe and not gag as it was shoved down his throat. Antinous gripped his hair, pulling the prince down two thirds of the way. The brat whimpered, drooling on his cock messily as tears pricked his eyes.

The musky scent cloyed around Telemachus, making him lose all thought except to do a good job. Perhaps he needed that distraction.

Antinous pulled back to the tip, before he was forcing his way down the tight throat, feeling it constrict around him. 

He was going to fuck that little prince into a brainless mess.

Telemachus became a ragdoll as he worked, fully at the suitor’s mercy, head swinging back and forth as his hair was pulled on and off the cock. He gagged several times, but learned to relax as much as he could. Albeit, he couldn’t help a graze of teeth, earning him a harsh yank down to the crotch, forcing him to inhale the musky scent of man.

Antinous slammed his hips down the prince’s throat over and over, earning chokes and grunts. Telemachus had saliva dribbling down his chin, eyes rolling into the back of his head with each rough thrust. He looked worse off than his pillow, which may or may not have been ripped and ruined after only a couple uses.

"You have no—mhf!—idea how much I’m gonna use this mouth from now on. You’re made for this, Little Wolf. Sloppy little whore, aren’t you?"

Telemachus whined, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure to the suitor’s cock. It only took another pathetic gag from the prince for Antinous’ cock to twitch, before shooting its load down his throat. Telemachus choked on the cum, stuck there by the hand gripping his hair. Unwillingly, he swallowed as much as he could, more tears slipping from his eyes.

As soon as Antinous let him go, he spit up the rest of the seed onto the grass in between coughs. The suitor let him gather his baring only slightly, petting his hair with a strange gentleness while he waited.

"Give my balls a cleaning, then, Mutt."

Telemachus had lost all his fight, barely able to think past his most primal senses. Still, he understood enough to crawl back between Antinous’ thighs, before lifting the man’s cock and settling it on his head for access to the jewels underneath.

Antinous groaned at the sight, watching the way Telemachus dazedly took a ball into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking on it sloppily, gaze pointed at him the entire time.

It was safe to say it didn’t take long for his cock to rise again.

Antinous gently eased Telemachus off after a while, pulling him up. The prince unexpectedly leaned into the touch, wrapping his arms around his waist in a hug. The suitor grunted, before letting out a sigh and reciprocating.

"I think… we need to stop here.." Telemachus mumbled, confusing the suitor. "And why’s that?"

"Um…" Telemachus stared at the ground. "My chest, uh… is too full…" he was practically whispering now.

Antinous looked down at the prince’s chest, and just as stated, it was dripping. "Have you been leaking the whole time?"

He only received a hum, Telemachus hiding his face in the man’s chest.

Antinous bit his lip, very much rock-hard again. "And you think I would ever let you stop for that? You can do a little milking while I fuck you."

"Y-You’re so crude.." But even so, Telemachus allowed himself to be easily bent over the fountain, back arched seductively and ass in the air. He whimpered as a slap hit his left butt cheek, the pale skin quickly turning red from the impact. Antinous growled. "I’m going to take good care of this pretty thing, don’t you think, Puppy?"

Telemachus grumbled, but hid his smile from the suitor’s view.

Antinous parted the plump cheeks, finding the puckered hole in between, but when he went to prod it, he was surprised to find his finger could slide in. Then two, then three with only a little resistance. "Have you already prepared yourself?"

Telemachus’ brows furrowed in confusion. "Huh?"

Antinous only shook his head, sighing. "Well, you’ve already got leaking tits, why not a magically wet hole too?"

"Antinous, for the love of the gods, fuck me."

That earned him another spank, but Telemachus had no room to care. 

The suitor used four fingers in total before he deemed the prince ready, positioning his cock right at the eager hole. "This is what you’ve been longing for? A proper man’s cock to fuck your little cunt into submission?"

Telemachus didn’t respond, and only lifted his butt up higher in offering. Thankfully, they had both run out of patience, and there were no more obstacles in the way.

"A-ah..! Antin.." 

Inch by inch, Antinous eased his way inside the tight hole, arms wrapping around Telemachus’ waist. He went surprisingly slow at first, barely anything just to get the prince used to it. Gradually, that pace quickened.

"Ah, ah, ah! Anti-i-nousss!" Telemachus wailed into the night, uncaring of any ears that could possibly hear him. The slaps of skin colliding filled the cold midnight air, Antinous’ rough pace making the prince lose all his inhibitions.

He barely noticed when the suitor’s hands moved from his waist to his chest, before they started to squeeze the dripping nipples roughly. Telemachus squealed, eyes rolling back into his skull as the combined stimuli overwhelmed him.

Shhhh! Shhhh! Shhhh!

The sound echoed as his milk squirted into the water, turning its colour murky. 

Above them, a dove stood perched on the statue, observing the scene with watchful eyes.

•••

"Guys!"

The maids who were sat around the table—hurriedly eating before their next task—paused their chewing as Creusa slammed open the door, waterpot in hand. Eurycleia huffed. "What is it, Child? It better be important."

"The prince just fucked Antinous in the garden! They were like animals!"

Now that was better than a lousy piece of bread and meat.

"I'll be damned.."

Chapter Text

It had started with Peisander. Darling Peisander, who nowadays wouldn't hurt a fly unless it attacked Telemachus, had—simply stated—begged him for milk. 

The prince had been on his way to the garden for some fresh air, so many thoughts clouding his mind. But he hadn't been able to reach it before there was a man hurriedly moving towards him. Telemachus hadn't been prepared for Peisander to sink to his knees and cling to his thighs like a slave, wailing for everyone to hear.

"My Prince! Please, let me taste your milk, I beg you!"

Oh.

"W-what are you saying?"

"Antinous has been boasting about it day and night! Why does he get a taste and not me?! I-I can't-"

Telemachus' cheeks flushed bright red as he slapped a hand over the suitor's mouth, muffling his wails. Peisander continued to cry, a pathetic sight. 

Gods, Telemachus really had a giant weakness...

The prince sighed, tucking Peisander's tear-stained and snotty face away in his stomach as the man sniffled. Arms clung to him like a koala, unmovable.

"Oh, Puppy... Why are you crying over something so small?" Telemachus couldn't help the softness in his voice, a near coo. The suitors did that to him, made him some gentle caregiver against his will. He couldn't stop himself when they cried and whined so desperately.

"Eurydamas, Amphinomus and Cleodaeus went to follow you after the feast, and now they're saying you let Antinous take your virtue! And he confirmed it!"

"Wha- My virtue?" 

Telemachus could almost laugh at how it had all turned out. He definitely needed it after all the crying he had done. But there he was, comforting a grown man sobbing over his lost virginity.

The prince was promptly pulled out of his thoughts as Peisander suddenly rose and began to push him up against the wall, a dark and hungry gleam in his eyes. "P-Peisander!"

"I'm starving, Princey... I just want a taste, a tiny one!"

"Settle down, you dog!"

But his refusals went unheard, the suitor starting to unpin his chiton. Telemachus' head whirled from one side to the other, worriedly checking for any bypassers. With his momentary distraction, Peisander had successfully loosened the tight bandages, freeing his chest.

The suitor tentatively squeezed one nipple, and grew star-eyed at the sight of milk squirting out onto his clothes. Telemachus grabbed a fistful of Peisander's hair, before pulling his head back and away from his chest. "Don't you know to listen when spoken to? I said no."

Peisander whimpered. "Please, please I need it- Telemachus, pleaseee!"

The prince had to take a second to compose himself. He was a weak man, after all. But he would stand firm-

"You're letting Peisander taste before us?!" A voice echoed down the hall.

Leodes was stood further down the corridor, at least seven others behind him. They were most likely heading to the garden to play discus, which inevitably left Telemachus in the worst predicament of his life.

His grip loosened in shock, and Peisander dived down like a starved man.

The rest was history.

The memory had Telemachus flushing, despite the fact that Eurydamas currently had him pushed up against the wall, his feet dangling as the man slobbered over his nipples. Telemachs swore he could practically hear the  "nom nom" sounds escape the suitor, and like a traitor, his body only grew hotter from it.

At this point, he didn't know if it was him or the suitors who had gone insane.

Eurydamas grunted, tugging at the nipple like some feral animal. Telemachus let out a shuddered moan, gripping the man's hair. 

Behind them, a long queue of suitors lined the hallway, practically drooling as they awaited their turn. Their tongues still remembered the creamy taste of milk, the perfect sweetness and consistency of it, and now they wanted a taste from the source.

Their chitons showed very evident bulges, but the men resisted touching themselves. Well, most. Eurymachus didn't hide his arousal, stroking leisurely under his tunic as he watched the sight.

Cleodaeus pushed Eurydamas slightly out of the way and latched on to the other nipple, patience lost. He had, after all, seen Antinous fuck Telemachus with abandon and suck on his chest for hours, and jealousy curled in his gut like fire.

Telemachus let out a loud moan, legs kicking uselessly under him. He was cornered and helpless, and so goddamn wanted. Hanging there, pressed up against the wall, and yet he felt so powerful watching over a hundred men go feral over him.

Eurydamas suddenly released his nipple as he let out a groan, and a series of laughs from the other suitors had Telemachus looking down. There, in his crotch area, a large stain had coated the fabric of his chiton, seed dripping onto the floor.

Telemachus felt so dizzy with desire that he could have come as well from just that sight.

Eurydamas was quickly moved out of the way for Ctessipus to take his place, using his hips instead of his arms to hold Telemachus up. The prince let his legs wrap around the suitor, all the while petting Cleodaeus' head while he still nursed.

Ctessipus latched on immediately, whimpering and whining around the nipple as he sucked out his first taste of nectar in months. Telemachus was shocked to find the suitor's eyes rolling back in ecstacy, and the feeling of hips grinding into him. "O-oh..!"

The suitor humped him with vigour, and Telemachus could do nothing but take it. The other men watched in awe as they realized they had more access to their prince than they expected. Or maybe Ctessipus was just a dumbass. He'd always been a bit weird, after all.

Telemachus struggled to muffle his moans as the grinding grew more rough and erratic, almost desperate. Ctessipus was sucking out all the milk he could, his whimpers filling the air. Telemachus was shocked to feel Cleodaeus' crotch press up against his thigh as well, humping him in quick, needy thrusts. The prince gasped as the suitor grabbed a hold of his own aching cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.

Ctessipus came first, spilling over Telemachus' butt and the back of his thighs with a whine, drool dripping from his chin when he parted with the nipple. Telemachus was second, letting out a choked squeal as he was stroked through his orgasm. 

Cleodaeus pulled Telemachus out of Ctessipus' embrace and into his own arms, humping with more leverage now as he grabbed a handful of the prince's ass. "Mmh!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck...!" A slap landed square on Telemachus' butt, making him keen. He could only faintly hear the other suitors urging Cleodaeus to hurry up, and his mind broke with each overwhelming grind he received. 

Finally, Cleodaeus spilled his seed, coating Telemachus chiton and even his chest with a deep growl. 

Telemachus only let out a soft sound when Cleodaeus reluctantly handed him over to Eurymachus, but only after he had given the prince a passionate kiss. He was already blissed out, jumping from one suitor to the other like a pretty little ragdoll.

Unlike the rest of the men, Eurymachus was much more forward. He ripped Telemachus' chiton to shreds in one fell swoop, letting him sink to his knees with legs that refused to work. A few whoops and aroused grunts were heard from the crowd, and Eurymachus seemed to thrive on the attention.

Telemachus gasped as the suitor grabbed his hair, before burying his face in his crotch. Eurymachus grinded against him, making the prince whimper and his head spin wonderfully.

"I heard from Antinous that you're a good cocksleeve. Is that right?" 

Telemachus gazed up at Eurymachus with wide eyes, tears clinging to his lashes as he adamantly kept his mouth shut. The suitors swooned at the sight, whispering praises of "I would do anything for that face.." "shit, he's adorable..." and a plethora of debauched fantasies that didn't dare leave their mouths.

Eurymachus held his cock to the prince's lips, only teasingly rubbing against them at first. "He also said you've got the enthusiasm of a cat in heat."

It was clear the suitor was putting on a show, and Telemachus was not intent on losing their mental battle. 

He unexpectedly spit on the cock, watching his saliva fall off and drip onto the floor slowly. Then, he gave a soft, seductive kiss to the tip, like a cherry on top.

Eurymachus' gaze darkened with want, and Telemachus shivered. He wanted to be fucked silly like Antinous had done what felt like ages ago. He had never craved for their violence before, but, oh, how he longed now.

His mouth fell open before his mind could even begin to say no. There he sat, on his knees, tongue lolled out with his mouth wide open like he was accepting a prize.

Telemachus relished in the sound of several men losing their composure, releasing onto the floor.

Eurymachus stood silent in shock for a moment, before he smiled. "You're a whore through and through, that's for sure."

With that, he sheathed himself inside the warm throat in one smooth motion, making Telemachus gag. 

The suitors whooped and cheered at the sight, like they were watching a simple game of discus and not their prince being fucked in front of their eyes.

The thought had Telemachus' cock give a twitch, finally half-hard again.

Eurymachus was almost as rough as Antinous, but not quite. He had a gentleness to it that Telemachus adored, letting him get used to the pace and not tugging at his hair. The prince slurped and pleased the cock with sloppy movements, more drool than skill, but the suitor didn't mind in the slightest.

Before long, Telemachus was doing it all himself. Eurymachus relaxed, enjoying the sight of the once prideful prince willingly, desperately swallowing his cock to the hilt repeatedly, letting out muffled chokes in his desire to please.

The suitor was so close to his climax, hips barely needing to buck as he kept Telemachus’ head steady. But suddenly, a loud female voice reached above the rest of the crowd, making Eurymachus still. "What in the world is going on here?!"

The maid, Eurycleia.

The crowd quickly parted to reveal Telemachus on his knees, clothes ripped and face smudged with tears as his mouth stayed wrapped around Eurymachus' cock. Eurycleia gasped in horror, before her face contorted with rage. "You pesky dogs! Back away, now!"

She picked Telemachus up in her arms—strangely strong for her age—and quickly pulled off her shawl to wrap around his trembling body, shielding his nudity like it still had virtue. "Poor Thing... It's alright, don't feel ashamed... It's not your fault, I swear on the gods. Oh, Great Zeus…" Her voice quivered.

The prince kept silent, not brave enough to admit he had liked the spectacle he was making of himself. He had no courage to tell that to his wet nurse, who had taken care of him since childhood.

The suitors awkwardly tried to cover their erections, eyes avoiding Eurycleia’s own. She was the only maid to have any semblance of power over them, most likely since she reminded them of their own mothers. Shame filled every crevice in the hallway as she stared them down.

Telemachus let his eyes poke over her shoulder as she began to walk away, watching the suitors gaze at him longingly. 

He knew, deep down, that he longed as well.

•••

"My Queen."

Penelope rose from her seat calmly, turning away from the piles of paperwork at her desk. "What is it, Eurycleia? Any response from the midwives in Sparta?"

"No, My Queen. They have yet to respond, although I am sure their expertise will be helpful in our research. I... have a different problem."

She perked up. "Tell me immediately. Is it about Telemachus?" The stress was audible in Penelope's voice, her brows furrowing with worry.

"My Queen, you may need to sit down for this-"

"Tell. Me." A command, one the maid had no will to ignore.

Eurycleia clenched her fists, lips pressed tight. "The suitors seems to have... found out about his predicament." She paused, voice growing into a weak murmur. "...Telemachus was defiled just this morning."

Penelope stood unmoving for several moments, her eyes empty and expression neutral. "...Have you sent the guards to his door?"

"Yes. You need not worry." Eurycleia winced at the poor choice of words. Penelope huffed mirthlessly, gaze kept on the shimmering ocean outside, so ironically peaceful. "I'm sending a request to Queen Helen to send military aid right away. This ends now."

"Are we... done?"

"Yes. Curse the gods and the men who have forced my hand, who may end up killing me in the end. I have had enough."

"...Then I am with you to the end, My Queen."

•••

The door creaked when Penelope slowly opened it. She immediately caught sight of the bundle on the bed, and sighed. "Are you awake, Telemachus?"

A second passed, before… "Mhm…"

Penelope closed the door with a click, before making her way to the pile of blankets slowly. A dark blue one laid on top, with stars embroidered into it.

"May I sit?"

Another hum. Penelope took it as permission enough and settled down on the soft duvet. The silence stretched on for several minutes before she could trust her voice not to crack. "I heard what happened."

Telemachus didn’t respond, and the queen teared up, her hand reaching to stroke his hair. "Oh, My Little Light… What went wrong?"

Telemachus’ head poked out of the blankets slightly, and Penelope saw how red his eyes were, blaringly swollen and puffy. He sucked in desperate breaths, one after another.

"Mama… I liked it."

Penelope’s hand stopped its petting. "..You cannot possibly mean that, My Child."

Telemachus’ gaze was distant, staring at a chip in the wall with strange fixation. "I wanted it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mama."

And suddenly, they were back there again, a small boy and his mother, just trying to get by as the world stood against them.

Penelope laid down beside her son, grabbing his hand and gripping onto it like a lifeline. She inhaled once, twice, then sighed. "I don’t know what our life will be in a year, or even a month… How can I keep you safe anymore?"

Telemachus squeezed her hand, as if it would comfort the storms inside their minds, their hearts. "I just want you here, no matter what I choose to ruin about myself now."

A light chuckle, and then a little louder, until they were both giggling despite the tears that ran down their cheeks. "As if I am not as ruined..!"

It was bitter, it was humourless, and yet they found a scratch of it anyway.

Telemachus let his mother’s arms settle around him, hiding himself away from the world for one last time. Then, he wouldn’t let himself hide anymore.

Chapter Text

"We relinquish our suit."

Penelope was known for her calm demeanor, her steady aura, but now, her jaw dropped to the floor in utter shock.

"You are serious?"

Antinous grinned, as did the crowd of suitors behind him. "Indeed, My Queen. And on another matter, we would all like to present our suit to the prince instead."

Penelope struggled with all her might not to curse when she answered. "...V..Very well. I accept your suits for my son," she spoke in between clenched teeth.

The words were received with several whoops and cheers, but Penelope's suspicion was still strong. "But let me make it clear... If you ever harm my son again, I will..."

The suitors shuddered and yelped with each graphic torture the queen described, her hand showing a chopping motion, eyes glaring. Never in their many years of disrespect had she ever been so crude.

The men resisted clutching their crotches in horror.

•••

Telemachus' leaned his head against the wall of the storage closet, hands pressed against the cool stone as his body was pushed back and forth. "Uh, uh, uh-! Umhh..!"

"Shut your mouth, unless you want anyone to find us, Little Wolf," Antinous' voice purred next to his ear, hands squeezing large amounts of milk from his nipples down into the pot below. "Fuck... You're never gonna go a day without these being played with ever again. You're better off than a cow."

Telemachus gave a straight kick into Antinous' shin, making him let out a grunt of pain. The prince smirked mischeviously, before the fight was solidly fucked out of him as Antinous sped up, balls smacking against his thighs.

The suitor—his suitor—twisted his nipples roughly, making Telemachus squeal. They knew they were being loud, the sound of skin slapping and moans reaching far down the corridors. It was only a matter of time before someone stumbled upon them.

The pot was already starting to grow full, despite only a few minutes having passed since Antinous started his milking. Telemachus also felt his climax approaching at a rapid rate, legs shaking and unable to hold him up anymore. Thankfully, the suitor was there to catch him.

Antinous turned the prince around, letting out a surprised noise as Telemachus rose up to kiss him, his own hands continuing to play with his nipples. The suitor felt milk soak his own chiton from where the prince kept squirting it, and strangely enough, he didn't seem to mind. After all, he loved the sweet smell of milk that clung to the cute little wolf, addictive and dizzying. 

And now, he had a collection to last him a few drinks, as well.

They parted with a gasp just as Telemachus felt his orgasm rush over him. Antinous only sped up his thrusting, quickly sending the prince into overstimulation and making him clench around the cock. "A-Antinous~!"

The suitor moaned as he shot a thick load inside Telemachus, making sure it reached the deepest crevices of his walls. The prince sighed with satisfaction, feeling the warm liquid fill him up, hands still weakly tugging at his nipples.

The blissful mood was quickly killed as firm knocks landed on the door. "Are you two done?" Creusa huffed outside. "I need the broom."

•••

"Mama? You called?" Telemachus stepped foot inside the study, watching his mother clench the papyrus in her hands. Penelope looked up at his arrival, exhausted face easing into something more gentle. She held out one arm to beckon him over. "Come."

Telemachus obeyed without question, snuggling into his mother's arms as she held up the letter. "What is it?"

"A letter from Helen," Penelope sighed.

"Your cousin? What's happened?"

The queen's frown grew more prominent as she shifted uncomfortably. "I may have been a bit... impulsive.. once I heard the news about you and the suitors."

"Mama..." Telemachus braced himself. 

"She's sent soldiers to make their way to Ithaca."

"Mamaaa..." He dragged his hands over his face.

"I thought you had been assaulted!"

"Well, tell them to turn back!"

Penelope grew silent at that. "...They're already in Pylos, and taking a ship tomorrow morning."

The queen let her son grab and shake her shoulders in frustration, his cheeks puffing up with held-in air. When Telemachus finally decided to breathe, he visibly deflated. "Just when one problem left..."

Penelope pet the prince's unruly hair. "Calm down, Sweetheart. We just need to placate them when they arrive."

"With what? A feast? We're already low on supplies as is, and who knows how many there are?"

"Just... Give me some time to think, alright?"

Telemachus sighed and nodded, before exiting the study. The corridors were empty for once, most likely because the suitors refused to rise before the sun was high in the sky.

Therefore, the prince was shocked when he stepped into the garden to find someone else already there, sitting on a sturdy branch as he munched on the tree's apples. The juice ran down Melanthius' forearm as he took a large bite, watching a bird build its nest stick by stick nearby.

Telemachus felt his heart warm at the sight, a soft smile gracing his features. "May I join you?"

Melanthius jumped at the sudden voice, his onyx-black eyes meeting Telemachus' own in a tense standstill. Then, he silently jumped down from the tree, apple in mouth, before putting his hands on the prince's waist and lifting him up onto the branch. 

Telemachus yelped, his cheeks flushing bright red as his body grew hot. He tried not to think of how large Melanthius' hands were around his waist, or how his muscles flexed when he picked him up so easily. "Wow... You're strong.." the prince giggled nervously.

The man only gave a grunt, before lifting himself up on the branch. Their bodies pressed tight against each other, and Telemachus struggled to keep his desire at bay. "You, um... also wake up early?"

"Mh. Have to check on the goats before anyone wakes." Another crunch of the apple.

At those words, the prince grew confused. "Hold on... So you don't own the farm, and just care for it?"

Melanthius gave a sideways glance at him, taking several moments to answer. "...I ain't no noble, if that's what you mean," he huffed. Telemachus could see the shame that omitted from the goatherd, a secret confessed into the morning air. 

He took a second before responding. "Ah, I didn't mean it like that... I was just shocked, that's all." Telemachus felt guilt fill him. "But, if you’re not of noble descent, then how come you’re a suitor?"

"Melantho’s crazy tricks. Faked my identity and told the queen I was a noble from a far-away island. Somehow, everyone bought it." Melanthius seemed ready to roll his eyes as he said it, but Telemachus was in awe. 

"Wha- Hold on, why would she do that? How do you know each other?"

This time, the prince felt that Melanthius was rolling his eyes at him. "She’s my sister."

A beat passed, before… "Ohhh…"

The goatherd threw away the apple core, awaiting Telemachus' response. 

"So… She wanted you to become a suitor. Why?"

Melanthius seemed almost annoyed at the question, his frown deepening. "She didn't wanna be alone in the palace, stupid girl."

A snort.

Telemachus found his heart warming admidst his giggles, suddenly seeing Melanthius in a new light. Yes, he was crude and mannerless, but... "You're quite sweet, huh?"

The goatherd tensed the second the words were uttered, face contorting into a sneer. "Like hell I am!"

Ah, there's the usual grumpiness I remember.

Telemachus had never felt so attracted to an asshole in his life. But Melanthius had a strangely adorable aura to him, like he was afraid to show any emotion other than anger, hiding away the softer side of himself.

Oh, how he wished to ravish that attitude.

The prince suddenly realized that he had been staring for far longer than appropriate, and that Melanthius had turned into a flustered mess, cheeks red and gaze directed back at the bird building its nest again.

Telemachus' brain debated what he was about to do, before ultimately taking a hold of the goatherd's hand and guiding it to his thigh.

Fuck it, what's another one to add to the pile?

The prince swore he heard a squeak leave the man beside him, hand twitching where Telemachus was keeping it. But he didn't let Melanthius pull away, holding his hand atop of the other's. "Go ahead, squeeze it," he whispered into the suitor's ear.

Melanthius visibly lost his logical thinking, giving a tentative squeeze to the flesh from reflex, and Telemachus immediately praised him. "Good job..."

"I-I-I..."

The prince shushed him, letting his breath linger as he whispered, lips teasing against his ear. "Now, stroke."

"W-what?" The goatherd could barely comprehend words anymore.

"Stroke."

A whimper, loud and clear. Telemachus felt his head spin with euphoria as he heard it. Yes, gods, yes. Whine and whimper when your tongue fails you, Little Puppy.

The prince hummed contentedly as the strong hand carefully began to stroke his thigh. Melanthius gulped audibly beside him, and Telemachus let his hand rest upon the suitor's as they glided back and forth along his flesh. Glancing down, the prince smiled at Melanthius' obvious erection, his chiton showing an evident bulge.

Telemachus guided the goatherd's hand to stroke along his inner thigh, while his lips moved to kiss Melanthius' flushed cheeks. The man visibly melted in his arms, and it was then that the prince remembered they were sat on a tree branch. "We should probably get down before you fall, Puppy."

"Pu..?" Even his voice sounded as scrambled as his head, and Telemachus adored the mindbreak. Sweet puppy, only thinking with his cock. 

The prince didn't fight to hide his own arousal.

Telemachus got down from the branch, Melanthius soon following like he was on a leash, and he pretended not to notice the wobble in the suitor's legs as he sat down by the roots.

Telemachus' eyebrows raised when Melanthius instinctively opened his arms to catch him as the prince also stumbled on his weak legs, before he chuckled and plopped down in the man's lap instead.

"Did you want a hug?" He teased, arms wrapping around Melanthius' neck and making the suitor flush in the best way. "S-shut up."

"Mmh... Or perhaps you were longing for something else?" Telemachus let the goatherd's erection nestle snuggly underneath him, and he could tell Melanthius was fighting his hips to stay still. "Adorable little puppy," Telemachus' brain repeated like a mantra. But it was true. He was so mindless and obedient, something the prince was unused to from such a previously tasteless brute.

Melanthius' breath hitched as Telemachus leaned down to whisper in his ear. "You weren't there to get a taste, huh?

Telemachus' covered chest tentatively rubbed against the goatherd's body, feeling some milk get squeezed out onto the bandages from the pressure.

They were too full for him to even exist. Just like every morning, he had awoken to milk dribbling out of his nipples and onto the sheets, the sweet smell overtaking his senses. It would be good to have some milk not go to waste...

Telemachus abruptly stopped that thought. He shouldn't get too attached to these men. They could still do his family harm, as they had done for years.

He couldn't trust those teary eyes and needy whimpers.

"I can... I can taste..?" Melanthius suddenly murmured, expression hungry and pleading while puppy eyes gazed up at him. 

...Telemachus was a weak man.

"Yes..."

Melanthius had never looked so happy in his life. He immediately got to work, trembling hands moving to unpin Telemachus' chiton. When it fell, the slight curve on his chest grew more prominent, and the prince watched Melanthius' pupils dilate like a cat with its… well, milk.

"Gods, you look so eager."

For once, Melanthius had nothing to say. 

Telemachus undid the bandages himself, feeling a twitch of the cock beneath him as perky nipples peeked out. And goodness, did he never tire of those expressions.

"Go ahead. You’ve been so good, and I did promise a reward if you behaved."

Telemachus didn’t know how to describe the pure submissive neediness that showed on Melanthius’ face, like a man reborn. In the end, the goatherd decided not to respond, and instead hesitantly leaned his head down.

Whines and whimpers. That’s what the grumpy asshole Melanthius had been subdued to, struggling not to cry as he eagerly suckled. 

Telemachus had no idea why the man seemed so emotional over the whole ordeal, but he decided not to comment on it, instead shushing and cooing at him in an attempt at comfort. That, unfortunately, only made Melanthius whine louder, as if in a mental battle with himself.

Their crotches desperately grinded against each other, Telemachus in timely, repeated motions and Melanthius in erratic humps. And gods, had that never been so hot on a needy man.

The goatherd seemed on cloud nine, barely breathing in his haste to both suck and hump simultaneously, chasing his orgasm like the mindless dog he was.

Adorable.

They were both approaching their climax, and just in time as well, as the telltale signs of the palace waking up showed. They had to hurry up, or Telemachus would be stuck being gangbanged against a tree.

For a moment, his horny brain wasn’t repelled by that.

Ugh, snap out of it, Telemachus!

And that he did, as Melanthius suddenly whimpered pathetically around his nipple and the prince felt his chiton grow wet. 

"Did you cum so much?" He asked in surprise, before regretting his words as Melanthius’ face looked down at the ground, cheeks flushed. "Awh, Puppy… You were so good, so so good.."

But Melanthius suddenly pushed him away and off his lap, taking into a run and leaving the prince to ponder on where he had gone wrong.

After a few minutes, Telemachus sighed and stood up, and wondered how he would sneak past the maids and suitors before someone noticed his sullied clothes.

•••

When Telemachus stepped into his bedroom, he was surprised to find someone already in it, back turned to him and facing the beautiful ocean view from the balcony. Immediately, he grew guarded. "Who are you?"

However, when the intruder in question turned around and revealed their face, he had no more doubt.

"It’s… you," Telemachus finally managed to push out. And that man—no, woman—chuckled at his stunned expression. As if it was hilarious.

"Yes, me."

The woman’s pale-white hair and gleaming pink eyes were unnatural, to say the least. She observed him calmly, but Telemachus still shivered at her watchful gaze. 

"Who are you, really? And why are you following me?" Questions that had lingered in his head since that day.

A huff. "I," she stepped forward, looming over him, "am the goddess you prayed to so many nights ago, while beaten and bruised, practically pleading for some love and care with your saddened face alone."

Now that, made the prince’s heart skip a beat. "Aphrodite..?" 

By the widened smirk on her face, Telemachus knew that he was right. Out of all the gods… "You’re the one who made me like this?"

"Indeed, My Dear. But you were so shy about its qualities, that I figured I would give you a push during that dinner. And have I not succeeded, hm?" The goddess smirked knowingly.

Telemachus hated to admit that she was right. For once, things were at their calmest. Well, except for the random kidnappings he received to get his soul fucked out of him. No thanks to Antinous, but at least the other men were too scared to invoke Eurycleia’s or Penelope’s wrath. 

Aphrodite took his silence as permission to speak. "You prayed for something to help you reign in the suitors—control them. So I gave them something they couldn’t resist, a divine drug in the form of milk, as well as an endless supply of it. They wouldn’t suspect a thing from some sweet-tasting milk, after all."

"A.. drug?"

"It turns them docile and obedient to you, to put it simply." 

"Antinous and Eurymachus, Docile?" Telemachus questioned, remembering the rough way he had been handled even after they had drank his milk. But Aphrodite only nodded, gazing at something he couldn't see. "Yes, indeed. In fact, they seem to have grown much softer in bed than before."

"Antinous can be worse?" Now, his voice was only full of dread. The goddess laughed at his expression, clutching her stomach. But when she settled down, Telemachus quickly grew puzzled at her next words. 

"Would you like to be rid of the blessing?"

"Huh...?"

"The obedience spell, as well as its source. I can have it removed with a flick of my hand, but only if that is your wish, Darling."

"..What?"

She sighed. "Let's head to the garden then. The men should be playing Discus right about now."

Telemachus let Aphrodite take his hand, her palm soft against his. He squeezed it absentmindedly, feeling a sudden rush of energy overtake him at the touch, like a small blessing in itself. Before he knew it, they were already stepping foot in the garden, although hidden from sight behind the bushes.

"Here they are. Now, Dear, would you like me to free their minds from the milk's properties?"

Telemachus stood silent, his throat dry for some reason as he watched the suitors happily play Discus. Why wouldn't he just accept? Didn't he want things to go back to normal? To not worry about having 108 suitors vying for his hand, after having broken him down for years?

Even the way they played Discus was friendly now. Back then, the suitors would often get into fights over the results, always at each other's throats despite the false camaraderie they exuded.

Once upon a time, all Telemachus had wished for was to be rid of the curse he'd been given. He didn't care about the presents or the compliments or the peace, he only wanted it gone.

Now?

Now, he hated to see it go.

"Telemachus?"

He sighed, squeezing Aphrodite's hand once more. "Can I... just see what it's like first?"

A hum, pink eyes gleaming with newfound curiosity. "Yes, I suppose you can."

It only took a snap of her fingers for the spell to break. Telemachus felt it in his soul, but the odd thing was...

The suitors remained unchanged. They were still smiling, laughing and cheering each other on. "Is it... gone?"

Even Aphrodite seemed confused. "Hm... Well, yes. They should be turning aggressive right this second. My power has no delay," she sneered, unused to the situation in front of her. But Telemachus was beaming on the inside.

They're the same. With or without it. What other explanation is there?

He unexpectedly sniffled.

The goddess grew panicked at the sound. "Ah? Are you sad?! I will fix it, Darling, don't cry now!" Telemachus' head was guided to her bosom, laying it to rest there. The prince sputtered, face as red as a tomato, and it took far too long for his body to ease.

Well, at least he knew how the suitors felt.

"Dear..." Aphrodite began, gaze watching the men playing in the distance as she pet his hair. "I can feel them—their souls. They have shifted, yes, but they are also... lighter. Does that make sense for you?"

He sighed. "I know... I can see it on them. In the way they act, the way they talk, how open they feel. But if not the blessing, then what?"

She smiled, something humorous and almost telling in its sharpness. "You."

Telemachus' heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

Aphrodite stroked his hair gently. "Do you think these men had anything to care for anymore? Nearly twenty years, all for an impossible goal. They knew it, and yet they stayed. It was no longer determination that kept them here, but a longing for revenge and hatred. You, My Dear, changed that. With just your charm, your wit and your compassion, you gave them something to pursue. All my blessing did was enable that."

Telemachus didn't want to believe it. He couldn't. What would he do with himself if that were true?

Could he ever trust them to have changed?

"T…That can’t possibly be true…" he clenched his fists. "They are untamed, feral mutts. Not even I could change that!" 

"Well, it seems you do have a thing for taming dogs," the goddess leaned down to whisper in Telemachus' ear, making him tremble and flush. The prince shut his eyes.

"My Goddess... Am I about to do something stupid?" 

"There are only a few important choices in a mortal's lifetime compared to a god. Do what your heart longs for, and it will guide you better than I," Aphrodite stroked his cheek fondly, and Telemachus let himself melt to her touch.

"I want to... keep the blessing."

She smiled. "Good boy. You learn well."

Telemachus gave one last glance to the joyful suitors, before they silently made their way back to his bedroom. Aphrodite seemed to ponder on something as Telemachus settled down on his bed. "My Goddess?"

Aphrodite was quietly mumbling to herself, only one sentence being made out amongst the gibberish. "Well, I’m sure I can wait a little longer, if he needs it…"

The words only made Telemachus more confused. But before he could question it, she was whirling around with a slightly too wide smile. "Per your wish, I will leave the blessing in your hands, just as before. But… for one condition, My Darling."

Telemachus’ heart sank. Gods and conditions never went well together. "And that is?"

"A night with you, for myself." Aphrodite suddenly seemed much more intimidating with her near-predatory gaze.

"I-I don’t understand.."

She took a step forward, inching ever closer like a lioness with her newest meal. "And yet you do."

A hand, firm and seductive, slid over Telemachus’ silky-soft and bare thigh, as if she wished to devour it. Aphrodite’s smile was gentle, but secure nontheless. "I will give you time, as you deserve. So when spring arrives and your mind is as ready as your body, You will bloom under me just like these pretty little roses." 

Pluck.

Aphrodite inhaled the scent of the rose with a contented hum, and Telemachus seemed to physically melt with neediness at the sight. He was not immune to her charm.

But neither was she, and it showed. 

The prince let himself fall backwards onto the soft pillows as Aphrodite loomed over him. His ocean-blue eyes were wide and sparkling, luring the goddess in. But still, he was not ready.

A taste would have to do.

Telemachus’ hitched gasp was adorable in its own right, but accompanied with the little beading tears in his eyes, Aphrodite was ready to rip his clothes off in a heartbeat. Thankfully, she had more restraint than that, and instead moved to unpin his chiton gently.

Even at just that, Telemachus was already trembling, and Aphrodite only found that all the more enticing. "Shhh, at ease, Beloved."

"Y-you said you wouldn’t-"

"And I won’t, yet. But…" The goddess’ gaze was truly predatory in its hunger, leaning in. "You will at least let me taste that sweet nectar of yours, won’t you? 

Telemachus found no objection leaving his mouth, and Aphrodite took that as her sign.

A wonderful squeak left the prince as his perky nipples were squeezed, the goddess letting a smile grace her features at the streams of milk that escaped. They were similar to pretty little rosebuds, so dainty and delicate as they swayed with wind.

Telemachus whimpered when Aphrodite’s lips locked around his nipple, before finally—finally—receiving her first taste of milk.

"Mmm…" 

"A-Aphrodite…" Titles slipped Telemachus’ mind as his chest was skillfully teased, turning him into a mindless puddle. And the goddess relished in it, lightly nibbling on the bud in her mouth before going back to suckling.

His milk was better than she could’ve expected. Divine, but not in the way of gods, no. His was otherworldly, dizzyingly perfect for her. 

Her beautiful flower.

"Aph-Aphrodite-" The prince was gasping for air now, hands clutching the pillow beside his head as he writhed, arching his chest closer. And who was she to refuse her beloved?

"A-ah..!"

Aphrodite pulled away from the nipple with a gasp, before starting to pepper loving kisses all along Telemachus’ chest and stomach, as if she was the mortal and he the god. All that Telemachus had to do was lay back and look pretty, ready to be taken care of like the royalty he was.

And it felt more wonderful than anything in the world.

But eventually, it had to end. And as the prince’s obvious erection showed underneath his clothes and his nipples were raw and saliva-slick, Aphrodite sat up. She brushed his curls behind his ears with a sigh, before their lips met in a so strangely soft kiss.

Telemachus didn’t know it could be so soft with a divine.

Against his own inhibitions, the prince followed when Aphrodite pulled away. He couldn’t understand it himself, why he was so saddened to see her go. "My Goddess… I will not see you until spring?"

And Aphrodite only smiled, as if she already knew. "Good, keep this eagerness until our next meeting. You will need it, My Darling."

Telemachus had no time to ponder on the words before a flurry of feathers suddenly replaced the woman in front of him, a dove taking flight out of the window and towards the sky.

He was slow to recover from the shock, stumbling over to the mirror in a daze. Everything felt far too surreal, but there it was—a bite mark, red and raw around his nipple.

But in the unfamiliarity of it all, Telemachus felt the usual sensation of milk filling his chest once more. How ironic, that he found comfort in that very curse of his.

Yes, curse…

But the worry of tomorrow still stood. How would his mother placate those soldiers from Sparta and without angering Menelaus? Surely Helen had bargained a lot to have them sent. And then he would have to explain why the suitors weren’t being killed…

Suddenly, an idea came to him. If his milk had the power to turn someone more docile and pliant, then…

…Goodness, he must be insane.

Well, insane enough to get off to a goddess, his erection practically screeched.

Chapter Text

The palace was buzzing with preparations. Maids ran left and right, readying the meager guest rooms they had available and bringing the fattest goats and swine they had to slaughter. Amidst them all, Telemachus struggled not to panic at what he was about to do.

"You have a plan?" Penelope perked up with surprise as her son suddenly stepped into her bedroom, uttering those words.

"Yes... But it's going to sound insane."

A hum, contemplative. "Well, I've seen crazy before. So long as this works to placate them, I assume?"

Telemachus nodded. "I think so."

At the sight of Melanthius silently handing the goats to his sister, the prince got another, even more stupid idea.

"Melanthius, may I speak with you? It's... urgent."

The goatherd tensed up visibly, eyes flitting to the floor as his lips pressed into a thin line. Then, a weak, grumbled "okay..." was spoken.

Telemachus was quick to pull him aside, behind the bushes. "I have a favour to ask of you, if... you're willing."

Melanthius raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"U-um... Well..." Telemachus leaned in to whisper the request, cheeks flushing with colour.

"WHAT?!"

"Shut your mouth!" the prince growled, slapping a hand over Melanthius' mouth. "You.. I just... Needed someone efficient with this stuff.."

The goatherd swallowed loudly, pulling Telemachus' hand away. "With m-milking? Me?"

"I am not forcing you, Melanthius. But it will take longer to fill up enough bottles by myself..." Telemachus pouted, only slightly manipulative, but it worked wonders as always.

So predictable.

"Agh- Fine! Just stop making that face!" 

Melanthius felt that he had made a grave mistake in that moment, but Telemachus' lips upon his cheek always seemed to do the trick, making him melt like a mindless puppy.

He was truly hopeless.

"Ah, and Melanthius?"

"Mh?"

Telemachus gave a smile, albeit quite tense as he struggled to word himself. "I'm... I'm sorry, about yesterday. I must have gone too far, and I apologize for that."

The goatherd's cheeks flushed with colour, but he nodded. "It's fine. I'm over it."

"Well, that's good, hm? I'll be more careful with you next time, Puppy." The prince's hand stroked Melanthius' hair, earning him a hitched breath.

"N-next time?" 

The man sounded so distraught, as if he were caught between hell and paradise in that moment, struggling to make sense of his mind.

Adorable.

"If you want to," Telemachus added casually, like he was discussing the weather. It was an unusual confidence, something that zinged in the air and embraced Melanthius powerfully. "When you're done here, meet me in my bedroom."

And with that, he left. Like a leaf that followed with the wind, wholly unpredictable.

"Goddamnit..."

•••

"What are all the preparations for?" Amphimedon mumbled, cheek against the wood as he rested on the table, hungover.

"I'm assuming that the royals have finally found themselves some guests to treat other than us," Antinous responded, sharpening his dagger. Beside him, Amphinomus hummed thoughtfully. "Who is the question? There's never been such a large feast before."

"Shut uppp..." Eurymachus managed to growl out as he held his forehead.

"Your fault for drinking that much, Dumbass," Antinous huffed, before he perked up at the sight of Queen Penelope strolling into the dining hall with her entourage of servants, inspecting the decorations hung upon the walls. "Looks like the old lady got out of her room for once."

"You should stop calling her that if you want Telemachus to like you, Antinous."

"Well, you're too soft, Amphinomus. He needs someone secure to depend upon, and I can easily fulfill that role. Tell me, what do you offer? The power of friendship?"

"I'll use that friendship to push you down the stairs, Asshole," Amphinomus mumbled, crossing his arms.

•••

Telemachus couldn't help the shudder of his breath, unsteady as he prepared the jugs. As many as he could find from sneaking into the kitchen and then the supply room, at least.

There were twenty in total, with each jug holding enough for three drinks. In truth, the prince had no idea how much milk was needed for the spell to kick in, but better to be safe than sorry.

Telemachus must truly be insane, to have the soldiers practically drugged, but measures had to be taken. Otherwise, Ithaca could potentially be tearing apart their otherwise strong relationship with Sparta.

Terrible. Horrific. The worst outcome possible.

The prince had not touched his chest since that morning, wanting to gather as much milk as possible. Now, he regretted that decision as the pressure ached painfully. He was only in his bandages, having his chiton pool around his waist, secured by the belt.

The sound of knocks made Telemachus freeze, his anxiety spiking. And when he eventually opened the door, Melanthius seemed to not be in a much better state. Flushed cheeks, furrowed brows and a frown worthy of a thousand daggers presented itself on his face.

Telemachus sighed. "Come inside, quickly."

The goatherd seemed shocked by the large amount of jugs on the floor, carefully avoiding them as he moved to an empty spot in the room. Telemachus swallowed heavily, before his gaze lifted to meet the man's own. "I don't know how many of these I can fill, but as many as possible, hopefully. You have experience with milking, um... goats, yes?"

Gods, it hurt to even just say it. Like he was some stupid cattle.

"Mh. Been doing it since I was a kid. I'm... skilled enough."

"Great. Wonderful." 

A tense silence filled the room, so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Telemachus clenched his fists, attempting to will his features into neutrality. "Right, uh, let's get started."

Melanthius didn't tear his eyes away for one second as Telemachus removed his bandages, the cloth piling on the floor in a heap, before the prince was moving towards him.

"How do you want me?"

For a moment, Melanthius' mind trailed to other scenes, far more debauched and lewd than anything that was just implied. It took several seconds before his mouth began to function properly, albeit mumbling. "Sitting. Preferably comfortable. This will take some time."

While the goatherd moved to the water basin to wash his hands, Telemachus settled down with a pillow on the floor, legs crossed and jugs at the ready in front of him. He checked outside the window, finding the sun high on the sky. He didn't have a lot of time left.

"Are you ready?" Melanthius asked as he sat down behind the prince.

"Yes. Let's hurry."

A scoff. "Of course, Your Majesty."

Then, those calloused hands were on him, very gently massaging the swollen pecs, before moving to grab a jug. It was… quicker than Telemachus expected it to be. Melanthius got to work immediately, hands steady even if his face showed inner turmoil.

The prince whimpered at a harsh squeeze, before they were suddenly moving onto the next jug. Over and over and over again, a steady rhythm. By the 10-something jug, he was gasping for air and unalbe to keep up.

"Gods, you're so much quicker than me..." Telemachus said between pants, his head falling back onto Melanthius' shoulder. "Perhaps I should hire you for something other than goatherding..."

An audible gulp was heard from behind him, and the prince smirked. 

"We’re half-way through, keep your back straight."

"Mmh…" The prince complied reluctantly. Then, it was back to routine, but embarrassingly, his groin had also started to stir. It wasn’t unexpected, as Melanthius was truly good with his hands, but Telemachus couldn’t very well rub one out then and there. 

Just a few more jugs… I can handle that.

"A-ah!" he suddenly gasped at a rough pinch to his nipple.

I can’t handle this!

The noises continued like an unstoppable force, before Telemachus slapped a hand over his mouth. But Melanthius was no better off, his face beet-red and blood rushing south quickly as he worked.

"P-please hurry… Mmph!"

The prince’s voice was intoxicating, only making the goatherd’s resolve weaken. His steady rhythm had slowed, instead just… fondling the flesh and squeezing out trickles of milk. But eventually, they reached the last jug and sealed it off. 

"Twenty… Gods, this is insane," Telemachus laughed dryly while he observed the jugs, even as his mind ran a thousand miles an hour, planning out all the risks with his plan.

To his shock, Melanthius got up immediately when he finished, stepping away from the prince as if he was the plague. "I’m done now. I have tasks to attend to. So, uh, bye."

And with that, he left, slamming the door a bit too hard to be natural. Telemachus couldn’t help the amused huff he let out, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

Ah, geez. He’s still so shy.

The prince’s still throbbing erection gave a twitch to that. Surely he had time before he had to get ready…

•••

Telemachus observed the measly number of guards around him. As previously known, they had no military to protect them anymore, twenty years having whisked that away. Now, there were only fatherless men with no manners left behind on the island. And even the youngest guards they had were truly stupid as well, and he found himself sighing.

The prince was dressed in his finest attire, a deep blue with golden embroidery along the soft fabric. It draped across his body nicely, and matched the jewelry along his arms, ankles and neck. Nearly too much, but he liked the jingles of the clashing metal.

Penelope finally took her place beside him, voice a mere whisper in his ear. "May Aphrodite's claims be true..."

Telemachus was steadfast in his response. "They will be."

There in the horizon, climbing the uphill, an army of at least 70 men approached, armed and upright.

Let the show begin.

Chapter Text

Telemachus is the first one to greet them, face adjusted into a perfect pokerface, only faintly showing his smile. "Welcome, dear guests. I hope your journey fared well?"

The captain in front was quick to answer, his short, black hair looking tousled from the wind, his hand gripping the spear's handle. "As well as it could. The waters were calm, at the very least." His smirk was charming, keeping Telemachus entranced whilst he reached out his hand, "Andraemon, Son of Medios. Prince Telemachus, I presume?"

The prince silently nodded, taking the firm hand in his own. Strong, confident type, most definitely.

"Now, where shall we lodge for the remainder of our stay? I do hope it won't be long before we are on our way." Andraemon chuckled.

Telemachus swallowed, briefly glancing over to his mother beside him, who picked up on the hint. He knew he should speak more, show his confidence as the man of the house, but the pressure was too tight on his throat, chest still throbbing beneath his clothes and anxiety swirling heavily inside his stomach.

Penelope spoke up. "I shall personally see to it that you are given adequate housing on the upper eastern wing with servants at the ready, as expected by a good host." It was the only area where the suitors were sparse, having mostly gathered in the guest rooms on the lower floor.

"Lovely," the captain responded. "And as for our other plans, when should I expect a meeting?"

Telemachus could feel the way his mother tensed beside him. Thankfully, she kept her expression calm and her voice steady when she spoke. "There has been... a change of plans."

Andraemon's smile sank, taking on a serious tone. "Has the situation escalated?"

This time, it was Telemachus who spoke up. "No, Captain. What my mother means to say is that there was a misunderstanding. There was no, um... assault. In fact, our home has begun to settle into a sense of peace these last few weeks. We are very sorry for any trouble caused, but I am ready to accommodate any needs you may have and make this stay an enjoyable one. Again, our sincerest apologies for dragging you out here unnecessarily."

Andraemon was quiet for a while, his face unveiling nothing, and as the seconds ticked by, Penelope and Telemachus grew more anxious.

"...Very well," he murmured. The captain leaned down to whisper in Telemachus’ ear, something akin to humour in his voice. "But I do wish you luck with my men. They're rowdy and might drive you mad during their stay."

The prince gulped, glancing over to the crowd of rugged men behind Andraemon. "I-I understand."

The captain hummed and moved away, allowing Penelope to guide them inside. Telemachus hurried to catch up to them, a heaviness starting to settle in his stomach.

This is going to be a tough stay. 

•••

Dinner was tense, to say the least. Telemachus felt like he had sweated through his clothes entirely, anxiety at its peak as the time to feast approached.

The suitors were seated in an entirely different area in the palace, Penelope—and perhaps Telemachus—not trusting them to behave once they saw the soldiers be served milk. 

Now, however, the prince almost missed their rowdy company. At least then he didn't have to pretend not to be annoyed with the barbaric ways of his guests. A loud pig was chewing messily beside him, another spilling wine on the table while reaching for more fish, and Telemachus sighed with exhaustion, before steeling his expression into one of polite neutrality. 

"Not enjoying yourself, I see."

Telemachus perked up at the amused voice, before his eyes set on Andraemon's frame on his right side. The man's dark gaze was watching him, almost as if picking him apart piece by piece. Huffing, the prince smiled. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Sure. How long do you think you'll last before escaping, hm? I would assume three hours, nothing more and nothing less."

Telemachus' lip twitched with either amusement or annoyance, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You underestimate me, Captain."

"Am I?" Andraemon sipped his wine calmly. 

"Indeed. I would assume you understood my situation, growing up with dirty, slobbery dogs all around me, doing this, every evening, every day, without stop. Three hours, you say, as if I haven't already endured years."

Telemachus didn't know what he expected in response, but laughter wasn't one of them. Perhaps a condescending chuckle—but no, Andraemon cackled.

"Ah, geez, I was just teasing, but my, what feist you possess, Little Prince! Don't murder my men, please. I'll teach them better manners, I swear."

Telemachus stared in bewilderment, before a flush overtook his face, shrinking in on himself with a sudden shyness. "Ah, I wasn't... I didn't mean to sound so harsh."

"Oh, it was the perfect level of threat. You'll make a good king with that attitude, knowing when to stand up and back down." Andraemon's eyes sparkled with something clever, and Telemachus felt his stomach do a flip, before his own lips stretched into a shy smile.

Then, the moment he'd been waiting for arrived, as servants brought out several trays full of goblets, the creamy milk sloshing gently in them. 

Telemachus inhaled shakily, before his mother spoke up from the end of the table. "To finish our feast, our palace has prepared fresh milk for you all. In Ithaca, it is a custom to serve your guests with this drink, to pay respect to the gods and our continously fortunate supply of sustenance. Now please, drink up."

The prince exhaled with relief as nobody reacted to the odd custom. It was a small lie, and wouldn't offend the gods too much to say in their stead. After all, Ithaca was grateful for their prosperous harvests, seeing as storms and bad weather often made it difficult to uphold.

The soldiers said their thanks, clinking goblets happily as the alcohol already in their system eased their nerves. Then, they drank.

Andraemon tilted his head back beside him, sipping the milk slowly at first, before in the blink of an eye, his eyes dilated and his gulps grew much larger. A familiar sight, one Telemachus saw nearly everyday now.

His mind betrayed him, presenting several... unconventional memories, of Amphinomus' blissed out expression whilst sleepily suckling his chest, or of Ctesippus' eyes rolled back into his head-

No.

Telemachus turned away from the sight, but everywhere he looked, it was the same expression. Some more pouty at the empty goblet, and some still getting used to the effects, licking their lips. 

Undoubtedly, it was working.

Telemachus couldn't help his small smirk, that familiar sense of power overtaking him. He would make a good king, indeed.

Ironically enough, the prince ended up leaving around the three-hour mark anyway, but not because of a weak mind, no.

His stupid chest was just leaking again.

•••

He should've known. He should've known how they would react, like dogs with their territory. Except it wasn't their territory, but his. And Telemachus would be in deep trouble if his guests decided sparing him wasn't worth the hassle and snitched to their king.

He should have seen the chaos coming. But by the time he'd befriended the respectful—albeit messy—soldiers, he had already lost the fight. 

Now, Amphimedon was holding one soldier in a headlock, Peisander rolling around on the floor with another, and hell, even Amphinomus was fighting! Amphinomus!

Telemachus watched the scene with tired eyes—before sucking in a deep breath and diving into the chaos. "Alright, break it up!"

The reaction was immediate, the dogs, both new and old, stepping away from each other with expressions of something akin to guilt in their eyes.

"What the hell is going on here?" Politeness aside, they were fighting in his palace.

Amphimedon looked away, grumpy, before Peisander spoke up. "They... They, um.."

"Go on. Explain why you're attacking my guests." Telemachus' glare doubled down, making Amphinomus shrink away beside the other suitor. Peisander stammered, before he pouted. "It isn't our fault, Telemachus! T-they started it!"

The prince turned to Amphinomus, trusting him to be less biased. "Explain."

"They were rummaging through the kitchen. We caught them on our way to the gardens, and..." He gestured to the mess of men. Telemachus nodded and sighed, all energy leaving him. "Don't let it happen again. Come on, you all can go to the gardens and you all can come with me to talk."

The suitors lit up, but understood not to nuzzle Telemachus just yet. He was obviously still mad, but more so at potential thieves than his unruly puppies.

The walk to the lounge area was silent and awkward, the soldiers nervously glancing amongst each other, knowing they would have to explain their embarrassing endeavors.

Sitting down on one of the couches, Telemachus sighed. "Alright, so what happened? Why were you rummaging through my staff's kitchen? If you are hungry, you need only ask, dear guests." His politeness was only half-assed at that point, exhausted, hungry and confused.

Epiphanes spoke up first, a kind but headstrong man. They had sparred once before. "It's... a bit.. strange..."

"Trust me, I've seen strange before. I only want to understand, alright?" 

Epiphanes nodded, exhaling once more. "T-the milk. From last night. I-it was so heavenly that we had to get more. We thought that we would check the kitchens before searching after the barn."

Suddenly, everything fell into place. 

Telemachus put his head into his hand, nearly bursting into laughter at the sheer insanity of the situation. 

"We're truly sorry for any trouble caused, Your Majesty! Gods, just don't tell Andraemon, please!" Epiphanes began to panic as Telemachus visibly deflated.

"I-it's fine. I'll make sure to have more milk prepared for tomorrow, alright?"

Surprised sounds left the soldiers, all of them seeming to light up at the words. Gratitude and thanks were expressed profusely, only receiving a weak smile from the prince, but when Telemachus was left to himself, he sank in on himself with a loud groan. He would have to find Melanthius again.

Two more days, I can manage.

No, he couldn't. Not even until the very next morning.

The prince hadn't been expecting it, the affectionate hug from his newfound companion stunning him. Andraemon's hands had gently caressed his waist and hips, keeping Telemachus snug against him as he talked about doing a friendly spar after breakfast, face full of satisfaction as if he'd won a battle.

Neither of them had anticipated Antinous to come barreling into the captain's side either, flinging him to the ground. "The hell do you think you're doing? Thinking you're all high and mighty 'cause Princey here treats you with a little respect," Antinous growled as his hand wrapped around Andraemon's throat, cutting off his airway.

Telemachus watched the two scuffle with wide eyes, unmoving. Frankly, he was just annoyed now. It seemed like he couldn't even choose a lover for himself anymore.

After the two men were pulled off of each other, Telemachus was quick to drag Antinous off to somewhere private. As soon as they'd left the dining hall, he let loose. "You cannot behave like an animal in front of these men when I am already on the brink of a political disaster, you cannot act as if you own me when you are a mere suitor, and you cannot attack my guest! Have you lost your mind?!"

Antinous didn't speak, his glare blazing, but miniscule in comparison to Telemachus' own death-stare. "He was touching you."

"I. Don't. Care. He is the captain, he has the power, and he can ruin my family's already fragile reputation with a single whisper to his king!"

"So you will degrade yourself for a stranger? One with a lower rank as well?"

At those words, Telemachus seemed to nearly laugh in disbelief. "You of all people shouldn't spout such hypocrisy." The prince took a step closer, forcing Antinous against the wall. "Because who was it that humiliated me? Demeaned me? Told me that my title meant nothing in the face of true power? I listened, and I learned. And now, I use that knowledge to finally aid myself instead."

The suitor looked away, seeming almost ashamed, and Telemachus took a step back, interpreting the conversation as done. 

But suddenly, Antinous was taking the prince's hands in his and getting down on his knees.

Telemachus' eyes widened with shock, his mouth opening slightly. His stomach stirred with something unknown, seeing his former enemy kneel before him so willingly—so vulnerably.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Asking forgiveness, of course," Antinous murmured against his thigh, his lips slightly pressed against it. Those long lashes laid themselves over charming eyes, luring him in.

Telemachus shuddered.

"My Prince, My King," A fond kiss was given to his hand, "please forgive my transgressions. I plead for your grace, your mercy, on my foolish mistake. I beg you."

Telemachus’ eyes grew dark with desire, with longing. He was trembling, he knew, but those words, no matter how teasing…

"Fuck…" He whispered, making Antinous grin.

The suitor remained on his knees, silently nuzzling Telemachus’ thigh like a dog with its owner. And the prince practically preened at the sight, his cock visibly stirring underneath his chiton.

Antinous hummed, before glancing back up at the prince. And with a challenging glare, he let Telemachus pull his underwear to the side and lift his chiton, hunger evident in those charming eyes of his.

The suitor got to work, moving to kiss the head sensually, his tongue swirling slowly and letting drool drip down the length. Telemachus sighed, weaving a hand through those locs and taking a firm hold of them. Antinous hummed, before taking the cock into his mouth.

The prince groaned, thankful that no one was currently in the corridor. Then, he felt vengeful as he remembered the way he’d been treated that first time.

Antinous gagged as Telemachus slammed his hips to the crotch, his eyes looking up to glare at him. But the prince only chuckled breathlessly, choosing his own pace with the warm mouth. It wasn’t as rough, but enough for grunts and hums to leave the suitor periodically.

Telemachus didn’t last too long, his hips starting to move in erratic motions, before he let Antinous take the lead. The man bobbed his head skillfully, rubbing Telemachus’ hips all the while, until he was muffling a whimper, body coming undone with ecstacy.

Antinous swallowed the load dutifully, easing the cock out of his mouth before wiping it and standing up. At Telemachus' dazed expression, he smirked. "I hope I pleased you, Your Highness."

The prince huffed. "You escaped this time, but I won’t be so nice if it happens again."

"Yeah, yeah," the suitor mumbled as he made his way back to the dining hall, feeling invigorated as he wiped his mouth.

•••

The chaos didn't stop, but Telemachus found himself being more lenient on his suitors. They were only doing what they knew, after all—fighting, barking and dominating.

Still, quite stupid.

But even with the two groups at war with each other within the palace walls, Telemachus found himself only growing ever closer with Andraemon. He was genuine, and had a good sense of humor. Telemachus and he could talk for hours about the captain's adventures or his family, deep into the late hours.

He was wonderful, unfortunately. It has been so long since Telemachus had had a real friend, even if Andraemon was clearly too touchy. It was better than nothing, at the very least.

It was a bitter thought, but the prince shook his head and ignored it.

The two had to settle for secret meetings amongst the bushes and foliage in the garden, far away from any jealous suitors. There, they laughed, sparred, and conversed. Hell, even danced. Drunkenly, of course. And Telemachus could only assume they had experienced their very own adventure that night, after waking up surrounded by greenery, far away from the palace, with his bow in hand.

That had been a struggle to explain to his mother.

But after all the laughter and enjoyment, the time came to say goodbye. The men would leave during the night, so as not to draw attention from the islanders any more. 

The soldiers had been quite emotional when saying their goodbyes, and shockingly enough, that was directed more so at the suitors they’d been bickering with, rather than Telemachus himself.

Watching Amphinomus be tightly hugged while Peisander got his hair ruffled was a fun sight, however. 

"Everything's packed. The men are ready to see their wives," Andraemon chuckled, albeit more dryly than usual. Not even his loudness could save him this time.

Telemachus could see right through him.

"So, I guess... this is it."

"Ah, don't be like that, Prince... You were wonderful."

Telemachus smiled, before he was stepping forward to embrace the man. Andraemon let out a surprised hum, before letting his arms wrap around the other firmly, patting his back. 

"You know…" Telemachus began, "you were much shorter than I expected a Captain to be."

That earned him a solid smack on the head, although he still burst into laughter. 

"Brat! I should’ve never given you those sparring lessons! You think you rule the world now?"

"Owww! That hurt!"

From the palace entrance, Penelope watched the cheerful display with softened eyes, a smile gracing her features. "He’s coming out of his shell," Eurycleia sighed beside her.

"Indeed, he is. But I suppose it was about time." 

The wet nurse chuckled. "He needed better companionship than those dogs inside our homes, anyway. So I suppose this mistake was a happy one."

"Yes… I think you’re right.

•••

After the soldiers had departed, Telemachus took the time to find Melanthius, carrying with him a jug of wine and two goblets.

The goatherd was helping out in the kitchen, listening to the women gossip as he dried plates and cups.

"Ah, My Prince! What are you doing here? Do you need more bottles?" Eurynome asked. Telemachus tried not to think too much on the implications of the question, even if he knew that his condition was no longer a secret.

"Ah, no. I just needed to fetch Melanthius, if that’s alright?"

The goatherd dropped the rag on his sister’s head as he eagerly went with the prince, tuning out Melantho’s curses in the background.

Back at Telemachus’ bedroom, the two drinks were poured and he settled down on the soft couch cushions. Melanthius hesitantly did the same, grabbing his wine and chugging it. "And what’s this for?"

"As a thanks, for your help, I mean. You’ll get your own jug to enjoy after this, but I honestly needed a drink as well. Killing two birds with one stone, no?"

A grunt was all the response Telemachus got. After that, they sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company. It was late, the queen no doubt having gone to bed by now.

By the fourth drink, Telemachus was slurring his words slightly, body snuggled in with the pillows as he lay sprawled on the couch. Meanwhile, Melanthius seemed only slightly tipsy, albeit still visibly.

"Mmm… I’m gonna be so bored now without my friend here…"

The goatherd huffed, seeming to drink faster. "Well, you can run back to him for all I care."

Realizing his words, Telemachus pouted. "Awhh, Anthii, don’t be like that… You’re perfect company, but that’s only when you aren’t tenser than a rock."

"Shut up!"

Telemachus burst into giggles, sitting up and walking over to the other couch, before flopping down on Melanthius. "Hey! Don’t lay on me!"

"But you’re all nice and warmmm…" The prince was promptly pushed off to sit beside him, even if Melanthius couldn’t free his arm from the cuddly assault. 

Telemachus nuzzled his face into the muscled arm, before gently biting into it entirely out of impulse. And maybe some petty revenge at not being able to cuddle.

For once, Melanthius just sighed and took it, sinking back into the cushions as his arm was weirdly nibbled on by some drunk prince.

After the strange act of dominance, Telemachus settled back down, staring out at the starry sky outside with a contemplative look. 

"Isn’t it quite funny?"

"Hm?" Melanthius hummed with closed eyes.

"That we’re here right now, enjoying each other’s company, as if I haven’t spent years hating you all, hating myself." 

Melanthius opened his eyes, gazing over at the prince he had once thought pompous. "Yeah."

"It’s so fucking stupid, that some leaking chest could turn that all upside-down. And now… I don’t know what to do with it." Telemachus let his own gaze meet the goatherd’s. 

"…I know."

Sniffling, the prince looked away, wiping his nose silently. 

"I don’t think I would be liked at all if I let them know, that I’m not a noble," Melanthius hesitantly murmured. At first, the silence clung to them, before the goatherd’s head was being pulled into an embrace.

"I’m sorry…" Telemachus sighed, petting the unruly head of hair on his chest, feeling Melanthius’ shuddery breaths against it. "I’m here."

"…Mh. You are."

Several moments passed, before Melanthius let his hand slowly, carefully slide up to fidget with the prince’s chiton pin. Telemachus released a puff of air, trembling, before he nodded.

Melanthius slowly unpinned the chiton, letting the cloth fall to the hips. Then, the bandages gently, carefully came undone. Left bare, Telemachus felt his arousal stir, tightening against his loincloth. But strangely enough, nothing more came. "Melanthius?"

The goatherd was trembling, his face a flustered mess as he sat frozen, watching the sight with wide eyes. Seeing the anxiousness, Telemachus sighed fondly, before taking Melanthius’ head and gently guiding it to his leaking nipple. "Just relax…"

Obediently, Melanthius took the bud into his mouth, sucking out the creamy goodness. He sighed, visibly relaxing as the fluid entered his body.

Telemachus hummed happily, adjusting them both so that Melanthius was laying in his lap, face perfectly positioned at his breast. There, he suckled perfectly, soft, delicate noises escaping him.

"Oh, you’re perfect…" Telemachus cooed.

The nipple softly plopped out of his mouth, Melanthius’ lips still dazedly mumbling against the skin.

"M..Mommy..."

Oh.

Well, that was unexpected.

Telemachus and Melanthius stayed there in a stalemate, one because of shock and the other because of shame. But after a long period of silence, the prince slowly lifted his hand to guide Melanthius back to his chest. "Shhh... M-Mommy's here..." he whispered.

The suitor squeezed his eyes shut as his face flushed red, but his month still opened obediently to have the nipple guided into his mouth. Then, he sucked, like Mommy's good boy. Telemachus pet his hair the entire time whilst silently pondering on the newfound revelation about Melanthius.

"Mmph... G..Good boy."

Suckkkk...

Telemachus smiled at the increasingly eager suckling, feeling his chest grow slightly lighter, but he knew that it wouldn't last long. The heaviness of milk was constant, the biggest side effect of a blessing such as this. But the prince wouldn't trade it for the world, since...

He enjoyed it, shockingly enough.

The pure joy on the men's faces as he unpinned his chiton, the softness of cradling them to his chest while they fed, the weakness they showed in his presence, almost seeking guidance. It felt... wonderful. A purpose just for him, something that made him feel needed.

Telemachus didn't know when he had started enjoying the chubby, milk-filled breasts on his chest, a known pain in his side since day one. But only by looking at the peaceful expression Melanthius held, did he understand fully.

He would do anything to make them happy.

After that confession, it was easier. Not his physical condition, no, but the emotional turmoil that had long festered in his heart. Strangely enough, it didn't matter anymore. There was no guilt, no shame or tears to shed as soon as his nipples leaked once more.

For the first time in years, Telemachus felt at peace.

Gods, it truly was a blessing after all, turning into a milking cow.

Chapter Text

Things had finally started settling nicely over the next few months, the suitors growing more pliant and obedient with every feeding session. At least once a day, to all 108 men that filled the palace. But of course, it wasn't done for free.

After all, Telemachus wanted revenge for all those beatings and taunts he endured.

The men were often given tasks to do around the island, such as repairing houses after storms or inquiring about problems amongst the people, to later deliver to Telemachus. It was a perfect system that kept everyone happy, as well as kept him prepared to someday take over the throne.

Even the council had started seeing him as responsible, no doubt because of the 108 bodyguards he had under his command. Those old men feared him now. And my, my, wasn't that ironic.

Albeit a drop of milk in their wine was always good to aid in that compliance.

Telemachus made his way down the corridor leisurely, no stress visible in his step like there was a few months ago. However, his walk was soon interrupted by Arridaios, one of the more quiet and closed-off suitors. His stance was intimidating—once upon a time—as the man grabbed a hold of Telemachus' wrist, but the prince quickly understood that his frowning face was indeed just a small pout. "Oh, poor baby... Are you hungry?"

Arridaios silently nodded, bending down to nuzzle against Telemachus' chest. 

Telemachus hardly ever got a break from the breastfeeding, two needy mouths usually suckling on his nipples day and night. Hell, he’d even made a schedule for who would sleep in his bed at night. 

The prince had also resorted to using balms and salves that would ease the ache on his chest, the maids helping in exchange for a bottle.

Gods, when had every person in the palace started feeding on him? Sometimes, he truly felt like a cow.

Telemachus gently pet the large suitor's head, cooing softly. "Come on, I'm sure you can feed while I work."

That was easier said than done. Trade agreements, nobles' angry letters about petty things, complaints from the harbour about low fish catch—they all flowed into his mind like a torrent. It all blurred into one big mess, and Telemachus could feel his head spinning.

And on top of that, the constant sensation of lips pressing out milk from his chest had the prince unwillingly relaxing. If Arridaios kept going, he would soon fall asleep, and none of the kingdom could afford that. Everyday, he was getting closer to becoming king, but the council wouldn't allow him to slack off so close to success.

"Arri, My Dear..."

The suitor's head lifted from his position, but his suckling didn't let up for a second, like a milk-starved baby. His eyes were lidded, heavy with exhaustion, and Telemachus couldn't stop himself from leaning down and kissing Arridaios' brow, a gentle smile on his face. 

Perhaps a small break would suffice.

Softly, the prince began to hum a tune, rocking their bodies in a soothing motion to the melody. Only the sound of the song and Arridaios' suckling resonated throughout the throne room. But soon enough, more of the suitors found the two in their intimate embrace and quickly grew jealous. "Hey, Arridaios! Quit hoarding the prince for yourself! Haven't you been feeding for three hours already?"

"Yeah! I haven't had any since yesterday!"

Arridaios huffed, pulling the prince closer. "Don't care."

Telemachus couldn't stop smiling at their bickering, before getting up to lay down on the duvet nearby—courtesy of Penelope after a few too many incidents—and opening his arms. As usual, it did the trick.

Immediately, a large cuddle pile formed around him, every man picking a part of his body to nuzzle. They were like giant puppies, all eager to be pet by their master. The thought nearly had Telemachus drooling. Who knew how dizzyingly wonderful control could feel in his grasp?

Leodes and Elatus now suckled drowsily on his chest, creamy milk flooding their mouth with each suck. The others clung to his limbs and waist, all scrambling to get a feel of Telemachus' soft skin while Amphinomus offered himself as a pillow beneath the prince's head. They nuzzled him and took turns enjoying their fill of milk, each one settling down as they latched on.

Telemachus let out a sigh of contentment, his hands petting the two men latched onto each of his nipples while Amphinomus ran fingers through his hair. It was bizarre to think of these sweet men as the ruthless suitors they had been only a few months ago. They were almost like domesticated dogs, or wolves perhaps.

Telemachus' thoughts were further affirmed as Elatus yawned cutely around his nipple, before going back to feeding, eyes closed. Elatus, who was seven years older than him and had a decent beard he kept trimmed—exhausted from breastfeeding.

The prince felt pride fill his heart at the sight of them all, because he had truly tamed them, from filthy dogs to well-behaved puppies that answered his every beck and call.

All for a little bit of pampering and milk.

But soon enough, the puppies began to grow lively as the tension rose. Eurydamas was the first to start rocking his hips subtly, absentmindedly grinding against Telemachus' thighs. They were thick and soft, and perfect for thrusting in between. Eurydamas had been allowed to try it whilst the prince worked once.

Safe to say, he had come in a matter of minutes, and then again, and again. 

His prince had rewarded him with his warm mouth after, like water after a drought.

Eventually, the other men began to follow suit, and Telemachus only let out an amused giggle at the eager rocking of their hips. Any available part of his body was nuzzled and humped, no one daring to go further yet. The prince bit his lip, shuddering. "How needy..." 

In response, Leodes lifted his head to give Telemachus' cheek a loving kiss, before moving to capture his mouth. Telemachus moaned, gripping onto Leodes' hair. As soon as the first step was made, the others set into action. Elatus began to suck marks and hickeys into the prince's throat, drawing high-pitched sounds from him.

Bites and bruises were quick to bloom across Telemachus' body, the men behaving like they wanted to devour him. "Oh..! Mhh.. That's it..." The prince moaned as his nipples were suckled raw, the suitors slobbering over them in their haste. He placed a hand on each of their heads. "Shhh... Easy, easy.."

The suitors all grew impatient for their release, the humping not providing enough friction. Several of them got up on their knees, starting to jerk off hastily instead. The hall began to fill up with wet and lewd sounds, and Telemachus opened his legs in offering. 

Like usual, they pounced on him.

Between one moment and the next, there was a tongue thrusting inside his loose hole and a mouth swallowing his cock in one fell swoop. Telemachus squealed, shuddering in overstimulation from the combined licking, sucking and humping. "O-oh, gods! Ahh-a!" The prince's legs kicked out as ecstacy overtook him.

Telemachus struggled to capture his breath, his mouth unable to keep down the noises in his throat. He eagerly pulled the men on their knees closer to him, his soft and delicate hands reaching to wrap around their cocks, which elicited excited groans and praises. "Ah.. fuck..." he mumbled under his breath.

Some men were louder than others. "S-shit, Baby...! Fuck, so good, so good! Keep going!" 

Telemachus smiled at the praise, his hands stroking faster. The men's cocks varied in size, some smaller and some as fat as bulls, but just as pulsatingly needy in his hands. But the one thing they all had in common was their hot, virile cum. Several ropes of it, almost never-ending. 

So perfectly fertile.

The prince felt his chin get tilted up, before there were three girthy cocks in front of his face. "Au...mhf.." there was no time to collect himself as Alpheos guided his cock to Telemachus' lips, pre-cum smearing on them. Joyfully, the prince opened his mouth.

The other men pouted, but accepted defeat and continued to jerk themselves off aggressively, desperate for release. Their cocks were steadily aimed at Telemachus' face, just as their prince liked it.

Telemachus' eyes rolled back into his skull as Ampheos' cock slammed itself down his throat. Poor baby was probably so needy. The prince allowed himself to relax, his throat easing while he continued to stroke the men around him. One of them seemed to twitch and cum in his hand, but still seemed reluctant to move.

Telemachus could see the telltale signs of the other men’s orgasms approaching as well, and sped up his strokes. He wanted it all over him, on his face and body and in his mouth. The prince himself was approaching climax, the mouth around his cock and in between his legs making him dizzy with pleasure. And of course, the sweet, suckling babies on his chest who had him keening loudly.

The cock in his mouth began to twitch aggressively, before abruptly pulling out and painting Telemachus' face in spurts of white. After that, it was like a trigger had been pulled as the prince's vision was lost, eyes squeezed shut while over a dozen men came all over his body. He gasped and choked on a sob as orgasm overtook him as well, right into a hot and awaiting mouth.

That gasp made him swallow a spurt of seed or two.

It went everywhere. His thighs, his stomach, his chest and arms and face. Amphinomus loomed over him as he shot his load over Telemachus' freshly washed hair, sullying him even more. The prince spasmed with aftershocks, while some of the men in his hands continued to cum weakly, dribbling it onto his nipples. The suitor sucking his cock also lasted slightly longer, coating Telemachus' thighs in more creamy white.

"Uhhg... Oh, ggods..." Telemachus could barely speak, his words slurred and disoriented. 

Finally, his overstimulated cock was freed from the hot mouth. There he laid, in a heap of semen which clung to even his eyelashes, making him look a total mess. But even so, Telemachus found the energy to smile up at his men fondly, licking his lips in a teasing show. He was exhausted, but happy all the same.

The suitors on the other hand, were quick to recover their stamina at the sight of their prince looking so blissed out. Ampheos lifted Telemachus' hand and gave the top of it a grateful kiss, holding it gently. Telemachus smiled wider, letting himself be effortlessly picked up by Elatus and placed on a clean corner of the duvet. It didn't matter, since the prince's entire body was drenched in cum, dirty and sticky.

Telemachus bit his lip. He couldn't help shuddering as his hands smeared out the liquid sensually on his chest, stomach and thighs, hands running over his body. He moaned softly, letting his beloveds watch as he shoved three fingers in his entrance, testing. Telemachus knew what they were waiting for, imaginary tails wagging behind them.

After all, they were never satisfied with just one round.

The prince took a relatively clean pillow off of the duvet and placed it on the floor, before sitting down on it with his back turned to the men. Telemachus made a show of trailing a hand up his thigh, then grabbing his butt and pulling it aside. "Come here... I'm sure I can fit two of you inside me..." Telemachus had been leisurely fucked open by Admetos and Cleodaeus that morning, so he was already loose enough.

Those words stirred a riot among the men as they began to push and fight over who would get to fuck their prince first. In the end, it was Peisander and Eurydamas that Telemachus decided to guide to his body. "Come here, you big babies. You'll all get a turn, alright?"

There were 16 men in total, but still a tame number in comparison to the hell that was taking 108 men in one evening. If it weren't for Eurycleia's heavenly baths and the suitors' pampering, Telemachus was sure he would have been long dead. Now however, it was a monthly thing that everyone looked forward to, him included. 

The prince never knew he had such a ridiculously high libido, fully free from Aphrodite's blessings. That was all him, who sucked cock like it was his only hobby, who took two dicks inside him with ease and who fucked as easily asleep as awake. It was an endless cycle of wetting someone's cock.

Gods, what had happened to him? Just six months prior he had been an unknowing virgin, and now he couldn't go a day—no, maybe six hours—without sex.

Peisander settled Telemachus in his lap, face-to-face, Eurydamas embracing the prince from behind. Telemachus smiled at his beloveds, stroking Peisander's cheeks lovingly. The suitor melted, even more so when the prince's soft lips met his own. It was both a gift and a show to the other men waiting as their tongues swirled around each other messily, Telemachus tilting Peisander's chin up. 

Eurydamas busied himself with trailing kisses down Telemachus' spine, his hands drawing circles on the prince's hips. 

Telemachus broke the kiss with a gasp, saliva clinging to their tongues. He turned to Eurydamas, before doing the same. He needed to keep his puppies satiated, after all.

Little puppies. That's all they were now. Broken and reformed, just like Telemachus had once wished for as he knelt upon that altar.

In the end, he got what he wished for.

"My Prince- Princey, please please please-" Eurydamas begged, fumbling over his words. He was terribly impatient, a mutt that couldn't still his hips for the life of him. Telemachus gripped his hair as he smiled. "Who said you could start, hm?"

Eurydamas whined, his eyes pleading, but Telemachus knew how to keep him under control, just as he liked it. "You can watch, and that's it."

The suitor sobbed, even as his cock gave a twitch. "Nono, please! Telemachusss!"

On the other hand, Peisander lit up, enjoying the favoritism as Telemachus turned back to him, letting his hands grope and roam the still slick skin of the prince. 

"How do you want me, My Love?" The prince purred sweetly, ignoring Eurydamas' pouting in the background.

Everyone knew that Telemachus was quick and flexible, something to make up for his lack of strength. And it sure made things fun in the bedroom aspects as well.

Peisander grew giddy at the words, and his mind struggled to come up with a perfect position. But eventually, a breathy "riding…" left the man’s mouth, earning a few whistles and whoops, while others rolled their eyes at the wasted opportunity.

Telemachus fought the urge to squish Peisander’s cheeks, and instead kissed him once more. The suitor was pushed to lay down, the pillow being put behind his head as Telemachus rocked his hips lightly against the erection under him. Peisander gasped softly, grabbing a hold of his lover’s thighs.

It was easy to sink down on the cock, Telemachus taking it to the hilt in one fell swoop and making the suitor groan. The prince wasted no time, beginning a steady pace as he bounced, backside taunting the crowd behind him. 

The other suitors stroked themselves to the sight, bitterly wishing they were in Peisander’s position. Usually, you only got Telemachus to yourself via the sleep schedule or at the end-of-the-month dinner. Otherwise, you were often stuck with group sex in the corridors.

"Lucky bastard…" Eurydamas mumbled to himself, cock in hand as he watched the sight, pouting. Telemachus continued his bouncing, picking up speed until the entire room echoed their coupling, the air filled with skin slapping and moans.

"Mmh..! Oh, gods, I’m almost there, Peis… Good boy, taking your treat so well.."

Telemachus could hear the jealous groans in the background, and relished in his dogs’ desire. Peisander was visibly fighting the urge to come early, reaching down to stroke his lover in time with the thrusts.

Almost simultaneously, they climaxed. Telemachus’ bouncing slowed into a gentle coax, milking his suitor’s cock while he came down from his high, white now splattered onto Peisander’s chest.

After that, it was a torrent of being passed around between the men. Eurydamas got his reward for being patient, getting sucked off while Telemachus rocked back against the two cocks sharing his entrance.

After it all, the prince was feeling exhausted and ready for a nap. Perhaps thirty minutes would do, then lunch and some more feedings, before more work was due.

Ah, geez. He was already behind schedule.

•••

It was nighttime now. The crickets sounded outside, lulling the island of Ithaca to slumber. Telemachus had long since fallen asleep, too tired to stay awake that night.

Amphimedon entertained himself, holding up the limp legs as he hastily fucked into Telemachus’ loose body. Cuddling the prince was Ctesippus, sleepily suckling on a nipple whilst he humped Telemachus’ side. The man didn’t even stir, used to the sensations and too tired to wake for it. So the two suitors took what they wanted, sharing his body between them during the night.

Amphimedon fucked his mouth and came in his hair, Ctesippus used the prince’s thighs as a cocksleeve and then left his load over Telemachus’ face, grinding his cock against the mess after.

Not more than a twitch came from the prince during it all.

It was deep into the night when the two finally settled, shifting Telemachus onto his side so Ctesippus could sink inside once more, while Amphimedon took a nipple into his mouth and promptly fell into slumber.

Soon after, the other suitor followed, their limbs entangling with each other as Telemachus lightly drooled onto his pillow.

But of course, that was nothing in comparison to the mess on his face and hair. 

Up above on Mount Olympus, Aphrodite watched the sight with softened eyes, her heart longing to come visit her beloved once more.

Only two weeks left.

Ares shifted in his sleep beside her, his bare back an enjoyable sight as the god’s muscles rippled. Aphrodite turned back to the task at hand, stroking herself with quick motions, imagining her sweet Telemachus coming to worship her instead, warming her cock without question. 

He’d gotten so much better with his shyness, as well! Aphrodite could nearly burst with joy from just the thought of how the prince would change once he came to Olympus, where he’d find a form of peace to his routine. He would only have two people to please, after all.

But knowing her darling, Telemachus would no doubt find a way to exercise his abilities.

With that thought, Aphrodite spilled into her hand, releasing a sigh of relief. 

Now, sleep.

Chapter Text

Telemachus started the day with a bath, as always. He stumbled and limped to the warm, enriched water Eurycleia had prepared, leaving a trail of fluid behind him. He practically collapsed into the water with a sigh, hearing the door open as Eurynome stepped inside with an assortment of oils and soaps. She smiled in greeting, and the prince hardly had the energy to return it.

His legs were still shaking, body still thrumming with aftershocks as Telemachus took in the mess that was himself. His hair felt stale with... yeah. And he definitely wouldn't be able to walk today.

Well, the dumb dogs would surely appreciate that. 

Everything hurt. Not even in the pleasurable way—just pure exhaustion. And Telemachus wasn’t sure he had the energy to keep up with his plans today either. He was undetermined, groggy and… some form of out of place. 

Eurynome had already started on his hair when Telemachus came back to himself, and he sighed in relief as he slowly but surely started to feel like a true prince again. 

"Is your chest sour today, My Prince? Shall I ask Creusa to fetch the salve?"

"No, no, they'll be on me before the salve can even begin to take effect. Thanks anyway, Eurynome."

"I think you should take a break, My Prince. The body needs true rest from time to time, just as much as the mind." Her hands gently scooped and poured water over his head, washing away the grime and soap. "How about a walk along the coast? You always took one before."

Just the thought of it made Telemachus' body ache to heal faster, legs longing to jump and run with the wind in his hair. "Yeah, you're right... I think I will, soon."

Eurynome smiled joyfully, a beautiful sight. Telemachus found himself copying the expression, easing further into the water. The rest of the bath was peaceful, and Telemachus felt ready to plan his 'vacation' after breakfast.

And by breakfast, his hair was already soiled with seed once more, face sticky and butt reddened. 

•••

A week. That was all the time he had left, before a goddess would come to claim him. A goddess who’s intentions were a true and total mystery. Was it truly just sex she wanted? And if so, he was sure it would’ve been easier to force his hand then and there. 

So confusing…

Telemachus felt dizzy with the thoughts swirling inside his head, and found it even better that he was going on a solo-trip for once. His satchel was packed, filled with food and water Eurycleia had made herself. She’d been full of nostalgia whilst she made it, gossiping to the younger maids about Telemachus’ adventures as a child, who’d leave in the morning and come home late in the evening with scraped knees and dirty, mud-caked skin. 

Telemachus had flushed vibrantly at the recollection, not enjoying the cooes of the women as Eurycleia reminisced about his 'chubby cheeks' and 'baby deer eyes.'

As soon as he stepped out of the palace and into the familiar flourish of greenery, Telemachus let himself breathe. He’d forgotten how nice it was to be alone with his thoughts, with neither suitors, noblemen nor servants surrounding him. For once, only the birds and the wind dared to utter their song amidst the all-encompassing silence.

As Telemachus walked, he absentmindedly began to collect stray patches of flowers here and there, remembering the many bouquets he’d made and given to his mother over the years. Unfortunately, little Telemachus had had a habit for clumsiness, often handing over half-smushed flowers with a wide grin. Nevertheless, his mother had never been short of charmed by the antics.

No wonder he was known as the spoiled prince, seeing as the queen always went easy on him despite his troublemaking.

Telemachus chuckled to himself, arranging the flurry of pinks, yellows and purples in his hand. The day was still young, and he could possibly gather some seashells by the shore if he hurried. For once, his body seemed to be acting accordingly. No aching could be felt in his chest, and Telemachus’ energy was unmatched compared to a few days ago.

With a goal in mind, the prince took off, unaware of the dove who followed close behind him.

It took fifteen minutes to reach the shore, the sun having reached its zenith by then. Telemachus put down his satchel and sandals where the grass ended and warm, textural sand began to take its place. He hurried to the water with an excitement that resembled his old days of playing and exploring.

The waves sloshed against his feet, cool and calming. Every little sound felt like pulling cotton out of Telemachus’ head, thoughts clearer than ever. If he had been smart, he would have brought his work with him. Solutions to all those problems crashed into his mind like a whirlwind, which the prince would have to put to use as soon as he got back.

Telemachus would never skip a day off ever again. Fuck those nobles and fuck those horny dogs.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a flash as Telemachus walked along the shoreline and assembled a collection of rocks and seashells, enjoying the different textures and colors of them all. But eventually, he had to stop as his chest felt too heavy and his legs too tired to go on.

But as Telemachus was packing up, he noticed a different… problem. A problem that had him squeezing his thighs together in an attempt to relieve himself of a familiar heat.

He must’ve had both his mind and body broken over those past few months, if he seriously couldn’t last even a day without… that. 

Laying his forehead against the tree trunk, Telemachus groaned. He still had time to… take care of himself, before heading back to the palace—so long as he was quick about it.

Sinking down to sit on the ground, back against the tree, Telemachus allowed himself to feel a few moments of shame at his predicament, before desire eventually took over. Slowly, he slipped a hand under his chiton, and into his loincloth. 

His cock was already half-hard, and Telemachus squeezed it experimentally, muffling a groan. Right away, he began to thumb at the tip, feeling pre-cum pile at the slit, before the prince started to stroke. "Mmph…"

Desperate, Telemachus hastily pulled down his loincloth and freed his manhood, letting the cool air hit it. His unoccupied hand quickly trailed down to shove two fingers into his hole—still wet and loose from this morning—and enjoying the dual stimulation his body was receiving. "Ah, ah…"

The rustle of birds and leaves went ignored by the prince, his hands quickening with each minute and earning quick, wet noises in return. 

Telemachus’ orgasm hit him like a storm, hand pulling away from his cock as it twitched and released a stream of white, soiling his clothes in the process. But only a brief minute after that, his hand went back to continue playing with himself, body still thrumming with need.

The prince’s fingers had increased to four, now plunging rhythmically into him. But unbeknownst to him, the dove from before sat perched on the tree’s branches above him, watching as Telemachus came once, twice—until he had nothing more to give. 

Telemachus could hardly breathe as his cock twitched once again, letting out a small trickle of cum that ran down his length. His abdomen was a mess of fluid, and the prince knew he wouldn’t be able to stand up with his quivering thighs.

It was getting dark…

"Need some help?”

Telemachus yelped, pulling his legs to his chest in an attempt to cover himself, but Aphrodite only laughed. 

"M-my Lady?! Isn’t it too early?"

The goddess didn’t respond, jumping down from the tree and landing right next to him. She silently let her hand caress Telemachus’ cheek, and in turn made the prince melt unwillingly.

"Who cares if I break my own rules a little?" She murmured, stroking the soft skin with her thumb, "I can see it in your eyes—you’re ready."

"I don't know what I’m ready for…" Telemachus found the courage to mutter, pouting. And Aphrodite chuckled, gaze affectionate. "Let it be a surprise."

Telemachus remained unmoving as soft hands ran their way from his face down to his chest, playing with the peaks there for a moment, before calmly grabbing his legs and laying them flat on the ground. Aphrodite inspected the messy sight of semen splattered over his legs and stomach, limp cock hanging low. "Cute," she said with a tilt of her head.

Telemachus couldn’t help but blush. 

Aphrodite’s gaze seemed to flicker for a moment, before her mouth opened and broke through the silence. "I could give you two choices," she purred, a hint of fangs peeking out from between her reddened lips. "That I take you home… or that I have my way with you."

Telemachus froze, gaze widening as his mind went over the proposal. "Have.. your way… with me..?"

The goddess smiled, suddenly stepping forward until she was towering over his seated form, and Telemachus gulped, awkwardly noticing the way his face was level with her crotch. "Ponder on it, Sweetheart. I could either take you home to rest after a long day…" a hand reached out to lift his chin, "Or I can put this pretty mouth to use. After all, I’ve seen how much it can take."

Telemachus felt just about at his limit, tired and hungry and full of milk again. He longed to just lay back and stop thinking, letting someone else handle him however they wanted. 

Then again… He barely had the energy to stand, let alone let a goddess have his way with him. 

"I…" Telemachus blinked up at Aphrodite, doe-eyes full of equal fear and desire. "J-just my mouth?"

The goddess pulled a hair behind his ear, humming. "As you wish."

Telemachus closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, struggling to steady himself, before he whispered. "…Okay."

Aphrodite smirked. "Good boy. You know what you want."

The prince nodded silently—face flustered—but made no move to stray from his place against the tree, frozen. He hadn’t been this shy in months, and Aphrodite couldn’t help but laugh. "I suppose I’ll have to undress for you, Darling."

The chiton was slow to be shed, Aphrodite taking her time unpinning the top parts as she gave a sultry look to the prince, undoubtedly on purpose.

Telemachus swallowed loudly as the goddess’ breasts were revealed first, two beautiful mounds of flesh making themselves known. And if he still had the energy to get hard, his cock would’ve definitely given a twitch. And then, the rest of the dress was tumbling down, and… and…

"I would assume you’re more used to handling this than a woman’s genitals, Little Prince." Aphrodite laughed at Telemachus’ stunned expression.

Because not only was there a cock in between those plump thighs—it was absolutely giant.

Telemachus mentally calculated the length, before letting out a squeak. Because that was definitely ten inches at minimum, possibly even eleven.

Gods, he was going to die.

•••

Telemachus choked as his throat was penetrated once more, a visible bulge showing on the outside. His head was leaned back against the tree, Aphrodite’s cock slamming itself into his throat repeatedly as the goddess placed her hands on the bark. 

Telemachus was gagging loudly, he knew. But by the gods! It was ridiculous that he was currently swallowing all of it. 

The blowjob was sloppy at best, but the goddess gave no complaint, only continuing to push his head against the tree with her force. Telemachus’ body was limp, only minutely twitching whilst he serviced. It was already nighttime, the darkened sky clearly showing that. Soon enough, someone would come looking for him.

"You’re doing well, Darling… Mmh… Let’s paint that pretty face white, ah…!"

Aphrodite’s movements sped up impossibly more, and Telemachus’ nails dug into the dirt as his mouth was used, stretched wide around the cock. He could sense the telltale signs, and prepared himself.

Then, the goddess was pulling out and shooting a spurt of seed over his nose and eye, and then into his hair. By the sixth spurt, Telemachus was worried it would never end, his entire face covered in a shiny layer of semen. But eventually, Aphrodite’s climax eased off into a pleasurable hum, and she rested her cock against his lips. Telemachus took the tip into his mouth, suckling and warming it silently whilst he awaited the other’s movement.

A gentle hand began to pet his tousled hair, tiny, leisurely thrusts accompanying the cockwarming. Then, the manhood sank all the way down once more, leaving Telemachus’ nose plush against the goddess’ crotch. He remained limp as Aphrodite stayed still, resting inside the warm sheath. 

The prince let his arms loosely wrap around her waist, clinging to her as they enjoyed the murmur of cicadas encompassing them.

Telemachus barely made a sound as Aphrodite pulled out and picked him up, legs encircling her waist while he nuzzled into the goddess’ neck. His satchel was collected as well, but the bouquet was left, far too soiled and ruined to be gifted anymore.

Telemachus let his mind drift aimlessly as they walked, feeling Aphrodite’s throat vibrate as she hummed a gentle melody into the night air. But soon enough, they were right outside the forest, only a short walk away from the palace. 

"Time to get down, My Wildflower."

Telemachus sighed quietly, inhaling the wonderful scent of paradise one more time, before his legs were released and landed back on the ground, sore and shaky. "Will I see you in a week’s time, My Goddess?"

"Just keep waiting patiently, Sweet Boy~" was the purr he received in response. Then, she was gone, leaving only a faint feeling of warmth.

When Telemachus reached the entrance, nearly all the suitors were waiting, visible stress leaving their faces as he came into sight. But then, that quickly shifted into varying levels of jealousy, the men catching sight of his soiled chiton, messy hair and—obviously—his cum-covered face.

With a sigh, Telemachus headed straight to the kitchen, ignoring the yips and barks that followed him all the way there.

Chapter Text

"I was thinking of staying somewhere else for the… exchange. Perhaps closer to the shore, away from the noise."

Penelope’s gaze shifted towards him, calculating. "No. Here will suit you just fine, and we will accommodate Lady Aphrodite’s requests, if need be. You’re not leaving the palace until I deem it safe.

"Mama, I can't possibly stay inside the palace for a whole week! I have duties to fulfill-"

"No. I want you close," Penelope stated with a voice that left no room for discussion. "The gods aren't to be trusted, Telemachus. Don't leave yourself open."

Telemachus sighed. He knew that, truly. Aphrodite was no different from any other, a total stranger at best, with far too much power over him. The prince still remembered the endless doubt and shame he'd felt over his body, pleading day and night to be rid of such a terrible curse, to no avail.

And he especially remembered the humiliation of a soaked chiton and a hundred eyes on him, with nowhere to hide. So very prey-like.

With no choice but to stay within the palace walls, Telemachus busied himself with preparations. After plenty of discussion, they decided that his mother would take over royal duties during his absence, and the more rowdy and jealous suitors would be coincidentally sent on a diplomatic mission to a nearby kingdom for a trade agreement, which would last at least a week. Lady Aphrodite had stated their exchange would only last a day, but Telemachus had his doubts.

All in all, everything seemed to be in order.

Except for the fact that he was nervous out of his mind. Sex only got so distracting, and Telemachus' body was screaming after giving three separate groups free range. Finally getting carried back to his bed, the prince crashed. And when he awoke, it was dark, no doubt past dinner. 

Agh, he was hungry. But thankfully, decently empty in his chest. Perhaps someone on that mountain was feeling nice today.

Quietly traversing the silent halls, Telemachus relished in the peaceful atmosphere. It was a rare sight, given how full his home was. Servants, guards, suitors, all crammed into one shared palace. It was spacious, of course, but not so much as Sparta or another larger kingdom.

Surprisingly, the kitchen was still lively, the women shuffling about in the room as different vegetables and meats were prepared and preserved. Soon enough, Pelopia noticed Telemachus' presence and perked up. "My Prince! Why are you up so late?"

"Mh, you missed dinner," Creusa commented as she skillfully gutted the fish. 

Telemachus only hummed, choosing not to feed their gossip-hungry minds. "Is there anything left to eat?"

Eurycleia quickly washed her hands on the basin and brought out the leftover meat and bread from dinner. "There is this. It is only slightly stale, if you would accept that, Dear."

The prince's stomach audibly growled, and Telemachus quickly took the food with a murmured thanks, ignoring the snickers of the women around him. 

It was chilly when he sat down on a bench in the garden, the night sky adorned with thousands of stars. A few he recognized, others, he let himself play with. A fox eating a rabbit, a man climbing a mountain. By the time he snapped out of his daydreaming, the food had already grown slightly cold.

The sound of a rustle caught Telemachus' attention, and he tensed. Even so, the prince continued to eat his food, unwilling to meet any trouble today. Whichever suitor had decided to watch or bother him, they could go right back to where they came from.

What he hadn't expected—was for something to land on his shoulder with a croon. 

Telemachus slowly turned his head to stare at the dove that sat perched on his shoulder, large, beady eyes gazing back at him. The prince lifted his hand, observing the animal as he tentatively scratched its cheek. The dove crooned once more, before nuzzling into the touch. Telemachus giggled, food forgotten as he felt a beak poke his cheek.

As a child, animals would always run away from him, most likely because he was too loud and rowdy for their tastes. Now, in Telemachus' mind, he celebrated overcoming his past struggles.

Life sure was easy then, being grumpy over not getting to pet a squirrel he'd found in a tree outside. The prince remembered that he had cried to his mother afterwards, saying he was cursed.

Telemachus laughed again at the memory, embracing the dove's incessant nuzzling as he relaxed. He'd been tense all week, especially now that there were only two days left until... that.

Sighing, the prince silently pondered his options. "Trust... Not trust... That's the hard part. But I guess you don't know much about that, huh, Little Dove?"

The animal only crooned, jumping down to get cozy in his lap. 

"Mother is insistent that I stay inside the palace at all times. She's scared that I'm going to get into trouble by even agreeing to this in the first place. No gratitude for saving our household, no faith in my ability to protect myself and make sound decisions—it's like I'm in a cage!" 

Telemachus put his head in his hands. "I just wanted a small reprieve from this place, even if it was just for a little while."

Telemachus sucked in a shaky lungful of air, trying to calm himself. The dove stayed with him the entire time, only minutely shifting in his lap. It was steadying, in a way.

Righting himself, the prince took one more breath, and as if on cue, the dove fluffed out its wings and took off to the sky, leaving Telemachus to himself.

Watching the creature soar, the prince felt exhaustion fill his flesh and bones. It would be for the best if he headed back to bed.

•••

Aphrodite heard the familiar rustle of feathers as she allowed the dove to land on her shoulder, nuzzling its owner eagerly. The goddess hummed as she processed the information it gave her, from the anxiety, to the doubt, to the defeat. An interesting mix for her poor Wildflower. 

"Good work, Darling. Go and rest," she said, letting the dove fly off to its comrades. 

"It seems he'll need some convincing, after all."

•••

When Telemachus got back to his bedroom, Elatus was waiting for him, leaning against the balcony railing. Once he approached, the suitor let his hands gently cup the prince's cheeks, before a fond kiss met his lips.

It was slow and passionate, and just what Telemachus needed. Their tongues swirled leisurely around each other, rather a caress than a battle. Elatus was already hard under his chiton, no loincloth in sight, and it pressed against the prince's stomach, evidence of the suitor's neediness. 

At least Elatus was always well-behaved.

They got into their routine easily, undressing before Telemachus settled on the couch, Elatus plopping into his lap soon after. The prince closed his eyes with a relaxed sigh, chest visibly aching as it leaked freely now. Elatus immediately got to work, suckling to relieve the ache whilst Telemachus took the suitor's cock in hand.

At first, he only played with it, squeezing and circling the head. It was leaking, and Telemachus found himself able to easily stroke the length without problem due to the lubrication.

Elatus groaned around the nipple in his mouth, body visibly easing from tension. The strokes were barely there, a light caress that faintly gave saps of pleasure to the suitor—but not ecstacy. Elatus didn't need that. He needed the slow, leisurely care that only Telemachus could give him. 

His first orgasm came quickly, a large spurt shooting into the air, before coming to land on the man’s stomach. Telemachus didn't slow or quicken, only continuing to calmly stroke the twitching cock in his hand, flicking it twice before getting back to work.

After the fifth climax, where only the slightest hint of liquid came out, Telemachus let his hand slow to a stop. It stayed wrapped around Elatus' cock as they both struggled to keep their eyes open, and the prince leaned down to quietly interlink their lips, enjoying the sound of their saliva mixing. 

Before he could help it, Telemachus' lips separated from his lover’s, head hitting the suitor's shoulder, and promptly losing consciousness.

Elatus enjoyed the quiet atmosphere for a while, hand moving to lay over the prince's, still wrapped around his cock. His abdomen was sticky with cum, and the suitor eventually stood up on weak legs to clean himself up.

After that, Elatus scooped up Telemachus in his arms and laid them both under the covers, away from the cold night air. The prince seemed to relax into the bed as he exhaled, mouth slightly open and drooling.

Elatus pushed Telemachus down a notch and adjusted him into a comfortable position, before laying down himself and sinking into the warm and snug embrace, feeling sleep take him into its grasp at last.

When Telemachus awoke in the morning, he weakly hummed around the cock in his mouth, leisurely suckling it as he nuzzled into the sheets with a sigh. 

After emptying Elatus of his energy, the prince enjoyed a more relaxed breakfast, Echelaos’ mouth warming his manhood under the table, whilst Telemachus enjoyed a meal of bread, fish and fresh harvest.

But all the while, he couldn’t stop his gaze from straying to the dove perched on the tree outside, observing him attentively.

And that one didn’t look as unknowing.