#carlothread

gif 79 Now how'd he get here? I guess you could say, Mateo was lucky at getting lucky. As cliche as it sounds, it was just so so ironically true. The child of Aphrodite found he didn't really need to do much to maintain his physique since coming to the isle. But he still loved visiting the gym. For sport, for show, for fun. The loverboy would dawn the sluttiest gym clothes you could imagine. And go on his way. Infront of mirrors and in view of the other demigods, deadlifting and doing cardio on various pieces of equipment. Matty would stretch and warm up for what felt like an excessive amount of time for the impatient. But the perfect amount of time for the ones who planned their whole workouts around his little shows. Once he was properly warmed up, he'd get to lifting small hand weights. Just to flex. Shirtless and smiling as he broke a slight sweat. Just being hot at the gym. Today though before he had even gotten to the shirtless weightlifting... Carlo came up in front of him, while he was stretching his hips. On his hands and knees. Pretty brown eyes level with the other's bulge. Swallowing thick as he had to remind himself to meet eyes with the other. Words were had. He offered to lead Mateo through a leg routine. The grips on his hips, readjusting him into a near perfect arch. Or hands ran over the swell of Matty's ass and the meat of his thighs. The touches and flirty words had them going back to the other's cabin. They showered together. Mateo greedily worshipping the other's body with mouth and hands as the water washed away soap from cut abs and rippling muscles. From the shower to a quick detour on the bathroom counter and lastly on Carlo's bed. He rid all eight inches of the other demigod's hard cock until he was pushed off in a playful sort of way. Not because the other was close to finishing but because he wanted the Aphrodite boy face down ass up. getting him to arch his back just right so he can get back to fucking that hole of his. The clapping sounds of wet skin on skin, the slip and squelch of lube. Mateo's sweet moans and groans. Crying out in Spanglish for more. While drooling from the corners of his lips from being fucked so well. Mateo was blessed by the fates to experience a fucking so good. So good it made him start thinking of ways to get it again before it was even done.

Casual sex, expecially after some training, did not faze Carlo. Fucking had literally become his side hustle back in LA, and arguably his primarily source of income by the end he ended up on Olympus. In some ways he always saw them two sides of a coin — both ways to sweat and exercise. One was just more socially acceptable.

But he couldn't anticipate how good Mateo felt around him, that tight, shapely ass hugging every last inch of his thick cock, forcing him to overcome the urge to blow his load on every other thrust. The other's cries in his native tongue didn't help, especially since Carlo was fluent in the language. He knew every last word Mateo was moaning as their bodies rocked together.

Someone of Carlo's impressive statue needed to learn how to manuever his weight around, and be conscious of his size. So when Robert manages to grab him by the hips and gently pin him to the wall, he's take aback.

Carlo felt at ease with Renato. Their shared European roots, at the very least, helped give them a more direct link than with some of the others. The Italian even spoke fluent Spanish which made communication even easier —he really was an Angeleno after all— and better yet, it meant he could indulge himself some dirty talk in the other man's Mother tongue.

"SI, papi... qué rico—"

His strokes are methodical, but not languid. A real personal trainer through and through. He's used to fucking people with an expectation of luck bestowed upon them as well, and it's not a passive experience. It needs to be intentional. And if he's gonna have sex with Renato, why not throw in a bonus for him? Friends help friends get lucky, literally and figuratively.

People didn't just wanna fuck Carlo because he had a way of bestowing luck to others, but the thing was that sexual transmission produced the fastest, most effective results. So this naturally made him a hot commodity on the island. So many fights were won through luck, and if he could give it to them with his dick...

His lucky cock would have to just persevere.

But he did like Alvin enough for this to not feel like a chore. He was set for a big battle the next morning, and it was decided he needed to take a ride on the Carlo Express to maximize his chances of victory...

Ever since coming here, Carlo found himself becoming a sort-of de facto personal trainer to his fellow demigods. In fairness, that was his primary profession back in the real world, and he did look like a God in his own right, with his broad shoulders, massive chest, thick and meaty thighs—

The fact that Carlo hadn't become a complete vain wreck proved a testament to his upbringing. He was only a little vain.