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looking on him brought a flood

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It is rare when a god takes a mortal for a mate. Rare, but not unheard of; often it is Omega mortals who receive such an honor. But then, Omegas are said to be under the guardianship of Aphrodite herself – it only follows that the Alpha gods, many of whom have tried and failed to win the goddess of love’s heart, choose to pursue her almost-as-lovely wards instead.

It is much rarer for an Alpha mortal to be selected. But then, Victor has always been used to being special. From a young age, he was said to be blessed by the gods. As handsome as Apollo, as smart as Athena, and, according to some, as lucky as Hermes.

Only, Victor doesn’t feel as lucky as he feels he should.

He knows he’s just received a great honor. When Eros’s herald arrived from Olympus to deliver the news to Victor and his family, his parents nearly tripped over themselves to express their gratitude. His siblings had turned up their noses and stalked away, making no effort to disguise their jealousy. Victor knows he should feel honored, but…

He’s won the heart of Eros, the Omega god of love and desire, but instead of feeling proud or flattered, he feels only confusion. What had he done that caught Eros’s eye? Victor’s never even been in love before; the god has had no reason to ever pay attention to him.

But, Victor supposes there’s no reason to keep dwelling on it. You cannot refuse a god, after all.

His family is only too eager to leave him to Eros, and so three days after the herald’s arrival, Victor is taken from his home, and brought to the god’s dwelling.

It is admittedly a very beautiful place. A palace befitting a king rises from the peak of a mountain, surrounded by lush vegetation and colorful flowers. Victor looks at it all with awe, humbled, but no less wary.

The herald takes notice of this – he’s a dark-skinned young man and quite beautiful, as heralds of the gods tend to be. He puts his hand on Victor’s shoulder and sends him a bright smile.

“Do not worry,” he assures, voice warm like honey. “You will be treated very well here. I have not seen Eros as enamored with anyone as he is with you.”

Victor’s mouth twists, despite knowing that the words are meant to comfort him. “Where is he?” he asks in reply. Surely if the god is so in love with him, he would have greeted him as soon as he arrived.

At that, the herald only smiles again. “Eros is quite shy, despite what he represents. Give him time. You will meet him soon enough.”

And then, before Victor can say another word, the herald turns and is whisked away by a flurry of wind.

And Victor is left alone.

 


 

For lack of anything better to do, he spends the first few hours exploring the palace. Every room is more beautiful than the last, almost impossibly so, but Victor soon grows bored of his lavish surroundings. The sun is setting over the horizon, meaning that at least a few hours have passed, and he has yet to see Eros.

Victor fights back a vicious wave of resentment. He’s in a strange place, completely alone, and the being responsible for it all doesn’t even deign to grace Victor with his presence.

He soon chooses a bedroom for himself; it’s furnished well with an elaborately-carved bed, soft sheets, and various other pieces of furniture. With little else to do, Victor lays his head down and tries to sleep.

Eventually the Alpha manages to drift off, and when he’s startled awake hours later, it’s pitch black in his room. Victor hears a noise, like footsteps, coming closer, and sits upright, narrowing his eyes in a vain attempt to better his vision. A sweet smell, like roses, is also present, when it wasn’t before.

There’s a human-shaped form by the foot of his bed. It doesn’t move closer or speak, so Victor does first.

“Who are you?” he asks.

The form startles, as if it hadn’t expected Victor to say anything. “I, ah… I am Eros.”

Victor blinks. “What?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t greet you earlier,” the form continues, his voice… shy? “But I had a task to complete, and, well… It’s best that I see you at night.”

Though completely bewildered, Victor manages to force himself to relax. “… Why?”

“For mortals, it can be… difficult, seeing a god’s face.” Eros bows his head apologetically. “I did not want to cause you distress, so I thought it would be best to wait until it was dark…”

At once, Victor feels a flash of anger. “Cause me distress? Perhaps you should have thought of that before you just decided to take me from my home and bring me to this place.”

And at that, to Victor’s surprise… Eros flinches. And, furthering his shock, the god bows.

“I’m so sorry,” Eros says, his voice barely a whisper, and yet carrying clearly to Victor’s ears. “I realize that this must have been confusing for you, but… Well, did you not agree to come here anyway?”

Victor’s shocked expression melts into another vicious scowl. “I did no such thing. My parents made the arrangements. I had no say.” If he’d known refusal was even an option…

Eros stares at him – or, Victor thinks he does. It’s still hard to tell. “You… You were forced here?”

“That is what I am telling you.”

“I… Oh.” Eros sounds… horrified? He takes a step back from the bed. “Oh, no, that isn’t what I wanted at all…”

“You would have let me refuse your offer of marriage?” Victor asks dubiously.

“Of course!” Eros replies. “Every mortal has that choice!”

“Well, I did not.”

A few moments of silence pass between them. Victor watches the dark form known as Eros with a curious frown. The god seems legitimately distraught. Because he thought Victor was forced here? Which, yes, he was, but…

“Why do you care?” he ends up asking, startling the god yet again. He’d almost be amused by his skittish nature, if not for the confusing emotions on top of everything else.

“I… D-Did Phichit not tell you?”

Victor purses his lips, before realizing that ‘Phichit’ was likely the herald who brought him here. “Tell me what?”

“That I…” Eros trails off, uncertain. “That I care for you, Victor…”

Victor freezes. “We barely know each other.”

“I know. But, I asked you to marry me for a reason.”

“And why is that? Because I am handsome? Blessed?” The words roll off his tongue with obvious distaste.

“No, Victor, I…”

Cautiously, the god steps closer, and Victor can smell the sweet scent much more easily now. Definitely an Omega’s scent, but with an indescribable quality… Perhaps divinity.

Still, he backs up as much as the bed will allow, and that causes Eros to pause.

“…” Eros sighs. “I saw you. In your family’s garden. There was a wounded animal that found its way there, and you… You helped it. Healed its broken leg and set if free in the forest.”

Victor pauses. He remembers such an occasion, a few months ago. Eros had been watching him for that long?

“Perhaps it was silly of me to become so invested in you, after that. But you kept being kind. You pass money off to street children when you think no one is looking. You offer a hand to anyone who needs it. And yet, despite all of that, you seemed so…”

“So…?” prompts Victor.

“… Lonely.”

Victor is stunned into silence. Eros continues.

“I know whether a person has fallen in love, or experienced desire. And from you, dear Victor, there was… nothing.”

Though Victor can’t see them, he can feel Eros’s eyes boring into him. He shifts uncomfortably.

“… Is that why you want me, then?” he asks. “So you can be my first love?”

“No,” Eros shakes his head. “Truthfully, I have never looked for a mate. I’ve had no shortage of bed partners in the past, and I am not nearly important enough on Olympus for a marriage to be expected of me. I would’ve much preferred you find your own mortal love, and watch you grow happy with them.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Well… There was a complication.” Eros winces. “Yurio wasn’t exactly… pleased with your popularity.”

“What?”

“He grew jealous of you. Mortals, Alphas, Omegas, and Betas alike, constantly compared you to him and claimed you were more beautiful.”

“No, I meant,” Victor shakes his head, “Who is Yurio?”

“Oh!” Eros bows his head again. “Yes, I forgot… We gods have second names, aside from the ones the mortals call us. You would know Yurio as Apollo.”

Victor raises an eyebrow. “And you…?”

“My name is Yuuri.”

Yuuri. Victor doesn’t know whether it suits him or not. It is a pretty name, certainly, but he has no face to give it to.

“Then… Yuuri. What does Yurio have to do with my being here?”

“He, ah… asked me for a favor.” Eros – no, Yuuri – sounds sheepish. “He wanted me to cause you to fall in love with a hideous beast. He, um, suggested a gorgon.”

“…”

“I tried to talk him out of it,” Yuuri insists. “But his terms were, either you live the rest of your life in the company of beasts, or I find some other way to keep you from the mortals to stop them from idolizing you…”

“And so you offered to marry me,” Victor finishes numbly. It makes a little more sense now – but not enough that he’s happy to know the truth.

“Under the condition that you accept my offer yourself… I’m sorry. I should have made sure, told Phichit to hear your agreement from you and not your family…”

Victor stares at the inky darkness where Yuuri is. So this all happened because a god grew jealous of him, and another god just so happened to have a passing fascination with him? He wants to laugh. “Blessed”, indeed. He can’t possibly go home now. If he does, this “Yurio” will make sure his mortal life is a living hell. So he has to choose between that, and a life of isolation with only a faceless god as his company.

It’s a while before Yuuri speaks again, but he’s quieter. “You will be well-cared for here, Victor. There will always be food and wine, water for baths, and all the finery you desire. But I cannot let you return to your home.”

“… I know,” Victor replies. He sounds as beaten down as he feels.

“… You must be tired. I shall let you sleep.” Yuuri starts to walk away. He’s almost at the door when Victor calls out, a surprise to even himself.

“Yuuri. Will you be back tomorrow night?”

A moment passes. “Would you like me to?”

“It will be lonely here, all by myself. Even if you are my only companion, yes. I would go insane otherwise.”

He can’t see Yuuri’s reaction, but a vindictive part of him hopes he recoils in shame. Even if it is not entirely Yuuri’s fault, he’s in this position because of the gods. Any petty remark he can make to one of them, he will. Even if it’s aimed at his future mate.

“… Then I will return,” Yuuri finally says. “Goodnight, Victor.”

The god vanishes from the room, and Victor manages to fall asleep shortly after.

 


 

An odd thing happens the next morning.

Victor awakes, disheartened to realize that the previous day’s events were not a dream, and finds a plate laden with breakfast on his bed.

That, and a small dog, panting and looking up at him with dark, sweet eyes. Its fur is a smoky brown, and fluffy like a cloud.

Victor stares at the dog, who stares back. He raises an arm to touch it, and suddenly the dog leaps forward, burrowing into Victor’s chest with a chorus of happy yips and cheerful licks to his skin. Victor finds himself laughing as he wrestles with the pup.

“How did you get here?” he asks, though the pup only tilts its head and goes to lick him again.

He pats it affectionately, then spots a sheet of paper on his plate of breakfast. Beautiful handwriting marks it. Reluctantly setting the dog aside, Victor picks up the note and reads it.

Victor,

I hope this gift will appease your loneliness for the times when I am not there. He is a rambunctious creature, to be sure, but Artemis assures me he is both obedient and loving. His name is up to you.

With love,

Yuuri

Bewildered, he stares at the note for so long that the pup grows restless and wrests it out on his hand, choosing to play with it as if it were a toy. Victor watches the dog move, feeling something brew within him.

At least Yuuri is a kind warden, he admits to himself.

He spends the day playing with his new dog – who, after some deliberation, he names Makkachin. True to the note, while Makkachin is full of energy, he appears to be well-trained enough to listen to Victor’s commands. They run through the palace, which has yet to run out of rooms to explore, and whenever Victor grows hungry, food mysteriously appears beside him.

Soon enough, it becomes night. Victor and Makkachin retire to his room. Instead of trying to sleep, though, Victor sits awake, waiting. He keeps the candles burning to light the room… Until they go out on their own accord.

“Trying to be sneaky?” Yuuri’s voice says, startling Victor.

The Alpha frowns, but shrugs. “You can’t be surprised.”

“No, I suppose not…” Yuuri walks around the bed, still undefinable in form. Victor feels the bed dip under his pressure, meaning the god has taken a seat. Makkachin pads over to him, sniffing him for a few seconds before barking, apparently in approval. Yuuri chuckles, then moves to pet the dog.

“Do you like him?” he asks.

“… Yes, very much.”

“What did you name him?”

Victor tells him, and then they merely sit there, in the dark, with no other sound but Makkachin’s breathing and occasional yips.

Finally, Victor says it.

“Thank you,” he blurts. “For Makkachin. I… I appreciate it.”

Yuuri is quiet. Then, he gives a little laugh, and replies warmly. “Anything you desire, Victor, and I will give it to you.”

Victor feels heat rise to his cheeks, and despite not knowing where Yuuri’s eyes are, he looks away.

“Is there anything you wanted to talk about?” Yuuri asks politely.

“Uh.” Victor tries to think of topics to discuss. How does one chat with a god?

Eventually he settles on asking about Yuuri’s day, and the conversation flows from there.

 


 

This becomes routine.

Victor wakes up, eats, plays with Makkachin and explores the palace. Then, when night falls, he returns to his room and awaits Yuuri’s arrival. And as the days pass, he finds himself looking forward to their talks more and more.

He’d suspected so upon their first meeting, but Yuuri really isn’t what he expected a god to be like. He’s demure and gentle, yet with a sense of humor about him that still catches Victor off guard. He doesn’t speak down to Victor or about any mortal; in fact, he seems to like them quite a bit. Apparently watching the way mortals love one another is something he admires greatly.

“Most gods have become jaded to it,” he confesses one night. He and Victor sit close to one another by this point. Victor can brush his fingers against Yuuri’s, if he so desires. “We live for so long that the idea of dedicating your life to one person seems… unrealistic at best. I know gods who have had countless lovers and tossed them aside as soon as the next pretty face walked by. I… don’t want that.”

Victor remembers smirking at that. “Didn’t you say you had no shortage of bed partners?”

Yuuri bumps their shoulders together, seemingly unaware of the jolt it sends down Victor’s spine.

“I have plenty of offers. But lately it’s hardly meant anything. I’m not just a god of the carnal pleasures, Victor. I represent love, affection... And yet, I don’t have anyone to call my love.”

“Isn’t that what you want me to be?” Victor asks, trying to keep his voice light and teasing. “Your lover? Your mate?”

Yuuri, though, shakes his head. “No,” he whispers softly. His head is turned towards Victor, he can feel his breath warming the space between them… “I just want you to be Victor. That is enough for me.”

And so, three months after his arrival, Victor comes to a horrible realization: he’s fallen in love with Yuuri.

It’s really not that hard a realization to accept. In fact, he supposes it makes everything easier. He’s in love with his intended mate. Isn’t that a good thing?

Only, it’s not. In Victor’s case, he’s in love with a mate whose face he’s never seen. And no matter how many times he’s asked, Yuuri still refuses to come out from the obscuring darkness he hides behind. Even if it drives him insane, Victor is desperate to see him.

He can touch; Yuuri has made no rules about that. Over the weeks Victor grows bolder, trailing fingers up Yuuri’s arm, running his hand through his soft, silky hair.

One night, Yuuri even allows him a kiss.

Yuuri will let him kiss his lips (which are plump and velvety and eager to be bitten) and the god will even kiss him in return. But they never go further, and Victor isn’t sure whether he should ask. After all, Yuuri has had countless lovers in his long life – what if Victor can’t satisfy him?

It’s this worry that plagues his mind as the days go on. He’s long since stopped counting how long he’s been in Eros’s palace, though Makkachin is much larger now, so he supposes a significant amount of time has passed. Each day has been relatively the same.

So he thinks nothing of the way Yuuri appears in his bedroom in the night, as he typically does. He expects the god to sit, and they will chat and hold each other and, if he be willing, kiss, until he either falls asleep or the sun threatens to rise and Yuuri leaves.

But on this night, Yuuri makes no words of introduction.

He appears, strides over to the bed, and before Victor can ask him what’s wrong, he is pounced upon and silenced with the press of insistent lips against his own. Yuuri’s warm weight settles on top of him, as if he is being straddled, and he feels a dampness rubbing against his groin. The air is filled with a pervasive smell, heavy and sweet – and with a gasp, Victor realizes what is happening.

Yuuri is in heat.

Gods have heats and ruts, just as their mortal counterparts do, but, according to Yuuri, they happened far less frequently. He wouldn’t say what triggers the conditions, apparently embarrassed by whatever it was, so Victor has no idea what has caused Yuuri’s to start now.

And he can’t ask, because Yuuri will not stop kissing him.

Victor manages to push Yuuri away, as loathe as he is to do it. “Yuuri, what - ?”

“Victor,” the god pants, continuing to thrust his hips against Victor’s groin. Their clothes become wet with his slick, earning a low groan from the Alpha. “Please, Victor, I need you…”

“I…” Victor swallows heavily. “What do you need me to do?”

Yuuri lets out a drawn-out moan, the sound going straight to Victor’s cock. He hears clothing rustle, and then Yuuri’s hands are closing around his wrists, dragging his own hands up to touch what he realizes is Yuuri’s bare waist. His thumbs brush reverently against the soft skin, and he gives a shaky exhale.

“Yuuri…”

“Please,” the god begs again. He lets go of Victor’s wrists and starts pawing at his tunic. Flustered, Victor helps him remove his sash and the clasp holding the fabric together. He tosses his clothes carelessly to the floor, just as Yuuri grinds against him again. He bites back a moan at the feeling of their bare flesh rubbing together.

Then, suddenly, he shouts, body seizing with surprise as something hot, wet, and tight slowly starts enveloping his cock. Distantly, he hears Yuuri’s gratified whine, and the sensation – Yuuri’s entrance, he grasps – bottoms out. Victor throws his head back and growls, hands tightening around the god’s waist.

He feels arms wrap around his neck, and a body press flush against him. Yuuri’s voice is in his ear, breathy and dripping with arousal.

“Victor, take me,” he says.

And who is Victor to disobey a god?

He lunges forward, pushing Yuuri onto his back, so now he towers over the god. Like this, he feels how much smaller his body is compared to his own. Even through the haze of lust rapidly overtaking him, Victor feels a pang of sorrow that he cannot see Yuuri at all. He wants to know what his expression is, wants to see the effect he has. But for now, he can content himself with the purely physical sensations overwhelming his body.

Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor’s neck, pulling him closer, just as Victor draws his hips back. When only the head of his cock is still inside Yuuri’s heat, he jerks his hips forward again and re-sheaths himself. They both give simultaneous moans of pleasure.

Yuuri,” Victor growls, voice tight.

His lips drag against the column of Yuuri’s throat as the god tilts his head back. He thrusts again, drinking in the delicious sounds it elicits from the god. Then again, and again, until he’s built a steady rhythm that has the bed shaking beneath their bodies.

Yuuri’s voice breathlessly chants Victor’s name as his mortal mate’s pace increases, and the strength of his forceful thrusts cause a cacophony of flesh slapping flesh to echo throughout the room. Yet more slick pours from the god’s already wet hole, soaking the bed and making each consecutive movement by Victor go smoother; and it adds to the obscene symphony that their coupling creates.

Eventually – and Victor cannot discern whether it has been minutes or hours since they began – the Alpha feels a swelling begin at the base of his cock. His knot is starting to grow, and so he pushes himself in as deep as he can, his hips flush against Yuuri’s soft skin. Yuuri keens, shifting his hips as Victor’s knot inflates and plugs his channel completely.

“I’m – I’m going to come, Yuuri,” Victor grits out, his head still buried in the nape of the Omega god’s neck.

“Do it,” Yuuri replies. “Please, Victor, my love…”

Victor stiffens – it is the term of endearment that does him in. With a harsh grunt, his cock erupts and his release floods into Yuuri, coating his insides with white. Yuuri twitches and moans as he fills himself being filled. A splash of something warm against his stomach tells Victor, to his satisfaction, that he has made the god come as well.

Unable to move with Victor’s knot still tying them together, even as their orgasms subside, the two remain in that position, catching their breath. It is now deathly quiet in Victor’s chambers – he distantly ponders where Makkachin ran off to, before a small whimper summons his attention.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispers. “I did not – I thought I would have more time before my heat came.”

Victor exhales quietly through his nose. Yuuri’s scent is less powerful now, but it still hangs heavy in the air around them, a reminder of what has just occurred.

“It’s alright,” he assures him. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I didn’t mind.”

There’s a beat of silence. Victor wonders if Yuuri is prone to the habit of biting his lips in hesitation.

“Even… Even without seeing me?”

It is several moments before Victor takes a deep breath, and speaks.

“I would prefer to see your face in the throes of ecstasy,” he admits, “or even just sleeping by my side. But even if you never permit me to see your face, Yuuri, I will treasure every moment I have with you.”

He cautiously reaches up, until his fingers brush against what he assumes is Yuuri’s cheek. There’s wetness upon his skin, which startles him.

“Yuuri?”

“… What are you saying, Victor?”

“… I’m saying that I love you. And it would be my honor to stay with you for the rest of my life.”

“Victor…”

Suddenly, Victor is tugged down, as lips press against his own in another eager kiss. He is quick to return it, however, hoping that those tears he can feel on Yuuri’s face are tears of joy.

When they part, Yuuri smiles against his skin. “I never told you what triggers a heat in a god, did I?”

Dazed, Victor blinks a few times before realizing he’s meant to reply. “… No, you did not.”

“It requires an intense emotion. For some of us, it’s anger or excitement… For me, it’s always been love. I’ve only had a handful of heats in my life, and never one that lasted the entire night.”

At his words, Victor jolts. His eyes snap to the window. Though the thick curtains drawn over them, by Yuuri himself, can block out moonlight and the stars, they will not be able to hold back the sunlight; several tiny threads of golden light are already beginning to shine through.

He looks back below him, though it’s still too dark to see Yuuri. He is pushed back, off of the god, which also causes him to pull out – he hadn’t even noticed his knot deflate. The bed shifts under Yuuri’s weight as he gets up, his form moving to the curtained window.

“I lied to you,” the god says softly. “Mortals do not go insane upon seeing a god’s visage. Not usually, anyway. But I have never met a mortal, or god for that matter, who did not immediately lust for me after seeing my face. It was hard to know who truly cared for me. And so I lied to you, and for that I am sorry. But I could not bear to spend the rest of eternity wondering whether your feelings were genuine.”

Victor’s heart races. Yuuri’s hands grasp the curtains.

“I do not wonder that anymore,” he continues. “And so…”

The curtains are pulled open. The bright daylight blinds Victor for a moment, but he does not stop staring at the spot where Yuuri stands. When his vision clears, his breath catches in his throat.

A creature of pure beauty and sensuality stands there, pale, naked skin illuminated by the sun. Soft curves and plump flesh fill out his body, but it the face Victor is most drawn to. Midnight-colored hair frame a cherubic face, and eyes like darkened honey watch Victor in return. Pink petal lips speak his name as a question.

“Victor?”

Victor is startled out of his daze. He scrambles off the bed to stand beside Yuuri – beautiful, wonderful, his – and upon reaching him, tentatively cups the god’s face with his hands. Yuuri is shorter than him, he notices.

They stare at one another for a while more, until a question tumbles out of Victor’s mouth, unbidden.

“May I kiss you again?”

Yuuri blinks, then laughs. “You don’t have to ask, beloved.”

Victor grins, heart soaring, as Yuuri tilts his head towards him. He does the same, and their lips meet in the middle – it is a kiss full of relief, wonder, excitement, and perhaps most of all, hope for the future.

 


 

Olympus is filled with good cheer and merriment as a new god joins their pantheon. A pair of twins, to be more precise – one with hair like starlight and the other with hair like a raven’s wing. They are collectively named Storge, and they will guard the love between family when they are older. But for now, they are simply Stepan and Hoshiko, children to their dam Eros, the god of romance and lust…

And their formerly mortal sire, Pragma: the god of everlasting and eternal love.