Mates Part 1 (MxBxMxMxM)

Chapter 3: Echoes of Desire: The Hunt Begins

Edited 5/6/25

In the suffocating depths of the Underworld, where shadows clung to the walls like a shroud of despair, the guardian of the Gates stirred, his restless awakening sending tremors through the jagged stone.

Cerberus, the great and terrifying beast, roused from his slumber, his massive form a hulking silhouette against the molten glow of Hell’s rivers, their crimson light casting eerie reflections on his volcanic black fur, each strand shimmering with flecks of ember as if forged in the heart of a dying star. His three heads snapped to attention, their movements a synchronized dance of primal instinct, six glowing eyes—yellow, green, and crimson—blazing with a hunger that burned hotter than the flames around them. The air was thick with the stench of brimstone and decay, a miasma that clung to the back of his throats, but a new scent pierced through it, sharp and intoxicating, like a dagger of light in the eternal dark.

Cerberus sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring as he drew in the fragrance, a low growl rumbling from deep within his powerful chest, the sound a rolling thunder that shook the cavern walls, sending shards of obsidian raining down like blackened tears. The scent was no mere food—it was something far more delectable, a siren’s call that set his blood aflame. It was the sweet aroma of fresh morning dew after spring showers, laced with the fertile promise of a mate, a bouquet so pure it seemed to mock the desolation of Hell. His massive body trembled with delight, each head sharing a knowing glance, their jaws parting to reveal rows of jagged fangs that glistened with venomous drool, the tips stained with the blood of countless souls. At his monstrous height, Cerberus towered over the cavern, his shadow a sprawling void that swallowed the light, and beneath his hulking frame, a monstrous-sized member stirred, its ache a primal drumbeat that echoed through his bones, a raw, insatiable need that clawed at his very being.

He looked up toward the world above, his glowing eyes narrowing as he traced the scent’s origin to the living plane of Teraaneou, a realm of light and life that stood in stark contrast to the abyss he guarded. The thought of such purity amidst his darkness sent a shiver of anticipation through him, his claws digging into the stone floor, leaving deep gouges that hissed with molten heat. The scent was a beacon, a promise of something to claim, to possess, to devour. With a shared snarl of agreement, the three heads turned as one, their massive paws pounding against the ground as they rushed deeper into the Underworld, the cavern trembling with each thunderous step, the air growing colder, heavier, as if Hell itself held its breath in dread of what was to come.

Cerberus entered a throne room, its vast expanse a cathedral of shadows and flame, the walls carved with writhing serpents whose eyes glowed with an unnatural green light, their hisses a ghostly whisper that echoed through the chamber. The floor was a mosaic of blackened bones, polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the hellfire that danced in sconces of twisted iron, their flames casting writhing shadows that seemed to claw at the air. A throne of obsidian loomed at the far end, its surface jagged and sharp, as if it had been hewn from the heart of a fallen star, and upon it sat Hades, the ruler of the Underworld, his presence a void of light and warmth, his skin a pale blue that shimmered with the chill of death, his eyes twin voids of darkness that seemed to swallow all hope.

As Cerberus approached, his massive form was engulfed in a swirling vortex of red smoke, the scent of blood and ash filling the air, a choking haze that stung the eyes. The smoke parted, and where the beast had stood, three men now knelt before the throne, their forms a haunting mirror of Cerberus’s primal nature. Each man was tall and broad, their skin a deep, ashen gray, their muscles rippling beneath tattered black cloaks that hung like funeral shrouds. Their faces were sharp and cruel, with high cheekbones and squared jaws, their eyes glowing with the same colors as the beast’s—yellow, green, and crimson—but now dimmed, as if the fires of Hell had been banked within them. The middle man, the leader, spoke first, his voice a deep, resonant growl that vibrated through the stone floor. “Hades,” he greeted, his tone a mix of reverence and impatience, his lips curling into a sneer that revealed a flash of pointed fangs.