Ultimately, Theseus cannot lay claim to many things, and he tries his best to not allow this to bother him.
Athens was his city once, but at the same time it was not his, not really; a city is not defined by its king half as much as it is defined by its people. His trials were his own, but most of those victories were embellished when they were retold, stories about stories about how glorious he’d hoped to be.
Asterius, of course, does not belong to him at all. From the very moment he stepped into Elysium he became his own man—and bull!—and Theseus is endlessly grateful that the Minotaur has chosen nonetheless to fight by his side. Most days he’s sure that their bond will never be challenged, because Asterius is loyal perhaps to a fault and Theseus is, well—
Theseus is madly in love with him, is what he is. It’s a love so deep and so all-consuming that there’s no way to express it fully in words, much as he tries. And when words aren’t enough he says it with his actions: braiding flowers through Asterius’ hair, reading to him as he basks in the warm Elysium light, and spending all the time in the arena together that Asterius could possibly desire.
(And not making a fuss when he fights the hellspawn on his own, either! Though truly it’s a joy to think of Asterius vanquishing him all on his own, so that Theseus need not even soil his hands with his filthy blood.)
Asterius is in love with him too, which Theseus knows because he says it. The Minotaur, locked in a maze since he was a small boy, never learned much about how to lie, and though the circumstances surrounding it are tragic the results are pleasing: one never has to second-guess Asterius, or consider whether his words might have hidden meanings.
Despite all of this, Theseus’ blood boils at the mere sight of a man leaning against Asterius, sliding his hand up his arms. Asterius is oh-so-tempting to touch, everything from his forearms to his pectorals and beyond so perfectly sculpted by countless hours of training, and all coated in a thin layer of fur that makes him so pleasantly soft. It’s impossible for Theseus himself to keep his hands off of his partner most days, and it’s only natural that others might feel the same.
He also knows that this man is a hero— a lesser hero, certainly, but he’s gained a place in Elysium nonetheless. Just as he has every right to face the Minotaur in combat if Asterius so chooses, he has just as much right to appreciate the Minotaur’s body so long as he is willing.
The man is laughing now, a long and hearty laugh that makes Asterius crack a smile. Other shades flock around them as well, chatting among themselves but with all eyes on the most handsome bull in their vicinity. Nobody in their right mind would turn down an opportunity to gaze at Asterius, to touch him, to make love to him if that was how the hours played out.
Will Asterius take a lover tonight? Will it finally be one who pleases him better than Theseus does?
When you are alive, a marriage either lasts until death or it does not. But when you are dead, eternity stretches in front of you.
Asterius cannot possibly be expected to love him best forever.
Their eyes meet, and Theseus tries to will himself to look away, but he cannot. Asterius always reads his expressions so well; will be able to tell Theseus’ insecurities easily this time too?
He must see something in Theseus’ eyes, because he immediately dismisses the man he’s speaking to, and Theseus watches the man frown, dejected, while feeling a selfish sense of victory.
“My king,” Asterius says, pushing easily past the shades that gather around Theseus. They don’t seem to mind; most of them love Asterius as much as they do Theseus, as they should.
“Asterius!” Theseus replies, all smiles. Better to not disturb the event—and the bull’s fun—with his worries. And if that leads to Asterius finding someone better to fuck, well, that is simply his prerogative.
But of course Asterius can sense his distress, and so Theseus’ attempt at deflection is ineffective. “You are troubled,” he says. “Is it because I am speaking to others, and you fear they’re attracted to me, and me to them?”
“That is—!” It’s correct, of course. “Certainly not! Anyone who isn’t attracted to you must not have eyes.”
“King.” Asterius takes Theseus’ chin in his hand, but he only needs to use his thumb and forefinger to get a good grip and point it upward, forcing the pair of them to make eye contact. “Theseus. Don’t lie to me. Are you jealous?”
“A bit,” Theseus admits, eyes shifting.
“Is that all? What a shame. I’d been looking forward to showing the rest of the party that you were mine, but if you are not interested...”
This piques Theseus’ interest quite thoroughly. He does belong to Asterius, body and soul, and he says as much, loudly and at regular intervals. The Minotaur, in contrast, is usually quieter about it. “I am jealous! I will admit as much only if you are willing to show me what you mean, in exchange.”
“Ah, good. So you do want me to show you off.”
“Always!” Theseus replies, puffing up his chest.
In response, Asterius sweeps him off his feet, quite literally. It’s a familiar feeling from their fights together, though Asterius isn’t going to throw him across the room this time.
The celebration hall is big enough for all manner of activities: feasts, dancing, and lounging. The place Asterius takes him to is an area meant for the latter: a wide couch, one that looks more than strong enough for one and a half men and half a cow. Partygoers around them glance over briefly, though none seem particularly scandalized by the sight of Athens’ former king being dropped onto the sofa with a muffled thump.
Asterius kisses are perfect every time, thanks to the many, many hours the two of them have spent practicing and the Minotaur’s ceaseless eagerness to learn. That his tongue is so wide also gives him a certain innate talent, and he’s never hesitated to take advantage of it. (And why not? He takes advantage of his build when he and Theseus are sparring, so of course he’ll do the same when they fuck.)
(Gods, Theseus thinks as Asterius’ tongue prods more deeply into his mouth, just barely not so much that he chokes on it, and he is going to fuck me right here.)
Their clothing is not so complicated, and Theseus is able to unpin Asterius’ chiton easily without ever breaking their deep kiss. If his vision wasn’t blocked by a snout he’d be able to admire Asterius’ body in its glory, but even as is the mere knowledge that now the Minotaur is nude for all of Elysium to see causes a stirring in his groin.
It’s no secret that the pair of them enjoy showing off, and so when they began to sleep together half of Elysium knew it almost immediately thanks to their frequent public trysts. Taking one’s lover in public is not so uncommon here, in this place of eternal pleasure, and if anybody takes issue with the Minotaur doing so as well, they haven’t uttered a word. They do it like this often as well, at parties and such, and though Asterius hadn’t particularly planned that this would be one such occasion, he’s certainly not opposed.
(Asterius has had his share of admirers for some time, but it was when he and Theseus began to fuck in the arena that his popularity grew exponentially, and Theseus’ as well. There is one thing that mortals enjoy more than fighting, it seems.)
Indeed, even now he hears the sounds of footsteps around him. He knows how it goes: some of the partygoers merely glance at them as they walk past, but several pick places nearby to settle, continuing their merriment and their idle conversation while ogling the champion and his bull.
Theseus grabs Asterius firmly by the arms and pulls him closer, flipping up his own skirts to better display his body. His manhood stands at attention, and though its size is dwarfed by Asterius’ they both know that Theseus’ body is no less sensitive than his partner’s.
“What would you like this time, king?” Asterius says, loud enough that surely half the hall can hear him if they care to listen.
“Mmm, be rough with me, my love,” Theseus replies. Just the sight of Asterius’ cock makes his mouth water, though if he’s honest with himself he certainly lacks the patience to suck Asterius off. Not now, when his own body nearly trembles with need.
Asterius needs no further encouragement cups Theseus’ ass. He feels his asshole experimentally and is pleased to find that Theseus is already slick there, that he’s prepared himself for this as he sometimes does. The invitation is clear, and he sees no reason to hesitate. He positions his manhood at Theseus’ entrance and the king positions himself in clear anticipation of what’s to come, grabbing Asterius’ horns for stability.
A few shades around the gasp and one claps when Asterius takes Theseus in one deep thrust, and Theseus himself groans loudly enough to alert the entire room if they weren’t already. Asterius thrusts hard and fast and Theseus, well trained for this, easily accepts his cock.
“You feel so good around me... nobody can take me so completely like this. Nobody can even compare.”
“More,” Theseus groans. “More, Asterius!”
Whether the king wants more of Asterius’ cock or more words of praise, Asterius isn’t sure, but he’s happy to provide both. He drives himself deep into Theseus, savoring the gasps and moans that grow louder with each thrust. “You fit around me perfectly, king,” Asterius says. “Others watch us because they wish for what we have, but they will never obtain it. They can be fun, for a time, but none are half as wonderful as you.”
By now Theseus is reduced only to whimpers of affirmation and gratitude, and this suits Asterius fine. He could listen to the king’s dulcet voice forever but he has equal love for this sound: Theseus, utterly debauched and just barely holding on for his inevitable release, and the sounds of Asterius’ balls slapping against him where they meet, again and again.
There must be plenty of eyes on them now, so many shades who are imagining what it would be like to be Theseus, or Asterius, or perhaps just enjoying the voyeurism of it all.
“I am yours, king,” Asterius whispers, quiet enough that the others would have to strain to hear him. “And you are mine.”
This is what pushes Theseus over the edge and he cums with another groan. He doesn’t ask to be put down afterward, or even for Asterius to slow, only clings to him even harder. Asterius cums soon after, buried deep inside Theseus and thinking: yes, they admire us, and they envy us, and they ought to.
Now that they’re both done, at least with the first round, they can’t stay connected like this forever. Slightly disappointed by that, Asterius withdraws from his love, hearing a wet sound as he slides out and what seems like an endless stream of cum follows.
Modesty is not a priority; he flips Theseus over and spreads his legs wide, admiring his own handiwork. The king’s skin shins now not only with oils but with sweat, and some of his own cum across his stomach. What is more notable than that, however, is the amount of cum dripping out of his asshole, now wide open and fluttering slightly, still trying to clench around a cock that it has no longer.
Asterius thinks he might push the cum back in, perhaps Theseus up with his seed still inside of him. There’s so much of it, thanks to Asterius’ size and his virility; the king might have trouble walking from the fullness of it, the feeling of it moving within him. His stomach might even jut out. But then, Asterius thinks of something even better.
The minotaur kneels between Theseus’ spread legs and brings his lips to the king’s abused hole. The salt of cum and sweat mingle with Theseus’ typical olive oil fragrance, making him smell like a combination of himself and Asterius. He likes it.
Theseus shudders when Asterius enters him again, this time with his tongue. Once Asterius had felt shame about it: it was a cow’s tongue, clearly, and not suited for making love to a man. Theseus’ enthusiasm for it had eventually changed his mind, and now he happily plunged it deep within Theseus, just as far as his cock had been able to reach. It was easy to retrieve his own cum with just a few licks, and soon Theseus was clean once more.
“My love,” Theseus says when Asterius lifts his head, wiping a few stray strands of cum from around Theseus’ ass. He sounds worn-out still, but no longer so thoroughly fucked that he couldn’t speak. “If I had anything left in me, I’d have climaxed again already.”
“We have all night,” Asterius says, quite simply. The king will have ample time to climax again. “Shall I lick you more, until you’re ready?”
“We have all of eternity as well, my dearest bull,” Theseus replies, laughing weakly but ever so sincerely. It’s one of Asterius’ favorite sounds.
“I hope you’re feeling reassured now, at least for the night.”
“Ah, that! What was that all about? I haven’t the slightest idea what I was upset about.”