The Eagle's Prize – Part II: The Storm Breaks
starring Andy as Daddy Zeus and Fin as Ganymede
Ganymede didn’t flinch when Zeus approached. He rarely did. That was part of the problem—and the appeal.
“Still staring?” Ganymede asked lazily, propping himself up on one elbow. His silver hair glinted like moonlight. “You could sketch me if you’d like. Immortal memory and all.”
Zeus said nothing.
The god’s jaw was tight. His eyes glowed faintly, stormlight crackling in his pupils. Power radiated off him like heat haze from summer stone.
Ganymede grinned.
“I’m starting to think you like being teased.”
“You don’t know what you’re playing with,” Zeus said, voice low and taut like a drawn bowstring.
“Oh, but I do,” Ganymede purred, standing now, sheer robe falling open just enough to make Zeus’ knuckles whiten. “You’re lightning. I’m water. Shall we make a storm?”
Zeus moved before he thought.
One flash of divine motion, and Ganymede was pinned against a marble column—gently, but with no question who held the skies. One hand gripped his waist. The other braced beside his head.
Ganymede looked up, lips parted, flushed.
“No warnings?” he whispered. “Not even a thunderclap first?”
“You’re the warning,” Zeus growled. “Every time you smirk, every time you sashay across Olympus like you own the place—”
“I do own the place,” Ganymede said, breathlessly smug. “At least your attention.”
Zeus pressed his lips to Ganymede’s throat—not kissing, just hovering—and Ganymede shivered. There was electricity dancing along his skin now, like static before a downpour.
“I should punish you,” Zeus murmured against his neck.
“You should,” Ganymede said, tilting his head. “But you won’t. You like the way I burn.”
And with that, Zeus snapped.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was divine warfare. Ganymede gasped, arms circling Zeus’ neck as they crashed together like wind and sea. Zeus lifted him easily, robe sliding off completely as Ganymede wrapped his legs around the god’s waist, biting his lower lip between kisses.
They didn’t make it to the bedchamber.
They didn’t make it off the floor.
Somewhere in the chaos of robes and thunder, Ganymede’s wrists ended up bound in glowing lightning threads, above his head, as Zeus took his sweet time unravelling every shred of smug from him—only to worship it back with his mouth.
Every touch sparked.
Every gasp echoed like thunder.
And the rain outside Olympus?
It didn’t start until Ganymede screamed Zeus’ name.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was divine warfare. Ganymede gasped, arms circling Zeus’ neck as they crashed together like wind and sea. Zeus lifted him easily, robe sliding off completely as Ganymede wrapped his legs around the god’s waist, biting his lower lip between kisses.
They didn’t make it to the bedchamber.
They didn’t make it off the floor.
Somewhere in the chaos of robes and thunder, Ganymede’s wrists ended up bound in glowing lightning threads, above his head, as Zeus took his sweet time unravelling every shred of smug from him—only to worship it back with his mouth.
Every touch sparked.
Every gasp echoed like thunder.
And the rain outside Olympus?
It didn’t start until Ganymede screamed Zeus’ name.
When it was over, they lay on the shattered mosaic floor—panting, flushed, dazed. Ganymede’s wrists were free now, but still tingling.
He rolled over onto Zeus’ chest with a smirk.
“Next time,” he said, “try not to break the ceiling.”
Zeus chuckled hoarsely. “You’re lucky you’re beautiful.”
“I’m blessed, darling.” Ganymede kissed his cheek. “And so are you.”
When it was over, they lay on the shattered mosaic floor—panting, flushed, dazed. Ganymede’s wrists were free now, but still tingling.
He rolled over onto Zeus’ chest with a smirk.
“Next time,” he said, “try not to break the ceiling.”
Zeus chuckled hoarsely. “You’re lucky you’re beautiful.”
“I’m blessed, darling.” Ganymede kissed his cheek. “And so are you.”
