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When Telemachus had challenged Antinous to a wrestling match, he didn't really think about the consequences. He was blinded by his anger as the man dared to disrespect his family yet again. Well, it didn't take him so long to realize what he got himself into when he saw the devilish grin on the man's face. Still, backing off wasn't an option; no, he wouldn't let the suitor think that he was scared of him. That would only grant him permission to cross the lines again and again. However, Antinous was much sharper than Telemachus gave him credit for. Acting like he couldn't care less, his grin twisted into a mockery.
"As tempting as it is to beat the shit out of you in front of everyone, prince Telemachus..." He started, voice dripping with sarcasm. A deep, low chuckle resonated in his chest.
"I don't need an occasion to do that, do I? So tell me, little wolf, what's in it for me to accept your little challenge? Because I don't see how this will benefit me."
Telemachus was left speechless for a few moments. He had never doubted that the man would jump at such an opportunity. It took him only seconds more to realize what Antinous was implying.
"A wager..." he whispered, almost to himself. The satisfaction on the other's face confirmed his assumption.
"I have to admit, you're catching on faster than I expected."
"Just spit it out already. What do you want?" His words came out impatient, not even slightly amused by the trap he had been lured into.
"Hmmm... let me think." Antinous pretended to weigh his options, fingers resting on his chin, brows furrowed as if he were truly considering it. Telemachus only rolled his eyes.
"So...?" He raised an eyebrow, his short fuse already burning.
"Short-tempered, I see," Antinous mused. Telemachus sighed and averted his gaze—only to regret it immediately.
The next thing he felt was the suitor’s presence invading his personal space.
"Didn't know I was that charming—I stole your breath away," Antinous teased, making Telemachus realize he had been holding his breath. "I will NOT speak favorably of you to my mother."
Telemachus took a step back, creating some space between them. It didn’t last long.
"Actually, that’s not what I had in mind."
Antinous didn’t hesitate to close the distance again. For a brief moment, the smirk on his face faded, replaced by something unreadable as he studied the prince. His expression was neutral—too neutral.
Then, his grin returned, sharp as a blade.
"After I finish giving you another harsh lesson in the courtyard..." He leaned in, voice dropping into a low murmur. "You’ll be mine."
The sound of Telemachus’ hitched breath was satisfying.
"For a week," Antinous added, watching with delight as the prince’s eyes went wide.
"W-what?"
Telemachus’ mind was suddenly out of reach. The hand that brushed against his waist jolted him back to reality, and he pressed both palms against the solid wall of muscle before him, shoving the man away. He wasn’t even sure if he had actually moved Antinous or if the suitor had simply stepped back of his own accord.
"What do you mean by that?" he finally managed to ask.
Antinous only shrugged lazily.
"You’ll do as I say, whenever I say it. A proper little servant."
Telemachus wasn’t sure how Antinous could say something so degrading in such a casual tone, but it only made his blood boil more.
"Unless..." The suitor tilted his head, smirk widening. "The prince of Ithaca already knows he stands no chance against me."
"Not if the gods themselves willed it," he spat, his face a mix of disbelief and disgust. He turned sharply, aiming to leave the corridor.
"Suddenly getting cold feet, little prince? I always knew you lacked bravery, but this... this is astonishing."
"What did you say?!" His head snapped back so fast it nearly hurt. He didn’t bother hiding his outrage, which only earned him an amused chuckle from the suitor.
"I said you're a coward," Antinous repeated, slow and deliberate.
Telemachus’ jaw tightened. The idea of being at Antinous’ mercy for a whole week was unnerving, but backing out now would be humiliating. He knew he’d regret this—unless, by some stroke of luck, he actually won.
Fine. If he was going to risk his dignity, he was going to make it worth it.
"Fine. But if I win, you withdraw your suit to my mother and leave."
A burst of maniacal laughter filled the space, echoing off the stone walls. It took a while for Antinous to regain control, his chuckles tapering off as he wiped away the lingering tears. When he finally straightened, his expression was one of pure entertainment.
"It's a deal then, little wolf."
He extended his hand, waiting.
Telemachus hesitated, a flicker of unease creeping in. But he refused to let it show. Swallowing down his doubts, he reached out and grasped the suitor’s hand.
"Deal," he muttered.
A chorus of warning sirens blared in Telemachus' head the moment his back slammed against the ground. Antinous' weight bore down on him, arms locked around his torso, trapping him. He bucked and twisted, but it was useless—he couldn’t create even the smallest gap to slip through.
Warm breath ghosted over his neck. Antinous was there. He tried to shrink away, his body recoiling from the unwanted closeness.
Then, the pressure tightened.
A pained gasp left his throat. He could swear Antinous' intention was to crush his ribs. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, his vision blurred. Another sharp cry escaped his lips. If the suitor squeezed any harder, he was sure his ribs would break.
Desperation overrode pride. His free hand flailed blindly before tapping—weakly, barely reaching the man's back.
A clear signal of surrender.
The arms wrapped around him loosened, now resembling more of an embrace. Antinous lifted his head, staring down at the panting mess beneath him. His body was covered in dust and sweat, just like Telemachus.
A hand brushed against the prince’s forehead, sweeping damp strands of hair away. His gaze held a deep thoughtfulness, his mind—no doubt—already plotting ways to humiliate him over the next seven days, Telemachus assumed. But maybe he was wrong. For once, Antinous actually seemed… confused.
He watched as the suitor slowly shifted, his face unreadable again.
Telemachus had braced himself for mockery, for that insufferable, cocky grin—but this? This was new.
Then, without another word, Antinous stood, his back to him, and began to walk away. Just before disappearing from view, he lifted a hand in a lazy wave, as if he were certain the boy was still watching.
"On your feet, little wolf. Your week of servitude starts tomorrow—let’s see how well a prince obeys."
The words dripped with mockery, yet something in his tone was off. It made Telemachus’ brain malfunction all over again.