bella

He carried you back to the small hut he'd built with his own hands and nursed you back to health.

You were a shy little thing, shrinking away from his touch at first, horrified and untrusting of men after having trusted the wrong men before.

So he never pushed. Instead, a companionship formed in the quiet spaces between you.

Words spoken in hushed whispers under the shade of trees stabbing at the sky, nights spent lying side by side on the cool sand, watching the moon. He’d always be the one going out to hunt, and cooking it, not letting you lift a finger. 

Occasionally you wake up pressed against him, seeking comfort in his arms. Odysseus would lie perfectly still, scarcely daring to breathe, afraid that even the smallest movement would break the beginnings of the trust you'd placed in him.

He did, though, eagerly await the day the thread would snap, the thread that grows precarious with every instance of you tending to his wounds after a bad hunt, every time your fingers brushed his as he handed you food.

Every morning he caught sight of you wading into the shallow water to wash yourself,  the salt and sand, the thin dress draped over you clinging to your skin. He would look away almost as quickly as he'd looked, ashamed of the longing and the lust growing heavier under his ribs, wondering how much longer that thread could hold before it finally gave way.

It snapped the day another ship washed ashore. A handful of men stumbled onto the beach, their laughter turning vile the moment they saw you. Odysseus was watching you from the corner of his eye as you bathed in the shallows below. The moment he saw them leering, he ran from where he was buried in the trees hunting for food. Grabbed his spear, the only weapon he had carved from wood, and met them before they could reach you. Striked them down with the fury he was certain not even Ares himself would possess, the God of War himself, as he killed them off, one by one, brutally. 

He did not stop until the beach fell silent once more.

When it was over, you stepped out from the water, the hem of your dress dripping seawater onto the blood-soaked sand. You found him standing among the bodies, blood streaking his arms, his chest rising with ragged breaths.

And that’s when you know – he would protect you forever. 

Slowly, almost timidly, you reached a hand out to cradle his face, wiped the splatter of blood on his cheek gently, before leaning in, and pressing your lips against his. For a heartbeat Odysseus stood frozen, unable to believe the warmth against his mouth was real. Then his hand free of the spear found your waist and drew you impossibly closer as he kissed you back with desperation, groaning into your mouth, breaking months of restrained longing.

Now after you carefully washed the blood off his body, Odysseus finally has you. 

You sit on his lap, his chest pressing into your back, impaling you on his cock. His thighs are pressed into the sand, your waist gripped in one massive arm as he moves you up and down, face buried in your neck. His other hand is gripping your neck loosely, holding you upright as he pounds into you.

“Fuck, this what you wanted hm? To be sittin’ on me, milkin’ my cock?” he grits out, feeling you tighten around him, your slick dripping down to his thighs.

You only whine, “fuck-yes, yes,” grip him tighter, one hand coming up to hold his, pressing his palm harder against your neck. You writhe in his grasp, trying to grind your clit against something, anything, before he grips your waist even harder in warning.

He grunts against your neck, moaning your name. His beard rubs against the side of your face as he lifts his head up.

“Yeah, my girl needs to be choked? That’s what she needs to stay. Fuckin’. Still.”

He pounds into you harder between each word. You’re reduced to a mess, can only whine and blubber out soft begs, “please.”

Instead of choking your neck with his hand, Odysseus shifts. Still thrusting into you, the wet sounds of your slick echoing through the island, his arm slides across your chest, gripping your shoulder, one thick bicep pressing against your neck. He traps you in a headlock while he moves his hips faster. You moan, loud, at the weight of him. 

“Try gettin’ out of this now,” he grunts against you. Everything is warm and fuzzy as he brings you closer to the edge, pounding into you with slower, deeper thrusts now. His hand slides down your waist, to your mound, rubbing at the patch of hair there.

“Please- fuck, please touch me,” you whine, desperately.

Then he pulls, hard, and you let out a whimper. 

“You take what I give you, yeah? Don’t be fuckin’ greedy,” he groans against your ear.

You blabber out apologies, gripping his arm tighter. He feels his balls tighten when you claw your nails into his arm, leaving red marks.

“S’okay pretty girl, shush, just let me do all the work yeah?”

You nod, or try to as much as you can while wrapped in a headlock, as he peppers kisses to the side of your face. His beard scrapes you deliciously as he fucks his cock into you deeper, the perfect amount of coarse and rough. 

After a harsh thrust, Odysseus finally takes mercy on you, and brings a finger to your clit, rubbing slow circles. Pleasure sparks up your spine.

“Fuck- yeah, just like that,” you moan softly, closing your eyes as you get closer and closer to your peak.

“That feel good?” He pants against you. You whimper out a yes, writhing in his grip.

“You gonna be my good girl and come now?” 

“Fuck- yes,” You moan, loud, your voice echoing in the island as you finally reach your peak. Your body grows limp in his grip as you close your eyes, pleasure washing over you. 

Odysseus jerks up, once, then twice, before spilling into you, groaning your name. It trickles down your thighs as you lean your weight against him, practically sitting on him. 

You’re still wrapped up in his massive arms as he pants against you, loosening his grip slightly. 

“Stay with me, on this island,” he whispers, tilting your head to the side. 

His eyes bore into yours.

 “Stay, forever. Please.”

You lean in, press the gentlest of kisses against his lips. 

“Forever.”

 And at last, Odysseus had found his way home, not to Ithaca, but to you.