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Percy hopes this is all a dream, as he suddenly feels himself in the air, a metal pole digging in where his butt and thighs connect. Looking around he's in an aerial hoop, dangling ten feet in the air, a pit beneath him is slowly filling with people and there's smoke being slowly piped into the room. Before he can work out a way safely down, the smoke curls up to reach him. It smells strange, his last coherent thought is: what the fuck? Then he giggles, mind going blank. His memory feels disconnected and fuzzy, as if they’re borrowed from someone else. Only his chat with Ariadne on Olympus, from possibly days or hours earlier is sharp.
You could have been a god, Perseus.
I don’t want that.
Pity, but her smile didn’t match her words.
He's sure they kept talking for longer but it's all distorted and muted after that before fading into the darkness.
The worst bit of his current situation is that even with the breeze in the room letting him know he definitely doesn’t have Riptide on him as he’s definitely naked, he can’t bring himself to care. Anyone could kill him right now and he’d die smiling, his head feeling full of cotton wool.
He thinks something like this has happened before as he slowly spins around in the hoop. Vague fragments of a casino and a blonde preteen, another of a boy with a limp and a pile of aluminium cans but every time he tries to piece them together or follow the thought to who they were or where they were or what preteens were doing in a casino a pleasant buzz fills his head and it stays just on the tip of his tongue. Just out of reach.
Instead he focuses beneath him at the couples ten feet below. He’s not exactly sure when they’d appeared or maybe it’s more when he appeared twirling around in a hoop, hair tied back and naked. It feels like it's something he should be able to recall but, at the same time, they're there one way or the other and he's here so why should it matter one way or the other?
Then the sounds of moans and skin slapping against skin finally registers and Percy tips. The shift in weight causes the hoop to shift and it’s only with his legs splayed and the small of his back digging into the cold metal that he’s still in the air.
He almost falls again as the cord the hoop is attached to starts to lower him.
In this position, his face is now facing the crowd below and the writhing, moaning mass beneath him starts to shift. Or more correctly some of the people - godlings - start to shift, and Percy’s suddenly reminded of classes on Greek mythology. Zeus and Leda. His father and Demeter. Swans. Horses. Serpents. He sees all of them beneath him and more. And he knows just as he knows the sun will rise in the east that what he’s seeing will scar him, mark a part of him that he’ll never be able to get back, when he can piece together what’s wrong with the scene. But again every time he feels like he can put his finger on the problem, the answer disappears.
“Silly little half blood with more power in one finger than half your camp put together,” A gentle voice says, pulling his attention away from the pit and towards an unfamiliar satyr. Before he knows it, he’s face to face with the creature. “When you could’ve been a god.”
“I don’t want that though,” Percy says immediately but it comes out garbled as if his tongue is protesting.
“But if you were a god you could have been anything you wanted,” Before Percy could respond the satyr pokes him in the nose, “And now you’re just a toy.”
Percy feels like he should be offended but trying to collect himself enough to remember what offence feels like is enough of a task on its own.
“Follow me.”
He feels like he’d be more self conscious about being naked if more people actually were dressed. There’s one or two but their peplos’ and chitons are falling off with each thrust, or jerk. Foreign hands pulling at the fabric in some instances. Percy’s sure the images floating through his mind now aren’t memories, or at least not his, but he can’t be sure as images overlay of previous orgies. He’s sure a fountain spilling blood red wine once stood in the middle of the room with favoured devotees dancing through it. He’s sure the song he hears floating over the current groans is old, very old, and a voice long dead is singing. But these memories seem more solid and real at that moment.
Before he can ask, or give himself a headache chasing fragments and ghosts, Percy focuses back on following the satyr.
When they get into a long corridor fresh air washes over him. It's not the same as dunking his head in a bucket of water but the haze does begin to ebb away. Slowly, painfully slowly. Enough that about ten minutes later, Percy feels the need to get answers rather than just let himself be led. “So, what’s your name?” better to start off easy.
The satyr doesn't respond, just focusing on some distant point.
"Okay… so where are we exactly?" Percy tries instead. He's still not entirely sure why these questions seem important, but his thoughts are starting to order themselves again and the haze has faded to just a pleasant buzz. It's annoying as it's not all coming back at once. Some things are distorted. He thinks for a moment Paul came before Gabe, or in between but he's too tall sometimes and too short others. His stint as a Guinea Pig clashing with his memories of what he's just seen, warping and then going dark. With each step he's more aware of what's going on, his memories fall in an order that makes sense and the questions start to make sense. A fuck ton more sense than calmly walking around unarmed and naked in a palatial building with a stranger and an unknown number of gods hiding behind each door they pass.
Before his rage comes full force and the urge to demand answers from his guide overwhelms him, a short boy steps in front of him from behind a column shouting, "These are for you, mister."
The boy shoves a bouquet of unfamiliar flowers in his face so aggressively, a flower almost goes up Percy's nose. If he was prepared or didn't still feel a little out of it, Percy would have held his breath. Instead he inhales and he doesn't even have time to swear internally before his brain fogs over and the tension in his shoulders goes completely.
He takes the flowers from the boy with a smile, trying to remember what was making him so agitated a moment before. He thumbs one of the soft petals before looking up to thank the child. Then blinks. There's two of them.
"Hi, I'm Adrian," says the boy who handed him the flowers. “Don’t mind him,” Adrian adds, nodding towards the satyr.
"I'm Dominic," says the other, "Yeah, don't mind Ash, he can be a bit of a meanie."
The satyr, Ash, snorts, "We don't have time for games, he's been summoned."
"He has a name," Percy mutters, irritation leaking through slightly. Not enough, not nearly enough. Then he’s facing the boys again, "Is he always like this?"
Two sets of brown curls bounce as the boys nod. "But he has a point, Papa doesn’t like to be kept waiting," Adrian says, taking Dominic's hand.
Dominic hummed in agreement, "We can play later, right?"
Percy smiles and nods although his chest feels tight. Twins… Twins ring a bell somewhere. A distant one. But a painful one. This fragment hurts to remember and it's a shock. One of a teen lighting a pyre, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
He lets himself be dragged off by Ash before Adrian or Dominic could comment on Percy’s mood drop.
By the time they stop by double oak doors with leopards and intricate markings that look a little like parts of mazes carved into the wood, Percy feels anxious. Smelling the flowers every once in awhile helps but the weight in his chest doesn’t let up. Something about seeing that fragment of the shrouded body and teary teenage - teary child - hit a nerve. Despite his head feeling weirdly heavy like someone has cracked his skull open and filled it with cotton candy, he knows he’s seen more shrouds than anyone his age should’ve. He’s seen more children cry for the dead than he should’ve. And then the inability to recall anything , even the original fragment, after the third sniff of his bouquet unsettles him.
Before - it’s always before he’s ready, never when he’s ready or after he’s been ready for so long, he’s actually not ready anymore and just bored, Percy muses dimly - he has time to collect himself, Ash is pushing the doors open and shoving Percy forward. He drops the flowers but before they hit the ground they disappear. Reappearing in a vase near the ridiculously large bed.
Percy recognises Ariadne on the bed, but it takes him a moment to recognise the god with her. If it isn’t for his eyes, Percy’s sure he’d be completely lost because before him is not trailer trash Cupid Mr D. He looks closer to Percy’s age and he’s breathtakingly beautiful.
He also looks much kinder.
It’s not that surprising since the god never seemed built for childminding or child rearing and Ariadne’s here but Percy feels like he’s missing something. Well he’s missing a lot of things at the moment but he feels like he’s missing something significant.
“Erm, so what’s going on?” Percy asks, trying not to jump when Ash closes the door with too much enthusiasm.
The two look at each other and Percy thinks he hears Dionysus say, “I told you the smoke wouldn’t work long enough. Should’ve just strapped him to the bed and filled this room.”
“I was hoping to ease him into it,” Ariadne chides over her shoulder as she walks towards Percy. She laces her fingers with his and pulls him towards the bed.
Honestly Percy isn’t sure if it’s Dionysus, Ariadne, the murky, swirling mess that’s his memory right now or the after effects of the flowers but he follows without any protest. Climbing into the best and crawling towards the middle.
It’s out of character enough that he sees Dionysus eyebrows disappear behind the curls tumbling down his forehead. Percy realises with a shock that the god wears disbelief unfairly well.
“I don’t suppose there’s a point to asking what’s going on again is there?” Percy says, looking up. He knows the wide eyes routine probably wouldn’t work but it doesn’t hurt to try.
He gets Dionysus tangling his fingers in his curls and yanking his head back for his trouble. “Don’t give me that look when you’re being a brat,” Dionysus grits out.
“Or what?”
There are a lot of options, including finally being turned into a dolphin or protozoa, but the option Percy isn’t expecting is the bruisingly harsh kiss he gets. A bite drawing blood and Dionysus moaning as he sucks the blood off Percy’s bottom lips.
A gentler hand with longer nails dig and rub into Percy’s hip. Gentle lips in contrast to Dionysus trying to devour him, explore his accessible shoulder and up the back of his neck.
“Or that,” Dionysus says as he pulls away far enough for Percy to catch his breath but not far enough away for his presence to be less overwhelming.
“You drugged me,” Is probably not the smartest thing to say when being sandwiched between a married couple… a married couple of gods at that… but it’s what Percy starts with.
“A little harsh,” Ariadne pipes up, before continuing kissing down Percy’s neck and then his spine.
“A little accurate,” Percy huffs but he makes no attempt to move. He knows in his current position that if they don’t want to let him go, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. His heads still too scrambled to come up with a convincing argument against being a sex toy for the couple that wouldn’t also result in a nasty curse.
“We have no interest in cursing you Perseus, so get those silly little thoughts out of your head now,” Dionysus says and his eyes glow brighter.
“You used my name?”
“I think I’ve proven before that I know what your name is.”
“Under threat of Dad, yeah,” Percy snorts.
“Baby, you don’t seem to realise this but… your father is not someone to anger by publicly disrespecting any of his children, even the ones he objectively doesn’t like,” Dionysus shrugs.
“But kidnapping me, drugging me and this is perfectly acceptable?” Percy gasps as Ariadne bites his hip bone, hands dipping lower.
“I mean, I think it’ll be easier to argue if you enjoyed yourself…”
Percy stares in disbelief, maybe he should’ve wished the gods took a lesson on active consent rather than acknowledging their children.
“Percy, how many times do you think you’re going to get the chance to sleep with the god of ecstasy?” Ariadne’s lips are suddenly by his ear, her nails digging into his hips making him whimper, “And me. You told me the other night how much you wanted one night without the stresses in your life.”
For a moment the memory of talking to Ariadne on Olympus springs to mind but continues through Percy pouring his heart out and Ariadne taking him away this time. But … he swears originally it had been daytime not night… the memory doesn't feel quite right. Not quite his own.
Percy’s hovering between this being unbelievably, unequivocally stupid and how bad can one night of fun because although the memory doesn't seem quite right none of past Percy's complaints or stress seems false?
“Freedom for a night Percy,” Dionysus adds, fingers stroking his cheek. For once when Percy looks into those purple depths he doesn’t see madness and warped terrors, instead he sees festivals and wine, dancing and music, countless bodies in hundreds of positions. One of them, Percy's not sure who places a flower from the bouquet near his chin. Close enough to be a clear offer but far enough away to make the choice clearly his. Or at least give the illusion that the choice is his.
Percy’s never ran from anything, even when he’s wanted to, desperately so, but one night… sounds so tempting.
He caves and leans closer to the flower.
He ignores the victorious gleam in the gods eyes, as he leans up to kiss him. He ignores how Ariadne loops a collar around his neck, murmuring “good boy” as she kisses the spot just above the collar. Instead he focuses on the taste of grapes as Dionysus quickly dips his head to kiss him again. Taking control of the kiss, hands lazily tracing his torso before wrapping around Percy’s dick. The way Ariadne plasters herself to his back, grinding up to him.
Percy almost says something about the lack of teasing but then Dionysus’ hand twists and he does something and Percy can barely put two thoughts together. He’ll berate himself for it later but he doesn’t register the, “Daddy yes, please, ” that falls from his lips like a prayer until after the words are out.
The gods pause and Percy lets out a high pitched whine. Whatever Dionysus had done, clearly interferes with inhibitions. Fuck.
"Baby, seriously?" Dionysus groans, "Fuck, keep going and I'm keeping you as a pet."
"Yeah, sounds good, fuck me?" Percy's not listening, which should be added to the list of things to berate himself for later but right now all he can focus on are the hands wondering his body - Dionysus' on his cock and Ariadne's stroking his perineum.
Percy twists to try and include Ariadne more but she just smirks at him and shakes her head. "Not today, I'll make you eat me out until long after your jaw goes numb okay? For now, let us look after you?"
Dionysus is so close Percy feels his chest vibrate when the god hums in agreement, "Yes, baby boy, let Daddy and Ari look after you."
Percy’s not entirely sure if that's a question or not. Either way, Percy will enthusiastically go along with that idea. He only pauses for a moment before letting Ariadne bring one of the flowers under his nose.
Percy loses track shortly after that. Lust and pleasure washing away the anxiety from the hallway. Gasping as Ariadne scratches and massages, bites and licks at his skin. Begging as Dionysus focuses on pushing him to his limit, until tears fall down his face as a tongue pushes past his rim and a thumb digs just hard enough into his slit to make him see stars.
His brain short circuits at one point as Ariadne coaxes him between her legs and Dionysus enters him. Again he finds himself caught between the two whimpering "Daddy" as Dionysus uses Percy's hair as an anchor. The grip on his scalp causes Percy to look up at the wall behind Ariadne and oh, oh fuck… there's a mirror.
Hazy green eyes meet hazy green eyes as Percy looks. He thinks he hears Dionysus murmur, "There you go baby, see how much of a temptation you've been for years ."
And Percy sees it. For once. Dark hair, long limbs, long neck with a leopard print collar. He's splattered with cum from a previous orgasm. Wrapped around him is a beautiful expanse of tanned skin. Every thrust he feels, every grind he makes, the pretty man makes.
All he can focus on is the blush rising on the beautiful man's face as Dionysus uses him hard and Ariadne moans beneath him.
He finds he can't look away. He can't help the whimpers as he sees the look of surprise on the beautiful dark haired man's - his - face at a particularly hard thrust. He can't help the gasp as Ariadne bucks, back bowing and pussy tightening around him as she comes.
Dionysus barely misses a beat as he pulls Percy back so he can rest a hand on Percy's stomach and his head on his shoulder. He's staring into the wide green eyes of his mirror self. "Babe… puppy , good boy, we'll keep you just like this. All you'll feel. All you'll need. We can keep that pretty little head of yours empty and your pretty holes full. Forever, puppy."
Percy keens, mouth falling open at Dionysus' words.
His mirror self and he race each other to who could look more wrecked.
Later Percy hopes it's a dream when he comes to in a beautiful purple bed, with the weight of a collar around his neck. A single flower on the pillow next to him with a note saying, "smell me." Percy turns to look at the nightstand to try and get his bearings and comes face to face with a golden apple with a note saying, "eat me."