Archive of Our Own ^beta

Once Telemachus makes it onto the island of Aeaea, it doesn’t take him very long of walking through the forests that surround the palace he’s after before he starts seeing nymphs, assuring to smile and politely wave at them all and to greet the ones that step closer, "Hello! I’ve been here before, I’m Telemachus!" The introduction seems to calm the nerves of the slowly gathering nymphs, a few coming closer to help guide him to the palace. It’s not much longer before he’s taken to palace, the nymphs guiding him slowly disperse as he enters the open halls and follows them to the throne room, where he finds the queen of the island and the nymphs on it.

"Queen Circe…" he takes a knee before her and clears his throat slightly.

"My lovers don’t need to call me Queen, darling. Though it does sound beautiful coming from your mouth." Her presence is enough to make his skin warm, but when she bends down to lift his chin to ensure eye contact is made, his cheeks flush, "How long will you be here, love?"

"A month, hopefully longer... though I'd gladly stay forever." Happily nudging against her palm, he lays his hand over hers and pets over her knuckles, furrowing softly as he tries to brush away the reminders of what waits for him at home, "Uhm. I have something to ask..."

"Of course, anything, darling."

Her voice is enough to make his heart squeeze in his chest, beautifully doting and sweet, helping to give him the gentle push he needs, "You said you could teach me how to properly let go... I think I'd like to learn, if thats okay."

"Of course," Circe takes his face into both hands and steps down from her throne of stone and vines, carefully guiding him back up to his feet, though he still bends down slightly to lower himself to her eye-level, "I'd love to teach you. Will you be my pet for the day?"

Though the ask is strange, and a little worrying considering his lover's penchant for transforming men into animals, he trusts her and the ping of something a little left of love in his chest to give her a nod, "Okay..."

It turns out, his worry of being turned into an animal wasn't entirely unfounded, though thankfully her plans don't seem to involve a magical transformation, simply a change in mindset as she explained, "though I can ease that process if you find it difficult, of course."

"Thanks, I'd like to try on my own, though." He gives her a nod and follows her hands with his eyes, tipping his head down to watch them run across his chest and down his arms, holding and pushing against him with an even pressure that does help somewhat.

"Close your eyes, love. Try to clear your mind and focus on my touch and my voice... Can you do that for me?" For a moment they lock eyes and he can feel his chest tighten slightly at the simple, yet subtly and lovingly condescending question, but he still nods and slips his eyes shut.

He tries to follow the instructions he's given, tries to forget responsibility and the persistent nagging feeling of danger, tries to drown it out by focusing on her voice and the sweet whispered praises she showers him in, of the brushes of her hands across his throat and through his hair, on the light pushes and tugs of her attempting to ease the stiffness of his muscles. It just doesn't work, not to the extent clearing his mind at least. Letting out a defeated sigh, he blinks his eyes open and reaches out to hold her hands, "I'm sorry."

"Not needed," her spirit doesn't falter, tugging him down for a brief kiss before she steps away to a set of candles already burning on her throne to pick one up, blowing it out and moving to show him, "I keep these candles enchanted for clarity of mind and imagination." Honey-yellow wax solidifies as she swipes a finger through the still hot wax at the top, the consistent soft glow of her skin brightening ever so slightly.

"It'll help?"

"Yes," offering a reassuring smile, she takes his wrist in her hand and pulls him to outstretch his arm, letting go for a moment to pinch the burnt wick of her candle and rub it between her fingers until it lights, she holds the candle up and cups her hand underneath, "can I show you?"

"Sure." He gives her a nod to continue, though still tenses slightly in preparation for a burn, but when Circe tilts her hand and allows the wax to drip down her fingers and onto the skin of his forearm, it doesn’t scorch like he expects — burns, sure, but not too painfully. It’s actually pretty nice.

"How’s that?…"

"Nice… I thought it’d hurt more."

"The wonder of spellcrafting, my love."

With some more gentle guidance, he undresses for her, unclasping the fastenings holding his chiton together and untying his cloak, letting the light fabrics drop to the ground and pool around his feet. Closing his eyes, he tries once again to relax and clear his mind, holding his arms out and finding is more easy to allow himself to be moved. The drips of wax start on the backs of his hands and wrists, move up his arms to trickle over his shoulders and down his chest, each one makes it easier and easier to focus only on that, only on her, makes it easier to slip out of the headspace needed to be a prince, a protector. With the warmth and smooth texture of a thumb dipped in melted wax running down between his brow and over the bridge of his nose, he feels himself start to slip away mentally, only helped by the subtle pulls, taps and tugs that typically wouldn’t make a dent in his positioning, that direct him down to kneel. A hand in his hair and a pour of hot wax down his spine lead him onto all fours, the whispered mix of praise and condescension, plus that magical boost to imagination, aiding him to move into that more animalistic and subservient headspace. He allows himself to forget his royalty, his status, his humanity. Slowly, Circe stops using her usual petnames and transitions to names more demeaning, more lowly, pushing him further away from personhood and closer to something dutiful, something gladly below her, closer to a loyal pup than a man.

"Who’s my loyal little wolf?" She pets over his hair and scritches at his scalp behind his ear, and for some reason, he doesn’t feel compelled to talk or reply with words, instead he simply nuzzles into her touch and crawls closer, "There you are."

For a while, they stay in that throne room. Giving into the roles they’ve settled into, he paws at the bottom of Circe’s dress as she stands in front of him and holds out a hand, earning a confused noise and a cock of his head.

"Can you sit for me, little wolf?" She makes a gesture as she asks, something so simple that it feels obvious to follow it, sitting back on his heels with his palms still to the floor. "Good booyy!" The praise comes with a dramatic gasp and a patronising lilt to her tone, her outstretched hand moving to ruffle through his long curls, rewarding him for such a small task. Though a part of him knows it’s undeserved and overblown, a sense of pride radiates through his chest as he straightens his back and gladly accepts the affection, a smile spreading on his lips. 

Presenting her hand to him again, this time palm-up, Circe gives him another incredibly simple task, "Give me your paw, wolfpup." And once again, he happily completes his task, lifting his hand up, curling his fingers into a loose fist, and resting it in her palm, earning another dramatic response, delighted praises for doing as he was told, ruffling of his hair and scratches at the back of his head, that pride warming his chest and beaming through his smile. It’s a strange thing, the fact that being put down and demeaned, treated as a dog rather than a prince, is making him feel so prideful, so safe and worthy, so truly cared for and loved, but it’s wonderful still.

She, he supposes, ‘teaches’ him a few more tricks — the most difficult, strangely enough, being the order to spin — before she seems satisfied with his obedience and consistent responses, kneeling down in front of him and silently asking for his paw, "Can I collar you, wolfpup? Do you want to go on a walk with me?" He hesitates for a moment, mostly worried for the health of his knees and hands, before gently pushing down on her palm and giving a silent nod, "We will stay in the palace, I wouldn’t want your paws to get dirty." Briefly stroking over the palm of his hand, she draws her wand and taps it to the side of his neck, a warmth blooming from the contact and wrapping around his throat before he feels a subtle weight encircling his neck, quickly taking pride in this new showcase of ownership and sitting up straight, puffing out his chest slightly and beaming up at his Queen and owner as she stands, conjuring a rope of light to wrap around her hand, "Come now, cub!"

For some reason, one he can’t pin down in the moment, maybe the excitement overcoming him, Telemachus yips, the small excited bark escaping him as she leads him, his face flushing with what should be shame, but none of that embarrassment truly reaches him, only being further dismissed when his noise earns more praises and rewarding affection. 

As he crawls along side her, he finds himself nuzzling against her calf, a small way to show his love and appreciation, whilst reminding himself of the safety of her presence when he becomes a little too aware of the eyes on him, leaning his body against her whenever she pauses her steps. He doesn’t bother taking in his surroundings or the route she’s taking him, instead simply trusts her as she leads him through marble and limestone halls, trusts that he’s safe despite the stares that burn into him, only taking an interest when he hears a large door open. Lifting his head from his view of the floor, he watches her push open a large wooden door before she hurries him inside alongside her, the first thing he notices about the room they’ve entered is the thickness and warmth of the air, his suspicions of where he’s been taken only being confirmed when he glances around: a steam bath house. Luckily for him, no nymphs are in sight, just a large pool of shallow water, made hot by a spring underneath, though it feels like his luck quickly runs out when Circe walks him to a corner and holds his rope leash up to the wall, temporarily merging the two to keep him in place. As soon as he realises, he pouts, reaching out to paw at her peplos while she’s still close and clothed and whining quietly.

"Awh, I’m sorry baby, I just don’t want you to get your fur all wet! I’ll just be right here, little wolf," she gestures to the ledge behind her, but he only barely notices it when her other hand is working on unpinning her dress, instead he takes the opportunity to lean forward the most his leash will allow and bites the fabric of her dress, pulling it off of her and dropping it from between his teeth into his own lap, "someone’s impatient." Her tone changes slightly, from doting to pointed, and the switch immediately takes its affect on him, making his heart twist and his head drop, rocking back to lay before her, though he doesn’t stop whining, which thankfully seems to earn her pity, "It’ll just be a warning this time, since you’ve been so good for me all day." That quickly relieves the weight on his chest, pulling him to sit back up and give a gentle nod. 

Before she climbs into the water, Circe takes the time to sit and unwrap the straps of her sandals, his eyes tracking each delicate movement.  Setting them aside, she slips into the water with a relieved sigh and taps at the ledge, "Come, pup."

Though tentative, he crawls closer to the edge of the bath, swallowing back his desire at the sight of her, and sits.

"Lay down for me, my little wolf." Of course he does, moving off of his knees and onto his side, curling up with his hands to his chest, incidentally presenting his stomach and the affect her bare beauty and attention has had on him, whining softly when she idly pets over his hair and runs a hand over his chest, humming quiet praises to him, "Good boy, see? You're okay just laying with me here." Her words do nothing to quell his appetite for her, instead making him yearn more for her touch to drift lower as he curls around her wandering hand. He wants to tell her she's beautiful, that he needs her, but speaking feels wrong at the moment, so instead he simply shuffles as close as he can before the rope of sunlight attaching him to the wall stops him and squirms into her pets.

A life of this must be nice, for a moment he envies her real wolves, but when she sits up in the water and turns to lay a kiss to the tip of his nose, he finds it easy to wave away that thought, breath catching in his throat and turning into another drawn out whimper, nudging his nose against hers, basking in her divine glow. But she doesn't meet his lips, instead she sits back and holds out her hand in front of him. At first he simply nuzzles against her fingers and pushes his head under her hand, accepting the idle scratches to his hairline, but when he catches sight of her opposite hand  travelling from the ledge beside her to instead rest in her lap, the rippling water making it difficult to make out exactly what she's doing, but his mind very much filling in the gaps. In an attempt to find some way to satisfy the urge to help, he nudges at her fingers and laps at the spaces between each one, taking them between his lips and circling his tongue around each digit, doubling down on his efforts when they're rewarded with pleased hums and the sight of her eyes slipping shut.

She's beautiful is all he can really think, pawing at her wrist to hold it and watching her unwind herself, the softening of her features as she relaxes back, rolling onto her side to rest her cheek on her unworking arm, the parting of her lips to draw in gasps and let out heavy breaths, each one tangled with quiet moans, the gentle rippling of the warm water around her turning to subtle splashes as she chases a release that only continues to build within Telemachus himself. She is beautiful, a moving piece of art that he can only hope to one day be skilled enough to capture, though for now he's content to simply be a part of the creation of her bliss, even as his own need and desperation grows, a knot forming at the very bottom of his stomach and a heat growing between his thighs, only getting the mildest relief from squeezing strong thighs together and trying to subtly wriggle his hips. He does try to be patient, to wait for her instruction or permission, but it’s becoming more difficult the louder and more heated her noises get, her brows stitching together lightly and her bottom lip catching between her teeth only drawing out more wordless begs from him, tracing the point of his tongue between her fingers when they seem to instinctually curl in his mouth. The water splashes softly around her as her godly glow brightens and her movements underwater hasten slightly, her body jumping gently as she seems to reach her peak, her fingers perfected in the art of bringing her pleasure in a way that he can only envy. Even her moans sound divine, laced with gold and infecting his mind with endless need. Just her, her, her, and nothing but, and his body aches, not only from the tolerable pain of crawling around on solid stone but from every inch of him yearning for her touch and the hopeful reward of relief.

Soon enough, she jolts before letting out a long sigh and rolling over onto her front, folding her arms under her head and holds out the hand she’d submerged. Though logically he knows any of her taste left over must’ve been washed away by the water, he feels drawn down, shifting onto his knees and bending over, to lick wet fingers clean, the texture of pruning fingertips on his tongue strangely making his heart flutter, satisfying some unusual part of his mind. It’s just that for a short while, Circe piecing herself back together peacefully and watching him closely, her gaze felt as it warms the skin of his cheek while he simply laps and nuzzles at her hand, but eventually, Circe pulls back and sits up with a softly strained moan as she stretches and pops her knuckles. Rocking back to sit on his ankles once again, he simply stares up at her, admires her, bathing in her soft light as she stands and steps out of the water, shaking the water from the tips of her curls, that simple act, the sight of damp brunette coils brushing against the top-back of her thighs, only makes him crave her more. Slowly, her glow starts to brighten, the heat from her skin warming him and the air around them, and despite the intense radiance of her skin, he still watches in awe and wonder as the water soaking her skin starts to burn up and evaporate, turning into steam that mingles with the fog that’s collected in the room over time. It’s a glorious thing to watch, the sunny divinity in her blood on full display as she freely adjusts her temperature for her own needs. For just a moment he feels tempted to reach out and touch her, just to see if he’ll burn. 

As soon as her light dies down, assumably alongside a slow cooling of her temperature, Telemachus crawls forward and drags his tongue over her thigh, her skin still hot enough to burn like starting to eat a meal fresh from the fire, though it’s just about tolerable in comparison to the reward of being able to touch her again. It’s only when he feels a tug around his neck that he notices that she’s separated his leash from the wall and wrapped it around her fist again, "Can you be patient for me, wolf cub? Let us walk back to my throne and I’ll give you a big reward if you’re good!" That promise, promise of reward, quickly gets through to him enough to push him away from simply lapping at her skin to instead sit back with heavy anticipatory breaths, staring up and giving a soft nod.

The walk back, for him a crawl, is a little more shameful than the one before. Though Queen Circe is once again dressed and presentable with little effort, the evidence of her teasing, her personal torture of her man-pet, is still clearly noticeable in Telemachus, the act of crawling in front of so many beautiful women, the most gorgeous and divine of them being the one leading him, doing nothing to lessen the obvious, instead just making him ache more and twitch harder against his own stomach. Eventually, after what feels like a journey twice its length, they make it back to where he’d greeted her, the queen and goddess of the island returning to her rightful seat while he simply sits at her feet, propping his hands up onto the stone between her thighs and accepting the doting pets of his hair.

"My little wolf's desperate, aren't you?" Her darling voice pairs with the borderline hypnotic circular scratches of his scalp to essentially switch his mind off, staring up at her through half-lidded eyes as he gives a soft nod, "Awh, you're adorable... D'you want your reward, pup?" The nod he gives now is firmer and more sure, a needy whine pulling up from his throat as he wiggles his hips slightly only making his need more obvious to her. Though a part of him hopes he'll be asked to hop up onto her lap, or that she'll join him on the floor, but instead she simply moves one of her legs, slotting a foot between his thighs and tugging him closer by the collar. Despite his empty mind, he picks up on what he's meant to do pretty quickly, shuffling closer and nuzzling against her knee as she moves the fabric of her peplos aside for him. "Good boy, you're so smart," for some reason, that praise makes him blush the hardest, hiding his face against her leg as she ruffles long curls, loosely hugging around her calf and slowly starting to move, "there you go, take your reward, wolfpup, you've been so good for me today."

Though he continues to hide, he manages to peek up through his messied hair to see her adoring smile which only makes him crumble faster at her feet. His hips rock against her offered leg, the feeling of the straps wrapped up from her sandal to the middle of her calf only aiding in his hasty build, each ridge of soft leather making his voice tremble with heavy breaths and high whines and moans that he wasn't even fully aware he could make. It doesn't take much for him to feel close to that release, the building pressure in the bottom of his stomach having had already gotten a headstart from the moment she'd stripped him of his clothes and helped clear his mind, his thighs twitching shut around her ankle as his hips start to stutter, his heart thudding in his chest and lungs squeezing out all useful air until his head starts to spin. Pressing his cheek to her knee, the slow pooling of drool under his tongue spills over and smears against her skin as his brows pinch together and his muscles tense and twitch. The tightening grasp of the hand in his hair is what helps give him that push over the edge, a flow of drawn out whines and moans pouring from his lips as his body stammers and faulters, as that tightly wound pressure finally releases, smattering her ankle and calf in white. "Good boy," her praise just makes him lose his breath faster, using the little air he does take in to whine, even as his relief turns to weakness, "you did so good, little wolf," though he still hides and tries to even out his breaths, he manages to parse through the haziness of his mind enough to hear the gentle pats of her hand against her own thigh and the sweet command, "up, boy. You can rest in my lap."

After a moment to gather himself, he shakily climbs up onto Circe's lap, though he avoids standing upright, and lays across her, curling up comfortably and nuzzling against her as she holds him and scratches gently over his back, "It's okay, love, do you want to stay in this space up here," she strokes her thumb over his temple, getting her meaning across, "or do you want to go back to being my prince?..."

Speaking still doesn't feel correct, or even very possible in the moment, but he tries to get across his answer the best he can, pawing at her dress and whining quietly until she gives him a way to give his response more clearly, holding out one hand beside his face as she offers "You can nudge my hand if you want to stay my puppy, okay?" An offer he quickly takes, touching his nose to her palm before returning back to snuggling against her, accepting the strokes of his hair and down his back, "Okay, wolfpup, you've been such a good boy for me, I'm so proud of you."

Hiding his fluster against her chest, he flushes at her adoring compliments and tries to calm his fluttering heart, melting into her words and touches as she cradles him in her arms and smoothes over his comedown, settling into his role of her pet for a while longer.