Chapter Text
Antinous snapped.
Well, to be fair, he hadn’t leashed his temper and violence much in the past couple of years anyway. He took what he wanted, said what he wanted. Ate and drank and fucked as he wanted. He just kept up the thinnest veneer of respectability in front of the queen and the few of the royal guard that remained loyal.
The problem was, as always, the prince. Telemachus, with his eyes too sharp for his own good, with the rage that simmered just underneath the surface whenever he was forced to interact with the suitors. He was better at feigning polite than Antinous was, which made sense. The prince was a scrappy, scrawny little thing; fighting outright would mean his death or maiming.
Well, except for the one time. Antinous had been surprised with the prince’s determination, and the uppercut. Those sharp eyes had gone calculating as he fought back. As he’d almost won, until Antinous had flattened him on his back and almost concussed him.
The prince hadn’t tried it again, even as Antinous had poured all his energy into goading him. Wanting to see if it was a fluke, or if Telemachus had more surprises in him.
Insults to the queen’s dignity were the most effective. An especially degrading one would have Telemachus clenching his fists so hard that his nails left little crescent cuts on his palm. Insults against himself would cause those eyes to light up in shock and embarrassment, before he would turn on his heel and storm out. Less effective for Antinous’ goal, but still fun to watch.
What finally caused the aforementioned snapping was simply a case of ‘wrong place, extremely wrong time.’
The palace had three baths. Two for general use, and one special for the queen so that she never had to be around the horde of men that had invaded her home. The bigger of the ones meant for the guests was almost always stuffed with men. One hundred and eight suitors meant that it was rarely unoccupied. And Antinous may have been one of the worst offenders, but sometimes he wanted to clean himself in peace without having to deal with the noise and the roughhousing that came with male bonding.
He wondered, sometimes, if young women did the same. If they shoved and jokingly insulted each other in private like the young men did. As a child, he would sit with his mother while she gossiped with her friends, older women who complained about everything from the weather to their husbands to that year’s harvest. They always smiled though, taking enjoyment in it. The easy comradery that came with a uniting annoyance.
Older men and younger women remained a mystery to him. Most of the older men were gone to war, and young women tended to avoid him for reasons that he wished weren’t self-explanatory.
He was heading into the smaller guest bath when the suitors’ uniting annoyance opened the door, still affixing his belt in place, hair wet and left loose.
Telemachus paused, blinking up at him for a long moment before he realized it was, in fact, Antinous, and he jumped to get out of the doorway. He mumbled an apology he didn’t mean, averting his eyes.
“Little wolf, fancy seeing you here,” Antinous drawled, hooking an arm around the prince’s narrow shoulders.
“This is my home, where else would I be?” Telemachus groaned under his breath. Louder, he said, “I was just leaving. You’ll have the baths to yourself.”
The smile he had plastered to his face was as fake as the civility Antinous pretended to have around Penelope.
Speaking of. Telemachus was gifted (cursed?) with the same face as his mother. The same freckles and tiny little moles that added an interesting splash to his appearance. Neither of them would have been as pretty with smooth, unmarked skin. His hair was the same texture as hers as well, wavy on the edge of curly, somewhere between a very dark brown and black. He was slenderer though, with narrow hips and an overall gangly build. Something about it made people want to bully him, even before he wizened up and started snarking back.
“Can I fucking help you?” he grumbled, trying to shrug out of the arm, politician smile falling.
And that’s where Antinous snaps.
“I think you should come back in with me,” he said, fingers tightening around the prince’s bicep. Muscle untrained, more bone than anything. His own smile was a knife, all teeth and unveiled malice.
“Why?” Telemachus asked, confusion knitting his brows together.
With a sigh, Antinous moved his hand to the back of Telemachus’ neck, gripping his hair and slowly pulling his head back. Exposing the soft flesh of his throat.
“I think you know why,” Antinous chuckled, roving his eyes over the slender body. Watching as his breath came faster, eyes widening in realization.
Good. He should be afraid, Antinous thought.
With a shaking hand, Telemachus pushed the door open again, and Antinous steered them both inside.
Antinous locked the door behind them. If a guard or someone heard, he wanted it to be harder for them to break down the door and stop him. It also meant the prince would have to pause to unlock it if he tried to bolt. He shoved the prince onto a marble bench off to one side.
“Stay put,” he warned. Telemachus simply lifted his hands in a mock surrender, rolling his eyes. Antinous planned on punishing him for that, but first he did want that bath.
He kept it quick, sponging off the worst of the dirt before he got into the water. The palace pumped the water in from a hot spring, so the pool was always an excellent temperature, full of minerals said to be healing and nurturing. Maybe that was why the royals were so pretty- even the king was said to be quite the looker. Antinous didn’t remember the king’s face though; he was too young when the man left to Troy.
As he dunked his head, he wondered if he should feel some kind of remorse for what he was about to do to the king’s son. He was already trying to steal the man’s wife though, so that ship had quite literally sailed a long time ago.
He was actually quite surprised that the prince did indeed stay where Antinous had put him. Telemachus was laying on the bench, glaring up at the well-crafted ceiling, one leg shaking with what was assumedly fear, hands folded over his stomach as he waited.
“Your clothes should be off,” Antinous called as he stepped out of the bath, giving himself a quick run with the towel. He was impatient and hard, he didn’t care if he was still damp.
“If you want me naked, do it yourself,” Telemachus snapped back at him.
“If I do it, Little Wolf, I’m ripping it off you and leaving you to explain to your mother how it got that way,” Antinous said in a sing-song voice, teasing as he made his way to stand over the younger man.
That got his hands moving, first taking off his belt, then removing the clasps and pins that held the cloth in place around his shoulders. He steadfastly avoided looking at Antinous, defiant to the last.
“You don’t have to do that,” Antinous mentioned when he noticed that Telemachus was then folding his chiton, setting it carefully out of the way.
“I believe you just threatened to ruin it,” he said. “You may not know much about weaving, but it can take a very long while for even the simplest of cloth to be made. And besides, I don’t like waste.” The last bit was said with venom, directed squarely at the man in front of him.
“Is that why it’s taken the queen years to make that shroud?” Antinous asked, low and dangerous. One hand shoved Telemachus back down onto the bench as he moved to straddle him, the other pinning his arms above his head.
“Yes. My grandfather’s shroud needs to be perfect. It’s my mother’s last obligation to my father’s family, after all. She is only being dutiful.”
The prince was a very good liar. If Antinous hadn’t already paid off the maid who clued him in to Penelope’s trick, he wouldn’t have suspected even a hint of falsehood.
“Dutiful,” Antinous scoffed, leaning down to whisper his next words directly into Telemachus’ ear. “Is that why you never told her about me beating your ass? Being dutiful? Or were you just ashamed of losing?”
“Because that was what you wanted me to do,” Telemachus told him. “You wanted to use me to make her worry, to try and get her to choose. Well guess what? I can be just as stubborn as any of you jackasses.”
“Doesn’t look like that to me,” Antinous said, grinning as he pinched one of the prince’s nipples. Hard. “It looks as if I can take whatever I want. Did I beat all the fight out of you last time?”
As if he was waiting for the taunt, Telemachus surged up and introduced his teeth to Antinous’ shoulder, slipping out of his grip like an arrow from a bow.
“If it’s a fight you want,” he laughed humorlessly, grinning to show the blood on his teeth.
Antinous darted after him with a snarl, one hand covering the gash, the other snatching at Telemachus’ hair as the younger man evaded him.
The game was short lived, Antinous not wanting to give Telemachus the chance to make a real break for the door. If he managed to escape, Antinous doubted he’d ever get the chance to pin him down again.
Strangely enough, it almost seemed as if the prince wasn’t even trying to make it to the door. Antinous chalked it up to either his superior chasing skills, or Telemachus being senseless with panic.
At any rate, Antinous managed to wrestle him to the ground, flat on his stomach and face pressed into the warm marble. The clash of bodies did nothing to flag his erection. In fact, he probably got more turned on by the chase. He made it known, grinding against Telemachus’ ass, getting a full-body shudder in return.
“Scared, Little Wolf?”
“Where the hell do you think all of that’s going to go?” the prince snapped at him, turning to glare over his shoulder.
“Where do you think?” Antinous smirked. “I’ll be nice, though. Prepare you so I don’t rip you in half.”
“If you kill me with that…thing, I’m going to haunt you,” Telemachus promised.
Antinous shoved the man’s head into the marble- not that hard, if he was dazed and confused it wouldn’t be sporting- and got back up, heading to a little shelf where the soaps and oils for bathing rested.
“Shut up and pick your poison. Which of these should I use?”
It was a fun little game, to give Telemachus a small, inconsequential choice while stripping away every other choice. To make him complicit in his own ruination. He was already giving up on escape, not moving from where Antinous left him.
Telemachus squinted at the line of products. “Third from the left, the brown glass bottle.” He said it with a surprising amount of confidence, as if he’d considered before what would make the best lubricant.
Antinous picked up the bottle, scrutinizing it. It looked ordinary enough, and when he unstoppered it, he caught the smell of cloves. It wasn’t overpowering, so the clove must have just been a small part of the whole oil.
“It’s usually meant for teeth, but it should work well enough,” Telemachus said. “The clove has some numbing properties.”
“It’ll mean I last longer,” Antinous warned with a sadistic grin.
“I’ll take the risk. It really is the safest option; I’m not letting you put actual soap in my ass.”
“Hm. I could if I wanted to,” Antinous commented. It got an annoyed noise from the prince.
He grabbed Telemachus by the arm and hauled him upright, walking them back over to the bench, and shoved him down on his stomach again. As much as he wanted to play with that perky chest, it would be harder for Telemachus to try to escape again in that position, and Antinous didn’t want to have to chase him down again.
Okay, he was maybe lying to himself with that last part, but he’d rather get to the ravishing part of the afternoon first. He could chase him again after.
“Am I your first?” he whispered into Telemachus’ ear, gently nudging the prince’s rim with one oil-slicked finger.
“Depends. You gonna stop if I say no?”
“I don’t think anything could get me to stop now,” Antinous promised him. “So be truthful.”
“…Yes. Don’t get a big head about it.”
When Antinous finally got his finger in, he definitely believed him. It was exceedingly tight, and he now understood why Telemachus assumed Antinous’ cock could kill him. The clove was probably a necessity or the poor thing would go into shock.
Telemachus swore loudly as he was opened up, cheek pressed against the bench as his hands went scrabbling at the sides, nails scraping against the marble. It made Antinous pause for a moment. If the prince was too loud, he’d attract the guards, who might bust down the door and tear him away before he was done. Sure, he’d locked it, but that wouldn’t matter to someone determined to save the prince from him.
“Cover your mouth and stay quiet,” he growled. “If you make too much racket, I’m dropping you in the water.”
Telemachus complied, mumbling something under his breath that Antinous didn’t quite catch as he pressed a hand to his mouth.
“And don’t sass me.”
The look he got screamed ‘I will sass you as much as I damn well please,’ but he let it go. He’d yet to fuck the defiance out, so it was only natural Telemachus was still being a little bitch. He’d merely find a way to punish him for it later.
Second finger in, and Telemachus was shaking like a leaf, breathing hard through his nose. Antinous felt as he tried to fight his own body, trying to relax against all better instincts. Smart; fighting against the intrusion would only make it hurt worse. Not that Antinous would have minded a little more fight, as it would have just given him another excuse to be rough.
“Bet you won’t tell anyone about this,” he said as he played. “Who’d follow someone who they knew got fucked like this? At least the queen has an excuse, being a woman, but you? Bet you’ll take it as good as she would though.”
Telemachus removed the hand from his mouth. “Seriously? Stop talking about my mom when you have your fingers in my ass.”
“Put that hand back; first warning,” Antinous growled at him.
With an exasperated sigh, he did, turning his head to glare at the wall. He couldn’t remain stoic though, not with Antinous pumping the two fingers in and out, occasionally scissoring them apart. It was only a couple of minutes until he was making soft, broken sounds into his palm. Music to Antinous’ ears.
He made a concerted effort in looking for the prince’s prostate, and when he finally found it- Telemachus jolting like a spooked rabbit- he abused it. It was more fun to make his body like the defilement, even if his mind was probably screaming and railing against it.
Telemachus grabbed onto the bench with his free hand, knuckles going white as he desperately muffled the keening sound that escaped his throat.
“This is a good look for you. All sweaty and making such sweet noises for me. Might have to do this regularly. When I’m your new step-dad, maybe,” Antinous said, leaning down to bite at the bare neck in front of him.
“D-do you ever shut the fuck up?” Telemachus panted.
“Second warning. Talk back again and I’m washing off the oil and finding something that’ll make it so much worse.”
Telemachus groaned in frustration, though it was once again behind his hand, so Antinous let it slide.
It turned into a scream when he got the third finger in, Telemachus pressing against his mouth so hard his nails were digging into his cheek. His eyes were clenched shut. Antinous was surprised he wasn’t crying; perhaps he was more tenacious than predicted.
Antinous added a little more of the oil, appreciating the squelch it made as he fucked the prince on his fingers. The louder the noise, the redder Telemachus became.
When he determined the younger man was open enough, he pulled them free to slick himself up.
The oil felt weird on his dick, if he was completely honest. A bit tingly. He’d heard of people mixing clove into their oil to last longer in bed, but hadn’t tried it himself before. It wasn’t unpleasant, just…odd. It was absolutely worth it if it meant he could pound Telemachus into the ground for longer, he decided.
When he pushed his way into the prince, he was not slow, gentle, or considerate. He slid in about halfway, not pausing before he pulled most of the way out, and slammed forward again, spearing Telemachus with more of his cock. He obsessively watched every twitch, every shake, and every grimace made as he fucked into the tight heat of the man pinned beneath him.
Antinous gave him no time to adjust or get used to it before he was fucking him in earnest, relishing in the slap of skin meeting skin, and the muffled noises Telemachus couldn’t seem to stop making. His hands held those narrow hips so hard there would be deep, hand-shaped bruising on them for weeks. He groaned at that, and a fun, dark thought; if the prince was already this pliant, it might actually be easy to pin him again. To make him bend and take it, or to shove him to his knees and force him to use his mouth.
The fantasy was fun, but not as fun as the real thing squealing and moaning around Antinous’ cock, so he focused on that. Fucked him until Telemachus was limp, practically boneless as he lay there and took it. Even then, it was a tight fit, his body squeezing the cock like a vice as it took its pleasure from him.
Antinous bit more bruises onto the canvas before him, careful to keep them only in places that could easily be covered; as fun as letting the whole palace know that he'd made Telemachus his little toy would be, he knew the other suitors would smell the blood in the water if they knew the prince was so easy to force down and fuck. Antinous would have to beat them back to keep him all for himself, and he’d rather not have to bother. Except Eurymachus, the rest of them were a bunch of fucking morons who couldn’t be trusted to keep their hands off what he’d claimed as his.
With a groan, Antinous adjusted the angle to hit the prostate better, laughing when Telemachus clenched even tighter around him. Squirming and shuddering, accidentally shoving himself back. He was almost impaling himself on Antinous’ cock. Probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.
Telemachus was so responsive, so sensitive. Antinous found himself sliding a hand underneath to grab at the prince’s cock; again, blurring the line between violence and pleasure, to make him conflicted every time he tried to get himself off after this. It was a slight surprise how hard he already was. Antinous almost expected that the pain would have stopped any true arousal from taking hold, but Telemachus was still having his sweet spot brutalized, so maybe it shouldn’t have been that surprising.
It didn’t take long at all for the prince to come, gasping into the palm of his hand as Antinous decided not to stop, continuing to stroke him even past the point of oversensitivity. His ass clenched even tighter around Antinous’ cock, so the latter sped up, searching for his own orgasm.
He felt it building, chomping at the bit in his excitement to spill inside, to mark Telemachus in a way no one could see. Only that he would feel leaking out of him, would probably wake up in a cold sweat remembering. Gods, Antinous hoped he would feel it for days. Weeks, even. Maybe he’d reluctantly get off to the memory, unable to touch himself without remembering this moment.
Telemachus managed to open his eyes, pupils blown wide and swimming with unshed tears. They glared like he was trying to set Antinous on fire with his mind alone, still burning with fight. He grumbled something from behind his hand, but Antinous paid it no mind. Probably just saying how much he hated this. A threat to Antinous’ life that he wouldn’t have the guts to follow through, perhaps.
Antinous let go of Telemachus’ dick to grab his hips again, pulling him back for each thrust forward. Those wide eyes slid closed once more. He found he kind of missed staring into them, if just because he wanted to see the anger dim when the prince accepted the inevitable. When his mind accepted what his body already had.
That was the thought that finally put him over the edge, nails digging into hips as he came, grinding against Telemachus with short thrusts so it reached as far inside as possible. He gave one last bite between freckled shoulder blades, wringing a few more interesting noises from Telemachus’ throat.
He panted into the skin between his teeth as he came back to himself, slowly working his jaw open to release it. He righted himself, taking a step back as he pulled out. He watched the come slowly start to leak out, running down Telemachus’ thighs to pool onto the bench.
If it wasn’t for his damned refractory period, he’d plunge right back in, trying to memorize the image of the prince covered in bites and come. As it was, his cock begged him to wait a goddamn minute before he tried to use it again.
Telemachus wiped his mouth with the back of his still-trembling wrist, pushing himself up so he wasn’t completely flat against the bench.
“C-can I talk now?” he asked, voice wrecked.
“Yeah, sure,” Antinous shrugged with a grin. He got what he wanted; it didn’t matter what the prince tried now.
“Gods. Alright. I understand the appeal now,” he laughed.
Fucking. Laughed.
“What?” Antinous intoned, suddenly thrown off-kilter. He was pretty sure most people didn’t respond to being raped by laughing.
“Sex. Like I said, I hadn’t tried it before. Kind of hard to do when everyone is either trying to marry my mom, or a servant. And I’d have felt too…I don’t know, slimy? About asking someone who’s just trying to do their job.” He groaned as he managed to sit all the way up. “Fuck, you did not go easy on me. Which…is about what I should have expected, considering. You must have been pretty pent up too, judging by the, uh,” he paused to look down at the mess that was his thighs. “Judging by that.”
Telemachus stretched, arcing his back until something in his spine must have shifted, and he relaxed again with a deep sigh. “You couldn’t have decided to do this before I took a bath? I need another now, and to fucking waddle back to my room before the clove completely wears off.”
He stood up on shaky legs, like a newborn foal trying to take its first steps, but managed to stay upright. “Okay, good, I can walk!” he cheered triumphantly, carefully picking his way over to the bath. He stopped to wipe away most of the come with the rag Antinous had used earlier- no sense in dirtying a new one, apparently.
He was under the water before Antinous could unstick his tongue to even question what the fuck was going on. Had he…had the prince thought this was a mutual decision? Had that been why he didn’t try harder to get away?
Antinous thought back to the start. To grabbing Telemachus’ hair and leering at him. To him lying on the bench with his leg tapping. Was it impatience that drove the movement, and not fear? Hell, Telemachus had pushed open the door without any real prompting, and without any real argument once he realized what Antinous had been after.
Hurriedly, Antinous redressed and practically ran from the room. He was going to have to rethink a lot of things.
Well, he thought as he made his way to his room, Chances of getting that blow-job have just increased.