𝐇𝐘𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐒

Chapter 9

feat me. dying in the back 

since i have no idea what i'm going to do with this story except make our flower boy die, let's move on to the depressed hyacinthus arc. 

light smut warning, apollo's not banging the boy in this book doe

i'm pulling a rick i know forgive me

"My love, give me a kiss-" Apollo said, descending from the skies as he landed on the handrail of Hyacinthus's balcony,  overlooking a stream of water.  Hyacinthus's chambers were fairly modest for a prince of Sparta. A willowly bed with translucent tresses flowing from the bedposts, giving mild shade and coolness. Apollo had gifted though, with the signature imprint of a lyre. 

A lyre.

When they had first met, Apollo had entranced him with his beautiful, siren like music. The instrument sat atop a chair, carefully polished and maintained over the course of three months. 

"My love, this is breaking and entering." Hyacinthus laughed, but pulling his face close and permitting a quick peck. 

"People have been praying too much lately." Apollo sighed, letting his guard down as he set his head down on Hyacinthus's lap. 

"Is it giving you a headache?" Hyacinthus said worriedly, stroking his golden locks. For some reason, when Apollo had burst into his balcony, he felt like something was being taken off his chest. A light airy feeling in which you knew you were in complete bliss and could forget everything around you. The kind that led to an obsession if kept wildly... 

"It's not as bad as Zeus's," Apollo laughed, cupping his hand to his cheek. Soft. Oh, yes. His lover had the delicate cheeks of a baby and a jawline that could cut cheese. A beauty among the uncivilized humans. "he has millions of mortals begging him to stop the thunder storms in the north."

"Why doesn't he?" Hyacinthus asked, smiling down. But inside his olive sized brain, the deepest darkest part of him whispered, couldn't he just strike the persecutor down without punishing the people? That's how gods are, selfish. That king was probably favored by the gods for them to have dined at his kingdom... Just as Apollo happened to glance upon you and think you interesting... 

"First of all," Apollo raised his hand, as if he was counting down numbers. "he's lazy. Second, I think there's a king that.. oh, yes, fed us his deceased son."

"Disgusting," Hyacinthus had almost recoiled from the thought of that. "wouldn't you remember a scene as grotesque as that?"

"When I'm with you, all my problems seem to disappear." Apollo chuckled, raising his head to kiss the boy turned man. 

Hyacinthus allowed himself to melt in the god's warm lips, the familiar touch of his tongue feeling for the way inside his hidden treasure cove. The solid muscles in his shoulders as Apollo gripped him tightly, Hyacinthus wrapping his arms around his neck. 

What was that taste? Was it the food of the gods... ambrosia? The nectar that Apollo had recently drank? Whatever it was, it tasted sweet.

He broke free from the god's grasp reluctantly, but knowing that weak humans like him had to breathe. Hyacinthus's chest rose in deep heavy gasps, his body instinctively trying to quiet himself by slowing his breathing.

"Breathe," Apollo said. "breathe through your nose." Hyacinthus looked up at him. "Isn't- Isn't that uncomfortable for you?"

"I won't mind." Apollo took this as a yes to his suggestion and once again attacked Hyacinthus with his love and affection, his hands trailing down to his chest, feeling the tiny muscles about to sprout beneath the linen. 

Hyacinthus was turning into a lovely shade of red. Gorgeous.

He pressed his lips full of godly ichor to Hyacinthus's skin, kissing up to his feminine collar bone, ignoring the faint scent of sweat and sand and focused on the honey and pomegranate.  Apollo bit down, causing a suppressed moan from Hyacinthus.

Was this the day? Would he finally become one with this beautiful man- 

Apollo!