Chapter Text
“Szeptem na ucho powiem, że
Że ja, ja się tego wyrzekam
Ja się tego wyrzekam
Wyrzekam, bo
Wyrzekam, bo
Nikt tak pięknie nie mówił, że się boi miłości
Nikt tak pięknie nie mówił, że się boi miłości jak Ty”
/
“Whispering in your ear, I’ll admit that
That I, I renounce it
I renounce it
I renounce because
I renounce because
No one said so beautifully that they are afraid of love
No one said so beautifully that they are afraid of love as you did”
– Daria Zawiałow & Dawid Podsiadło,
Nikt tak pięknie nie mówił, że się boi miłości
“You know,” Harry shouts upon entering Louis’ Chelsea mansion, leaving the door to close after him with a thud reverberating off the nearby walls. “If you wanted to fuck me, you could’ve just said so. No need for that little scene you pulled.”
It has taken him significantly more time than Louis to get here. Someone had to clean up the mess the aforementioned man left, after all. Just thinking about it makes Harry’s veins ignite with fury.
It was supposed to be a nice night out. For the first time in ages almost all of them were in one place.
Back in the day, when they were inhabiting Mount Olympus, everything was simpler. It was a pretty facile life, but it was also monotone. That’s why they decided to descend from the mount they called home and live amongst humans for a while. Even for gods, an eternity seems like a lot, after all. Especially one filled with stagnation.
But ever since, they’re scattered all over the world, distracted with everything said planet has to offer.
Louis, known as Ares – the god of war and courage – decided on London, and well, Harry – or Aphrodite, the goddess of love – couldn’t really choose a different city, could he? Athena – the goddess of wisdom – who’s going by Zayn nowadays, and Liam – Hermes, the herald of the gods – chose to see a little bit of the world at first, and now just returned from a little village located somewhere between Bologna and Milan. And, finally, the god of music and dance, but also truth and prophecy – Apollo – named Niall these days, chose Dublin.
This week, though, they were all invited here by Zeus, and well, you can’t really say no to the king of gods.
“Baby,” Louis sighs. “I didn’t pull anything.” He comes to a halt in front of Harry, placing his hands on the man’s love handles. “Don’t you think you’re being a little bit overdramatic here?”
It’s not the words, but the tone of his voice prompts Harry’s hackles to rise.
“I cannot believe you, Louis,” he all but pushes the man away in order to make the space between their bodies grow. “I’m well aware that you’re the god of the fucking war, but that doesn’t mean you should behave like that , like a fucking animal.”
This makes Louis’ head snap back to him, “Hey, watch your fucking tone.” He takes a hold of Harry’s wrist, bringing them closer again, their noses almost touching. “Just because I’m fucking you, doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that.”
The authority Louis puts in his voice makes a heat coil in Harry’s lower belly, but no , it’s not BC anymore and as the goddess of love he has a standard to uphold.
He can’t be that easy. Not even for Louis.
Besides, everyone knows that that’s simply not true. Harry has Louis very much wrapped around his pinky by now. They have been together since before the first woman sat on Egypt’s throne. Louis just has to man up and make the right move to make Harry officially his. Finally .
“Yeah, and what are you going to do about it, Ares ?” he challenges with a newfound determination. “Will you break my nose as you did with Hephaestus’ just an hour ago?”
“H-”
“Or maybe you’ll start a war against me, huh?”
Just now, when he feels his back touching the living room’s wall, he notices that he let Louis corner him.
He feels like prey. And if his knickers get a little wet because of that, no one needs to know.
He’s not done with riling Louis up, though.
“Well, no comeback?” he asks sweetly. “Wouldn’t you want to ‘show me where I belong’? I’m the only entity you haven’t defied, after all,” he mocks, his tone almost dripping with honey. “Is there a reason for that?”
He watches with hungry eyes as Louis tilts his head down and trails his nose up and down the column of his neck, barely touching. The goddess lets his head fall back, baring his throat for his lover.
He hadn’t even noticed when Louis’ palms returned to his hips, squeezing gently, but surely, knowing exactly how to manhandle the goddess of love.
“The only place where you belong,” the man rasps out, sending shivers down Harry’s spine at the puffs of breath he’s releasing with every word, leaving them to fall on Harry’s collarbone.“Is on your knees in front of me, doll.”
“ Louis -” Harry almost mewls, overcome with desire.
“Tut-tut, doll, that’s not what you call me, is it? Don’t be a bad girl,” he sighs disapprovingly, making tears gather in Harry’s eyes.
He isn’t a bad girl. He’s always a good girl.
“ Ugh , daddy,” he whimpers out.
“Exactly, doll,” the god praises. “Are you going to let daddy have his way with you, love?”
One of his hands leaves Harry’s love handles and moves to grip his chin, making him face the man.
“Yes, daddy,” Harry says while trying to fall to his knees. He’s being stopped by the man’s hands that are now gripping the back of his thighs.
“Not here, H,” he soothes when Harry makes a wounded sound at being halted. “Your knees will be aching, princess. C’mon, hop on,” he says, picking Harry up lightly.
There’s nothing left for Harry to do but wrap his legs around the war god’s waist and let himself be carried in the general direction of their master bedroom.
Even after all these years, centuries really, he still gets trapped in his thoughts every once in a while when it comes to this vulnerable side of his – being daddy’s good girl .
Gods are entitled to decide what they want to look like – who they want to be – but once the decision is made, there’s no coming back.
And that’s more than fine with Harry, because all these years later, he still isn’t sure who he is.
Thankfully, there’s no need for him to label himself – he can be a goddess if this is what his heart desires and there’s no one who has the right to veto against his wishes. So here he is, a goddess of love, commonly known as Aphrodite, and now, when living amongst humans, named Harry.
But there are these moments – his ‘ Louis moments ’ – when he knows exactly who he is.
In the past, he had wished for such clarity outside of said tid bits of time, but, it appears, to no avail.
He isn’t as pressed anymore, though. Harry’s content with what he has, and if this means being his true self only when in the arms of the love of his life, so be it.
Harry had a lot of lovers throughout his existence, but none of them made him feel so seen, so heard, so accepted. None of them made him feel as adored, cherished and loved as Louis does. And he’ll hold onto that for however long the god will let him. Which, hopefully , will be an eternity. They just need to make it official.
He’s jolted out of his reverie by the sensation of his silk-clad rump being seated on the bed.
He all but falls backwards, his barren arms coming in contact with the Egyptian cotton bedding, which he’s sure of since he was the one who purchased them, along with almost everything else adorning the interiors of Louis’ – theirs – mansion.
Harry looks up at the man hovering above him. Louis’ eyes are mesmerising as ever, reminding him of the troubled waters he emerged from.
“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” the god comments off-handedly, while perusing the sight in front of him with the utmost scrutiny.
And Harry is sure he is a sight to behold. Clad in – one of his favourites – a cherry red silk dress that clings to his body in all of the right places, paired with black Manolo Blahnik pumps – which are by now laying long-forgotten on the bedroom floor – and only a couple of diamonds adorning his neck, ears and hands. His chocolate curls are splattered all around his ivory face, forming a halo.
The goddess pokes his tongue out to moisten his rose-coloured lips, observing from under his lashes the way the man’s eyes follow the movement.
“Look at you, H,” Louis breathes out. “All pretty for me to unwrap.” He states while he pulls himself up. Placing his hands on the meat of Harry’s thighs as he starts caressing them gently.
“The best gift the world could have ever blessed me with, aren’t you, doll?”
His words cause Harry to let out an embarrassingly loud whimper.
“ Daddy , I- uh, I need you, please,” he almost begs, pleading green eyes looking up at Louis.
“Let daddy admire you, angel,” he says while he lowers his head and starts placing kisses all over the goddess’ smooth thighs.
His kisses turn into bites, and it doesn’t take long for Harry to feel that Louis decided on marking him up, leaving a dozen hickeys for him to feel for days.
The man’s ministrations go higher, and higher, and higher when, suddenly, he’s met with wine-coloured lace covering the goddess’ crotch.
“What do we have here, princess?” he asks, while simultaneously wiggling his index under the knickers’ hem and letting it snap back into its rightful place.
“Panties, Daddy,” he answers dutifully, carefully watching Louis’ every move.
“Yeah, I see that you made yourself all pretty for daddy to devour,” he praises, voice filled with adoration.
“Yeah- I made,” he whimpers out. “A surprise.”
“A surprise?” he chuckles. “What do you mean, dove? Aren’t you always wearing knickers?”
“I am,” he confirms in a small voice, eyes overflowing with excitement. “But they’re special.”
The way he says it, like he’s sharing a secret, pulls an endeared laugh out of Louis. “Yeah, lovely? Want to show me?”
Harry manages a nod and then gets into a sitting position, trying and failing to remove his dress.
He lets out a frustrated huff, which prompts Louis to help him out of the garment.
What waits underneath, though, knocks the breath out of the god of war.
Harry doesn’t have on his usual panties. Instead, he’s clad in the bespoke ruby Agent Provocateur Dedee bodysuit Louis got him last month after Harry declared that he does like the structured cut of it, but doesn’t need any more black lingerie to occupy his closets. And what kind of man would Louis be if he left the topic at that?
“Do you like it, daddy?” the goddess asks shyly.
“I love it, baby doll,” he declares mindlessly, not being able to focus on anything else than the expanse of porcelain skin displayed in front of him.
Harry looks utterly sinful in this piece, and Louis can’t get enough of him. He’s a starved man when it comes to Harry, and although the man sitting in front of him is the one who’s usually on his knees, Louis is the only one who gets to worship the ground beneath Harry’s feet.
Harry preens under the praise, laying down to stretch his body out and bring his knees to his chest, only to let them fall open and expose the thin lace strap that’s covering his cock, balls and hole.
He looks at Louis, waiting for him to do something . Anything .
“Daddy, come on,” he whines. “I want your dick in me, please.”
The added please makes the man chuckle, but he composes himself and gets to work.
Louis connects his lips with Harry’s to give him a kiss or two to placate him, then he gets back between the goddess’ open legs.
He brings his index up to move the strap covering his hole to the side, leaving the pucker exposed, completely at his mercy.
Harry lets his head fall backwards at the sight, unable to take any more of the teasing.
After what seems like an eternity, he feels Louis blowing air all over his hole, making it pulse. He can feel his cock throbbing at that, precome leaking from the tip.
And then there’s the wet sensation of Louis’ tongue, eating him out like he hasn’t tasted the bud in months, if not years.
Today he’s lacking his usual technique, which means that he’s as – if not more – desperate than Harry is. Yet, he’s still so good at it, alternating between licking over his hole and sticking his tongue in it, trying to taste every part of the goddess he can get.
After playing with the pucker for a while, he adds a lubed finger, testing the stretch of Harry’s walls.
“‘M good,” Harry ushers. “Y’know ‘m stretched, you fucked me this morning.”
“Language, doll,” Louis comments, removing his finger. “You know I like to make sure you’ll be comfortable.”
He gets back on his knees, straightens his spine and reaches over to the bedside table in search of condoms.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
“Language, daddy,” Harry teases, poking Louis’ shoulder with his foot.
“We don’t have any left,” Louis admits. “The one we used this morning was the last one.”
“Just fuck me bare, then,” the goddess says nonchalantly. “It wouldn’t be the first time, y’know it.”
Louis considers it for a moment, relenting in the end.
He grabs the water-based lube he used earlier, and covers his dick in it, giving it a few strokes.
“If you don-” Harry starts, but doesn’t get to finish this sentence because Louis enters him in one go, instantly bottoming out, and with that knocking the breath out of him.
He gives him a bit to get used to the stretch, and then starts at an almost punishing pace, making a stuttering mess out of the man underneath him.
Harry’s hands are tightly gripping the cotton sheets, while he’s trying to keep himself in place so as to not move up after the man starts pistoning his hips even faster.
“Fuck, you’re so tight, doll face,” the god rasps out, nudging Harry’s prostate with each thrust.
“ Daddy , Lou, Lou , hol’ me,” Harry whimpers out, clearly overwhelmed.
“Come here, doll,” he indulges his lover instantly. “You’re fine, here, wrap your legs around my torso.”
He pulls out a little, lowering Harry’s legs from where they were folded against his chest, and placing them on either side of his body.
“So beautiful, H,” he says while caressing Harry’s cheek. “Such a perfect doll for me, yeah?”
“Mmm, perfect f’r daddy,” he sing-songs. “A goo’ girl.”
“Yeah, love,” Louis assures, starting moving his hips again. “Daddy’s good girl.”
Harry looks up at Louis, at the perfect man nestled between his legs, and can’t seem to disagree that, no matter what anyone says, he is Louis’.
As the realisation hits him, he can feel the inevitable heat coiling in his lower belly.
“‘M close,” he states, eyes slipping shut, a blissed out smile stretched across his face.
“That’s okay, love,” Louis assures. “Come for me, angel.”
A whine falls out of the goddess’ lips, his body trembling.
“Come with daddy,” Louis whispers close to Harry’s pinna, the rhythm of his hips faltering slightly.
And that seems to do the trick, because Harry’s cock – still confined by the bodysuit’s lace – releases the come from its slit.
At the sight of that, Louis releases into Harry’s heat as well, all but falling at the man nestled underneath him.
With the last remnants of energy, he takes a hold of Harry’s pliant body and rolls them over, ending with the goddess resting on top of him.
He makes sure to cover them with the cashmere blanket that’s nestled at the foot of the bed, making sure that his heart is warm and comfortable.
Judging by the quiet snores leaving his mouth, he succeeded.
&
Louis is woken up by the sound of his ringtone. He waits for the call to go to voicemail, but when it starts ringing for the second time, he lets out an exasperated huff and rolls over to grab the phone dancing on the nightstand.
“Hello?”
“Louis,” Zayn hisses over the line. “Where the fuck are you two?”
“What?”
“The dinner? At father’s? Rings a bell?”
“Oh fuck,” he mutters, instantly shooting up from the bed.
“You have thirty minutes,” Zayn breathes out and with that hangs up.
He was always a man of many words.
He looks back at the sleeping angel, still clad in the sinful lingerie, and already dreads waking him up from his post-orgasm nap.
“Love, H,” he says gently while approaching the bed. “You have to wake up.”
“Umph-”
“Doll, we still have the dinner to attend.”
He places his hand on top of the man’s head, tenderly rubbing circles on its skin.
“Don’t wanna go,” he answers sleepily.
“You know it’s not an option, love,” Louis says with all the finality he can muster.
It gets Harry to lift the lid of one eye, but it’s enough for Louis to know he woke up in one of his most grumpy moods.
The god sighs, and removing his hand, gets up, heading to his – their – closet in search of appropriate clothes to wear.
It’s not more than a minute before he hears the soft padding of Harry's feet, followed by the sound of the shower.
Great , there’s no way they’ll make it there in thirty minutes.
Instead of stressing over it, though, he gets dressed in one of his Armani charcoal suits, accompanied by a white tank top underneath – he doesn’t feel like wearing a button down today – and decides to wait for Harry in the living room, preferably with a glass of scotch to ease the already approaching headache.
It’s not often their father requests for them to gather in one place. Louis can’t really remember the last time it happened, but it’s always to announce something important. And most of the time, some bad news, for Louis and his non-conformist nature, at least.
And Zeus isn’t really their father. He is one of Louis’ parents, with Hera being the other one. He’s also the father of Zayn and Niall, and the alleged one of Liam, but nobody thinks so these days. His wife Hera, though, is the mother of Louis and of another who was born out of wedlock, Hephaestus – the god of fire – who’s known nowadays as Carter. He was expelled from Mount Olympus shortly after she gave birth to him, so he’s not really in the picture anymore.
And then there’s Harry who was born after Cronus – Zeus’ father – severed Uranus’ genitals and threw them into the sea. Uranus, as the personification of the sky, gave the world one last of the sky’s stars in the form of the curly-headed goddess.
As was stated by Hesiod, the genitals were carried over the sea for a long time, and white foam arose from the immortal flesh; with it a person grew.
And since he has risen from the sea foam, Poseidon is the one who’s considered Harry’s godparent.
He doesn’t know how many minutes pass before Harry emerges in front of him wearing a suit of his own – a floral piece with a sequined Izzi corset — another one of the Agent Provocateur gifts he received a few weeks ago — underneath.
He looks as breathtaking as ever, oozing grace, even with the displeased frown marring his face.
“Ready?” Louis inquires upon standing up, his hand ready to be placed on the dip of the goddess’ waist.
He’s graced with a nod and then Harry is off, leaving Louis to trail after him like a lost puppy.
&
It’s about halfway through the main course that the news is finally dropped.
“Aphrodite,” says Zeus.
Harry looks up at him, then at Hera, and finally at Poseidon. The news can’t be fortunate, since Zues is the only one who’s smiling.
“All of us decided to give you away,” he informs and with that the silence falls upon the table.
The goddess turns towards Louis, but he seems to be strangely interested in the – yet another – glass of scotch he’s been brandishing all evening.
“To whom?” Harry finds the strength to ask, already dreading the answer.
“To me, darling ,” comes the gruff voice.
His blood runs cold, as he doesn’t need to turn around to know who the voice belongs to.
The last thing Harry remembers, before everything turned black, is the “to fucking Carter” his love muttered under his breath, apparently inaudible to everyone but Harry.