Chapter Three

“You were right!” Anthos cried when they got back to the shrine. “They liked me—they really liked me!”

He skipped around the sacred grove, kicking his hooves in the air like a faun in spring. He was dancing, laughing, and Cleon couldn’t help but laugh too.

“See?” Cleon said, leaning against a pillar to rest his shaking legs. “I knew you could do it. You were great out there.”

“Thank you,” Anthos said. He ran over to Cleon, hugging him tight around the chest and nuzzling into his collarbone. Cleon had to lean his head back to avoid an antler to the chin. “I couldn’t have done it without you!”

“Of course you could,” Cleon said, “but you know I’m happy to help.”

“I know,” Anthos said, smiling in a self-deprecating way. “I can feel it… One day I may even get used to it.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cleon assured him. “I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

“I can’t imagine not wanting you,” Anthos said, leaning up for a kiss. Cleon obliged him, cupping Anthos’ cheek and savoring that familiar softness, that comforting warmth.

“Me neither,” Cleon said.

“Do you want me now?” Anthos whispered, reaching down to cup the bulge in Cleon’s tunic. He had been hard this whole time, a wet patch of pre-cum staining the fabric. Anthos was growing hard too, his erection rubbing against Cleon’s hip.

“You’re not tired?” Cleon asked, in spite of the way his cock twitched.

“I’ve never felt better,” Anthos said, then immediately started to panic. “N-not that I don’t feel good with you! You’re amazing and wonderful and—”

“I know what you meant,” Cleon said, smiling fondly. “And yes, I want you. I always want you.”

Anthos blushed to the tips of his pointed ears, stepping back and twining his fingers with Cleon’s.

“Over here,” he said, leading Cleon toward the sacred tree. He turned like he had with the hunters, bracing his hands on the seat of the great throne. It was so tall it came up to his chest, the seat wide enough to lie down on. “I want…I want it like this.”

Cleon’s throat went dry and he swallowed hard. He’d never touched the throne in the two months he’d been a priest. Never dared. He vividly remembered the sight of Dryas seated there, fisting his huge, monstrous cock as he scanned the festival for his next victim. Cleon remembered his terror, and the sick, guilty relief when the god picked someone else.

Yet Dryas was gone. This land, this shrine, this throne belonged to Anthos. If this was how the new god chose to claim them, Cleon would be there with him. He would always be there with him.

Cleon shed his tunic and walked up behind Anthos, pressing his hairy chest to Anthos’ warm back. He kissed the hair between his god’s antlers, stroking calloused hands over that familiar body and noting the changes. Anthos was still slim and lightly built, but now there was some hard muscle under the soft skin.

Cleon slid his hands over those lovely new pecs, pausing to tease those sweet, hardening little nipples. Anthos let out a soft moan, pressing his chest forward and his hips back, grinding his ass against Cleon. His tail was wagging again, brushing against Cleon’s stomach and teasing the tip of his cock.

Cleon moaned at the feeling, jerking forward in an abortive little thrust, sliding his shaft between Anthos’ cheeks that were still wet with the god’s own juices and two loads of cum. Anthos moaned too, tilting his hips for a better angle. Cleon ground against him, savoring the feeling of slick, warm skin. His cockhead caught on the rim of the god’s hole—once, twice, provoking sweet cries.

It would be so easy to slip inside, finish this quickly and kill the burning need in Cleon’s gut, but self-control was the measure of a man. He’d seen the way the two hunters had brought Anthos to such desperate ecstasy, and although his pride wasn’t hurt, it still urged him to rise to the challenge.

He kissed one of Anthos’ antlers, and was surprised when Anthos moaned in pleasure. He licked experimentally at the soft velvet, the small god shivering in his arms and letting out sweet gasps of delight. Cleon grew bolder, nibbling lightly on the clearly sensitive skin, before sucking one of the shorter branches into his mouth. Anthos wailed, holding still so as not to hurt Cleon even as he shook with need.

Cleon worked the tip as he would a cock, and it seemed to drive Anthos nearly mad. Cleon traced calloused hands over the god’s chest, then his stomach, enjoying the new abs that trembled and clenched with need. His meandering path of touches slowly worked its way down, as teasing as his lips as he moved from branch to branch. Finally, after long moments, he closed his hand around the thick, hard cock between those furry thighs.

“Cleon…” Anthos whimpered, bucking forward into the touch. Cleon pumped him slowly, savoring the sounds he made, the pre-cum dripping from the head as he pulled back the foreskin.

Anthos began to thrust forward, trying to get more friction, but Cleon took his hand away. Anthos let out a sound of desperate frustration, making Cleon smile around his mouthful of antler. He pulled off, drawing out an even more piteous whine from Anthos at the loss of stimulation.

“Not yet,” Cleon whispered, kissing the soft velvet.

“That’s… that’s just mean,” Anthos said, then paused as though struck by an unpleasant thought. “Wait, are you punishing me? You said you wouldn’t be jealous…”

“I’m not jealous,” Cleon assured him. “It’s just that the sight of it, the way you looked with both of them inside you? I’ve never seen anything so sexy in my life!”

“Oh,” Anthos said. He turned to look over his shoulder at Cleon, smiling cheekily even as he blushed. “So…this is just teasing?”

“That’s right,” Cleon replied. “I love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

The words came easily, with no hesitation. Priests were supposed to love their gods, speak it in prayers and sing it in hymns…yet it was more than that. Anthos warmed his heart, stirred his passions and made him feel things he’d never felt before. Anthos was Cleon’s god, but also his lover, his confidante and his friend. Faith and affection merged together into something deeper, something warm and soft and bright and burning.

“You…” Anthos said, his eyes wide. “You love me?”

“Of course I do,” Cleon said. It had only been a few months, but he was more certain than he’d been in his life. “I’ll never, never stop loving you.”

“I…” Anthos twisted in Cleon’s arms, looking up at him. Anthos’ expression was one of wonder, of radiant joy, and there were tears in his eyes. “I love you too, Cleon. I love you so much.”

Cleon was lost for words. He knew he was special to his god, but he’d never really thought Anthos would fully reciprocate his feelings. Yes, gods fell in love with mortals all the time, but those people were always exceptional—great beauties, heroes and the children of kings. Cleon was just a farmer, someone who’d been in the right place at the right time. He was nobody special, so why would this glorious, shining god love him?

Yet he couldn’t argue, couldn’t doubt it for a moment. The look in Anthos’ green eyes was too sincere, and his voice rang with certain, honest truth. Cleon somehow knew, knew in his bones, that this wasn’t some fleeting desire, something Anthos would tire of as so many gods did. He was Cleon’s as much as Cleon was his.

His heart was beating in his throat, choking him with emotion. The only thing he could do was kiss Anthos, hot and deep and sweet. Anthos clutched Cleon’s shoulders, their hard cocks sliding together as their bodies pressed close, closer, as though they could never part.

Anthos hitched one leg up against Cleon’s hip, and he took the hint. He cupped Anthos’ soft, round ass, lifting Anthos from his feet. Cleon had spent his life on a farm, and his hard-built muscle easily took the slender youth’s weight. Fuzzy legs wrapped around his waist, deer-shaped and exotically appealing, squeezing him tight.

“Cleon…” Anthos moaned into the kiss. “Please, I need you inside me.”

Cleon hesitated. He wanted that too, longed to join their bodies, but then it would be over too quickly. He was too wound up—he’d never last long enough to truly satisfy, to give Anthos the pleasure he deserved. He would probably come so hard he’d barely be able to stand, let alone make love to Anthos again.

“I won’t…” Cleon panted. “I…if I take you now, that’s it—it’s over.”

“No, it’s not,” Anthos said. “Trust me.”

Cleon did, wholly and completely. He lifted Anthos a little more, cock springing free from where it was trapped between their bodies, then lowered him down again.

Both of them cried out as Cleon slipped inside, as smooth and easy as a dream. Anthos was still loose, fucked open and impossibly slick. Even with so much cum drying on his thighs, there was still more inside him, reminding Cleon of the scene by the spring not fifteen minutes before.

“I love you,” he whispered, “and gods, I loved watching them fuck you.”

He punctuated the words with a deep, hard thrust, making Anthos gasp in pleasure. That hot cock slid against Cleon’s stomach, smearing precum on his skin. He thrust again and again, pressing Anthos back against the wood of the great throne, licking and kissing that slender neck.

“I loved it too,” Anthos gasped. “I loved…I loved knowing you were there, knowing you were watching.”

That sent a thrill through Cleon, heat surging in his gut.

“I’ll keep watching,” he panted. “I’ll watch you every time. Even if you’re with a woman, I’ll be there.”

“Yes,” Anthos moaned, holding Cleon tighter, “I want…I always want you there. I feel so safe with you there.”

Cleon groaned, redoubling his efforts on his lover’s throat. He wanted to mark Anthos, to claim him. No matter how many people the god might sleep with, the two of them belonged to each other. It took a lot of work, a lot of biting and sucking, which made Anthos writhe in wanton delight.

Finally, Cleon was rewarded with a reddening mark on Anthos’ pulse-point, and his fervor turned to care. He lapped gently at that spot, tasting salt on tawny skin, but never slowed his deep, pounding thrusts. His orgasm was closing in, swift and inexorable, and for once he didn’t fight to last.

“I’m…” He groaned against his god’s throat. “I’m close, Anthos. I’m so close…”

“Give…give it to me,” Anthos panted. “I want it, I want you.”

Cleon slammed his cock into Anthos—once, twice, and he was coming, filling the god with another load of seed. He practically screamed with the force of it, startling birds from the trees, and making Anthos whimper, “Yes, yes, yes!”

Yet Anthos hadn’t come. Cleon felt a wave of fatigue hit him, tinged with shame, but Anthos was smiling sweetly. He kissed Cleon’s reddened lips, gazing at him with eyes that shone like stars.

“Promise me something,” Anthos said.

“Anything,” Cleon panted.

“We’ll always do this,” Anthos said, voice as soft as his hair and warm as his skin. “Whenever someone else fucks me, you’ll take me after. I want you to be the last one, the one my body remembers.”

Cleon groaned and chuckled at the same time, head falling forward until his forehead met his god’s. The thought was intoxicating, making his cock try to rise again. It was in vain, of course—he was thoroughly exhausted and gloriously spent. Anthos was going to be the death of him, and he’d enjoy every moment of it.

“I promise,” Cleon said. “If I’m able. I’m mortal and not exactly a teenager anymore.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Anthos said. “I can give you a little help, you know.”

“Really?” Cleon asked, raising a brow. “And how is that, my love?”

Anthos blushed at the words, pressing a quick kiss to Cleon’s nose before wiggling out of his arms. Anthos hopped backward and four feet straight up, landing on the throne with easy lightness. He knelt in front of Cleon, his erection on glorious display and at the perfect height for sucking.

“After all that,” he said, “I’ve got some divine essence to spare.”

“I see,” said Cleon, smiling playfully up at Anthos. “May I have a taste, my lord?”

“You may,” the god said with mock gravity, like he was granting a boon.

Cleon chuckled, nearly dizzy with love and the intensity of his orgasm. He had to brace his hands on the throne to keep his knees from wobbling, but he was steady enough to give a blowjob. He kissed each of the god’s knees, then the soft, fuzzy thighs, working his way up until he reached his long, thick cock.

Anthos smelled delicious. His ass had the unique scent of sweet honey and summer wine, but his cock was different. It was an earthy, musky, piney sort of smell, masculine and rich. Cleon could practically taste it, even before he closed his lips around the leaking head.

Had Anthos ever smelled this good? Cleon remembered the way Anthos had changed after that first time, and once again with the hunters. He was growing into his powers, becoming more and more the wild, sensual, divine being he truly was.

And it was divine. Cleon had sucked Anthos before, but the god was so thick his jaw would quickly tire, and so long he could take in less than half. Now, though, it felt different. The heat of the god’s cock, the weight of it on Cleon’s tongue and the stretch of his lips were all familiar, but there was something about the scent, the taste, the look in those green eyes…

Cleon’s knees stopped trembling and his hands steadied on the wooden throne. The fatigue wasn’t gone, but it was better, and he knew it could get better still. He took Anthos deeper, deeper, until the head was nearly hitting the back of his throat.

Anthos reached down, one hand petting Cleon’s black hair and the other stroking his bearded jaw.

“You’re so handsome,” Anthos said, eyes full of love.

Cleon wasn’t sure about that, but he was sure Anthos believed it and was determined to repay the compliment. He bobbed his head, breathing through his nose on the upstroke and holding his breath as he went back down. He wished he could take Anthos all the way, feel that soft fur against his chin.

Maybe he could? The new taste made him feel stronger, bolder, capable of anything. He lifted his hands from the wooden throne, closing them around Anthos’ fuzzy hips. He took a deep breath, loosened his jaw, and took Anthos in…and in…and in.

He could handle it. It took effort, concentration, but he didn’t gag or choke. The sensation of that huge, thick cock sliding down his throat was slightly uncomfortable but nowhere near as difficult as he’d have expected. It also felt strangely good, his own cock starting to twitch and fill.

“Cleon!” Anthos cried, clenching his fist in Cleon’s short black hair. He was shaking as if with the effort not to move, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back. “It’s wonderful—you’re wonderful!”

Cleon would have smiled if his mouth and throat weren’t so full. He tried to take Anthos deeper still, get those last few inches…

He couldn’t. Cleon’s body had reached its limit and he could go no further. He had to pull off, choking and gasping with tears in his eyes.

“Cleon?” Anthos asked. He gripped Cleon’s shoulder, eyes wide with concern. “I’m sorry—are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Cleon assured him. “Just…I thought could handle more than I could.”

“Sorry,” Anthos said again.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Cleon said, voice still rough, but not as rough as it should’ve been. “Maybe we could try something else for a bit?”

“Whatever you need,” Anthos said.

Cleon guided the god onto his back, then tugged him forward until his rump was right at the edge of the throne, tail hanging down. He grabbed those slender legs, between the knees and hocks, and spread them wide. He had a perfect view of his lover’s slick hole, those fuzzy, cum-stained thighs and that hard, thick cock.

“Beautiful,” Cleon whispered, making Anthos blush and squirm a little. His tail was wagging again and he was biting his lip, looking at Cleon with clear desire.

Cleon leaned forward, lapping at the head of Anthos’ cock, but not taking it into his mouth. Instead he licked his way down the shaft, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the heated skin. Anthos moaned at the touches, gripping the edge of the throne with one hand and bringing the other up to tease his own hard nipple.

At the base of Anthos’ cock, the fur began, short and soft. Cleon nuzzled into it, savoring the musky scent and rubbing his bearded cheek against one soft thigh. Anthos whined deep in his throat, legs trembling as he bucked a little in Cleon’s grip, but not enough to break free. Cleon took his time, licked and sucked at velvety skin as he worked his way down to Anthos’ sac, then lower…lower…

He pushed the god’s legs up and back to fold him nearly in two. The change in position put that gorgeous, cum-slick asshole on full display, all pink and stretched from use.

“I think I’ll clean you up before I dirty you again,” he said, pressing a light kiss to his lover’s pucker.

“Yes, yes, please…” Anthos gasped. He took hold of his own thighs, spreading himself wider for Cleon.

It was always so delightful having a god beg for him, to be wanted so badly by someone so far above him. Being loved only made it better, sweeter, more intensely real.

Cleon started on those fuzzy inner thighs, which were paler than the fur elsewhere. He lapped at the spots where cum had leaked out of his lover, staining the fur white. It was oddly nostalgic, tasting human seed again, even if some of it was his own. Cleon moved higher and higher, closer and closer to that fluttering, twitching little hole, but he took his time. There was no need to rush, especially if it meant missing a spot.

Clean kept going, worshipping his god with lips and tongue, before he was finally satisfied with his work. Anthos was panting with desire now, his ass letting out another dribble of cum mixed with his own clear slick. Cleon scooped it up with a finger, pushing it back inside, and Anthos let out a wanton moan.

Cleon gripped Anthos’ fuzzy cheeks, using his thumbs to spread them apart. The sight was intoxicating, glinting wetness and still more cum clinging to twitching pink walls. He could resist no longer, leaning down to lick and suck, sliding his tongue into that sloppy, well-fucked hole.

It was incredible. Anthos tasted sweet, heady, intoxicating, with an undercurrent of masculine musk. Every drop of slick filled Cleon with vigor, with life, a taste of divine glory. He spread Anthos’ hole wider, burying his face between soft cheeks as he licked and sucked with growing abandon.

Anthos clutched his thighs with white-knuckled fingers, shaking with need as Cleon began to tongue-fuck him open, chasing that incredible taste and the god’s sweet cries. That adorable tail was wagging hard, brushing back and forth against Cleon’s beard.

“Cleon…Cleon…” Anthos gasped. “I’m going to—I need to come in your mouth…”

Cleon didn’t hesitate, gripping Anthos’ hips and pulling him in closer. Anthos let go of his own legs, letting them fall to Cleon’s shoulders and give him perfect access. He dove in, taking Anthos’ cock into his mouth, his throat, sucking with desperate, wild hunger.

Anthos cried out in ecstasy, tangling his fingers in Cleon’s hair, his whole body arching like a drawn bow. His thighs bracketed his lover’s head, squeezing in jerky spasms. His hooves flailed and pawed at the air, his hips bucking as he came and came and came.

Cleon swallowed as best he could, taking that thick seed down his throat. It warmed him inside and out, like hot spiced wine on a winter day, making his body surge with life and strength. It was better than the god’s ass and pre-cum combined, and his cock was instantly hard.

Cleon pushed Anthos back from the edge of the throne, clambering up to cover him with his body. He no longer cared about potential blasphemy—Anthos was tugging him into a kiss, trembling and gasping in the wake of his orgasm.

“I want to fuck you,” Cleon panted. “I need to fuck you.”

“Do it,” Anthos said, his voice clear and confident. He rolled over, bracing his hands and knees on the wood, thighs spread and tail up, presenting his ass to Cleon.

Cleon grabbed those slender hips, and before he even knew what he was doing, he was slamming in, hard and deep. Anthos wailed, arching back and squeezing tight around him. There was no slow lead-up, no time to adjust, just a hard, rough fucking from the moment he was inside.

“Yes, yes!” Anthos yelled, pushing back to meet his lover’s thrusts. He matched Cleon’s rhythm in an instant, the perfect pace to take him deep. “Harder, more!”

Cleon let out a desperate, nearly animal sound and obeyed, pushing his body beyond the limits he’d thought he had. He fucked Anthos like his life depended on it, like there was nothing else in the world but burying himself in that sweet little hole. He needed to fuck his god even harder, needed more leverage, a firmer hold.

Cleon let go of Anthos’ hips and grabbed his antlers instead, provoking a desperate cry. Anthos arched his back, and the change of angle made him wail as Cleon hit that spot inside him over and over. Cleon tugged even harder, lifting Anthos’ hands from the wood, until he was supported only by his own knees and Cleon’s grip.

Anthos fisted his own cock, sobbing with pleasure at the relentless pounding. He stroked himself, pre-cum dripping down to land on the seat of the throne.

Something was changing, vibrant green spreading across brown wood, bringing sudden softness beneath Cleon’s knees, but he was far more focused on making Anthos scream and wail and beg for his cock.

He fucked into Anthos for what felt like hours, but not nearly long enough. That slick hole spasmed around him, hot and perfect and clutching him tight. He tugged Anthos back still farther, releasing the god’s antlers to wrap his arms around that slender chest. Anthos turned his head, craned his neck to kiss Cleon in desperate hunger.

Then Anthos was wailing into Cleon’s mouth, pumping his hips erratically and working his hand up and down his own cock. He came with a loud cry, painting the throne with ropes of white cum.

Cleon lost it, carried along by Anthos’ orgasm. He filled that cum-slick hole with one last gush of hot seed, nearly growling as he spent every last drop inside.

They lowered themselves gently to the wooden seat, which was now covered with a bed of verdant moss. It was as soft as Anthos’ fur, thick and luxurious, and Cleon smiled.

“I like this,” he said, spooning up behind Anthos. “It feels more like you.”

“I agree,” Anthos said. “It just needs a little something more.”

He raised one hand, and woody branches sprang from the great throne’s arms. They climbed up and up, arching over their heads until they met six feet above. Vines grew in their wake, twining around the branches and bursting into leaf and bloom. More vines dropped down, shielding the front opening like curtains, before Anthos pulled them apart with a wave. What had once been a mighty, terrible throne was now a cozy nook. The arbor overhead let through dapples of green-tinged sunlight, giving the space a soft, hazy glow.

“What do you think?” Anthos asked, twisting around to smile at Cleon. “I made steps, too.”

Cleon smiled back and took his lover’s hand. This was the first time he’d seen Anthos do such a thing on purpose, a casual yet telling show of power.

“It’s perfect.”