#solbound

A hand trailed up his thigh, over his thigh; the slender, calloused fingers travelling over his hip, his abs.

"Good morning, sweet boy," SunSpire greeted with a smirk, pushing aside the silk sheets covering his body. Half-lidded, glazed over eyes flicked up to meet his own, pupils so blown out that his normally bright brown eyes were nearly entirely dark.

Robert mewled around the hardening member in his mouth, his tongue pressing against the underside. Stroking him. Cirus groaned his pleasure, burying his own fingers in Robert's hair.

Just as the sun woke with Cirus, Cirus woke with Robert; marrow to bone, tide to moon.

"We both know you can take more than that."

Cirus pressed against Robert, pushing him further down his length. He watched reactionary tears build at the corners of Robert's eyes as he pressed into the tight, wet heat of his throat.

"Good boy," Cirus moaned as he buried the full length of his cock inside his consort, lips planted firmly against Cirus's hips - his favourite kind of good morning kiss.

Cirus held Robert in place for as long as he could stand it, before easing the pressure and letting him rise all the way up to the tip of his dick again. Robert placed his second kiss of the day there, sweet and chaste, before he began to lave his tongue over the head.

Cirus pushed again. All the way down, then back up by half. Together, they built up a rhythm until Cirus was fucking his lover's face properly, tears spilling over Robert's cheeks and mixing with the drool and spit spilling across Cirus's hips. All the while, Robert made those pretty sounds he was so good at making; little moans and whines of pleasure.

It wasn't long before Cirus was burying Robert's nose against his body, spilling deep down his throat with a low growl of satisfaction.

For just a brief moment, Robert's brown eyes shone with an unnatural, bright blue light, his whole body shuddering. His lids drooped shut and he suckled Cirus through his climax, the vibrations of his moaning a constant throughout.

Cirus smiled at his consort as he relaxed against the silk sheets of their shared bed, carding his fingers through the soft brown hair. He knew Robert would be more than happy to remain here for the entire day, if he let him, happily cradled between Cirus's muscular thighs and warming his cock.

It was hard to imagine that just one year ago, Robert had been brought to the SunSpire Citadel at the heart of Cirus's Kingdom in chains, a golden muzzle strapped to his beautiful, ferocious face. For the biting, his priests told him. One of them had learned to keep away from that clever little mouth of Robert's the hard way and had lost a thumb for it.

It had been worth the effort to earn Robert's trust; to tame him and soothe his fears. Now all that was left was Cirus's sweet boy; his beloved consort.

As a part of him as breath and thought, hands and fingers.

Not to him. Elliot didn't speak at length to him. More… at him. Around him. Robert had always enjoyed listening to him, no matter the topic. Elliot was clever and smart; more clever and smart than anyone Robert knew. It seemed there was nothing he didn't know and no limit to what he could learn if he just listened.

Predictability was a killer. That one had been a valuable lesson.

Robert wasn't exactly in danger here, though. He just hated when the palace guards caught up to him and started tailing him around. It was as annoying as it was a dereliction of duty. Robert should have been beneath their notice; their only duty being to keep Cirus safe. He ached to complain up the chain about it, but he knew the top of the chain for the military here, other than Cirus himself, was Chad.

Robert did not want to deal with Chad.

So instead of dealing with the problem the poor quality of Cirus's guard directly, he conducted his own patrols. Things were always quiet, always peaceful. But Robert had to be sure. His family weren't the only Godslayers in the kingdom, though they were a dying - often literally - breed. What would happen if someone more capable than Robert showed up? One who wouldn't fail. Wouldn't be captured by their enemy. He had to be ready to-

To do what…?

Stop them from fulfilling their duty and doing what Robert was too weak to accomplish on his own? He should be happy a the thought that someone might come and do what he could not. Gods did not heal from madness. This momentary peace would not last. Cirus would falter. That was the way the world worked and Robert could not hope for more.

"Sir?"

Shit. They'd found him. That was quicker than usual. Maybe the leisure was getting to him, making him lose his edge.

"Sir, please!"

Robert made a run for it before the guards could close in on him and try to usher him back to his room like a frightened and lost animal or, as a compromise, 'protecting' him on his patrol as though he were simply having a leisurely afternoon stroll through the gardens. It was an insult.

"Sir, wait! Allow me to-"

If the guard didn't want to get laid out, he shouldn't have come close. Shouldn't have reached out for Robert's shoulder. But he did and in an instant Robert had him by the wrist, yanking the guard off balance and guiding him roughly down to the dirt by his shoulder.

"Why don't you fuckers ever learn," he growled, kneeling with one knee to the man's back and reeling a fist back. A swift strike to the temple knocks him out cold and it's so pathetic how easy it is that his stomach sinks. Maybe he will have to speak to Chad.

Later. He had different plans for today.

 —

 Robert's attendants are used to his eccentricities by now - even the new ones. Though they didn't know when he would return, the bathwater was still steaming upon his arrival which he appreciated. They'd also seen fit to have about a million candles already lit, half burned down by the time he was stripping out of his clothing.

He sighed as he stepped into the water, the heat sending a pleasant warmth into his tired muscles and soothing the ache of a hundred different little injuries, each beaten and carved into him by divine hands which meant they never really healed all the way, not the way mundane injuries did. Whole flower heads bobbed past him, the scent of the water floral and citrus.

For once, he allowed his attendants to do their job, scrubbing him down and washing his hair for him. Then, once he was out of the water, drying him and rubbing him down with perfumes and moisturizing oils.

The next part of his morning was entirely new. Foreign, even. He wrung his hands nervously as he asked for help with the cosmetics in his vanity and sat ramrod still as an attendant excitedly lined his eyes with gold and applied a shimmering dust to his cheeks and coated his lips in a colorless wax of some sort, promising that he didn't need much help to look lovely.

Which was a lie. He knew what he looked like: dull eyes and blotches of brown speckles marring his cheeks and the bridge of his nose; a chipped ear where his father's blade had taught him an important lesson in preparedness. Most of the palace aides looked more pleasant and pretty than he did; many had been gifted to Cirus, too, albeit more willingly. It was a position people vied for yet one he had stumbled into. His only novelty was being a Godslayer.

As he selectes his clothing and was draped in fine jewelry that he didn't deserve, he wondered how many others through the years had called Cirus 'daddy' and his stomach worked itself into ugly, jealous knots.

 --

 It was nearly time for the sun to rise and usually, Robert sat on his balcony for this part, wrapped in his blankets and waiting with bated breath. Those were the only times he prayed. Hands clutched together, staring at the dark sky and begging for the sun to come. Dawn broke exactly on time every morning since his arrival, yet he still felt anxious that this would be the morning that Cirus faltered. Only when the sky bled gold did Robert relax.

He still prayed this morning, but he did so outside of Cirus's door under the watchful eyes of the two guards stationed at the door. When the first rays of morning light began to pour through the halls, though, Robert did not relax. He sprung into action, shoving past the guards and knocking on the door.

"Cirus? It's Robert."

There's shuffling beyond the door for a moment then, "One moment, baby," and the term of endearment makes Robert smile.

"Take your time."

Thankfully, Cirus doesn't take his time at all. it's only a handful of seconds before the door is being unlocked and pulled open. The vision that greets Robert is more breathtaking than any sunset.

The god's hair hangs loose in dark salt-and-pepper waves around his shoulders, strands of it falling forward as he bends slightly to look down at Robert, the glow of his golden eyes pinning the smaller man in place. The smile on his face is a little more tired which makes it feel more… special than normal. Intimate in a way that feels only for him. Robert pretends this only for him.

His robes are loose around his shoulders and wide open, showing off Cirus's broad, naked chest. It is a tremendous amount of restraint that keeps Robert's feet rooted to the spot and not diving face first against the god's flesh, aching to for Cirus to wrap him up in his arms and hold him close.

But no. Today is not about Robert's pleasure. He has been far too selfish for far too long and, though he's unsure if Cirus desires him, he has to at least try.

"What a lovely surprise, sweet boy," Cirus rumbled, reaching out and pressing Robert's face up a little higher. The smile on his face widens, bright as the sun, wonder in his eyes. He bent forward and dipped his head his lips only a few scant inches from Robert's and if Robert pulled himself up on his tiptoes, he knew he could close the distance and press his mouth to Cirus's mouth. It's beyond tempting. "You look stunning, Robert. Did you come to show me how beautiful you look today?"

"Just trying something new," Robert shrugged, trying to be nonchalant yet, failing when in the next moment he fishes for Cirus's approval, "Do you… like it?"

"I love it." Zero hesitation or room for doubt.

"May I come in?"

"Of course." He stepped aside just enough for Robert to slip past, his bare shoulder, decorated only with a series of draped gold chains drooping down his biceps, brushing against Cirus's skin as he entered. The door clicked closed.

Cirus's quarters were even larger than Robert's which was to be expected. Light poured in from the eastern-facing windows and from the skylights above, painting everything in a warm golden glow. Robert didn't pay the room itself much attention, though. He spun around and found himself very close to Cirus, enough for his breath to bounce from the gods chest and past his own cheeks again.

Cirus reached down and wrapped an arm around Robert's waist before he had the chance to back up. "How can I help you? You look like you need to ask me for something."

Robert cleared his throat. "I do."

The hand at his waist trailed down over the waistband of Robert's skirts, the diaphanous material only achieving some measure of modestly through careful layering, and he bit back a small noise as Cirus roughly palmed one of his cheeks, kneading it in his hand. "Well, I'm all ears. Tell me what you need."

It's unfair the way Cirus can pluck at the strings of Robert's mind with just a few words and unravel him completely. He can hardly even remember why he's here anymore. He needs Cirus's mouth on his, his hand around him, his fingers in him. He wants the cathartic release of being pushed to his breaking point and then past it because he knows he can trust Cirus to put him back together afterwards; hope that the shape of him when he's reassembled will be closer to what Cirus wants. Something he won't want to part with.

Robert was already half hard just imagining everything he wanted and distantly, he can feel the rumble of Cirus's laughter as he struggled to collect himself.

"Daddy," he said, after an eternity, "I want to do what you want."

"I always do what I want, Robert," Cirus replied without skipping a beat, his had shifting to grope and massage Robert all over.

"No, I- I want you to be in charge," Robert tried.

Cirus just chuckled, his voice low, "I am in charge, sweet boy." He tipped Robert's chin up with his free hand and pressed his mouth over Robert's without even being asked, exploring Robert's mouth with languid and deliberate strokes of his tongue.

The thoughts in Robert's head fizzle one by one, like soap bubbles and he sank against Cirus, moaning as he rolled his tongue against the god's and tastes salvation.

Robert gasped for breath the moment Cirus pulled back, then pushed himself onto his toes, chasing after the mouth. But Cirus remained just out of reach, smirking.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what you need, sweet boy."

Robert's brow furrowed and he frowned up at Cirus, frustrated because he'd tried. He tried so hard and he just… he didn't have the words that would get through to Cirus. He didn't know how to do any of this. "I don't know what I need!" The admission burst out of him all at once, "Can't you just tell me, daddy? Please just tell me what I need. I don't- I don't know-! I want to make you happy and I want to feel good and I don't-"

Cirus hushed him as he grew more and more hysterical. He wrapped both hands around Robert's shoulders and drew him tight against his chest. Heat and firm pressure traveled up and down Robert's back, calming him again.

"Thank you for asking for what you need, baby."

"But I didn't-"

"Shh, I've got you. I know what you need."

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Robert went entirely slack and Cirus was there to hold him up, pecking at the side of his face and whispering praises into his ear as he dragged him to the bed. He had nothing to worry about; Cirus knew what he needed.

 —

 Cirus laid his boy down in bed, arranging him carefully beneath him among the multitude of pillows and blankets. Robert looked half out of his mind already, kiss-swollen lips slick with spit and what seemed to be a lightly tinted lip balm - just slightly pinker than usual - and pupils blown wide open, the effect all the more stunning for the bright gold lining his eyes.

Robert is less wearing a shirt and more an elaborate necklace. Loops of thin metal cascade down his shoulders and over his collarbone and the rest of him is bare all the way down to where his skirts sit low on his hips. The material is soft and thin and clings wetly to his weeping cock, hiding almost nothing from Cirus's hungry eyes.

Before he could reach down and tear away the fabric hiding away his prize, Robert shifted and revealed a peek of a tanned thigh. It drew the god's golden gaze immediately and he froze, soaking in the sight of that thin sliver of flesh framed in virginal white before he dove down, peppering the skin with small kisses - small claims. The fabric parted for him as he worked his way up, the slit over his thigh leading nearly all the way up to the skirt's waistband.

Cirus stops at Robert's hip then reaches over to flip the middle section of the skirt aside, laying Robert bare before his eyes. "Did you choose this yourself?"

"Y-yeah," Robert groaned, hips hitching as Cirus brushed over his inner thighs gently.

Warmth bloomed in Cirus's chest at the thought of Robert going through all this effort to make himself pretty for him. Cirus knew that this didn't come naturally to his boy. He'd been brought up to be practical. Utilitarian. Deprived of anything beyond what was strictly necessary. Judging by the simple gold bracelets and anklets Robert had chosen, he was still struggling with allowing himself to show off too much with the flashier pieces in his personal collection, but he was trying.

"What a thoughtful, considerate boy," Cirus praised, leaning down to pepper his thighs with kisses, tantalizingly close to where his cock jutted up from his hips. The man beneath him squirmed impatiently, hands fisting into the sheets, as Cirus moved closer and closer to it. Then, abruptly, he passed over it, working his way up Robert's hip bones and over his softening abs.

"Daddy…"

"Let me savour you," Cirus mumbled against the soft skin of his stomach, quieting Robert's complaints. He took his sweet time, working his way all the way up Robert's chest, cataloging each scar. Most were jagged and irregular but for the first time Cirus noticed fainter scars. Precise, smooth slices across Robert's body that formed strange patterns. The more he looked, the more he found.

They stretched all the way up to his neck where Cirus pressed a kiss against the hollow of Robert's throat. Then down and across his arms, all the way to his fingers, the tip of each Cirus anointed with his devoted lips. Back down, across his sides and his stomach, his hips his thighs, even the soles of his feet bore the faint, silvery scars. Front and - he flipped Robert over onto his stomach gently, determined to spend as much time as necessary worshipping every inch of skin - back, too.

He knew better than to ask right now, not while he had Robert trembling with anticipation and patiently awaiting his reward.

"Hips up, darling boy, knees right here," he directed, helping to shift Robert into position and pulling a pillow beneath him, "There we go. You're doing so well for me. Stay right there."

Cirus pulled himself off the bed, turning towards the table against the wall when he was halted by arms wrapping around him, a face pressed into the small of his back. "Don't leave," Robert begged, his voice muffled and even more insistent than his morning prayers, crushing his heart.

"No, baby, shh, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you," he said, twisting around to face Robert as much as he could without dislodging him.

"You were," Robert insisted, starting to pull Cirus back down onto the bed, nails biting into his skin, "Come back."

"Robert," Cirus tried, more sternly this time, "I just need to get the oil."

"No, you don't," he complained, pulling harder, "I can-"

"Robert," Cirus repeated yet again, "Let go and get back on that pillow just how I left you. I'm going to get the the oil and be right back, but if you can't behave for me, then we can't continue. Can you be good for me?"

Robert's arms tightened for a moment then, reluctantly, released as he sighed a quiet, "Okay. Fine…"

"Good boy."

Cirus watched Robert slowly crawled back into position, settling his hips back up onto the pillow. He pressed his cheek down against the mattress and stared at Cirus. No doubt following his every movement as the god turned and crossed the room to collect the oil.

"See? I'm already back," Cirus said as he sank back down onto the mattress and ran a hand over Robert's back, "I would never leave my sweet boy."

"Never's a pretty long time, Cirus."

"Trust me, I'm well aware. I've lived through more lifetimes than you can count," he snorted, pulling off his robe and setting it aside before uncorking the bottle and drizzling some of its contents into his hand and over his fingers.

"What if I'm not, you know… sweet and good?" He asked, curling to the side to stare back at Cirus, "If I don't behave?"

"Then we'll correct your behaviour, just like we did a moment ago."

"And if I'm still not good enough…?"

"Robert, it's not a matter of whether you're 'good enough'," Cirus assured him, "If you misbehave, I'll correct you. And then I'll forgive you, okay?"

Robert stared at him for a long while then nodded, his body relaxing. "Okay."

"Ready, baby?"

"I'm ready, daddy," Robert said.

Cirus smiled as he settled over Robert, pushing the fabric of his skirt to one side to reveal his bare ass. He shifted to get a better angle before tracing Robert's entrance with a slick finger.

The man gasped slightly, knees falling a fraction wider as Cirus circled the ring of muscle gently. He waited for Robert to relax before easing in slowly. Just like before, when he had worked his way across every inch of skin, every tiny scar, Cirus took his time preparing Robert.

This time he wasn't going to take his boy apart with just his fingers; he was going to fuck Robert so hard into the mattress that he wasn't going to leave it for the rest of the day. In fact, he was going to come back for seconds and thirds and keep that pretty ass so full and that clever head so empty that he might even risk keeping the Godslayer with him overnight.

Robert moaned into the blankets as Cirus pumped his finger in deep and nearly all the way back out, his finger catching on the rim and massaging him open. He drizzled the oil directly over his finger and slowly worked it in, slicking his insides for what was to come.

He didn't even touch his boy's prostate until he finally worked the second finger in. The moment he grazed the pads of his fingers across the delicate nerves, Robert arched and pushed back onto his fingers, groaning a long, low, "Fuuuuuuuck, daddy, please…," his hole fluttering and clenching around Cirus.

"Soon, baby, just be patient," Cirus replied, reaching down to massage the growing bulge in his own pants as he sawed his fingers in and out, only teasing Robert's his prostate occasionally. Just enough to keep him interested and leaking onto the pillow under his hips.

Robert whined when Cirus added the third freshly slicked finger, a shudder working its way up his spine. "You're opening up so well for me, sweet boy. You're so perfect for me. This is what you needed, isn't it, baby?"

"Y…yeees…" Robert whined, rocking back with every press in, fucking himself on Cirus's fingers and putting slowly against the pillow beneath his hips.

"Think you can take more?"

"Yes!" Robert cried, jolting as Cirus pressed firmly against his little button unexpectedly.

"Do you know what you need yet?"

Robert let out a long wordless moan which Cirus took to mean he still didn't have the words for this quite yet. Which was fine. Cirus could provide th-

"You, daddy," Robert finally ground out, "I- I need… Daddy pl…pl-ease, fuck me…!"

Cirus's hand stuttered for a moment, briefly losing the rhythm he had with Robert before they found a new one. He worked more oil into his boy before finally deciding that Robert was as ready as he was going to get.

He shucked off his pants and slicked himself with a considerable amount of oil. After a few languid pumps to coat his hard length from tip to base, he moved over Robert and lined himself up, pressing the blunt head of his cock into the cleft of his ass and against the fluttering hole.

Almost instantly, Robert tried to push his hips back but Cirus pinned him in place with one hand on his lower back. He wasn't going to let Robert's eagerness get him hurt, no matter how quickly the man healed. Instead, he pressed in almost agonizingly slowly.

The noise that Robert made in response was raw and animal, a strangled half-moan, half-scream as Cirus slowly breached him, still trying to push himself back and whining when Cirus refuses to let him.

"Look at you… taking me so well…" Cirus groaned as he pushed himself past the halfway mark. Robert didn't reply, just moaned and opened his legs wider. "Like you were made for me, baby."

"Yessss," Robert hissed, his head bobbing up and down over and over, "Mm… f-for you… daddy…"

Cirus's hips jerked forward involuntarily, forcing more of himself into Robert than intended. He heard a sharp intake of air beneath him. "Sorry, s-"

"More," Robert demanded, and Cirus obliged, snapping his hips forward again and watching with wonder as the tiny scars across Robert's body - the smooth, precise patterns - flickered softly with an internal glow, lighting up so briefly that he could have written it off as a trick of the light. Or perhaps he was going mad, after all.

But no. He pulled back slightly, just half an inch, then rolled his hips forward, drawing a gutteral cry from Robert and making the patterns flicker dimly again.

Cirus found himself utterly transfixed as he moved a hand to either of Robert's hips and slowly rocked back and snapped forward, speed steadily increasing as his boy adjusted to his size and took him deeper and deeper with each thrust. Each plunge inwards lit Robert up for just a few fractions of a second, dimly, the same strange blue as his not-blood.

The god chased those flickers, fucking into Robert faster and harder still and grinding loud, raw, broken noises out of Robert until he tensed beneath Cirus and came hard onto the pillow, shuddering and crying out loud.

Cirus didn't slow for a moment, still chasing his own pleasure, pulling nearly all the way out of Robert then slamming back in relentlessly while Robert writhe and sobbed and babbled nonsense in his hoarse, fucked out voice.

And then he began to pray and Cirus's mind latched onto his voice immediately - the only one he ever bothered to listen to.

Deeper, daddy, please, I beg you, please. More, yes, yes, yes, Robert pleaded, perhaps unaware of what he was doing. These were prayers that Cirus was, of course, more than happy to answer.

He'd wrung three more orgasms from Robert by the time he buried himself deep, moaning with his own release. He reached beneath Robert to massage the growing bulge in his boy's stomach while he was filled and was amazed to see the patterns across the Godslayer's body finally lit up fully, revealing the intricate patterns that had been carefully carved across most of Robert's exposed skin.

 --

 When Cirus asked Robert about the strange phenomenon hours later while sharing a meal in bed, Robert looked at him funny.

"They're just scars," he said between bites of fruit and cheese, "They don't glow."

"Scars?"

"It's just something one of my dad's used to do. To make me stronger. He was always looking for ways to keep me safe."

"He… carved these into you?" Cirus asked, tracing a set along Robert's arm.

"Yeah," Robert said, reaching over to steal a piece of spiced sausage from Cirus's plate, "The hardest part is just staying still. It took forever."

"This was to make you stronger?"

"For you."

Cirus blinked, frowning. "As a ritual to me?"

"No. To be able to kill you," the Godslayer shrugged, "I told you. I was made for you."

Light bled through from above and below and in-between each finger, tinged gold through ichor filled veins where the skin was thin enough for the light to transmit through flesh. It curled up from below his head, the heel of a palm cupping his cheek and slanting up and across his face, towards his temple.

But this was not the hand that concerned him.

No, the hand that concerned him was the one massaging his lower belly, bringing his attention towards just how full he felt. For a brief moment, he thought perhaps he'd simply overindulged in those sweet little honeyed custards that he just couldn't resist. He had eaten four of them even on top of his lunch this afternoon - both of his and, at Cirus's instance, the god's portion, too. But, no… this was-

Right. He hadn't fallen asleep for a quick evening nap. He'd passed out.

And Cirus was still inside of him.

"Cirus," he complained, voice low and raspy from overuse. He tiredly swatting at the hand stroking the bulge in his stomach, but instead of moving his hand away, Cirus breathed a laugh against the top of Robert's head and twitched his hips up just a fraction more, guaranteeing that he was fully seated in Robert, pulling a soft moan from his lips.

"Back with me, Robert?" Cirus asked, his voice reverberating through his chest and against Robert's back, sending prickles of gooseflesh crawling up his arms and his stomach into little excited flips. "You can get some more rest, if you need. I'll keep the sun from your eyes until it sets."

"I have to go before then," Robert warned, turning his face up slightly, "If you fall asleep, I'll have no choice but to tear your throat out with my teeth, Cirus."

It wasn't a threat. It was a… plea. Cirus could not be vulnerable before him. Could not let his guard down and convince himself that Robert was as harmless as the rest of his servants and staff.

"I'll be fine," Cirus said, a smile in his voice, ever the foolish god. They all thought stupid things like that, so used to being untouchable. So confident. So arrogant. Cirus spoke with the undeniable surety of a man who had been born at the beginning of all things and would live to see the end of all things. He had decided that Robert would not hurt him and so, it must be true, for it was his will and his will was absolute.

He's wrong, Robert thought, his breath starting to come quicker. He reached up to tear Cirus's arm away from his eyes and felt Cirus's slick ichor under his blunt fingernails, numbing his fingertips with its buzzing heat. He got his feet under himself and pressed against Cirus's thighs, whining as he began to slide off the length of the god's cock.

Cirus didn't understand. His will meant nothing to Robert, who had been defying the will of gods since he'd taken his first life at eight years old with his father's guidance; the god a particular well which had since run dry, driving its god into despair. An easy kill. He had worked his way up: gods of moss, of carrion birds, of small groves, of the Eastern Sea. Just because Cirus was his largest game yet did not mean his flesh would yield and less easily beneath Robert's teeth.

Just because he didn't want to, didn't mean Robert would abandon his duty. He had a responsibility to uphold and at the first moment of weakness from the god, he would strike. He would sink his teeth in. Rip. Tear. Drink deep of Cirus, even as he wept for what he had to do and-

He was weeping now, wetting Cirus's hand with his panicked tears as he was allowed to pull himself almost entire free of Cirus before that hand over his abdomen gently pulled him back again, slowly dragging him back and back and back as his legs trembled and kicked at nothing and he moaned pitifully through his tears, helpless against Cirus's strength and his own pleasure.

"Sweet boy," Cirus said soothingly, pressing his hand flat against Robert's abs, pinning his ass to Cirus's hips with a strength that Robert cannot hope to overcome; a strength that would have soothed Robert if the god were able to retain it while he slept. The hand over Robert's eyes moved, leaking in sunlight as he moved to swipe away Robert's tears, "I'll be fine because I'll make it so."

Confident.

Cirus uncovered Robert's eyes, his hand sliding down below Robert's cheek, leaving him blinking against the harsh light of day.

"Cirus, you don't-" The hand covered Robert's mouth, muffling the rest of his protest with irritating ease and it was all Robert could do not to bite and show him just how dangerous he could be.

Arrogant.

Robert licked his teeth and contemplated doing just that. All of life's most important lessons were wrought in pain and Cirus was like a babe who had yet to suffer a true wound. Teeth could rectify that. Teeth buried deep into muscle. Perhaps just a finger. A finger was a small price to pay to learn that one was vulnerable… And if he grew so angry at Robert that he could not suffer him any longer, then let him strike him down.

His lips parted, tongue darting out to taste Cirus's skin as a snake tasted the air for its prey. His mouth opened wider, brow furrowing, years of training telling him to bite, bite, bite while he thinks you're weak, let him underestimate you, they will always underestimate you, Robert, if you fall then get up and if lose your sword then use your arms and if you lose your arms then use your teeth and bite, bite, bite-

A solid warmth like molten honey crept up Robert's cheeks as he readied himself to strike, startling him from his thoughts. It poured down his chin and over his lips. He jolted back, whining against Cirus's hand and nearly crossing his eyes as he tried in vain to look down and see what was happening. Even if he could have seen his own mouth, though, Cirus's hand was in the way.

Shaking his head and trying to pull back as far as he could did nothing to stop the progression of the warmth as it covered his mouth and cheeks, past his chin and over his throat until, finally, Cirus pulled his hand away.

In an instant, Robert's own hands flew up to his face, fingertips dragging across what felt like warm glass or perhaps metal - uniformly smooth everywhere it covered him. It did not yield to his fingertips as he pressed them in against the covering, nor could he pry the edges from his skin with his fingernails. At the same time, it yielded enough for him to work his jaw and puff his cheeks and open his mouth and he appreciated that.

It was much more comfortable than his last muzzle.

Safe.

Robert eased almost immediately when he realized the gift he'd been given, relaxing completely against the god's body.

"Is that better, baby?" Cirus asked, though it was obvious that he already knew the answer and simply wanted Robert to acknowledge it. He tried first to speak, but his voice was muffled by the strange mask, so he nodded instead. "Didn't I tell you I would give you what you need?"

Robert felt his face heat slightly, a little embarrassed by his own foolishness. He nodded sheepishly, lowering a hand to rest atop the one massaging his belly in a silent apology.

"You were going to bite me, weren't you?" Cirus asked this time and even though his tone was neither angry nor accusatory, Robert turned his face towards the mattress in his shame, frowning behind the mask as he nodded. "Perhaps I should give you mouth something to occupy it, then, hm?"

Robert wasn't sure at first if this was a question he was meant to answer, but as seconds ticked by and Cirus did nothing, he finally nodded.

"Good boy," Cirus hummed, then, "Open your mouth for me."

The moment he did, he felt some of the whatever was on his face - something gold, he realized as he looked down as much as he could, gold and shining - pour slowly into his mouth and form a small bulb, keeping his lips and jaw apart. He tested it with his teeth first, biting down gently and feeling a slight yield where his teeth could sink in just the tiniest bit before it was like trying to bite through a stone. He laved over it with his tongue, too, finding its surface just as smooth as the exteriour of the muzzle.

He found he did not dislike it and wrapped his lips around the strange intrusion, his tongue pressed to the underside.

Cirus moved his hand again, covering Robert's eyes and pressing his mouth to the top of head lovingly. "Get some sleep, sweet boy. It's not too much longer until the sun sets and you've had a… busy day."

Robert snorted and rolled his eyes. As if laying in bed and being fucked senseless in between breaks to eat and drink could somehow count as 'busy.' His body was tired, though, and his lids drifted shut, lashes dragging against Cirus's palm as he closed them.

He had the feeling this would only be the first 'busy' day of many to come and he looked forward to as many days of undeserved pleasure as he could get.

The thing was, Robert was bad at downtime. Usually, when he wasn't hunting, he was training. When he wasn't training, he was working. Or finding work. Manual labour, mostly. He was handy enough with an axe and good at repairs. He could help raise a barn or plant a field. For a time, he'd even served as a blacksmith's assistant which had been one of his favourite jobs.

In the palace, however, there was none of that, especially with his injury leaving him useless for any sort of labour he might've offered to perform. That left him adrift in his strange new home, restless and itching in his own skin. Being idle left him too much time to think and he hated it.

Robert sank into his bath, keeping his injured arm up and out of the water to prevent the stiffened bandages from getting soaked. The water was warm and scented with about a million different fancy oils by the maids who sought to endlessly torment him at every turn with their bath scents and perfumes and lotions and oils and flower petals.

It took a monumental effort every morning to kick them all out as they insisted on scrubbing his back and washing his hair as though he were a child who had never seen a bath before. He knew how to bathe himself. Sure, he'd never seen these soaps before. And he'd certainly never had a different one for his body than his hair. He'd never worried about softening the skin or smelling pretty, either… Nor had he ever been in a bathing basin so large he could lie end to end three times over and not reach the sides nor reach the bottom standing at its deepest part… but he knew how to bathe.

He sank down until his mouth was below the water, bitterly blowing bubbles as he "relaxed" in the water, trapped by his own thoughts.

Of Cirus.

He was embarrassed by how often he thought of Cirus. As a rule, he tried not to pay too much attention to others beyond what was necessary. He travelled too often to build bonds with anyone. And, as his father often reminded him, he wasn't out there to make friends. He had important work to do.

Past tense.

Presently, he had no work to do and all the time in the world to think about the god he was meant to kill. His handsome face. The smile that lit up his golden eyes. Those strong, warm arms.

He glared up at his broken arm where he had it resting on the lip of the tub. If it weren't for his injury, he could have continued his farce of a hunt indefinitely. Now, though, he lacked any excuse to have the god hold him and that embittered him even further. Then, shame washed over him.

Cirus was his sworn enemy. Even if he didn't seem mad now, the god's erratic behaviour had caused incredible harm by withholding the sun. The long nights were cold and harsh and colder and harsher still in the winter months. Without the light, farms floundered, people starved. People died. Killing the god was his purpose for a reason… and yet here he was, desiring to be held by the very god whose fault it wa that Robert had to be born at all; had to suffer the dark and the cold and the hunger.

He had every reason to hate Cirus and yet-

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and he popped up a little.

"If you're here to bring more rose petals, I told you three bowls was more than plenty," he snapped.

The low chuckle of the sun god rumbled through the door. "You've been in the bath for an hour, I thought I might check that you haven't drowned. May I come in?"

"Oh," Robert replied dumbly, sitting up straighter again, then spinning in the tub and resting both arms on the lip so that he could face the door. This must have been another of Cirus's peculiarities. It was his palace, why not just enter as he pleased? "Yes?"

The door swung open and the golden god stepped in, his robes trailing along the ground behind him. Cirus was always huge to Robert - tall and broad and larger than life - but from his vantage point of the tub set into the floor, Robert realized for the first time what it must have felt like to be a bug. Cirus loomed large and radiant over him, gracing him with a brilliant smile and Robert didn't know what to do with himself.

He wanted to reach out and touch Cirus the only way he knew how. Perhaps hook an arm around his ankle and yank so that the god would topple. He could claw and bite and scratch, then, so that Cirus would be under his fingers and in his mouth. So he could taste his ichor on his tongue.

He wanted Cirus to fight back. Cirus might strike him - he had not struck him yet, but he could, if it meant Robert would feel his warm hands on him. He didn't mind if they were fists, he decided. It would do. Cirus might pin him down, too. Hold his arms against his sides so that Robert could only kick and writhe until the fight left him and he could just… relax. He imagined, briefly, what it might be like to be pinned beneath Cirus's entire body, crushed to the floor and incapable of moving. Robert would be able to touch all of him, then. It'd be so warm.

Robert squirmed in the water, his face suddenly hot and his mouth dry. Though there was no reason for it, he could feel himself growing hard, his erection starting to press against the side of the tub where he knelt.

He dragged his tongue across his lips and resisted his urge to reach out and touch. He'd promised to behave. That meant no more trying to hurt Cirus. No more touching. He squirmed again, pulling his hips back from the tile and willing his unwelcome arousal away.

"What are you thinking about, my little Godslayer?" Cirus asked, lowering himself to sit on the floor beside Robert. He was so much closer, now. Robert fingers twitched and his jaw tightened.

"Our deal."

"To behave?"

"Yes," Robert nodded, "I want to break it."

"You want to kill me that badly?" Cirus asked, smiling. Unoffended by the threat. It didn't phase him at all.

"Yes," Robert said instantly, then, "Well. No."

It was a sickening realization. All that his fathers had worked towards. Every sacrifice they had made… and Robert didn't want to do it anymore. Robbie was probably looking down on him from the heavens now in disappointment and Elliot… well, it was no wonder why he'd abandoned Robet the moment he could, was it?

Robert buried his face in his arms, his arousal flagging and replaced with a bottomless well of shame. He wanted now not to touch but to never be touched again. He wanted to sink down into the bath and blow bubbles into his pretty scented water until he choked on rose petals.

He heard a noise like a high, unbroken whine - a pained keeping - and it wasn't until a large warm palm atop his head drew him back to his body did he realize that he'd made that sound. He swallowed it instantly, horrified. Was he the one that was broken? He was, wasn't he? He'd not only failed at the only thing he was ever supposed to accomplish, but he had gone utterly mad.

"Does it trouble you that much that you no longer want to take my life," Cirus asked, his fingers scratching Robert's scalp soothingly.

"Yes," Robert admitted miserably, leaning into the pleasant touch. He learned he liked this - having his head touched and his hair tousled. He liked it almost as much as when he'd been sore and Cirus had massaged his shoulders. It'd been a shame that Robert couldn't find those manacles again later - he'd at one point hoped that he could coax Cirus into doing that again if he could make his arms sore again.

"Would you like me to hold you?"

Startled, Robert tore himself back from Cirus's hand, splashing in the bath and wetting the god's fine clothes. Belatedly, he realized he had dragged his damaged arm into the water, too, and the bandages were already staring to grow fat and peel away. "Are you releasing me from our agreement?"

"No. I still expect you to behave yourself, Robert," he replied, which only confused the situation worse. Unless-

Robert relaxed again, realizing that Cirus must have meant that he would be the aggressor this time. Cirus would attack him and Robert wouldn't fight back and then he could be held. That sounded perfect.

"Yeah," Robert agreed, "Okay, sure. Only fair that you get the opportunity to hunt me, this time." He licked his lips as he looked Cirus over, eager for the promised fight. The pain would be worth the prize, "Can we do it now?"

Cirus's brows knit together, his lips pursed with displeasure and Robert worried that he'd been too forward.

"Later, then," he quickly amended, pulling his arms out of the water and onto the lip of the bath. He began to untangle the bandages from his arm, picking them off in great sopping ribbons. The bruising had quickly healed, but the limb still throbbed a little when he moved it. The bone probably wasn't in any danger for now, if Robert was careful, but a fight with Cirus almost guaranteed it would be rebroken. "Will you kill me after?"

"Robert, look at me," Cirus commanded and Robert set aside the mass of wet bandages before looking up, "I'm not going to hunt you. Or kill you. Why would you think that?"

"Why else would you hold me?" Robert asked, suddenly feeling very stupid. It felt like he was missing something. Had he been wrong about the rules of their game? "Isn't that how it's supposed to work? Or- shit, no, that's only when I attack you. That's what I got wrong. What do I need to do, then?"

"You can just ask me to hold you, sweet boy," Cirus said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world and the smile returned to his face. Robert knew for a fact that was not how it worked. Maybe if he were an infant again. He was sure he'd been held then, but the last time he had been carried must have been before memory. However he did remember being ill as a child and asking to be held, once. His father had only glared at him and left him alone in his room.

"Alright, fine. Don't tell me," Robert snapped back, turning away to hide his burning cheeks. He hadn't expected Cirus to be the type to play stupid pranks like that and he expected at any moment the god would start laughing at him for falling for the joke.

Instead, he heard a splash next to him, the water rippling as Cirus stepped into the bath. His fine robes swirled around him in the water, spreading out around him and tickling Robert's side. The temperature in the bath instantly began to tick back up and Robert scooted just a little closer to heat. Not touching, just near enough to-

A yelp burst past his lips as he was yanked into Cirus's lap unceremoniously. Cirus wrapped his arms around him, holding him firmly. For once, Robert didn't fight back. He melted right away.

"In the future, if you want to be held, I want you to ask me, alright?" Cirus asked, pressing his mouth against the side of Robert's face, as though he were resisting the urge to bite, too.

Robert pushed his own mouth against Cirus's throat.

"Robert?"

"Yes, okay," Robert mumbled against Cirus's skin.

"Good boy."

Robert shuddered a little at the praise, moaning softly against Cirus's throat. Cirus praised him for so little - like existing alone was reason enough to be deemed worthy of praise, as ridiculous as that was. At first, Robert had found it annoying, but now? In his arms? Surrounded by warmth and the soothing pretty scents of the bath that clashed with Cirus's own spiced scent, it felt like heaven.

Robert's mouth fell open and the temptation to misbehave was too great to resist. He had to bite. A little bite. No, just a graze of the teeth and… and a taste. He nosed closer and dragged his tongue across Cirus's throat first and just barely scraped his teeth across his skin then quickly flinched down, hiding his face against Cirus's chest and waiting to be scolded.

Instead, the man laughed and reached up to stroke the back of Robert's head. "You can do that, too," he said, then before Robert could eagerly return his tongue to Cirus's throat, he continued, "Would you like me to do that for you, too?"

Robert paused for a moment before pulling back, reeling his tongue back into his mouth. "Sure," he shrugged, "You can bite if you wa-ha!-hahnt…"

Cirus wasted no time pushing Robert's head to the side and closing his teeth onto his neck. Not the way Robert would have - biting deep, rending flesh, and pulling back with golden ichor dripping from his lips - but more like being gently nipped and gnawed on. He bit, licked, and sucked, tearing noises from Robert's throat that he'd never heard himself make before. Not like this.

Coils of pleasure pooled low in his belly and he started to squirm again as he grew hard, his hips rolling up against nothing as the god continued to maul him. Robert tried to reach down to stroke himself, but Cirus tightened his grip, keeping his arms pinned to his sides so that the most he could do was feather his fingertips over his cock. It was torture.

"C-Cirus…" He moaned pitifully, trying to buck his hips up against his fingers, seeking any kind of friction he could find. It just wasn't enough.

"Yes, baby?" Cirus replied pleasantly, pausing only long enough to speak and select a new spot to attack.

"L-let me… my arms…" Robert complained, wiggling and trying to twist around.

"Does your arm hurt?"

It did, actually - but nothing more than usual and not enough to complain about. "N-no."

"Then what is it?" He asked, adjusting Robert in his grip to pull his arms just a little further back until he couldn't touch himself at all. "Ask me for what you need and I'll give it to you."

"Let go of my arms," Robert complained, trying to wiggle free, "I want to… ah, want to touch myself…"

"You don't want me to touch you, baby?" Cirus asked, his beard tickling Robert's throat as he spoke. Robert's brain just about short circuited, then. Had that been an option?

"Please."

Cirus pulled back from Robert's neck, smiling down at him. "Sweet boy, I need you to ask properly," he said, "Tell Daddy what you need."

Robert blinked up at him for a moment, only slightly taken off guard, but he was starting to understand the rules of this new game. "Daddy," he began, watching Cirus's face light up with an even bigger smile, proof that he was playing right, "I need you to touch me, please."

Cirus moved one hand down the front of Robert's chest, running his warm palm down his body and ghosting over his erection. Just that little touch made Robert's eyes roll back in his head, back arching, chest thrusting up. Cirus seemed to take this as an offer, the god's head dipping down to roughly draw his tongue over one of Robert's nipples as he teased his dick with light, torturous touches.

It wasn't long before Robert was a babbling mess in his arms, trying to chase Cirus's touch, his hips bucking and rolling in Cirus's lap. He could feel Cirus's own erection pressing hard against his hip, hidden away beneath the wet fabric. Each of Robert's attempts to chase his own pleasure had him grinding and pressing down against the god, making him groan low against Robert's chest.

When the god finally did close his fist around Robert's dick, he could have cried. Shit, he may have been- no, he was crying. Crying and trembling like a newborn colt.

"Just like that, baby," he rumbled as Robert's hips jumped up and down, "You look so sweet, crying and fucking my fist. You're making such beautiful sounds for me."

Cirus trailed his tongue up from Robert's chest, past his collarbone and to his neck, sucking harshly against his throat and making Robert's entire body spasm and his head completely empty of all thought. All he could do was feel.

He came back into his head for a moment as Cirus pushed his mouth against his own, their lips meeting. Cirus was moving his mouth against Robert's and, when he realized Robert wasn't reciprocating, he pulled back. "Open your mouth for me - just a little. Good boy, just like that. Try to do what I do."

That was easier said than done. There was no way he could match the intensity of the god bullying his way into Robert's mouth, but he did his best to at least match the way Cirus rolled his tongue against him and moved his lips and once he found his rhythm, his was able to stop thinking again and go back to that floating place in his head where everything just felt good.

As he drew closer to his release, Robert's thrusts became more and more erratic, and more shallow, as he struggled to keep up the pace and he whined wordlessly into Cirus's mouth. Somehow, the god knew exactly what to do and he took over for Robert, pumping his cock hard and fast until his thighs clenched and his eyes rolled back and he came in Cirus's fist.

Cirus stroked him through his orgasm, pressing his mouth to Robert's cheek and temple then Robert's mouth again, but not the way he had before, with his tongue in Robert's mouth.

"You did so well, baby," he cooed, laying on praise thick and letting it soak heavily into Robert's cotton-stuffed brain. "Thank you for asking me for what you needed."

"What about you?" He mumbled, tired and boneless in Cirus's arms. The god's length was still hard and lodged against his hip and a dark spot of worry was growing at the back of Robert's mind like spilled ink. He'd been selfish, thinking only of himself and-

"Don't worry about me, sweet boy," he hummed pleasantly, pressing his mouth against Robert yet again like he just couldn't get enough of it, "You don't need to give me anything in return, watching you come undone by my hand was more than reward enough for me."

Robert nodded, too tired to argue. "When can we do this again?"

"Whenever you want. You know what to do, right?"

"I ask."