Chapter Two

Alas, things didn’t change overnight. Cleon traveled to the nearby villages and announced the news, to various degrees of belief. Dryas had ruled their region since the death of the great god Pan, centuries ago, and the change seemed impossible.

Still, they sent their offerings, and a few trickled out to the shrine to see Anthos in person. They didn’t seem to know what to make of him, this small, shy new god on his brother’s huge throne. There was a relief there, but also a new anxiety.

“Dinner!” Cleon called, walking into the sacred glade with a basket of offerings on his hip. He kindled the altar fire, saying the ritual words slowly so he didn’t make a mistake.

Anthos jumped down from his perch, forty feet up in the branches of the sacred tree. He landed lightly, his dappled deer’s legs barely bending from the impact, and trotted over to Cleon. He leaned up for a peck on the lips, then peered at the basket.

“What do we have?” he asked.

“Some game,” Cleon said. “Plus apricots, olives, early grapes…”

Anthos nodded, then leaned over the basket. He closed his eyes in concentration, sniffing at the offerings of food.

“This one,” he said, pointing to an apricot, “and these grapes, plus that haunch of rabbit.”

Cleon dutifully selected the chosen morsels, putting meat and fruit into the fire. Anthos inhaled the fragrant smoke from the burning offerings, letting out a pleased little hum. He could eat food the normal way, but it was the faith of his worshippers that truly nourished him.

Cleon smiled and went to prepare his own, mortal meal on an ordinary fire. He made sure to offer the fat and bones to the sacred flames, then put the rest of the rabbit on a spit to cook. Once it was sizzling, he bit into a grape, and couldn’t help wincing. The fruit was small, hard and sour—thoroughly unpleasant.

“Still bad?” Anthos asked, hanging his antlered head in obvious shame. “Sorry, I’m just no good at this.”

“It’s only been a few months,” Cleon reassured him. “The game and wild berries are really coming along. We just need to work on your range.”

Of course, Cleon had no idea how to do that. He made love to Anthos every day, the god learning to rein in his glory and Cleon to withstand it. The sex had definitely helped, as had the offerings and the active worship, but the god was still far, far weaker than Dryas had been. He wanted to bestow bounty, but he didn’t have enough power to reach the villages or farms beyond the forest.

“Yeah,” Anthos said, scuffing the grass with one hoof. “I suppose. It’s just…”

“Just what?” Cleon asked.

“Just…” Anthos said. “There’s a way I might be able to get stronger, but I don’t know how you’d feel about it.”

“Try me,” Cleon said. He gestured Anthos to join him on the sleeping couch inside his modest hut. The god sat down and snuggled close, staring into the crackling cook-fire.

“So, I’m the god of a liminal space,” Anthos began, “the boundary between civilization and the sublime wilderness—”

“Smaller words?” Cleon begged. “I’m not exactly a philosopher.”

Nor was he a scholar, or anyone with training or education. He had no real right to be a priest, but Anthos didn’t seem to care, showing incredible patience as he taught Cleon the rituals. They were both learning, after all.

“Right,” Anthos said, ducking his head. “It’s…I’m in charge of a place where the rules break down. Laws, expectations and social roles. Things can happen in the wild that could never happen in civilized lands.”

“Makes sense,” Cleon said, remembering their first time together. He could vividly recall that fierce, primal desire, the thrill of taking Anthos and breaking convention. “So, you need to make those things happen?”

Anthos nodded, eyes flicking up to meet Cleon’s for a moment.

“Yes,” he said, “but more specifically, as a fertility god, I’m supposed to…” He took a deep breath. “To seduce travelers, in the forest.”

“Oh,” Cleon said, blinking. “Do you not want to do that?”

“I…” Anthos was blushing to the tips of his pointed ears. “Uh, your meat’s gonna burn.”

Cleon glanced up, and sure enough, his rabbit was starting to char. He pulled it off the flames with a curse, but at least it wasn’t ruined. Wasting meat with such lean pickings would be a downright crime.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Cleon said when he sat back down. “Do you want to seduce travelers?”

“I… uh…” Anthos gripped his hands together as though to keep them from fidgeting. “Yes, but I don’t…I don’t want you to be upset.”

“Anthos.” Cleon slid an arm around the god’s waist, pulling him close. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I’m not upset. You’re a fertility god—sex is part of who you are, and I know that.”

“Are you sure?” Anthos asked, looking up at Cleon. “I don’t…I don’t want you to hate me.”

Cleon’s heart hurt in his chest, affection and sadness tangled together. He knew that look in his god’s eyes by now, the centuries of loneliness and despair. Anthos would rather starve, rather stretch himself to the breaking point than be abandoned again.

Sometimes, Cleon wanted to find Dryas and wring the immortal’s neck. It would be suicide, of course, but he could still fantasize.

“I will never, ever hate you,” Cleon said, ruffling the hair between his god’s antlers. “And I never expected to be your only lover. I won’t be jealous. I’ll be cheering you on.”

“Promise?” Anthos asked softly.

“I promise,” Cleon said. “I’ve been in quite a few beds myself.”

“Y-you still can be,” Anthos said, licking his lips. “I mean, you’re my priest, so people having sex with you is also worship.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Cleon said, pressing a kiss to his god’s nose. “So, we need to get you laid, right? How does it usually go?”

“Well,” Anthos said, “big brother would just grab people—”

“That’s no good,” Cleon said, and the god nodded.

“But the nymphs and such usually just show up and pose naked and say something sexy.”

“You can do that,” Cleon said. “I’ll give you some pointers.”

“But what if they don’t like me?” Anthos cried, voice shaking with anxiety. “I’m…what if they think I’m ugly, or scrawny? What if they laugh at me?”

“I’ll be right nearby,” Cleon promised. He grabbed a hefty piece of firewood from beside the couch, brandishing it in the air. “Anyone laughs at you and I’ll teach them some respect!”

Anthos giggled, his anxious expression breaking.

“Thank you,” he said. “I mean, I could turn them into squirrels, but I like your idea better. You promise you’ll be close by?”

“Promise,” Cleon said, smiling down at his god. “So, do you want a man or a woman?”

“A man,” Anthos said. “I like women too, but I’ve never been with one, and topping…it seems like a lot of pressure.”

“Makes sense,” Cleon said, nodding. “We can take small steps. Is there anyone you have in mind?”

“There’s these two hunters,” the god admitted. “Gyras and Nikias. I’ve seen them having sex in the woods before, and sometimes they have someone else too.”

“Sounds promising,” Cleon said. “You liked watching them?”

“Yes,” Anthos said, shifting as his cock began to rise. “They…they look good together, like they’re enjoying themselves. Enjoying each other.”

“Mmmmm…” Cleon hummed, his heart beating faster. He could just imagine it, two strapping hunters making love in the woods. “And you’d like them to enjoy you too?”

“Y-yes,” Anthos gulped. His cock was fully hard now, and Cleon wasn’t far behind. He could picture it vividly, practically hear Anthos’ sweet little cries as he was taken.

“What would you like them to do to you?” Cleon asked, voice low and hot. He slipped one hand between those fuzzy legs, cupping his erection. He rubbed slowly, licking at Anthos’ pointed ear. Anthos moaned, bucking up against Cleon’s hand in a way that never failed to thrill him.

Dinner could wait.

 

* * * *

 

Nikias crept through the forest, bow in hand, sweeping his eyes through the dim, dappled light. His footfalls were as silent as a cat’s, as were his partner’s. Gyras was two steps before him, as always, a lead Nikias would never hesitate to follow, no matter where it took him.

He and Gyras were a matched pair, friends from childhood and lovers since they’d understood the concept. Nikias was tall and blond, Gyras smaller and darker, but the two moved in perfect sync. Nikias knew his lover as he knew himself, and as thoroughly as they both knew the forest.

But the forest had changed. The trees were still in the same places, the animals followed the same paths, but the air was different. There had always been an aura of menace to these woods, a feeling of hostility. They’d had many close calls with wolves and bears, the predators striking out not from hunger, but from cruelty.

Now the forest was different. There were still wolves, still bears, but they seemed content to gaze warily at the hunters from a distance. The thorns seemed less sharp, the shadows less stark and cold. The rabbits and quail they’d caught over the last few weeks had been fat and glossy, and they’d heard rumors when they sold some of their meat in the villages—rumors of a new god.

Gyras threw up a hand signal, stopping Nikias in his tracks. Nikias followed his lover’s gaze to their quarry—a pair of antlers, peeking over a rock beside a small spring. A young buck, then, stopping for a drink. Nikias drew his bow, aim sure and steady. When the deer raised its head, he’d take it in one clean shot. He stilled his breath as the antlers moved, bowstring taut as he waited for the perfect moment.

Then he froze, hands going stiff on his bow. His target wasn’t a deer at all.

It was a young man, the most handsome young man Nikias had ever seen—golden tan, lithe and antlered. He raised his body out of the water, taking a seat on the rock with a soft, coy little blush. His brown-furred flanks shone with glistening droplets, and his green eyes were hooded with desire.

“Hello there,” the young man said, water dripping down his bare chest. Nikias wanted to lick it off, run his tongue along those slender abs. The fuzzy haunches gave him a strange, exotic charm, and Nikias wondered whether they felt as soft as they looked.

Then he realized it—a deer’s antlers and legs, not those of a goat. The rumors must be true. This was no mere satyr, but the new god of the forest, Anthos himself.

“Great Lord Anthos!” Nikias cried, dropping his bow and falling to his knees in an instant. Dryas would never have forgiven someone taking aim at him, even by accident. “I beg your pardon for raising my weapon. I had no idea it was you!”

“We didn’t, we swear, great Anthos!” Gyras added, kneeling as well. “We never dreamed we would see your—your magnificent self!”

“It’s— Get up, please, it’s all right.” Anthos spoke kindly, completely unlike Lord Dryas. “I won’t hurt you. I…I actually came to you for another reason.”

Nikias looked up to see the blush flaring hotter on Anthos’ cheeks. His slender chest was fluttering with quick little breaths, and there was something magnetic in his gaze. The god’s cock, thick and pink, was rising between his thighs, and Nikias’ own lust was rising to meet it.

“Anything, my lord,” Gyras said, voice choked with the desire Nikias knew so very well.

“This is not a demand,” Anthos said carefully, “just a request.”

He slid down from the rock, turned around and braced one hand on the stone, hips canting back and tail lifting in an erotic display. He reached his other hand behind him, spreading his fuzzy cheeks to expose a deliciously tight-looking little hole. Anthos looked over his shoulder at the two men, licking his lips with a sweet, charming shyness as he shifted his hooves farther apart.

“I’ve seen the way the two of you make love,” Anthos said softly. “Would you…would you do the same to me?”

Nikias felt like his brain had stopped working. This gorgeous, powerful being was asking them to fuck him? Really asking, like they would be doing him a favor?

“Oh gods yes…” Gyras breathed. Nikias nodded, too overcome to put words together, and Anthos smiled over his shoulder at them.

Gyras moved first and Nikias followed a second later, rising to his feet to strip off his tunic. Each hunter bared his muscled chest and hard cock to the dappled forest sunlight and Anthos’ hungry gaze. This was far from the first time the two hunters had shared a man, now they would share a god.

Gyras, always the bolder of the two, walked forward to stand beside the deity.

“May I kiss you, Lord Anthos?” he asked, voice low and hot with desire.

“Please,” Anthos said, with none of the commanding dominance one would expect from a god. He leaned up to press his lips to Gyras’, twining willowy arms around strong, broad shoulders. He let out a happy little moan and wiggled his hips, tail wagging in the most adorable way.

Nikias couldn’t resist. He crawled forward until he could kneel behind Anthos and bury his hands in that soft brown fur. The youth mewled, tail lifting to bare his hole all the more, thighs trembling as he spread his legs apart.

A strange glint twinkled from between the youth’s fuzzy cheeks, and when Nikias leaned forward for a better look, he realized it was some kind of fluid. He dragged his fingers over Anthos’ hole, and the slick feeling reminded him of the oil he and Gyras used for preparation. What was more, it had a scent to it…

“May I lick your ass, Lord Anthos?” Nikias asked, nearly trembling with desire.

“Y-yes,” the god said, pulling back from the kiss with Gyras. “And you don’t need to keep asking. I want it. All of it. I can take anything you give me.”

Nikias swallowed at the request, the openness of it. The idea of doing whatever he wanted to Anthos was incredible. Without another word, he steadied his grip on Anthos’ hips and leaned in to lick that tiny, puckered hole.

The slickness, the taste, the smell…it was overwhelming. The lubricating fluid tasted heady and intoxicating, like wild honey and sweet summer wine. Nikias let out a groan, and Anthos echoed him, wriggling and wailing as Nikias dipped his tongue into the godling’s ass. In moments he was fucking the tiny hole with his tongue, making Anthos writhe and cling to Gyras’ solid form.

“Gods, Gyras,” Nikias said when he came up for air, “you have to try this!”

“Only if you try kissing him,” Gyras replied, releasing Anthos. The hunters switched places with the ease of long practice, so Nikias could look down into that sweet pink-flushed face.

Anthos clutched Nikias’ shoulders, leaning up to meet him. His lips were perfect, soft and pliant. He licked his way gently into Nikias’ mouth, sweet little tongue finding and caressing his every sensitive spot. It was magnificent, divine, impossibly good. He’d never known a more erotic kiss, until Gyras began his ministrations.

Then Anthos moaned, clutching Nikias as he writhed in ecstasy, practically devouring his mouth. It took his breath away, made his cock twitch and ache with need.

When Anthos pulled out of the kiss, Nikias groaned in protest, but only until he felt the godling kissing down his neck, his chest, his stomach. When those lips finally touched his cock, Nikias let out a shuddering breath of pure rapture.

“Please, Gyras,” Anthos said, breath tickling Nikias’ shaft. “Take me, fill me up…I need it.”

Gyras didn’t need telling twice. He surged to his feet, lined up his cock and slammed in with the most debauched groan Nikias had ever heard. The first thrust pushed Anthos forward, and he clutched Nikias’ waist with a cry of ecstasy. Nikias steadied Anthos against Gyras’ thrusts, enjoying the way Anthos’ warm cheek and soft hair rubbed against his shaft. It was a disappointment when Anthos pulled back a little, until he raised his eyes to Nikias’.

“Hold on to my antlers,” the god said, a touch of command in his voice for the first time. Nikias hurried to obey as Anthos opened his mouth, lips parting for his cock and then…

Bliss.

The tight heat, the slick wetness, the clever little tongue…it was more than Nikias had ever experienced. His whole body shuddered as Anthos took him to the root, pleasure searing though every inch of his body.

“Sweet Elysium…” he breathed, and his eyes locked with his lover’s, whose face was filled with star-struck awe, even as his hips kept moving.

He could feel life, vitality, the heartbeat of the forest flowing through him. Anthos was more than the small form between them—he was the land, the forest and the field. He was the fertile life-giver who sustained every bird and beast, every tree and blade of grass. This was not just sex—it was worship, an intimate touch with the divine. He knew in his bones that he would never forget this moment, not until the day he died.

 

A few yards away, hidden in the bushes, Cleon was regretting his choices.

He’d promised Anthos physical protection—which Anthos didn’t need—and moral support—which he did. It was a simple job. All he had to do was stay on the sidelines, observe and intervene if something went wrong.

Cleon hadn’t quite realized what things going right would look like.

Anthos looked even smaller, even cuter between the two big strong men. He looked so good being filled, with his hard cock hanging between his furry thighs and his tail wagging a mile a minute. The god was clearly enjoying himself, choking out wanton cries around the dick in his mouth, and Cleon couldn’t help but groan a little in response.

Luckily the hunters didn’t seem to hear him, which Cleon completely understood—he knew how hard it was to focus on anything when buried inside Anthos. It was hard enough just watching them. He was hard enough just watching them…

No, Cleon had to stay in control! This was important, a way to build his god’s power and confidence. Anthos could do this alone, had to do this alone…well, as alone as he could be while being fucked at both ends.

Then Nikias slid out of Anthos’ mouth and went to kneel between his shaking legs. The two men gripped Anthos’ thighs, lifting them up and spreading them wide, letting Nikias lick at the spot where his lover was buried inside. The god’s fluids were dripping down Gyras’ cock, shining and slick as all three of them moaned.

That was another thing—how had Cleon never thought of eating Anthos out? It seemed so obvious now, so incredibly sexy…it was all he could do not to lunge from the bushes and join the hunter at his feast.

“Nikias,” Anthos panted, cock twitching and asshole clenching, “I want you, I want you both in me…”

“My lord,” Nikias gasped, surging to his feet without hesitation. He kissed Anthos, deep and hard, slipping his cock into that perfect ass with no apparent resistance.

It was almost too much. Cleon clenched his eyes shut, bit his lip and reached beneath his tunic. He squeezed the base of his erection, fighting the instinct to stroke himself. He could do this, withstand his desire, stay clear-headed enough to respond if the hunters did something Anthos didn’t like.

Cleon listened for sounds of distress, but all he heard was rough breathing, sweet cries and the slapping of skin on skin.

“Yes! M-more!” the godling cried. “You’re…you’re both so deep!”

Cleon clenched his jaw, dredging his mind for unsexy things. Women, naked women, naked old women…mucking out the ox pen, his grandfather yelling at him to get married already, the time he’d fallen dick-first onto a log.

He managed to hold off until he heard the unmistakable sounds of three men coming, one after another. Cleon opened one eye cautiously, and sure enough, the two hunters, gasping with exertion and covered in sweat, were lowering Anthos gently to the ground. Both mortals looked gloriously spent, and the white cum dripping down the godling’s thighs made Cleon nearly choke with want.

His thighs…they weren’t dappled anymore. His faun’s spots had been replaced by the solid flanks of a mature stag, and his antlers had grown another inch or two. He’d filled out a little more, too, lean muscle defining his chest and arms.

“You have done well, mortals,” Anthos said, with a passably regal voice. “Know that you have, uh, pleased your god.”

“Th-thank you, my lord…” Gyras gasped, clearly too dizzy to catch the fumble. He clutched his lover as they sank to the grass, utterly fucked out. Nikias just nodded, looking like he was half-asleep already.

Anthos nodded back gravely, then turned and leaped into the forest with a deer’s swift grace.

He landed in front of Cleon, grabbed his hand with surprising strength and tugged him to his feet. Without a word, Anthos started sprinting through the trees, pulling Cleon along behind him. It hurt, running with an erection, but then Anthos turned to grin over his shoulder. That sunny smile chased away everything else, leaving a burning, soaring joy.