Archive of Our Own

Touch, Hypnos has come to find, is a thing he never realized he'd gone so long without.

Not just heated ones; but ordinary and fleeting ones, too.

Passing Nectar, the brush of fingers accepting the bottle. Walking side by side, friendly little hip bumps. Shoulder squeezes. A palm resting on his knee. The gentle sweeping of white curls from his eyes.

Each one not heart-stopping in and of itself, but taken as an aggregate… Hypnos still has trouble believing how lucky he is.

It's getting easier to believe with every day that passes, though.

A misty portal to Oneiros opens onto a plane of ephemeral dreams and malleable features. Sleep Incarnate and the Prince of Hades step through, already lightly bickering as Hypnos tries to morph the surroundings into something specific.

“Any particular reason we're here, and not at your place?” Zagreus asks, watching with intrigue as features melt and reform around them like warm candle wax. The ground they stand on is solid for a ways out, but to view the blur of color and shape in the distance is disorienting.

Hypnos elbows him with a snort. “This is my place! And I already told you- I wanted to show you something!”

“Mhm, show me something. I’m sure.” Zagreus hums, tone playfully doubtful.

“If you don't wanna see it, you're welcome to head on out…”

“I'm kidding, Hypnos. Just so I'm putting it out there, though, you don't ever need an actual reason to drag me away.”

Hypnos feels his smile tick up even further, and concentrates on Oneiros.

Around them, as they walk, the landscape bends and shifts appearance.

On the one hand, he wants to make it perfect; alter the sky and the sand and the sound to be the epitome of sublime, the exact right number of shells on the shoreline, temperature, wind, banishing the raucous gulls… 

Instead, he allows imperfections because the first time Zagreus sees the oceanside ought to be as close to authentic as the land of dreams can manage, rather than a lie. He can gussy it up another time, if they want.

And so the sharp little shell chips and stones that litter the sand remain, and it's a bit hot, and the gulls won't shut the fuck up, and there's a sad and twisted olive tree marring an otherwise picturesque beachhead-

It leaves Zagreus breathless anyway. 

“You've… gotten a lot better at this, mate,” he compliments, awed, straying from Hypnos’ side to step to the water’s edge. His burning feet burrow into the soft sand.

“I did originally want you to see it for yourself, like actually see it,” Hypnos says, clasping his hands loosely behind his back and side-eyeing a seabird being just a little too loud, “but based on what you've told me, I don't know if you'll get that chance any time soon. Darn- now that I think about it, I'm sorry if I ruined the surprise by assuming?”

“Ssh, c'mere,” Zagreus shushes, simultaneously waving him off and beckoning him closer as he crouches in the shallows.

Hypnos floats over- sand in his feet, ew, no thanks- and follows the pointing line of the prince’s finger.

Down in the water, a little hole burbles out wet burps of sand every time the waves pull back and expose it to the air. Just before the next one laps in, two eyestalks and the pale white claw of a fiddler crab peek out, only to retreat moments later.

It's his domain, Hypnos could make the crab come right on out and do a little dance if he so chose- but half the wonder, he thinks, is catching these short glimpses as one truly would in the surface world.

(The other half of the wonder is watching Zagreus, utterly transfixed by an ocean bottomfeeder. He's got a hand up to block the glare of the sun, a smile tugging at his mouth, and the legs of his pants are getting soaked from the ocean but he seems thrilled.)

(Hypnos will never admit to making the crab give one final appearance, but he definitely does do that only for the delight it provides the prince of Hell.)

Zagreus stands, and looks directly at the sun. Hypnos figures he'll stop doing that pretty quick, and if he doesn't, well, he'll either heal up soon or die and any damage will get fixed either way. Still though: “You're not supposed to look at it.”

“I'm not- what?” Zagreus demands, befuddled. “But it's bright and gigantic and right there! How do the mortals not look at it?”

“Mostly because it hurts? And also they can't regrow eyeballs, there’s that.”

Zagreus hmm's and goes back to looking at it.

Whatever, Hypnos tried.

“Is it all really like this?” he asks, in quiet wonder.

Hypnos bobs his head in a nod. “Sure is. As best as I could get it! Right down to the way the saltwater makes your skin feel all sticky and gross when it dries. And the annoying birds. I tried to keep it realistic but I can make em scram, if you want.”

“Leave them. The plague rats up in the temple are worse.”

“That doesn't make seagulls good, you know. They're basically rats already, just with wings.”

Zagreus snickers and appraises one of the cawing birds sailing against the headwind so slowly it almost seems to be hovering in place. “Is this your memory?” he asks, glancing at the stunted olive tree and the way the shoreline is dotted with tufts of irregular dune grass.

“A little,” Hypnos admits. “Overall, yeah. But I pulled from the mortals’ dreams to get the details as accurate as possible, even the parts that suck- I haven't been up here in a long time. I forgot how terrible sand is.”

Zagreus laughs, and leans down to scoop a hand through it. It sifts through his fingers and he rolls a little spiral shell left behind in his palm.

“It's not so bad,” he objects, and looks back up at the sky. “It is awfully hot though. I see where the inspiration for Asphodel came from.”

Hypnos rolls his eyes. “I wouldn't call this as bad as Asphodel. But also people don't tend to go to the sea in full robes like this.”

Zagreus flicks the shell over his shoulder and looks at Hypnos in a way that suddenly does make it feel as hot as Asphodel.

“So we should be wearing less clothes, is what you're getting at?” he hints, cheeky. “Hypnos, you could have just said. No need for such an elaborate scheme, mate.”

“It is not- I didn't-”

Zagreus laughs, and ruffles a hand through his hair.

Hypnos bats it away, flushed gold. “You're getting sand in my hair, you menace!”

“That's tragic,” Zagreus says, very much not the slightest bit repentant. “I guess you'd better stop me, then.”

So smoothly he doesn't realize it's happening until he can't jump out, Zagreus is sunk up to his knees in sand and stuck in place.

Hypnos doesn't even need to blink to see it done.

He has been getting good at this.

For being cut down to size and in Hypnos’ realm, Zag still has an awfully confident mouth on him.

“Huh, you're about the same height as me now. How's it feel?” he taunts, close enough still that he can stretch out and poke Hypnos in the stomach.

“It feels like I ought to keep going until all of you is buried.”

“You wouldn't. I'm far too charming.”

“How weird, I think my List is about to get a new entry! Something about a guy who choked to death on sand. What a lame way to die, dontcha think?”

Zagreus crosses his arms and nods, completely serious. “Oh, definitely. The lamest. Wouldn't want to be that poor fool.”

Hypnos can't keep up with the bit anymore; he dissolves into laughter and Zagreus joins him, battling his way out of the trap. He threads a hand into Hypnos’ hair again, more for the purpose of gently curling it against the back of his skull to tug him closer for a kiss than to torment him with sand.

“You ever thought about letting it get long?” he queries when they part, and Hypnos has to mentally rerun the question a few times to get it to click.

He reaches up and winds a curl around a finger. “A few times, sure. It looks fine long, but it's so crazy and hard to deal with. This is just easier.”

Zagreus hums and pulls away to examine Hypnos as if imagining how it'd be.

Hypnos humors him: a flick of a dream is all it takes to show Zagreus. Immediately there’s the weight, the unruliness, and he feels like one of those shaggy dogs. It's so oppressive in this heat, phew.

“That is a lot,” Zagreus agrees, “but it's nice. I'm a fan of both.”

Hypnos shrugs and resets his appearance.

“There's enough to pull either way,” he says pragmatically, before his brain can catch up with his mouth and zip it shut. “Uhm.”

Zagreus loses complete interest in the coast of Greece for the next several minutes he spends making good on exactly that idea, pulling Hypnos down out of his float with a hand wound in his white hair and keeping him there, kissing him senseless.

They break apart and Hypnos blinks, thoughts somewhere up in the clouds.

“In the interest of not letting your creative efforts here go to waste so very quickly,” Zagreus offers by way of explanation when he steps away to avoid progressing things.

“Replicative,” Hypnos corrects, gesturing at the sand he's been forced to stand in. “Nothing made up here! Unless every single mortal mutually hallucinates about it.”

Zagreus makes a valiant effort to redirect his focus off touching Hypnos (and Hypnos can see the effort, approximately just below his beltline.) He clears his throat, and asks “So what do the mortals do at a place like this? Other than not wear clothes, evidently.”

Hypnos yanks his thoughts back from somewhere rather rosy to consider the question.

“Depends what they're here for,” he ventures. “The rich mortals come here purely for pleasure- they'll play sports, drink wine, sit in the sun, uh… other stuff. But most mortals come here to work. Lot of mouths to feed up on the surface, and the ocean has more than enough fish.”

“Fish!?” Zagreus shouts, excited, and Hypnos isn't sure if he should be offended at Zag's boner being lost immediately to the prospect of fishing or not. “Of course!” he bonks a palm against his forehead, duh. “I can't believe I forgot fishing was pretty much the entire point of the ocean up here! You're very distracting.”

“Well,” Hypnos says fondly, smiling despite himself, and gestures to the open water, “I didn't go to the trouble of making a whole ocean for you just to leave it empty.”

Zagreus summons his fishing pole without any further encouragement. He splashes back out into the shallows, tossing his line, and Hypnos doesn't have the heart to tell him that most ocean fishing is done en masse with nets trawled by large boats and that the shallows won't have anything terribly impressive.

He'll persuade a few decently sized bass to come by infrequently enough that Zagreus won't cotton on to what he's manipulating. Nothing in the realm of dreams is tangibly real anyway; he won't be able to keep whatever he catches, so it may as well be fun for him.

Hypnos lifts up into a float and brushes the sand off his feet, ending up in the pitiful shade of that sad little tree.

With a twist of his fingers, come forth, he encourages it to grow. It might not even be unrealistic- this same tree on the surface probably is much larger these days, assuming Demeter's winter or other causes didn't do it in.

Dappled shade now shields him from the full brunt of the sun, and hypnos dispels his cloak and gorget. The heat is a little less cloying this way, something more approaching ‘nice to snooze in’, and damn if that isn't a fantastic idea he's just had.

Hypnos tugs his sleep mask down over his eyes and laces his hands behind his head, listening to Zagreus battle with a fish. He crosses his ankles and summons a faint breeze, and ah, now it's perfect.

Zagreus will wake him when he's had his fun; Hypnos can hardly sleep on his shoulder easily while out in the ocean mid-float. Maybe he'll discover sandcastle making or teach himself how to swim. 

Hypnos would enjoy being awake for those things with him, but he's admittedly still recovering from his recent break and reunion with Godhood; still doing damage control with the framework of Oneiros and, he's pretty sure, mending personally on the inside from centuries of burnout.

Sleep Incarnate nods off to Zagreus splashing after a fish that dared to escape.

All told, it's a great nap. Several solid hours. Comfortable. Heat that makes one sleepy and lazy, that seeps into the bones to warm.

It's made even better that he wakes up to Zagreus hovering half over him, pressing kisses into his collarbone.

Zagreus smells like sun and sea, his hair is messy and crunchy with salt rime, and he lost his laurels and tunic at some point apparently. He looks like he's had a nice time, and the setting sun limns his shoulders propped up over Hypnos such as he is.

“Mn. Hiya. Everything alright?” Hypnos checks drowsily, hoping Oneiros (or himself, in his slumber), didn't pull any shenanigans like turning the ocean into Nectar or the seagulls into actual plague rats with wings.

“Everything is divine now, thanks for asking,” Zagreus confirms, sucking a mark into the hollow between where Hypnos’ collarbones dip that has him suddenly very very awake.

“You're all sticky and gross!” Hypnos complains, but it's on the heels of a breathless giggle.

“So conjure up some baths or whatever, O Sleep,” Zagreus snarks, kissing a trail up his throat.

“I can do that,” Hypnos chirps, and pushes his palms against Zag's chest a bit to let him up.

Zagreus goes with one last lingering sigh, sitting back on his haunches and watching as Hypnos levers himself up and stretches, yawning. Hypnos pulls his sleepmask fully atop his head and ruffles his hair to shake the sand out, and catches sight of the falling sun over the prince's shoulder.

“Wanna see the sunset before we go?” he offers, pointing.

Zagreus glances over his shoulder briefly, as though the majesty of the sun is a mere boring distraction and the thing he actually wants to watch is Hypnos.

(Hypnos swallows heavily. He is… definitely not as fascinating as the entire orb of Helios, but the way Zagreus fixates on him makes him feel like he's at least close to top ten.)

“Might as well,” Zagreus relents, but doesn't turn to look at said spectacle. “I've seen it rise plenty, but never set. Is it even any different looking?”

Hypnos makes an affirmative noise and stands, pressing his hands into the small of his back and pushing, bowing his spine to earn a few satisfying pops. “You think the Gods would be so humble as to reuse material like that? Of course it's different! See, look.”

He picks up into a float so he doesn't need to step on the sand, and draws even with Zagreus. At least now, if he wants to, he can see Hypnos and the sunset rather than having to choose.

They wait there together, the waves crashing into the sand and night crickets beginning to sing. It's almost a little chilly now without the sun at its zenith and his cloak dispelled, and Hypnos rubs his arms.

Zagreus hooks Hypnos about an elbow and pulls him closer, in front of him, so he can rest his chin atop his head and drape his arms heavy over his shoulders. Hypnos leans back into the warm, firm chest behind him, fighting off a twinge of amazement that he's allowed to just do these things now.

That he- existing such as he does with a perpetual need to be unconscious and, at best, an average physique- has somehow caught the mismatched eyes of the prince of Hell.

Zagreus had called him lovely, once.

It makes Hypnos' heart squeeze and thump just remembering it.

The sun finishes its descent, clouds stained deep wine purple and fading rose pink.

Zagreus breathes out slowly, not quite a sigh but deeper than a usual exhale.

“That was different from it rising,” he admits. “I don't know if it was entirely your intent, but this has all been quite romantic, Hypnos. A handcrafted shore? A day of fishing? The sunset? Aphrodite would be impressed, if not worried you're going to put her out of a job.”

“I don't need to impress her,” Hypnos says dismissively, “just you.”

He feels the silent laugh Zag huffs into his hair, and the arms around him squeeze.

“Well. Consider me impressed, then,” Zagreus says. “I wish I could return the favor in some way, but my talents are of a much more limited scope. I don't suppose yooouuuuu… have anything you need killed?”

Hypnos chuckles and shakes his head. “Nope. Maybe just let me come along and watch, on your next run? And we can call it even.”

“I'd be delighted to, even though the distraction of you being there will probably get me killed.”

“We'll just have to see what the List decides is the cause, in that case.”

(If it comes up with something like ‘distracted to death by lust for Sleep Incarnate’, Hypnos will get it framed.)

“So, about those baths?” Zagreus nudges, after a moment of peaceful quiet.

Hypnos feels his stomach flutter a little with nerves. It was his complaint, but- “Right! Yeah, lemme just-”

He closes his eyes to concentrate; presses his fingertips together.

The coast of Greece fades and shifts to a familiar jade-dark catacomb.

This time the only occupants are the two of them, the dozens of shades typically populating the space nowhere to be found. Drips echo, statues pour endless clear water into basins, and a faint cloud of steam wreathes the room. Small yellow motes bob about, collecting together to ride little updrafts and eddies in glowing groups.

“The Tartarus fountain room?” Zagreus asks, surprised. “Is this still Oneiros, or did you teleport us?”

In answer, Hypnos snaps to extinguish a few wall sconces and dim the room. The same motion summons a bar of scented lye into his hand which he wiggles over his shoulder approximately where he thinks Zag's face is.

“I wouldn't let you back into the physical world like this, what do you take me for?” he jokes, plucking at the prince's salt-stiff pants.

Zagreus takes the soap cake and pulls himself off Hypnos’ back. They fairly peel their skin apart; he is sticky from the ocean, blegh. “Would it not simply vanish, if we left?” he asks. “Like all those fish you told me I couldn't keep?”

Hypnos mulls this over, but doesn't ultimately reach any answer that makes sense. “Maybe? Look I don't know the exact limitations of what can and can't leave my realm. I don't make the rules, I just run the place.”

Zagreus laughs and strips off his pants cavalierly, spelling them clean and desummoning them. “I'm certainly not complaining, mate,” he says slyly.

Hypnos’ mouth has gone very dry, and his face has gone very golden.

God's blood. Zagreus is-

- Incredibly handsome.

Hypnos already knew that, and it's an objective fact besides.

Tall, muscled but not overly so like his mountain of a father, cut features leading into a trim waist and strong legs, the dimples above his tailbone statue-perfect and an ass so sinful it belongs in Hell.

Hypnos is staring, his eyes raking across every inch of exposed skin over and over. He's forgotten what he was doing, and also probably his name.

When before they've fumbled around a few times, it's been an impromptu clothes-mostly-on sort of deal. This is an entirely different game: they aren't already each halfway to orgasm and plastered together. Prior to this, neither of them have had the opportunity (or the patience) to freely look.

Zagreus crosses his arms and turns around, entrance to the bath paused at Hypnos’ lack of witty retort or accompaniment.

Gods but surely he must know how he looks, to have his biceps and pectorals shift and bulge with this pose? Can't possibly be doing it on accident?

Hypnos follows the natural line of sight down, and gets the briefest glimpse of yep that's his dick alright, before yanking his gaze up and pinning it on some far pillar instead.

“Uh-h no need to wait up for me!” he stammers, and his voice is already a naturally airy tenor but it still manages to jump several notes higher.

Zagreus raises a dark eyebrow, the one above his red eye. He must pick that one on purpose; the inherited glower of Hades adds to the appraising effect rather a lot.

Hypnos kind of wishes he would just turn around and get on with it, head into the bath and release him from that piercing two-tone stare for a few moments so he can catch his breath and drum up some courage.

He doesn't; he just tilts his head a little, expectant and moderately perturbed by Hypnos’ reticence.

It's fine. It's fine because there's no way Zagreus isn't aware by now that Hypnos strictly isn't Thanatos, clothes or not- he's shorter, slimmer, more androgynous in the daintier set of his frame. And it's not something he can change, not right now, unless he means to glamour his entire appearance.

Hypnos takes a breath and dispels his robe before Zagreus does something fatal like walk over here while naked, and he continues looking at various tiles and stonework and sculptures because it means he won't have to look at Zag sizing him up.

He doesn't think any truly negative assessment will be the end result, because he is good looking! Good enough. 

But he just has awfully fierce past competition- that he even knows about- and it's a daunting idea to imagine himself being compared to Meg or Than, is all.

So like. It'll be fine.

Hypnos plucks his own soap bar from the aether and beelines for the bath. He'll be exponentially more comfortable in his own skin when he's somewhat obscured by the steam and blur of the water.

Zagreus catches his hand as he passes, tugging him to a gentle halt.

“Hey hang on, Hermes is the God of swiftness here, hold up a moment,” he implores. “What's the rush?”

Hypnos opens his mouth, and closes it. He doesn't have a good answer that won't make him seem excruciatingly insecure, and ordinarily he's not. Not like this. But Zag is sweeping his eyes up and down Hypnos and he doesn't have the drape of a robe and the gleam of a collar to compliment the stark points of his bones and wiry wraps of his muscles.

“I didn't know you had freckles on your shoulders,” Zagreus says, eyes soft and tracing the constellations of revealed dots.

“Um yeah! Sure do,” Hypnos agrees, and wonders if now he ought to make an equivalent observation of Zagreus' body? What's there to even single out? All of it is perfect.

Zagreus frowns, and squints like Hypnos is a puzzle he's on the verge of solving.

“Mate. I know we've done some things already, but I have to ask. Are you- have you- beyond what we've done, I mean, have you ever-”

“Yes!” Hypnos strains instantly before Zageus gets some idea like he's about to- to deflower him or something.

“Oookaaaay,” Zagreus says slowly. Suspiciously. His eyes narrow and he calls upon a bit of the same blood that must flow through Artemis’ veins because he shoots an arrow right into the heart of the matter. “... When?”

Hypnos sputters something indignant and offended to buy time while he frantically thinks.

He doesn't exactly want to lie, here, but he can't tell the precise truth either because it was so long ago. Practically adolescence, when they were all young and insatiably horny. Some demigod or high ranking Elysium warrior, a few lukewarm one night stands… he can't even remember the details all these centuries later.

“I don't know, a while! I've been busy!” Hypnos protests, shrill. “I didn't even have time for sleep, much less for that.”

Zagreus levels him with an unimpressed stare.

“So… a few years?”

Hypnos purses his lips.

“A few decades?” Zagreus revises. “Hell of a dry spell, Hyp.”

Hypnos can practically see his chances of getting laid tonight going up in smoke. He tosses the soap bar from hand to hand, fidgeting.

“... A few… centuries… ” Zagreus says glacially, like he's hoping Hypnos will jump in and correct him if he only speaks slowly enough.

Hypnos makes a frustrated sound and clasps his upper arms, defensive. Would this conversation be going any better if they were wearing clothes?

(Probably not. He'd feel less exposed though, at least.)

“What? It wasn't even that great anyway, no wonder I can't remember it well. Is that a-” he swallows, “- a problem?”

“No!” Zagreus shouts, worried. “No no, not even a little bit! I just didn't want to- to assume anything.”

Hypnos knows placating when he hears it, damn it.

“I'm not a virgin.”

“Yes. Alright.”

“I'm not.”

“I know! You said that.”

“I have had a dick, in my ass-”

“Ok! Ok ok ok, alright, listen-”

Zagreus wings his soap into the bath, plunk, so he has both hands free to grab Hypnos’ face and squish his cheeks like a fish, stopping him from adding further details of whatever age-old coitus he vaguely remembers the basics of.

“It's not a problem. I do believe you. I don't personally think it matters either way, but it seems to matter to you. I was just trying to- understand.”

“Undstnd wht?” Hypnos gets out.

Zagreus puffs out a breath, caught between frustrated and confused. “Why you're so damned worried when we get to these points! ” he says, eyes burning in the dim chamber light. “I had to rule out that it was me. That I wasn't pushing you too fast or, or for something you didn't even want , because you get so tense sometimes when I look at you and it doesn't make sense because you're-!”

Zagreus halts, and releases Hypnos' cheeks. His hands slide down to his neck, resting gently on either side. His thumbs skim over his jawline; his fingers curl around and rest on his nape.

“- you're beautiful. Handsome, gorgeous, pretty. Whatever suits you best. That's why it doesn't make sense; you've nothing to hide or be worried about, if all it is is just a little rust. I promise.”

As previously established, Hypnos hasn't had a horse in this race in a painfully long time. But even back when he did, no partners ever spoke of his appearance in any specific way. He knows what qualities people generally consider attractive, and he knows he has a fair few of them, but for someone to be putting the pieces together out loud and so honestly is-

It's so embarrassing it makes him want to spell himself invisible! But at the same time, it's… quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said about him. To him.

The nerves don't dissipate, but they do settle somewhat.

There's a faint wisp of a memory tickling at the edges of his mind right now. Such a thing would be a distraction- it is a distraction, for fuck's sake- but something about it begs to be uncovered. It wouldn't crop up here and now of all times if it were meaningless or irrelevant, surely?

“You woke me up in Oneiros, didn't you,” Hypnos says quietly, “back when- after everything happened. And you said something, or maybe did something, I can't remember. What was it?”

Zagreus looks disarmed by the random subject change. He blinks, and considers for a moment.

“... How's about we make a deal,” he offers, scattering Hypnos' attention when a thumb goes from idly tracing his jaw to instead brushing over his lips. “You agree to tell me if there's anything you want, or don't want. And I'll tell you later?”

“That sounds like kind of a shitty deal, I want to know now,” Hypnos sniffs, and Zagreus laughs.

“No, think about it! All the cards are in your hands this way. How would you play them?”

There's a teasing, beckoning kind of tone to that that does make Hypnos pause and reconsider.

“How do you know I won't ask you to do something crazy?” Hypnos prods, “like that guy we laughed at a while back, the one Poseidon killed? With the nipple crabs?”

Zagreus groans, but he's grinning. “Nooo, not crab guy!” he pleads. “But you could, I suppose. I guess I'd just have to trust you…”

Hypnos smirks, and doesn't reassure Zagreus of a damn thing, but he does pluck the prince's hand away from its distracting path across his lips. (It's still a little salty and ocean-sticky, marring the heat behind the gesture a bit.)

Hypnos shakes the appendage pointedly and tugs Zagreus in the direction of the pool.

“Then what I want right now is for you to stop smelling like how crab guy probably smelled for most of his life.”

Zagreus allows himself to be pulled along. “Ouch, I'm not that bad! You make it sound as though I rolled in a pile of dead fish. It was your beach, you couldn't have made it with rose water or something instead if salt offends you so?”

“Could've,” Hypnos shrugs. “Didn't.” They reach waist-deep and he lets go of Zag to gesture broadly at the bath. “Good luck finding your soap, by the way.”

“Shit,” Zagreus mumbles, and starts searching.

Hypnos watches for a while- he can still get a decent enough view of certain things and the steam is starting to collect in nice droplets on Zag's skin- but there's an itch in his hair from all the blasted sand and Zagreus making him secondhand salt-sticky is beginning to become unbearable.

Hypnos wades over to the fountainhead- a spout pouring an infinite waterfall into the pool below an indistinct stone statue of a woman, veiled and with hands clasped in prayer.

It's much nicer than the usual Tartarus fare that tends to feature skeletons hunched in agony, gargoyles, metal cages crammed with sinners, cracked manacles… the fountain room is unusually luxurious despite the locale. 

Dunking his head under the fall, Hypnos soaps up and scrubs all the sand out with a vengeance. He whisks the bar wherever it's needed, economical and brisk, trying to pretend like Zagreus isn't just a few feet away, and naked, and probably watching him.

Hypnos cracks an eye to check; yes, he certainly is. The search for the tossed soap had been given up entirely.

“I don't suppose I could convince you to loan me that?” Zagreus asks at length, drifting closer.

Hypnos looks at the bar he's left floating midair while he rinses off, then at Zagreus, as though weighing a barter offer. “What, for free? Do I look like a charity? You had a soap.”

“And I recall losing it because I had to keep someone from breaking their neck all but running into the bath,” Zagreus counters. “I thought you didn't want me touching you all covered in salt and ‘smelling like crab guy’, but hey, if you've changed your mind…” he adds, and opens his arm and walks forward as if to envelop Hypnos in a hug.

“Here! Take it, take it, I'm done with it anyway!” Hypnos caves instantly, flicking the soap so it skids through the air like a drink slid across a bartop.

“Knew you'd come around mate, cheers,” Zagreus thanks him with a wink, and takes his place under the water to wash the lingering dream-ocean away.

Strictly speaking, they could have tidied up with little more than the whim of a spell, but the Gods are not so dissimilar to mortals as they may posture themselves to be; they are just as inclined and able to enjoy food, drink, and life's simple pleasures like art, music, nature, philosophy… and nice, warm, relaxing baths.

The deepest point of the basin is only around waist deep, but stone shelves are carved into the sides; Hypnos spells his sopping hair dry and perches on one, and it submerges him up to his shoulders. If he stretches his arms along the ledges and slides down, he can (a bit uncomfortably) also rest his head against the edge at such an angle that he can still watch Zagreus.

This he does, for a time; it's a captivating sight. 

Soap suds slide between chest muscles; his abdomen bunches as he reaches up to scrub his hair; his silhouette in the lowlight is nothing short of appetizing. Zagreus puts all the Elysium statues of various flexing heroes to shame, truly.

Hypnos slides his eyes shut, the image of Zagreus wet and blissfully naked imprinted against his eyelids. He's half hard, wow, what a complete surprise. (It's not.)

The sloshing water betrays him as the prince meanders over, and Hypnos opens an eye lazily.

“Hey, don't be falling asleep on me now, Hypnos. I've got plans,” Zagreus warns, words light but tone heavy.

Hypnos shivers.

“Uh-oh! I remember the last time you said that,” he says, a growing anticipation igniting low in his belly.

Zagreus joins him on the ledge, and Hypnos thinks, what, they're just going to sit side by side and hold hands or something?

Until the prince of Hell reaches across, and with really no effort at all in the water, drags Hypnos to kneel astride him; hips bracketed by Sleep Incarnate's knees and looking up at him coyly from a dark fan of lashes. Hypnos' hands brace against his chest for balance, and since they're already there, they take the lucky opportunity to massage the ample muscle. 

Interested fingers walk up the ladder of his ribs. Zagreus tips his head to the side and in his eyes is a question.

Hypnos answers it by craning down to kiss him.

Without the sticky salt residue of the ocean, Hypnos is content to let the kiss go on. Doesn't have a single complaint in mind when Zagreus spreads two large palms against his back, feeling out the knobs of his spine and tracing the angular planes of his shoulderblades.

Hypnos sees the appeal to being big, perched atop Zag and bearing down on him; the way he feels in control of the trajectory of their actions. When he takes Zagreus' jaw to pull his head up and expose his throat to fierce little nips and sucks, he's in charge- Zagreus just shudders and draws a quick breath, hands tightening around his waist.

Those hands move lower, curve around his ass and knead. A bold thumb occasionally passes a little far inward every time it skates by, and Hypnos twitches at the intent.

“We gonna do all this underwater?” Zagreus asks, sounding slightly out of breath as Hypnos rubs circles on his nipples. 

“We could,” Hypnos murmurs, teeth against the space just below Zag’s ear.

“We could,” Zagreus agrees, “but it's not as glamorous as it sounds on the tin. Trust me.”

“Really? I think this is nice,” Hypnos hums, distracted with taking Zagreus’ earlobe between his teeth and tugging.

Zagreus takes a strained breath and gathers his wits, and one of the hands around Hypnos’ ass curls forward to instead take his length.

“Mh!” Hypnos jerks at the sudden surprise of it, then the drizzle of pleasure down his spine like honey as Zagreus tightens his fist and pulls.

Still; a few pumps make it clear what he was talking about. The water isn't much in the way of being a lubricant. The prince’s hand- although great and still turning his brain to soup with this- skids and stutters over his flesh, and the impedance of the water hampers him from gaining much in the way of speed.

“See?” Zagreus says, one hand jerking him while the other fondles his ass, and he's sort of ruining the point he's trying to make like this.

Hypnos drops his head onto Zagreus’ shoulder and enjoys the sensations for a moment longer. Until a slosh of disturbed water gets him point blank in the face.

“Pfah! Ugh, ok, ok you win. Where to, then? Your place or mine? Or… somewhere else?”

Zagreus must hear the hesitation in his voice because he stops winding Hypnos up and instead squeezes him in a brief hug, face against his chest at this height.

“Up to you, mate. Wherever you're most comfortable. I'm not picky; you could send us to a torture pit in Tartarus and while it wouldn't be my first choice, I do believe-” Zagreus gently mouths at a nipple and Hypnos gasps and nearly loses what he says next, “- that you would be more than enough of an incentive for me not to mind overmuch.”

Hypnos could, at this height, lock his arms behind Zagreus' head and force him to keep lavishing attention on his chest, but then one thing will continue to lead to another, and they really will end up doing this halfway underwater. Or worse, on the hard tiles leading into the basin.

It's a nice idea for another time, though; just not for a first time.

Hypnos drums his fingers against Zag's shoulders and struggles to decide; having mercy, Zagreus switches to just holding him snugly and waiting patiently: ear pressed to his chest and listening to his heartbeat, arms looped around his middle.

(His heart must surely beat offtempo with something so very dangerously enamored, at this moment.)

Hypnos decides that, at the very least, if he conjures his own home he won't get any details wrong. Or, Zagreus won't know either way if he does. Wouldn’t it be bad, he reasons, to try and recreate the prince's room from memory and accidentally make some embarrassing mistake in the decor? Distract him with incorrect draperies or the wrong poster while he's busy trying to fuck the God of Sleep? Unacceptable.

His place, it is.

Hypnos makes the swap one for one; the ledge is replaced with his bed, and they're braced against the headboard instead of stone now. He spells them dry, and just like that, ta da, change of scenery and no disruption.

“Handy,” Zagreus compliments, and gives the room a quick once-over curiously.

The cave of the Lethe that Hypnos calls home is modest but tidy; a few shelves of personal odds and ends, a portrait or two of family staked into the flattest parts of the walls, a little table and chairs, a hearth with a kettle on a wire rack above eternally burning coals.

Being Sleep Incarnate, the bed is enormous and the centerpiece- defiantly opulent for such an otherwise neutral space. Deep black and gold silks, trims of dark purple here and there on pillows and blankets. A fleece throw lies bundled up and half fallen to the floor, black as night and soft as velvet.

The Lethe itself lights the room in a faint ambient glow, a misty and pale greenish blue from where it springs: a crack in the back wall, the origin of oblivion.

Zagreus takes it in. Lingers on the shelf with his empty gifted Nectar bottles, but doesn't comment on it.

Instead, he resumes teething at Hypnos’ nipples leisurely, and Hypnos draws a breath that shouldn't be as surprised as it is; what else is Zagreus going to do, that's all he can reach at present because Hypnos is still hovering.

Hypnos settles his weight down properly, gingerly bringing their groins together.

He knew exactly what the result of such a thing would be, but when Zagreus makes a pleased noise and immediately takes them both in hand, together, Hypnos doesn't think he could ever have been prepared anyway.

Always the slow starter, he's been somewhere in the vicinity of ‘definitely interested but needs encouragement.’ And ohhh boy, is Zagreus more than happy to provide.

Back at eye level with Hypnos now sitting on his lap, Zagreus flutters kisses across his cheek until they lock lips again. A warm thumb traces a soft path along the arch of his cheekbone, devastatingly tender to offset what his other hand is doing. 

The pace Zagreus sets is slow, interspersed with moments where he'll pause entirely and focus in on kissing Hypnos like the whole world could be crumbling down around their ears and still he wouldn’t rush this. Hand just encircled around them both and occasionally squeezing or thumbing across their heads and making Hypnos take little gasps against his mouth.

This suits the prince's purposes just fine; he takes the opportunity to slip a tongue in, adept and aware of just how to dance around Hypnos’ out-of-practice one in a way that makes their breath stutter.

Hypnos tries to scrape his brain together; Zagreus can't be the one doing all the work here, that's unfair.

(Not that he terribly seems to mind, but Hypnos wonders what stunt he could pull to make Zagreus the flustered one if only for a moment.)

It's too early to start begging for anything, Zagreus already has them both claimed further south, and Hypnos rather suspects he won't retain this position of assumed power for much longer unless he specifically asks to. So, given his options and what he can reach…

Hypnos breaks the kiss to nose under Zag's jaw, taking the thin skin of his throat between his teeth and applying pressure.

“Hypnos…” Zagreus groans, somewhere between a warning and an impetus.

“Yeah?” Hypnos answers, voice innocent and making sure his words are breathed hot against the prince's throat. “Something wrong?”

“Weren't you all worried about being bad at this? You seem to be keeping up fine, now.”

“That's a bit of a backhanded compliment, don't you think?” Hypnos huffs, and nips a new mark. “I'm trying. Would you rather I was horrifically bad at sex? I can just lay here if you'd prefer.”

“Certainly not, I- agh! Why you bitey little-” Zagreus shouts, but it breaks off abruptly into a breath hissed in between his teeth when Hypnos does it again. The hand on his face has gone back to his ass, and the fingers dig in.

Hypnos wonders what part of this is working for Zag; the part where he's biting him, the part where he's being kind of a brat, the part where he's tacitly got the upper hand, or the part where he's implying punishment for things that displease him. Maybe all of the above.

Hypnos smoothes a tongue over the mark, mock apologetic. Lets his breath blow cool over it as he retreats, back enough that he can get a look.

Oh.

He likes that, wow.

His dick gives a pulse at the sight that Zagreus must feel, at how a few red marks claim the prince as his in a way that he won't be able to hide later. Nothing short of death or a day will wipe those clean, and Hypnos feels a vicious satisfaction that people will see this.

“How do you feel about a collar? Matching with Cerberus?” Hypnos asks cheekily, dragging a finger in taps across the prince’s throat to mimic more little bites in a row and imply a necklace.

Zagreus takes a heavy breath in and wipes the smirk off Hypnos’ face by suddenly jerking them both several smooth, coordinated times, just long enough to build up a little frenzy and make him want to squirm before he stops.

Hypnos whines, hips rutting into Zagreus’ loose fist fruitlessly.

“I think,” Zagreus leans in to murmur in his ear, voice gone deep and rough in a way that makes Hypnos lick his lips, “I'm being too nice, and you're taking advantage. Maybe I’d better knock you down a few pegs before you start getting any ideas about running the show.”

Hypnos doesn't have much spare breath for it, but he pulls off impish anyway when he says “Well, I'm yours for the taking! Some time this year, or whenever you get around to it.”

“Oh, now you want to go fast, do you? That does it,” Zagreus says, and yep, Hypnos is pretty sure it was him being a bit of a brat.

The world tilts, and Hypnos is rolled over and tugged from the headboard like he weighs no more than a sack of flour. Strong arms pin his shoulders to the bed and now Zagreus is above, and he mercilessly grinds down. He thrusts a few times against his own length, heavy and purposeful, full of implication. Hypnos clenches around nothing, a distant memory informing him of what awaits.

Zagreus’ eyes fairly glow in the dim light of the cave of Lethe, twin spots of ruby and emerald that bore down into Hypnos with a hunger verging on insatiable.

He kisses Hypnos like he means to eat him, scattering his mind as ash in the wind and pressing him down into the bed with his weight. Hypnos pushes against the hands just to test it; he can't move so much as an inch, and he knows this isn't even Zagreus truly trying to restrain him.

Hypnos shudders. It's enticing, and the way the prince has switched gears has indeed stripped him of any brief illusions of power.

The kiss breaks for Zagreus to trace his mouth in an impatient trail down Hypnos' chest, his stomach, inexorably lower.

“What happened to the cards being in my hands?” Hypnos says on a rapid breath, watching the path and realizing it for an express ticket to an early night and thinking he may have to play the card that says ‘hang on’.

“They still are,” Zagreus says reasonably into the crease between hip and thigh, the skin there so terribly sensitive. “Feel free to lodge any complaints or suggestions any time you'd like. Otherwise, I'm of a mind to make you lose yours.”

Fuck that's hot. Hypnos feels his hands curl into the sheets in helpless anticipation.

Zagreus doesn't wait up, either; when no comments are forthcoming, he singlemindedly swallows Hypnos down.

“S-shit,” Hypnos swears, fisting the sheets.

It's like his mind is being scattered to the wind.

The suction around his dick is euphoric, the perfect blend of suck, pull, mouth at the tip, tight and hot on the way back down to the base. The rhythm is consistent and punishingly fast, something it'd be more likely to see in the home stretch of a blowjob but Zagreus has started there and he isn't slowing down.

Sucking him off such as he is, he's no longer holding Hypnos down by the shoulders. This means when the prince doesn't let up with the absolutely brutal pace, Hypnos quickly goes from supine on the bed to jackknifed up, one elbow holding his weight and the other hand clutching at raven black hair.

“Ah! Zag, ahh, Gods- too much, you’re gonna m-make me-”

Zagreus all but ignores him aside from an insistent hand tugging and rolling his balls, thumbing the skin as it draws in tight with a looming orgasm.

Hypnos doesn't know whether he wants to pull Zagreus closer or push him away; the sensation is a cresting wave, a simmering arousal fed like bellows to a forge within minutes.

“Zag really, I- ngh! Ah!”

He's not stopping.

Hypnos can't do anything but hold on, literally, the prince sucking so hard Hypnos curls in on himself and anchors his hands in dark hair as he gets relentlessly driven to the precipice.

Zagreus pops off, just a moment, just long enough to say “Come on, Hyp, I want you to,” in a voice that's gone strained and wrecked.

The permission hits him like a shield bash to the nose, so sudden he can't even warn the prince as he comes.

Hypnos makes some sort of noise, a soft keening perhaps, several ‘fuck fuck fuck’'s. He's caught there in a rictus pose, legs jumping with tremors and all but squeezing Zagreus between his thighs. A wildfire flashes and snaps through him, pleasure like lightning through his veins.

He's curled up and over Zag's head, hands locked in his hair. He's still dragging his mouth up and down Hypnos’ softening shaft, and Hypnos whines and pushes the man away before it edges into wholly uncomfortable.

He goes, settling comfortably between Hypnos' parted legs, cheek pillowed in his palm and looking for all the world like he didn't just utterly shatter Sleep Incarnate’s gray matter.

Zagreus watches him, blatantly fascinated, as Hypnos shudders through the aftershocks and tries to remember what breathing is.

“I hope,” Hypnos wheezes, “that you're happy. I tried to warn you!”

“Oh, very much so,” the prince affirms, and licks his lips as though appraising the taste of Sleep's release.

Hypnos flops back flat onto the bed. Arms tossed to the side, dizzy. Could orgasms make the ceiling spin? This is the fourth or so time they've laid together in some capacity, and not the first that Zagreus has blown him, but the speed and intensity of this one was a wild ride. Normally the prince is more reserved than that, even when they're being impatient.

Hypnos’ dick twitches and his leg judders a last time, a final trickle of pleasure wracking him. Zagreus grins, feeling the motion.

Hypnos groans and rubs a hand on his face.

“That was dumb of you, what do you think the Embodiment of Sleep is gonna want to do after blowing a load?” He leads, trying to stave off a yawn already.

He'll take care of Zag- maybe match that insane intensity as best he's able, give him a taste of his own medicine- and then they can curl up and sleep.

It's not quite what he was expecting or hoping for, today, but maybe Zagreus just wasn't wanting to go the full distance yet? He probably has his reasons for that; Hypnos just hopes those reasons aren't because of him in some way.

But surely they must be? What hangup could Zagreus possibly have that does involve penetrative intercourse but doesn't involve Hypnos specifically? It doesn't add up; he's got history with Thanatos, so it's not as though it's uncharted territory.

(Oh, yikes, does that mean he assumes Zagreus as more of a top, or Thanatos as more of a bottom? Maybe they switched? This is horrible to think about, he needs something blunt to hit him in the head now.)

“You're thinking a lot of nonsense again, I can feel it from here,” Zagreus chuckles, and pats Hypnos’ knee. “Don't worry; I'm far from done with you, mate.”

Hypnos raises an eyebrow at that, levered up onto his elbows again now that he's remembered how bones work. 

“The odds of me passing out in the next fifteen minutes are incredibly high, so unless you want me to leave you blue balled, you should probably let me give you a hand now?” he tries, and nudges Zag a little with his leg. The prince doesn't budge, merely drops kisses on the skin of his inner thigh.

“I’m not too worried about you falling asleep,” Zagreus says, something proud and confident and a little smug in his tone. “Trust me.”

“I can sleep through an awful lot- Cerberus wrecking the lounge didn't bother me one bit.”

“I know you can,” Zagreus says, and two warm palms slide under Hypnos' thighs, “but something tells me you'll stay awake for this next bit. Call it a hunch.”

Hypnos realizes what the plan has been all along, as Zagreus bends his legs away at an angle that leaves him fully exposed.

“... oh.” Hypnos says dumbly, watching the route Zagreus kisses inwards and upwards as if in slow motion.

Something about this feels- not dirty, they're Gods, they don't deal with the mortals’ unpleasant end product of a digestive system- but… scandalous? No… improper, maybe?

Something feels dangerously imbalanced about the Prince of Hell hiking Hypnos’ legs over his broad shoulders and running a hot tongue over his hole, kneeling to service in this way, eager to please Hypnos first and fully.

It makes sense suddenly, like a spark; this drive to give, to provide, to be of assistance. It's all so Zagreus, so much so that Hypnos could laugh. In hindsight, of course the prince puts him first in the bedroom; of course he has a hellbent tenacity to wring sublime pleasure from Hypnos; it's yet another way he can give.

Ridiculous man. Ridiculous, big hearted, incredible man.

The hells do not deserve him.

The prince’s wet tongue laving over his entrance does little in the way of arousal, but it is a foreign enough sensation that Hypnos is dragged away from the siren call of sleep.

He finds his hands clawed into the sheets again, tensing and relaxing, uncertain how to feel about the action. It isn't bad, per se, it just isn't… terribly wonderful, either?

“If you wanted to keep me awake with weirdness, then I guess it's working well enough,” Hypnos allows, looking down the length of his body at the black hair (messier by the moment) situated between his legs.

His cock lies limp on his stomach, but even this strange sensation- administered such as it is by a naked Zagreus- is coaxing renewed interest from it. In this position he can't see a ton of his lov- partn- frien- bedmate, not much beyond sculpted shoulders and thighs where he kneels up on the bed, and the lack of a view is depressing.

Does Zagreus still even have a boner? Gods, he hopes so. Even if just a little bit.

Zagreus hums, the feeling definitely strange against a place where there is never any such sort of thing going on nearby.

“Let a man work, Hypnos,” he chides, and promptly spears his tongue inside.

Hypnos battles back whatever sound he was about to make- some very unsexy combination of a shout and a squeal, probably- and tries to remember the last time this happened.

Well. Not this this, nobody has ever done this to him, but he's had similar prep work performed in ages past by clumsy and hurried fingers. Prying, poking things that pushed in and splayed out, not bad but also never as good as he'd been led to believe from all the mortals’ dreams he'd played voyeur to.

Even the final act had been… underwhelming. Disappointing. Practically boring, for all that he got maybe a spark or two of pleasure from the penetration. Not a bad time, but also nothing to write home about.

Zagreus works at him, eager like he's determined to overwrite those memories with something outlandishly better, and Hypnos isn't in the habit of doubting him these days, but, well… he has his doubts.

And besides; how is Zagreus not completely feral at this point, not shoving Hypnos into the pillows and taking his share? (Hypnos wouldn't even mind. It would be pretty hot, all told.)

Because he's too damn kind, Hypnos knows. Wouldn't do such a thing unless begged to.

(Hypnos is not above begging. He wonders if he ought to get started, with that?)

The prior orgasm has done a number on his reservations, to be sure, which- other than as payback for his smart mouth- seems to have been the actual point of it. Hypnos is still just this side of jelly-like, relaxed and less tense in spite of himself, and it makes Zagreus’ job at loosening him up that much easier.

Also in spite of himself, he's beginning to sport a half mast. It must be a proximity thing, because Zagreus isn't doing anything explicitly tantalizing-

“Stop thinking for ten seconds and get me some oil?” Zagreus requests, reaching an arm up to thwack gently at Hypnos and then hold an expectant palm out. “It'll be good, I promise.”

Hypnos dutifully summons a vial of something- whatever Oneiros gives him, he isn't aware of the specifics of what oil one uses for this exactly- and passes it over.

Hypnos fidgets at the loud pop of the cork. 

“Aren't you, um. Bored?” Zagreus fully stops what his mouth is doing to lift up and shoot Hypnos a look that is nothing short of incredulous. Hypnos backpedals. “I mean! Maybe not bored, that's not the right word, but I'm feeling a little selfish over here. I could do that myself and keep you entertained, instead?”

Zagreus sighs, long and weary, and presses his forehead to the inside of Hypnos’ thigh still propped on his shoulder as if seeking patience there. Hypnos feels a little silly, ass in the air and questioning the prince of Hell who's giving him oral twice now.

“Hypnos- and I do mean this in the best possible way- I am going to fuck you senseless.”

His dick twitches at that, the little traitor.

Zagreus presses his lips to Hypnos’ skin in a kiss, and Hypnos feels slickened fingers circle around his entrance languidly. “I’m going to show you why this is such a grand time,” Zagreus continues, and a fingertip slips in, passage made easy by the oil and prior work of a tongue, “and although your offer is unbelievably tempting, because you seem fully unaware of what you do to me, I'm going to see this done right. Done well.”

Hypnos brings a hand up to cover his face, wondering if the blood gathered there is enough to cause a glow. It feels like it is.

He speaks through his fingers, muffled. “Really, Zag, I'm fine if you just wanna go for it an- hhrrrng!”

Zagreus doesn’t break eye contact, just lifts a brow imperiously as he does something with his finger inside Hypnos that feels like it rips his soul out. “H-ah, ah! Fuck! Fuck, what- mh!”

“Got you,” Zagreus whispers, and adds another finger and crooks them both.

Hypnos only doesn't fairly leap up and off the bed because clearly this was an anticipated response; Zagreus has him held securely, his thrashing ineffectual against double the muscle, and he rubs maddening circles into whatever the fuck is obliterating Hypnos’ brain.

As if it wasn't enough- as if reducing the God of Sleep into a writhing thing within seconds wasn't already enough!- Zagreus dips forward and takes Hypnos' once-more hard dick into his mouth at the same time.

Hypnos isn't sure if he yells, or says something, or babbles nonsense, or just leaves his body for several solid seconds, because it feels like his mind goes white. The combined pleasure is overwhelming. Enough that Hypnos wonders if it's possible to die from; possible to pass out from, definitely.

“What the fuck-” Hypnos gasps as soon as Zagreus relents and he can string words together again, legs quivering and stomach muscles jumping.

Somewhere in all that another finger has been added, and the audible slide in and out would have been rather embarrassing twenty seconds ago when he still had a brain. Now, it's just white noise; the fingers inside him seek more to spread and prepare than they do to bring him to ruin again.

“Believe me yet?” Zagreus asks.

“Holy shit you're gonna kill me,” Hypnos pants in disbelief.

Zagreus withdraws his hand and Hypnos can tell from the movement that he's spreading oil on himself- still hard, then. Good.

Good?

That's about to be in him, and Hypnos has had Zagreus’ cock in his mouth and knows it's no small matter. Size aside though, a dick can't mimic the bend of some well-aimed fingers; the last one in his ass sure didn't.

Maybe after Zag is done, if he asks nicely, he can be a little greedy? Can get him to press that spot inside again that makes him see stars?

Zagreus slides an arm under Hypnos' neck and replaces it with a pillow, and the thoughtfulness of the gesture- the time taken to do it, even with the way Zag is starting to move a little fast, to seem a little frantic with how he pumps himself vigorously and slips between Hypnos' cheeks a few times with a bitten back hiss- is another arrow to the heart from a seemingly endless quiver.

The head of the prince's cock presses against his entrance, pushing but not breaching as he holds back.

“Any last cards you'd like to play?” Zagreus asks, strained, and an arm goes under Hypnos' lower back to lift and encourage him into a slight bend. “Now’s the time.”

They're still doing that bit? How sweet. Hypnos can barely remember what a card is right now, heart in his throat.

Still, he thinks he does indeed know the right one to play.

“Yeah,” Hypnos says, and feels Zagreus halt entirely. He slings one arm around the prince's back and the other finds a good handhold on a bicep, and he tries to relax. He loosely hooks his ankles together behind Zag’s back.

Zagreus’ breathing is heavy and fast, but he holds Hypnos’ eyes with clarity and such intensity it scorches.

“Fuck me senseless.”

Hypnos feels the prince shudder, and push inside.

For all his restraint, he still goes a little fast in his excitement- Hypnos perseveres through a twinge of discomfort and yeah he does remember this part actually, this part always sucked; like being split open, intruded upon by something that shouldn't be there. Imagining this part was always so much more erotic.

“-nos, Hypnos, hey-”

Zagreus is patting at his shoulder, rubbing circles into it.

“It's fine,” Hypnos says, voice tight. “It doesn't hurt.”

He's not even lying, it doesn't hurt. It just feels like too much, overfull and with more to come and the strangeness is beginning to override whatever thing Zagreus had done earlier to rock his world.

“You're so good, Hypnos, you're doing good, I- Gods, shit-” Zagreus curses, head hanging a bit as a shudder wracks through him. He twitches his hips a few inches more in a shallow thrust as though he can't help himself.

Hypnos breathes through it, slow.

“Almost, I promise, I've nearly- hff, fuck,” Zagreus chants, and he's started up these short little pushes in and out, dipping further in each pass.

Gradually, in such a way that Hypnos is unable to mark when exactly it happens, the prince has bottomed out and is clutching his shoulder tightly; forehead pressed to his collarbone, breath hot and rapid across his chest.

But Gods does Hypnos feel full.

Connected, too, in a way that hasty handjobs never managed. Joined like this, he can feel Zagreus gasp when he experimentally clenches down, the punch of surprised air knocked out of him. The way his fingers dig into his shoulder, the titanic effort of restraint to not plow Hypnos into the mattress here and now.

The prince starts up a rhythm, slow and shallow at first, just tiny little shoves in and out.

Before long, he gets braver- or perhaps his will is just unraveling- because the strokes grow longer, the distance he pulls out further, and Hypnos feels the queer pull-and-slide deep inside as the prince’s length enters and leaves him.

Zagreus drops a few kisses across Hypnos’ chest, aimless, thoughtless almost, the surging of his hips beginning to take over all priority.

Hypnos feels it slightly, a very slow buildup as Zagreus’ cock- merely by virtue of its thickness- vaguely rubs the right place inside him. It probably won't be enough to do anything with, but it's still pleasant enough that Hypnos finds himself giving occasional little oh’s of sound when one stroke hits especially good.

Zagreus blankets Hypnos with his frame; the arm below his back keeps him bent like a drawn bow. He's reached a good, steady pace now, one that has him shivering every few pulls and peppering in little things like Hypnos, and good, and yes.

Hypnos figures it'll continue in this manner; Zagreus will ramp up until he spends, and then maybe Hypnos can quickly jerk off now that he's gone to the trouble of making him hard all over again.

Instead, Zagreus leans up a bit and breathes out, pace not slowing but a centering, focusing sort of breath that clears his eyes somewhat.

He seems determined of something now, and Hypnos can't guess what it is- he's already balls deep, is this not the end game? Red and green eyes flash as Zagreus takes the arm from behind Hypnos’ back and instead plants his palm on his chest, effortlessly pressing his torso down into the mattress while his other hand grabs a hip and hikes Hypnos' lower half up at an angle that should be ridiculous, except-

Zagreus pushes in, a short seeking little jab, and Hypnos convulses with a cry at the cascade of pleasure that blindsides him from the motion.

“There we go,” Zagreus murmurs, satisfied, and does it again.

Hypnos practically sobs.

“That’s it, this is what I meant when I said I was going to fuck you senseless,” Zagreus pants, and rams into Hypnos a few more times. His words are almost lost to the lava sluicing through his groin with each slam, each stroke a bright explosion of sparks.

“I want you so badly, Hyp,” Zagreus tells him, the phrasing a little odd considering he's very much got him at this moment. “I want you to forget your name, and remember only mine.”

A few more thrusts ensures that this is well on the way to being true.

He's digging furrows into Zag’s bicep, and his other hand- having since slipped from around the prince’s shoulders with the change of angle- finds nowhere better to go but helplessly into his own hair, clenching at the roots and pulling.

Hypnos thinks maybe he's responding- isn't sure what the hells he's saying, though, other than a blended and endless litany of

please

more

fuck

Zagreus!

As though attaining his partner's pleasure has turned a candle to a blaze, Zagreus pounds into him with a renewed and ceaseless vigor, unfailingly hitting the mark every single time and Hypnos feels his mind falling to pieces.

“Hypnos, Hypnos, f-fuck, Hypnos!”

Zagreus doesn't have a hand free- one is pinning him down and the other is holding him aloft- but Hypnos catches his gaze through a haze of tears as the cadence of his name changes to something more of a plea.

Zagreus flicks his eyes down at Hypnos’ cock in clear direction, and honestly Hypnos had almost forgotten about it with how good just this alone has become.

He takes his hand from his hair and fumbles for it, grasping it and knocking his own breath from his lungs when he tugs just a few times in tandem with Zagreus pistoning into him.

“Come on, one more, for me,”  Zagreus requests feverishly, and Hypnos almost does, but there's only one thing he wants ever so slightly more.

“You, hn!, first,” Hypnos demands, feeling the way Zagreus’ thrusts are beginning to get sloppy and desperate, short and fast and nearing an end as he comes undone.

Hypnos thinks he'll be outlasted at this rate, but there's one final card he can play:

“Hff, dammit- Zag, please! I want to feel it-”

Zagreus falls apart.

A hoarse shout leaves him, and he clutches Hypnos so tightly it'll absolutely bruise like a sonovabitch. His cock slams home, over and over, a few final times; Hypnos feels it jump and release inside, and the prince groans and fights for air while burying himself as deep as he can press.

Hypnos barely needs to pull more than once or twice, his own hand slick with precum, and he comes with all the unstoppable force of a meteor.

His eyes are already shut so he can't fully tell if he does briefly lose consciousness, but his hearing drifts back with a tinny ringing and he hadn't even noticed it'd gone. Everything from the waist down tingles and zings, every movement causing a new cascade of shuddering and whimpering, the slightest shift making him want to double over from the lingering pleasure.

As though reassembling shattered pieces of himself back into a whole being, Hypnos addresses and solves problems one by one: a spell, for the mess of release painted across his stomach and hand and the sweat soaking them both; unhooks his other hand from Zag's bicep, whoops, he kinda mauled that a little didn't he; slowly and incrementally unlocks stiff limbs and goes limp.

Zagreus does much the same: he shakes and makes a small nh noise high in his throat as he pulls out, the slippery slide from Hypnos’ body still intermittently pulsing around him making him shiver and release a breathy ahh… as he's freed.

Zagreus lets Hypnos' leg down off where he's held it nearly vertical, and the hand on his chest crushing him down eases up. He folds down onto his haunches, already most of the way there, sitting back and breathing hard with hot palms resting on Hypnos' thighs parted around him.

Hypnos feels cum sliding out of his ass and while getting it put there was phenomenal, really just ten out of ten, he can't say he's thrilled about letting it stay there.

He spells it away, and his hand drops with a thump to the bedsheets. He's done moving. The world outside could explode, right now, and he wouldn't so much as blink because he's just exploded, himself, and it was far more dazzling.

Still; he keeps an eye cracked open while he catches his breath, watching Zagreus watch him.

So far Zagreus has been the sort to stick around after these encounters, but he's watching Hypnos with some kind of… heaviness, an intensity, a pinch to his brows like something desperately important weighs on his thoughts.

Hypnos lied; he does have enough energy left to reach down and hesitantly take Zag's hand, worried about what that face means but risking the contact anyway.

Zagreus grips back, tight, almost bordering on frantic.

“Hypnos, I-” the prince stutters. His voice is deep and worn with exertion. “What I said, in Oneiros, I-”

Hypnos blinks slowly, sleepily.

He doesn't want to hope for outlandish things.

But there’s a vine taken over his heart and grown, twisting and permanent, winding through his guts and here to stay. It bears flower and fruit, Zagreus both, an endless blooming.

Regardless of if it ever means anything deeper to the one who planted it and tended the seed. But he can always hope.

Zagreus crawls forward and drops down heavy onto the bed beside Hypnos, flumph. He still has his hand captured, which he brings up between them and presses soft kisses to the knuckles. His other arm drapes over Hypnos and drags him in, lines of warmth against one another.

Hypnos watches him, steadily.

“You have the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen. The sun doesn't compare; gold doesn't compare; nothing does,” Zagreus murmurs, a thumb passing below his eye soothingly.

Hypnos gives a tired smile, too tired even to blush. “You told me- while I was asleep for three months, with my eyes closed that entire time- that I have beautiful eyes?”

“Oh- no, no it wasn't that,” Zagreus corrects, sheepish. “I just- thought you should know.”

Hypnos lets his thumb rub a little circle into the back of Zagreus’ hand, a silent push to go on. He had made a deal, after all.

“I'd said- I'd… blood and darkness, it was somehow a whole lot easier when you were barely conscious,” Zagreus huffs a laugh, and shakes his head. “I shouldn't delay, though. I thought us immortal and still almost lost you.”

“That's a bit dramatic, I only died once. You do it all the time, you can't just monopolize the Styx like that-” 

“I love you.”

The words fall like summer rain; quiet, warm, gentle in the air between them.

Hypnos doesn't think he's ever felt this before, in his many years. Has Zagreus?

This joy, this complete elation. This peace and sense of rightness, like a lost heart at last returned home. Like sun though leaves; the salt on the breeze; two mismatched eyes, green and ruby.

“I love you, too.” Hypnos returns, a little shy, a little hesitant, a little brave. Scarcely daring to believe, especially because they are in Oneiros right now, that this isn't a dream. Red and green eyes anchor him; calm. “It sure is a good thing you made a move first, because I was always too scared of blowing things with you as your friend. I don't know that I ever would have.”

“Well, we got there in the end, didn't we?” Zagreus says, something devilish in his grin. “The blowing, that is?”

Hypnos has one hand available and for as much as he doesn't want to move a muscle, he finds it within himself to bring it up and cuff the prince upside the head, setting off a round of cackles.

The movement does jostle and remind him how everything is sore.

Hypnos groans and smooshes his cheek further into the pillow.

“If you've fucked me into another coma, have fun explaining that to everyone,” he drawls.

Zagreus looks distinctly proud, going so far as to puff his damn chest. “You won't be asleep that long. How else could we do this again?”

Again?

The thought is simultaneously heady and exhausting.

“I'm going to have to start scheduling off in advance if you wreck me this hard each time.”

As though he hadn't thought of it until that comment, Zagreus loses his lovestruck tunnel vision to pull back and look at the blooming bruises here and there- shoulder, chest, hip, thigh.

"Damn," he swears, and brushes apologetic fingers over the brace of fingerprint bruises on Hypnos’ ribcage, “I didn't even think I'd gone that far off the rails. I’m sorry, Hyp, I never meant to hurt you-”

Hypnos pats at his face to shush him before the growing regret can get any further, fingers behind his head and pulling closer so they can meet in a gentle kiss.

“It's fine,” Hypnos says against his lips, and he means it. “Didn't feel a thing, other than the sex so good I think I almost died from it. Besides, I got you too,” he points out, gesturing to the scratches in Zag's arm and the smattering of little welts upon his neck.

Zagreus huffs a laugh, and lets the matter go.

Good.

Hypnos rather thinks he wants Zagreus to utterly fuck him up again sometime, it simply wouldn't do to have him be leery of it.

“You didn't manage to make me forget my name, but that was probably only because you couldn't stop saying it over and over,” he adds.

Zagreus flushes, turning a faint red in the dim light of the cave, and Hypnos watches it spread with fascination and glee. 

“That was a high bar, I’ll admit,” Zagreus says, embarrassed at his bluster.

“I'm not trying to inflate your pride or anything here, but that was easily the best sex I've had in my entire existence, so maybe you've earned it,” Hypnos admits, figuring that paying compliments serves two purposes: one, they're true, and two, it might inspire a repeat performance all the sooner.

Gods, why was he ever nervous about this? Getting railed by Zagreus was enequivocally awesome.

“I'm pleased to hear it, mate, but considering your portfolio, I don't think that holds as much weight as you imagine.”

Hypnos adopts an offended jaw drop.

Rude!

Nevermind, fuck this guy.

Zagreus laughs and snatches Hypnos up like a miffed teddy bear, as if he can somehow just absorb him if only they press close enough.

(That would be just fine.)

"I’m going the hells to sleep,” Hypnos grouses, and summons his cloak.

It flutters down atop them, and Zagreus wastes no time tucking them both in for the long haul.

It won't take him long to knock out, which is probably why Zagreus acts immediately; he pulls him close, holds him to his chest like Hypnos is something precious and golden.

Against the crown of his head he presses kisses, and he mouths three impossible words over and over.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”