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I
Antinous blew the smoke on his face— Telemachus scowled, recoiling at the smell.
He noticed Antinous often smoked, but not to this extent. He always reeked of burned tobacco, a lighter always at hand. Empty packs of cigarettes laid strewn across his house, and no matter how many Telemachus threw out when over, more kept coming.
But he couldn’t even complain about the God awful everything without Antinous playing it off, laughing while cooing something about being a man, without Antinous grabbing his chin and kissing him. Telemachus prefers that over those rare afternoons where the man wouldn’t smoke, mainly because Telemachus had accidentally—or not, but he’d just gasp and nod whenever Antinous told him he had to go to the store around the corner—’disposed’ of them. Irritable fuck. Everything pissed him off.
Telemachus breathed too loud and that was enough to send him into a rampage. He still wonders how the fuck can someone breathe too loud—
“Almost,” Antinous’ voice broke through his thoughts. “You can help me, no?”
Telemachus rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”
The man snorted and– maybe he would back off, he thought. Antinous is a dumb dog but not brain dead.
All bark, no bite.
He was against the wall, and while Antinous towered over him, he wasn’t that close. If he ignored the chest clouding his vision, not anywhere near to cause harm. Not even close. Just a dumb joke. Just a joke. But the way his eyes flickered with something too similar to ire—
Telemachus repressed a shiver. He was not scared of Antinous. He sent him a glare, just in case.
Antinous cocked his head.
“C’mon, little wolf,” he drawled. “Can’t my champ help me out here?”
Oh, he didn’t. He didn’t just call him his, like property—
He bared his teeth with a hiss. “I told you to fuck off.”
Antinous clicked his tongue and– took another step, chest pressing against him. Telemachus squeaked in surprise. The man flicked his wrist, the cigarette burning, and no, Telemachus was not focused on that, couldn’t be.
He swallowed dryly when he looked up anew, Antinous’ stare meeting his eyes.
“Wild tongue,” he clicked his tongue before taking a drag.
When he puffed out the smoke, it was to his side. Thank fucking Gods. Telemachus didn't know what he was capable of doing if Antinous blew it to his face anew.
“You like it,” he muttered, looking away.
Antinous chuckled, gaze softening slightly– darkening into something shallow, dim. Dangerous. Lust, Telemachus discerned. Maybe want.
He flinched when a hand ran up his arm, hand quickly gripping him still. Antinous’ free hand– when had he—
“Calm down,” Antinous ordered with a growl. Telemachus relaxed with a gulp, falling limp. “Good boy,” the man praised and, well, that wasn’t that bad.
He hummed, stifling an irritated hiss when Antinous led his wrist to his crotch, palming the half-hard cock. Insatiable. The man practically purred. It was big, even through his pants. Telemachus shouldn’t be getting flustered anymore, but it was nigh impossible with the sweet, poisonous effect the man had on him.
It—He—was like a cup of hemlock, but sugared, near pleasant all while melting on his tongue. Like a spider trapped on its web of fine silk, a warm home within its own constraints. It was not comfortable but it was something Telemachus could live on.
Telemachus bared his neck and— there was a twinging burn on his elbow pit, sharp and throbbing, pulsating under his skin. Telemachus shrieked, tugging his arm back to no avail. The hand holding him wrapped a hand around his forearm, grip wounding.
Most definitely not comfortable; not his kin, not pleasant, not anything. The man cackled at the distress drowning him.
It hurt. It burned. He looked up to Antinous with half-lidded eyes, tears brimming on the corners. “What the fuck?” Why are you doing this to me, was left unsaid. “Let me go!”
Antinous finally let him go with a grunt, tossing the cigarette on the ground before stomping on it.
A sob was wrung from his throat– he bit his tongue to not make another sound. He clutched his arm close, fighting the sniffles tearing through him. A faint ache pulsated through his arm but it was bearable. More than.
His father never laid a hand on his mother. No, the calluses on his hands were not of anger and stinging arguments but of sheer adoration, of their bed, of soft worship, of—
A shudder wrecked his body when Antinous punched the wall on his side, missing him by a hair’s breadth.
The man leaned enough for his nose to touch Telemachus’ before nuzzling his neck.
Telemachus sucked a breath and did not spare time before inhaling again, a blazing spark pounding against him. Antinous pressed a gentle kiss on his neck— too gentle, he wanted to throw up, why did he keep giving and giving more shattered shreds of himself to Antinous only for him to rip them apart—
“See?” He winced when Antinous mumbled on his skin, vibrations twisting a shiver from him. “It doesn’t hurt.”
He didn’t know why but he finds himself nodding frantically, a few tears spilling to his cheeks.
Telemachus felt weak. He wasn’t liking this anymore.
“But you hurt me,” he croaked. “Asshole.”
“Mhm,” was all Antinous answered with.
II
The next time Antinous used him like a pathetic ashtray, it started the same. On his house, under his roof, following his rules.
Telemachus assumed there was none to place the blame to aside himself. He kept crawling back, he kept finding Antinous on each shitty bar and on his car the next second he blinked, and he kept falling.
Falling to an abyss he didn’t quite even comprehend, falling as it devoured him piece by bit, gnawing on flesh and feasting on his blood.
When his mother worriedly asked about the stench when Antinous had last put out his cigarette on him, he shrugged. Sex was worse than exercising, at least with Antinous– always thirsting for more. Hurt nipped at him at her incredulous stare, but he couldn’t begin telling her he was—
Enough of that.
He shook his head, groaning. Antinous was yelling in the kitchen, leaving him on the sofa to take a call of high importance, or so he had claimed with a smug smile.
Made him feel relevant, Telemachus guessed. He didn’t say anything, just changed the channel on the television.
“I’m fucking telling you,” the shouting was so loud he could distinguish every word. He turned off the television, throwing the remote control to the corner of the room. “Get that dumb whore to understand—”
He grabbed the nearest pillow, hunched over so that it was pressed against his face, and screeched. What happened to saddling and taking the reins of his life– what happened to even having one?
Telemachus was withering away, petals falling off in gloomy colors, and yet he came back for more venom each time he felt lost.
He felt something wet on his face and he didn’t remember when his equal screaming turned into broken sobs and occasional cries, hands around the pillow trembling as he just laid down and kicked once, twice, thrice the cushion.
It was unfair.
He sniffled, pressing his cheek against the pillow when a hand ran through his hair tenderly. The weight on the sofa shifted to one side– of course it had to be Antinous. Gods, Telemachus was not above preferring his supposed friends. Eurymachus was not as big of an asshole.
“What now?” Antinous asked, barely above a whisper. Delicate.
“Get away,” He sniveled, covering his face again.
He heard a faint bitch before the man manhandled him on his back by the waist. He pressed his legs together only for Antinous to open them, hand having slid down enough to grab his thigh. Hand. One was still with the cigarette.
Telemachus regretted wearing shorts. Loose, too. Fuck.
Antinous was pretty content between his legs, but he was not. “I told you to get away.”
“What did you say?” The man tilted his head with a predatory smile. “Couldn’t quite hear you over the bitching and moaning.”
He squeezed his thigh. Telemachus snarled.
And then–
His shorts were ridden up, but Antinous slipped his hand to hike the fabric up, gaze calculated. There was no warning when Antinous pressed the cigarette on his bare skin and spun it, Telemachus’ eyes fluttering wide as he gritted his teeth.
There was black ash when Antinous pulled it away, throwing it behind his shoulder with no regard. His knees twitched but he couldn’t kick him— if it were up to Telemachus, he would, but something stops him.
Something— the man’s anger. Maybe the hope of returning. No, maybe– something he didn’t even know he had rumbling against his chest like a tamed beast.
Antinous hauled him up to his lap—he didn’t even notice, but when he blinked his eyes open, he was face to face with him, above him, and what could he do but go slack and accept it?
The man grinded up and he didn’t have the sufficient energy to tell him off. Instead, he hid his face in the crook of his neck, moving his hips back slowly.
“You’re learning,” Antinous noted, amusement clear.
Telemachus sighed. “Do I have a choice?”
The man made a sound too much like a breathy laugh. “No,” he said once he regained his breath. “Of course you don’t.”
He huffed.
Antinous’ hands reached for the waistband and he didn’t swat his hand away, just closed his eyes. He yelped unceremoniously when the man threw him on his back again, but when he saw the drifting desire on Antinous’ eyes, severe and intense, grip on his hips hard and unyielding– he opened his legs.
His own hands trail to his abdomen, thumb sliding below the fabric.
“Get on with it,” he mumbled, almost slurring. “Can barely feel it, anyway.”
Telemachus felt dread at Antinous’ sneer– before it washed away into something he could convince himself was pleasure, want, a yearning, even if it wasn’t.
“Care to repeat that, brat?” His nails dug into his skin.
He swallowed.
“I said,” he glowered at the older man. “I can barely feel your small dick inside me anyway.”
Antinous laughed. “Your useless whining is always refreshing to hear,” he slid off his shorts and fuck, he felt exposed. “You’ll see about that, boy. I’ll ruin you.”
Uh huh.
“I doubt it,” he murmured under his breath.
Antinous’ hand brushed against his ankles as he got them off, receiving a snarl when he simply hurled it to the other side of the room, probably landing on the dirty floor.
Telemachus shivered at the thought. He didn’t have a change– oh, Gods, Antinous was not above locking him out without a shred of fabric covering his bare skin— well, no, he was too much of a possessive bastard. Maybe. He turned his head to the side when Antinous reached for his boxers, biting his lip.
The man was, also, not above treating him like a wife or domestic help. No, he’d probably not return his clothes until he made Telemachus clean every surface of his shitty house just because.
He gasped at the cold air hitting his cock when Antinous got his underwear off, treating him like a ragdoll all throughout. That shouldn’t turn him on as much as it did.
Telemachus averted his eyes when the man stopped and began taking his shirt, a fiery blush creeping to his cheeks. Antinous was bigger than him in everything– chest, shoulders, taller, and if that wasn’t enough, his cock—
He swallowed an unbidden whine caught on his throat, squeezing his thighs together. His own length twitched and it was humiliating, like strands and tendrils of shame wrapped around his body, pulling him down. But it wasn’t frightening. It felt good. Too good.
Antinous shifted, parting from between his legs to remove his pants, ditching his clothes somewhere much closer than where his own short was.
He yelped when the man dragged him by his ankle, setting on top of him with haste as soon as he was done.
“My shirt.” Telemachus said, deadpan.
“You can keep it,” Antinous replied, parting his legs with a bruising grip. “You cum too fast when playing with your nipples,” Telemachus squeaked, but the man was quick to hold his leg down. In the same breath, he snickered. “I’ll break you on my cock alone, bitch.”
Fucking fine. Telemachus groaned, wet eyes glaring at him before widening when he felt something blunt, thick against his hole.
A breeze of chill air assaulted him.
Antinous was pressing the head of his cock against him, the hand stroking guiding it almost in.
He stiffened. No preparation?
“Wait,” Telemachus called, the intense gaze of the man feeling carnivorous. As if it were hunting bigger prey.
Antinous’ breathing was heavy, pausing before answering. “Your whorish ass has taken men plenty of times to tear now.”
He was suddenly too conscious of the nails digging on his flesh, of the slurred tongue, of the downright possessive glint on his eyes, of the merciful tone on his voice. Only him —
“Don’t you dare,” he spluttered, too fast and frantic for his taste. “I’m- I’ll tell my parents you–”
He felt the man’s hot cock twitching against his hole.
“What will you tell them, huh?” he spoke and he was so close, oh, he was going to do it, fuck, he— “That you’re fucking a man at least ten years your senior and wasting your life on what, cock?”
Shame poured on him like a bucket of ice water.
But–
Pain, white pain, flared through all his body when Antinous thrusted in. He screeched, thrashing before the only sounds that left his mouth were sobs and pants.
“Good joke.”
He wheezed, eyes rolling back. “Please,” his lips trembled. “Wait.”
Telemachus covered his mouth with his hands, shaking.
Antinous gave an experimental thrust before stopping. Telemachus suspired in relief, shoulders trembling. “Hm,” he hunched over to tuck a curl in, and maybe, he was– maybe, he’d wait, yes, maybe– “No.”
Pain. Blinding, extreme and fierce pain. Drool pooled on his chin, eyes undoubtedly red and swollen as gasp after gasp were wrung from him as the man pierced him.
He shivered, squirming weakly before breaking into a whine as he met a thrust.
“That’s what you wanted,” the man muttered above him, eyes narrowed. It was no question.
Telemachus arched his hips, shaking his head. “No, no, no, ‘s not good, didn’t—”
He bit his tongue accidentally with a stifled keen.
“ Antinous–” He felt full, it was too much, too much, he was going to break– “Antinous!”
The man snickered, dragging his cock out before slamming in. “Is that enough taming, pup?” Telemachus whimpered, nodding. Make it stop, please, just— make it stop . “Or maybe,” no, no– “You want it rough like a slut?”
He closed his eyes, a single tear spilling.
No. But– He was writhing beneath Antinous, muscles spasming and tensing instead of falling soft and lax.
He felt himself clenching down on his cock and he hiccuped as another sob was squeezed out of him.
“No,” is all he answered in a cracked, hoarse voice. Cry.
Somehow, Antinous’ pace went slower. Gentler and mellow. Like a lover. As if he was hearing–
He took the opportunity like a starving wolf. A sliver of pity, maybe.
“Please stop.” Telemachus rasped. “I’m not–” Another hiccup. “Ready.”
There was a high chance he looked pathetic, flushed and sweating, mouth agape with tears trickling down nonstop. But he had to try.
He didn’t cry when Antinous began driving into him mercilessly anew, didn’t thresh or fought. Something sunk on him, tying itself on his throat, coiling on his stomach like a parasite.
“You’re sucking me in so nicely,” Antinous said, sounding delighted. “What kind of fool do you think I am?” There was no wobbling in his words and Telemachus did whine at that. “I’m not stopping.”
Telemachus needed him too– he was going to split on his cock, oh, oh he might throw up, gods, he needed to get out, it wasn’t all fun and games anymore.
There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do at the rate. He canted his hips back, wincing before moaning brokenly at a harsh thrust. He really, really hoped the man took it as a yes, and not like the flaring opposition that it was, that Antinous deemed himself satisfied and left Telemachus alone .
But it was not like those fairytales his mother used to tell him about to get him to sleep. A hand wrapped around his throat, nearly shaking and firm, applying more and more pressure as Antinous’ cock twitched inside him.
Panic fogged his mind– Antinous wasn’t that mad, but—
“Answer me.” The man growled.
Telemachus hacked and drew breath after breath when the pressure on his windpipe softened. He was shoved up at another thrust and fuck, Antinous was really going to tear him apart.
“No,” he stammered, more tears trickling down. “No, get off–”
Antinous wasn’t supposed to be this rough, he had never been this rough, he was scared and he wanted to go home–
Blank, plain fear clawed at him when the pressure returned, unrelenting and oh, Antinous was doing it, and he didn’t, couldn’t, even try to fight back as he drove his hips against him and punched out all his breath.
The man squeezed. “Admit it, is all,” he barked and if it were that easy, Telemachus would have already.
Panic and more panic– he felt dizzy, and he didn’t know if it was because of the alarm or perhaps the lack of oxygen. Right, his breath was strained— and he couldn’t breathe, sometimes, when the hands weighed more, when—
Like now.
He scratched at the hands, moving his head from side to side. As much as he could. His legs felt all too hefty.
“Yes,” Telemachus screamed when Antinous yielded and drew his hands back enough to hover over his throat but not against his windpipe.
A thrust made him shudder.
“Now, that wasn’t so hard.”
He sniffled, nodding when those hands slithered away and grabbed his hips.
Telemachus stared at the blank television screen after. Turned his head and moaned shakily whenever Antinous got too harsh and coarse. He closed his eyes blearily when hot seed spilled inside of him, the man slumping above him with ragged pants.
He fought down a yielding sob. He knew it wasn’t the end.
III
Telemachus was right. He had thrown his phone away, claiming someone had robbed him when his father asked– he avoided the usual routes to college and work, stopped going out—
Antinous had him against a dirty alley, pinning Telemachus’ hands above his head. He looked furious, nose touching against his as his eyes trailed over his body.
Telemachus would’ve headbutted him but he didn’t want to make a scene, not with people passing by.
“You reek.” He said plainly.
Antinous shoved him against the wall roughly with a growl, pressing himself against him. Telemachus scowled, hitting the back of his head. He drew his knee up against the man’s thigh as a warning.
He was not wrong, he mused with a glare. Antinous usually had the scent of burned tobacco imbued all over him, but this was pushing it. His pupils were dilated and his head snapped to see over his back whenever he heard something.
The man tightened the hold around his wrist with a sneer.
“Fucking whore,” Antinous snarled, and Gods, he stunk of liquor. “Did you forget your manners already?”
Telemachus scrunched his nose, attempting to yank his hands away. Disdain was clearer and brighter than dawn on the man’s eyes– like a petulant child watching their favorite toy get pulled to pieces.
“Shut up.” He glanced at the street– too far to escape in a haste, too close for people to stop by and suspect. “People can hear.”
Antinous loured at him before reluctantly lowering his hands, wiping invisible filth on his sides. Telemachus tried not to feel offended– he wrapped his arms around himself nigh immediately, eyes darting between the man cornering him and the street.
He hugged himself tighter when Antinous massaged his temples, shrinking to himself ever slightly. It was fine, he was the one– overreacting, Antinous was just a man, stupid, foolish, and it didn’t even hurt that much last time, it–
It fucking did, who was he kidding.
“Don’t act coy now,” The man scoffed. “I’ve had enough. You’ve been avoiding me.”
Telemachus blinked, leaning forward in disbelief.
“I told you to stop,” he hissed, looking to his sides. His voice was barely audible. “And you didn’t. You didn't care. You’re sick.”
“And you didn’t enjoy it?” Antinous raised a brow, taking a step closer. Telemachus pressed his back against the wall in unease, tilting his chin up to maintain eye contact with the taller man— as if he’d pounce if he looked away.
He gulped, throat dry and burning. “No.”
Antinous tilted his head before flicking his forehead, appearing outraged before sighing in near resignation. But Telemachus knew better. He recoiled, hitting his head against the wall with a grunt again.
“Tell yourself what you want, kid. But we both know you were more eager than a stupid tramp.” Telemachus could feel Antinous’ breath against his face– he closed his eyes shut with a frown. “If you just want an excuse for me to allow you to warm the beds of other men, go on. I won’t stop you. But you’ll be begging for them to ruin you and leave you in pieces like I used to.”
Telemachus stilled. Did he just—
His fists shook with bridled anger.
“What did you say–”
“I have a video.” Antinous said at the same time, complacent.
He took a few steps back, a wide grin on his face.
It took several seconds for Telemachus to understand.
“Wh– When? What– Antinous, what?” It was his turn to walk towards him, a desperation ingrained on him. It wasn’t possible, Telemachus could’ve sworn it was discreet, tactful. “You don’t,” Maybe he was just saying it for himself, but– no, it couldn’t be real. “You don’t.”
Antinous regarded him for a minute, studying him with a hunger Telemachus was not fond of, before pulling his phone out with a laugh.
Everything stopped– the honking, the rustling of air, the anxious silence, as he waited. It was a bluff, surely. The man’s fingers tapped on the screen before a colorful image was reflected on his eyes, gaze becoming dire, thirsty.
“Have a look.” He turned the screen to face Telemachus, phone on his palm as he extended his arm towards him.
He felt light-headed as soon as he did look. It was muted, at least.
It was a video of him riding Antinous, half-closed eyes hefty with something dark as he threw his head back, eyes rolling up as his whole body shook violently. White spilling from his cock, twitching as Antinous leaned in and sucked his neck.
No, no, no. No—
When? How? It– no, Antinous never– who?
He sucked in a sharp breath. And then another and another. He didn’t feel the hand squeezing his shoulder, shaking his head as he hid his face on his hands. It wasn’t happening, his life would be fucking ruined if– oh, Gods, Antinous would upload it, wouldn’t he? Or, or maybe he’d—
Fuck, he could send it to his parents, to his— he whined when a thumb cleaned a stray tear, hushing him as a kiss was pressed on his forehead. His hands were trembling but there was no weight to them, no phone, and he just missed his chance to delete it.
He shuddered as he hunched over, the sound of his heart deafening. His forehead fell onto something solid, warm. Antinous’ chest– when did he get close, oh gods, he did not want him near.
“Placate yourself, little wolf,” he heard between gasps and torn sobs. “Shh, calm down that mind of yours.”
He let the man hug him, hands resting low on his back.
“Fuck, boy, do I have to slit your throat?” Antinous asked with amusement. Telemachus cried harder, pulling back feebly. “People are going to think I’m raping you with the way you're crying.”
The man laughed, tightening the hold, and for a second, everything felt dull. Purposeless. That video was going to end everything. And the reason behind it all saw it all as a game of chess where Antinous would sacrifice all his pawns in for the sake of mirth.
Telemachus fell into little, muffled sobs and whines until he simply remained quiet, exhausted.
“Better,” The man noted, rubbing his back in near assurance. “Let me give you a ride home.”
Home. As if it was Telemachus’, too.
He didn’t have a choice. He felt the outline of something long and sharp on the man’s clothes– he was not going to find out what the thing was. If just a pen, keys, or a knife.
This wasn’t his day.
Antinous locked the door and sighed dramatically once they arrived. Telemachus looked around, gaze blank—empty—and red. It was cleaner than it had been the last time he had come. Since Antinous—
He didn’t know how much time he spent standing still and gawking at his surroundings like a foolish owl, but he was snapped back to the present at the sound of a lighter. He grimaced. Not again.
When Antinous got out of the kitchen, Telemachus noted two things. Aside from the smoking– fucking addict.
First, he was plotting something. He was fidgeting too much, yet his stare remained on Telemachus. Second, he had no shirt on.
He crossed his arms, backing into the door. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
Antinous only answered him when he had blown out the first smoke, observing him in a way that made Telemachus feel bare.
“Little wolf thinks he has the say here,” he said. “I have more recordings. Wouldn’t want you getting feisty, would I?”
Telemachus felt something heavy collapse against him, felt an ax strike and get stuck on his flesh, felt– awful, so fucking awful. It was to be expected, but he had also expected something more- sweet.
“When?” Telemachus croaked. “When did you…” his voice trailed off into silence. “Just tell me when. Please.”
Antinous observed him, eyes crinkling as if he were talking to a stupid thing.
“Defeats the secrecy.” He explained with such a childish tone that made Telemachus want to pull his hair out. “Thought you were smarter than to ask that.”
Rude. Telemachus rolled his eyes with a huff. A dog calling him foolish; he was the one trailing after his own tail like a useless, stupid animal. Telemachus just followed because… because–
Why did he keep following Antinous?
Whatever. He loured at Antinous when the man whistled at him, trying to catch his attention— and it worked, but he was no bitch to be called to heel.
“Get here.” Antinous’ lips curled as he spoke.
Telemachus gulped, feet feeling all too laden. He opened his mouth to spit out a curse, but he couldn’t afford to. Not with how the strings of his everything were being threatened by the blade of this fool.
He hung his head low as he walked towards Antinous, feeling faint. He just had offered himself to a monster. Willingly. He was going to— to kill him and then himself with a rusted dagger, or maybe just vomit and pass out at the palpable disgust—
A grip on his chin tilted it up when he at last dragged himself in front of the man. He glanced up. Antinous’ eyes were bright, a cynically big grin on his face.
He closed his eyes wearily, furrowing his brows at the smell.
“Open your mouth, eyes open,” Antinous tutted, “Tongue out. I want you to see.”
Telemachus frowned, a growl caught on his throat begging to be let out. He did what Antinous asked– demanded, even then. He could wait to get vengeance; eventually. Not soon. But eventually.
He stuck his tongue out, looking away from the man.
The grasp on his chin turned taut, bruising as the man pulled him forward. His fingers dug into his cheek, a twinge in his jaw bearable, as Telemachus steadied his breathing– it was fine.
He watched the flickering light on Antinous’ fingers in his peripheral vision.
“I said tongue out.” Antinous repeated, louder. It sounded too much like a threat.
Telemachus could feel his hands trembling at the overwhelming urge to scratch him off. He complied and it felt fucking weird. But Antinous was satisfied. As much as a man like him could be, which was never enough.
He didn’t realize he was heaving until the cigarette was moved closer to his face, drawing breath in like a strangled man.
Oh, no. He thought Antinous would tell him to get on his knees. No, fuck this.
“Wait.” He stuttered. “You have ashtrays, use them.”
He yelped as nails did sink on his skin, instincts telling him to run, to fight, to get away.
“I won’t repeat myself, Telemachus.”
He swallowed, opening his mouth against the instincts of his body shrieking him not to. Antinous barely called him by his name. Used it, even.
Antinous sneered, but he could see his hand moving towards him– “You look like an obedient bitch right now.”
Antinous laughed as he pressed it down, Telemachus’ breath hitching as it stung, sharp waves of discomfort washing him over. An unpleasant, sick taste made him grimace, but he couldn’t have his knees buckling or let out a single sound if he didn’t want Antinous to have the upper hand.
He gasped, sounding strangled, jerking away. The pain only grew. It got worse– his vision was humid as a noise was wrung from his throat, guttural. He opened his mouth wider, an acrid flavor flooding his mouth.
Gods. There was grit on his tongue, too.
He gagged, bitter ash, smoke, burnt tongue too much.
“You were supposed to let saliva pool on your tongue,” Antinous snickered when he pulled it away.
He also let his face go–
Telemachus blinked away tears, tongue still out as he staggered back.
“What?” Antinous huffed. “Should I leash you? Come here. We aren’t done.”
IV
Telemachus woke up on Antinous’ bed the following dawn. He was sore, ache all throughout his body, and no matter how much he tried to remember, everything was a blur after the man gave him a sip of cold water.
His tongue felt– oh, that– that happened. Right. He dragged himself to the edges of the bed, no warm body at his side. It was raw, swollen. It hurt. Throbbed sometimes.
Someone opened the door, slamming it open, and he glared accusingly at the intruder.
Well. It wasn’t his home, it was Antinous’, but still.
Antinous crossed his arms. “Don’t look at me that way if you like being able to stand up, brat.”
Telemachus averted his eyes hesitantly. He fell on his back to the bed, tugging the sheets over his head. He was not sulking. He just— how dare he?
Maybe Telemachus would’ve expected it from anyone else, but…
Antinous got wilder and wilder with each passing day. He didn’t understand why. Antinous wouldn’t have harmed him when they begun seeing each other–
A voice on the back of his head told him that yes, he would. He was just toying with his hunting prize.
When his mother told him to find a good woman—or man, she corrected—he was certain she did not mean this.
“Coward,” Antinous muttered. The silk wrinkled under his fist. He was not cowed by Antinous. At all. “Get out of my room.” He said, louder, and Telemachus yanked the sheets back down as he sat up.
He opened his mouth, lips shaking, before closing it in silent rage.
Antinous ran a hand through his hair, amused. “Just get out, boy.”
The first thing he did when he got out of the room was squint because of the sun. No curtains. The second was to look for his underwear. It was strewn on the floor and when he bended over to pick them up, he ignored Antinous’ whistle.
He stiffened when the man held his waist from behind when he got up, tugging him close. He rested his chin on his neck and it felt wrong. But it also felt like nothing mattered at that point.
Telemachus tried not to elbow Antinous on the ribs when he began kissing, licking, his neck and the bare bits of his shoulder the shirt did an awful job covering.
He was wearing Antinous’ shirt and it was fucking humiliating, but it was that or walking naked. And since he woke up with it already on, well, it didn’t hurt staying with it on for another hour.
He did hiss when the man began rutting against him in slow, gentle movements.
“No bite, it’s already late.” Antinous purred, teeth scraping his skin. “Remember?”
And then, Antinous pushed him away. Telemachus faltered, holding on the rear back of the sofa. He bit his tongue when the man’s hand hit his ass, wincing.
Telemachus closed his eyes at the rustling of his clothes. Furrowed his brows when a hand slid under the shirt to caress his lower back, or at the cold lube hitting his skin, or how anybody could be watching with no fucking curtains, or–
He tried his best to ignore the trembling ripples assaulting him. The insults, the praises, the gruff moans. He shivered at something warm hitting his insides, shuddering as his own cock throbbed in nigh interest.
Antinous huffed and ruffled his hair before pulling out– and walking away. The gods know where. Telemachus didn’t move.
He heard a lighter and his knees buckled. The floor wasn’t as cold as he expected.
V
That same day, Antinous left his phone unlocked on the table. Telemachus knew it was a trap. It didn’t stop him from leaping up and crashing against the table once the man left the apartment.
He felt dread when he read through the several texts between Antinous and— Eurymachus? Was it?
Antinous had asked him the best fucking sedatives, and Telemachus didn’t even dare to begin thinking why. He clutched to the phone tighter and tighter at each text he read. More than a few were of him.
His thumb hovered over the screen when he scrolled up. He let the phone fall.
He scrambled on his knees in less than a second, breath uneven as he choked on his own whimpers.
It was a photo of him. Photos. It started innocently enough– one photo is of him resting against a pillow with his eyes closed, mouth open with drool on his chin. The next one didn’t show his face– but the next attachment wasn’t even a photo, it was a video, and— Oh, no, gods—
Antinous' cock was sliding in and out of him, drowsy and wrung sighs but silent noises in the background. His thighs shook and he had never seen the man so gentle, mellow, patient.
Telemachus felt faint. Only time he had ever resembled a lover was to—
He was definitely asleep on that video, wasn’t he.
He should’ve left the phone where it was, act like nothing was different, wrong , oh so wrong, and bolt out of Antinous’ house before the man locked the door.
But he just sat, crossed his legs and didn’t waver his stare.
There were more videos. Photos. One more photo showed him asleep—there are more than one, he realized in dry horror— another is him giving Antinous head, eyes closed and brimming with tears, another one is him simply laying down on an oversized shirt, bruises on his thighs and neck visible as he changed the channels on the television.
It dated back to when they first—
Telemachus bit his lip when a drop fell onto the screen. Why was he crying?
He cleaned the snot running down his nose, sniffling. It was fine. If he couldn’t delete them in their entirety, he could break the phone. He could break the man’s computer, if he had one.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them, worn and drained, his thumb was still scrolling. A deep sense of exhaustion settled on his bones, eating and gnawing away. He found himself gaping at one video– he was smiling, humming a tune as he cooked his breakfast in Antinous' kitchen. Whenever he tilted his head, purple would bloom on his skin, bite marks so visible, the shaking of his legs evident, but he seemed happy.
He remembered glancing back to Antinous who had shifted on his place and was supposedly calling one of his friends— or maybe even women. Telemachus didn’t care. They never held anything special. There was no bond, no fine thread obliging them to be one.
Maybe there was a leash, he mused now.
In the next video, he was moaning like a whore and canting his hips back, eyes glazed as he looked back before burying it on pillows. Antinous had a hand on his nape as if pressing him down.
He didn’t remember that. The date of the video said fourteen of February- last year.
Huh. He guessed he was remembering incorrectly. He only could remember going for a drink or two that day before his recollection began to become an awry mess, hazy and blurry. When he woke up on Antinous’ couch, he didn’t think twice before gulping down on the glass of water the man offered him with a mild smile.
His whole body tensed when a hand ruffled his hair, panic spiking before it all dulled in a dim fog when he heard a quiet laugh.
“You shouldn’t be meddling in men’s private affairs, little wolf.” Antinous purred before—
Before sitting down next to him, leaning in enough to see the screen.
“That’s a good one, though.” He mentioned in the same line of thought, placing a hand on Telemachus’ lower back.
This was his life now, wasn’t it.
He didn’t want it. He didn’t— this couldn’t be happening. He whined when Antinous took the phone out of his hands, pawing at him with desperate gasps and small cries.
The man sneered, standing up.
No, no, no. His elbows hit the ground and he was crying by then, mind a clutter of everything as he sobbed something similar to Antinous’ name. Clawing at the floor, tugging at his own hair. Why? Why- he wanted to see his mom and dad, he didn't want this.
"What will you do with this?" He asked, eventually. Once he found his voice, hoarse and sounding like a broken string on a lyre.
He flinched at the loud laughter.
"What won't I do, boy?" Antinous huffed. "I have your little life on my hands now, don't I?"