Eden's Musings

“This is… new.”

Sisyphus ran his thumb over the edge of Minos’ face-hole. Certainly strange, but not unwelcome. Just something new from the man’s rebirth.

“Yes, it is something else, is it not?” Minos laughed. “But there is something else I wish to show thee.” Minos tilted his head. The centuries the kings had spent together let Sisyphus read him well; he had something devious in mind.

“Oh?” Sisyphus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He gripped Minos’ chin slightly tighter.

Slowly, a black tendril poked its way out of the void that was Minos’ face. It brushed over Sisyphus’ thumb, leaving a wet trail of black ichor in its wake. Another tendril slipped out beside it; they circled around Sisyphus’ thumb, warm and wet.

Sisyphus felt heat growing in his abdomen. He took a shaky breath.

“They have many uses,” Minos began, retracting his tendrils and leaving a parting lick on the tip of Sisyphus’ thumb. “If thou art willing, that is.” Minos placed a subtle hand on Sisyphus’ waist.

Sisyphus licked his lips. “I certainly wouldn’t mind a little stress relief.”

Sisyphus was never very loud during sex.

“Oh— haahh—”

Usually, that is.

Currently, he was laying on his back on he and Minos’ shared bed, with his lover between his legs. Minos held his thighs open (so much strength since he got Primed, much more than Sisyphus ever had) and had enveloped his cock in slick tendrils, each moving at their own pace and yet somehow in sync, creating perfect pleasure that was cooking Sisyphus alive.

How many were on him now? Six? Seven? He didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter when they were all moving, stroking him just right, one coming down to lap at the seam between his balls—

Sisyphus moaned loudly, one hand coming down to grip at Minos’ crown. He could scarcely keep his eyes open, his whole brain muddled with pleasure, it feels so good, so good, fuck it’s so good.

A single tendril licked over his head and he was gone.

White-hot pleasure exploded through his body, electricity in every nerve, his brain filled with static, a repeating mantra of so good so good so good over and over in his mind.

When he came down, Minos had stilled on his dick but hadn’t pulled away. Thick strands of ichor were running down his face, pooling at his chin.

“I wonder,” he whispered, the vibrations from his voice traveling right through Sisyphus’ over-sensitive cock and making him shudder, “how many times can thee go before it breaks thee?”

And he started moving again. Slower, to his credit, but any friction on Sisyphus’ cock right now sent torturous ecstasy shocking through his whole body.

He groaned, both in pleasure and in exhaustion.

This was going to be a long night.

He didn't so much as pause when Sisyphus passed it to him. He dropped a straw in and lifted it without any hesitation. 

“You aren't even going to ask?”

Gabriel stopped with the straw just below the chin of his helmet. Across the table, Sisyphus was watching him with an unreadable expression. 

“...I didn't believe it necessary.”

Sisyphus raised one red eyebrow.

“You have no idea what it is.”

Gabriel lowered the cup. Frowned.

“I told you what I wanted-” He ignored the heat that bloomed in his cheeks at the admission. “-and you said this would help.”

The eyebrow crept higher. 

“But you don't know what it is.”

Under his helmet, Gabriel frowned in confused frustration. Admittedly, he was a little peeved at the delay, considering how eager he was to move forward with his… request. Even if his face was hidden, his voice properly conveyed his rolling eyes. 

“No, I don't. Do I need to?”

Both eyebrows shot up. Sisyphus had barely opened his mouth before Gabriel cut him off, irritated at the thought of hearing the same line for a third time. 

“You're the one who said it would help. If you know it's safe and that it'll make things better, then what does it matter if I know? I'll be with you, so it's fine.”

Sisyphus’ mouth closed with a barely audible click of teeth. Gabriel picked his cup back up. When he wasn't interrupted again, he wedged the straw through a hole in his helmet and took a long drink. 

(And in Sisyphus’ mind, I'll be with you repeated over and over again. It sounded suspiciously similar to I trust you.

Warning summary thing: I completely made up whatever magic sex pills they use. Basically, Gabe is a boneless heap and his thinking is slightly impaired/delayed, but everything feels warm and fuzzy and good. There’s no major play outside of that, just Sisyphus fingering him and then asking if he wants to continue.

“Oh, angel…”

Sisyphus sounds so adoring, so soft and gentle and full of wonder, as warm and fuzzy as Gabriel feels.

He’s not drowsy, but his body is heavy and weak, his mind slightly behind. It’s like experiencing the entire world through syrup. Even his dick can’t get more than half-hard with Sisyphus massaging two fingers into his prostate.

“That’s it, sweetheart… So good for me…”

There’s a strange delay in hearing the words and then understanding them. The same can be said for the things he sees. He sees Sisyphus moving, sees the warrior’s arm move but can’t… recognize it. And by the time he realizes it means Sisyphus is pushing those thick, calloused fingertips into him again, they’re already there, reaching deep into him, curling up into his center, playing his body just right to have him panting and whining and shaking oh so faintly.

“You’re so soft… So warm and loose for me…”

His eyes keep closing on their own. He’s not tired, he’s not falling asleep, they’re just so heavy and his vision is so confusing anyways. But he wants to watch. He wants to see Sisyphus stretching him open. He wants to see the expressions he makes, that sheer, open yearning in his face, the gentleness.

Just as Gabriel thinks it, Sisyphus’ expression changes again, looking so fucking soft and adoring.

“Oh, good boy… Just like that…”

Gabriel didn’t even realize he’d taken a third finger until that moment. It makes a lazy warmth bloom in his chest. He’s so limp and boneless that even three of Sisyphus’ devastatingly thick fingers don't sting.

“Hn… hah… ah…”

It takes another long, molasses-slow second to realize he’s hearing himself. His body keeps rocking with Sisyphus’ motions and every thrust forces another noise from him. Even with his lips barely parted, he manages to sound like a harlot for his king.

“Perfect, sweetheart, just perfect. Opening up so easy…”

His eyes flutter shut. Everything is a fog of sensation and warmth. It’s not like the normal feelings, all sharp and clear and distinct. It’s like he’s floating in the sea. There’s no back and forth of thrusting, there’s only a steady climb because it all feels so good and blends together into a single haze of bliss.

“Mm, you’re already ready… Do you still want me to fuck you like this?”

Seconds pass as the words bounce around his skull. One… two…

“Mm hm…”

He tries to lift his hips in invitation and barely twitches.

“Talk to me. I need to hear it.”

But words are hard. His tongue is so heavy. His throat doesn’t want to work. But stars, he wants Sisyphus to use him.

“Yes… yes…”

The words don’t count as a whisper, breathed out without making his vocal cords vibrate. A simple exhale that can’t possibly convey how much he wants it.

Sisyphus understands anyways. Gabriel barely feels himself being moved, but he certainly feels when Sisyphus’ fingers leave him empty and aching. He whines through closed lips.

“Shh, shh… I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you…”

He’s— he’s floating. In the sky, in the sea. Floating. It must be the sea, he’s rolling back and forth on the waves. Swaying. Rocking.

Sisyphus pants above him, looking so incredibly pleased. Gabriel tries to reach for him, but barely lifts a hand before it flops back to the pillows. He can’t gather his thoughts enough to figure out why Sisyphus is looking at him like that.

“Oh, angel… So sweet, so soft… Does it feel good, sweetheart?”

He feels good. He feels so, so good. He can’t quite tell one thrust from the next, but the warmth and fullness is simply wonderful. He feels like he could drift away and never come back.

“Mmmm…”

Sisyphus is smiling. It makes Gabriel want to smile. He sighs happily instead.

“Talk to me, Gabriel. You still with me?”

Hm? Yeah, yeah he’s still here. Just limp and hazy. Slow.

“Ye… eah… Go… ood…”

Sisyphus smiles and dips down to kiss the side of his helmet. Gabriel’s head sags even further against the pillow.

“Oh, darling… You feel so good too. Good and relaxed for me. Do you still want more?”

A slight delay as he parses the words, and then a rush of excitement passes through him. A faint shudder follows the feeling, barely more than a twitch.

Sisyphus smiles wider, something gentler than his usual crooked grin but still tinged with hunger.

“Oh, eager, are we?”

Stars, yes. As good as this all feels, he wants it. Now that he’s been reminded, now that he’s so close to being ready, it’s all he can think of. The promise of more, of feeling Sisyphus so deep, of being stretched so wide…

It almost gives him enough strength to lift his head.

“Yes, yes…”

Sisyphus chuckles breathlessly as he adjusts his angle, each thrust now hard enough for Gabriel to feel them individually. He doesn’t realize he’s moaning until he hears himself half a second afterwards.

“Oh, gods, Gabriel… Awake now, huh? Oh, my sweet, greedy little angel.”

Yes, yes, he’s so greedy, he needs everything Sisyphus will give him. It’s the only clear thought in his drug-addled mind.

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you. You’re going to look so good for me, all stretched out and loose. Do you want that, darling? Want me to ruin your hungry little hole?”

Gabriel can’t think of the words to say, not through the fog and the starbursts as Sisyphus nails his prostate again and again and again.

“Ahh, ah, ah, ah—“

He’s pretty sure he’d be coming like this if his body could work up the strength for it. He’s not entirely sure he hasn’t come, but everything is just an ocean of heat and friction and fullness and Sisyphus promising him more and more and more.

“Ple… please…”

The thrusting slows to a stop while Sisyphus chuckles and he can’t even be upset because he still feels so high on sensation and the promise of what’s to come.

Something touches his thigh. A beat, and his eyes flutter open. Sisyphus is sitting up, Gabriel’s legs spread wide around his hips, and he’s looking so intently between them. Gabriel’s sight drifts and he realizes Sisyphus’ hand is there too. Palm flat and fingers spread on Gabriel’s inner thigh, holding him open and—

He feels the stretch a second after Sisyphus’ thumb is already inside. A faint, breathless sound flutters out of him.

“Oh, darling… I think you’re ready…”