The Eagle's Prize
starring Fin as Ganymede and Andy as Daddy Zeus
Zeus: King of Gods, Master of Lightning, Definitely-Not-Thirsty-For-Twinks™--
was pacing. Pacing, and checking the sky reflection in his goblet like it might deliver gossip.
“Where is he?” he growled.
Hermes, who had been polishing his caduceus with far too much smug energy, didn’t even look up. “You mean the divine house twink?”
Zeus stopped pacing. “He’s not a—”
“Right. Sorry. Celestial Beverage Artisan™.” Hermes smirked. “Word is he’s refusing to refill Dionysus’ wine unless he gets hazard pay.”
“Has he been causing problems?”
“He is the problem. He charmed Apollo into giving him a sun-kissed chaise. Ares into carrying him up the stairs. And he told Poseidon to ‘cool it’ during a storm.”
Zeus blinked. “…Did Poseidon listen?”
Hermes shrugged. “No, but he did blush. So. Progress.”
Zeus: King of Gods, Master of Lightning, Definitely-Not-Thirsty-For-Twinks™--
was pacing. Pacing, and checking the sky reflection in his goblet like it might deliver gossip.
“Where is he?” he growled.
Hermes, who had been polishing his caduceus with far too much smug energy, didn’t even look up. “You mean the divine house twink?”
Zeus stopped pacing. “He’s not a—”
“Right. Sorry. Celestial Beverage Artisan™.” Hermes smirked. “Word is he’s refusing to refill Dionysus’ wine unless he gets hazard pay.”
“Has he been causing problems?”
“He is the problem. He charmed Apollo into giving him a sun-kissed chaise. Ares into carrying him up the stairs. And he told Poseidon to ‘cool it’ during a storm.”
Zeus blinked. “…Did Poseidon listen?”
Hermes shrugged. “No, but he did blush. So. Progress.”
Meanwhile, Ganymede was draped dramatically across a marble ledge like he was in a living fresco titled ‘Bored and Beautiful.’
He wore a sheer robe, gold cuffs, and the kind of expression that said, “Yes, I was abducted, but I’m thriving, babe.”
When Zeus finally arrived (on a literal breeze), Ganymede didn’t stand.
“You’re late,” he said, examining a cuticle. “I was about to call the eagle to take me back.”
Zeus narrowed his eyes. “I am the eagle.”
“Oh right. My mistake. I forgot you’re also the thunder, the storm, the all-seeing—blah blah lightning penis, etcetera.”
Zeus inhaled slowly. “You forget your place.”
“No. I just don’t care about it.” Ganymede looked up with a glint in his eye. “Now, are you here to scold me or seduce me? I have a pedicure in fifteen minutes and I’d like to schedule accordingly.”
Zeus stepped forward. “Why do you always test me?”
“Because it’s fun,” Ganymede said, standing now, walking up to him slowly. “Because you like it. Because every time I push, you crack—just a little more.”
He brushed past Zeus, trailing a hand across his chest. “Besides,” he whispered, “you stole me. The least you could do is let me make you work for it.”
Zeus growled—real, primal, the kind of noise that made the clouds rumble and Aphrodite perk up in her spa.
“I should punish you,” he murmured against Ganymede’s ear.
Ganymede smirked. “And yet here you are… still not doing it.”
Meanwhile, Ganymede was draped dramatically across a marble ledge like he was in a living fresco titled ‘Bored and Beautiful.’
He wore a sheer robe, gold cuffs, and the kind of expression that said, “Yes, I was abducted, but I’m thriving, babe.”
When Zeus finally arrived (on a literal breeze), Ganymede didn’t stand.
“You’re late,” he said, examining a cuticle. “I was about to call the eagle to take me back.”
Zeus narrowed his eyes. “I am the eagle.”
“Oh right. My mistake. I forgot you’re also the thunder, the storm, the all-seeing—blah blah lightning penis, etcetera.”
Zeus inhaled slowly. “You forget your place.”
“No. I just don’t care about it.” Ganymede looked up with a glint in his eye. “Now, are you here to scold me or seduce me? I have a pedicure in fifteen minutes and I’d like to schedule accordingly.”
Zeus stepped forward. “Why do you always test me?”
“Because it’s fun,” Ganymede said, standing now, walking up to him slowly. “Because you like it. Because every time I push, you crack—just a little more.”
He brushed past Zeus, trailing a hand across his chest. “Besides,” he whispered, “you stole me. The least you could do is let me make you work for it.”
Zeus growled—real, primal, the kind of noise that made the clouds rumble and Aphrodite perk up in her spa.
“I should punish you,” he murmured against Ganymede’s ear.
Ganymede smirked. “And yet here you are… still not doing it.”
Somewhere on Olympus:
Hera: "If he makes Zeus bark one more time I’m putting a lightning rod through that boy’s smug little–”
Athena: “Let him cook.”
Dionysus: “I ship it.”
Hermes: “I already engraved it on a wine goblet.”
Hera: "If he makes Zeus bark one more time I’m putting a lightning rod through that boy’s smug little–”
Athena: “Let him cook.”
Dionysus: “I ship it.”
Hermes: “I already engraved it on a wine goblet.”
