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He had entered the labyrinth, wound thread in hand, with visions of finding the terrible creature lurking its passages. It would roar at the sight of him, Athens’ noble hero, and charge itself upon Theseus’ sword. What a celebrated story he would bring back to Athens! However as he toiled beneath the sun, there was no sight of the beast and Theseus was growing ever more irritated. This was not what he’d imagined. He had since abandoned the way he crept around the corners with his sword held tight, anticipating the minotaur’s dangerous eyes. This fiend was not worth the effort: it was somewhere cowering from him, denying its inevitable fate. No matter. When he did finally find it, he would punish it justly.

His heart rattled when finally, finally, the walls of the labyrinth began to broaden into its center. Even with Ariadne’s thread, the passage through the labyrinth was no less laborious. He’d laid and rewound that spool so many times that his fingers were sore. It was with a groan of relief that he dropped it down at a corner as he stepped into the maze’s vast center. The dirt was trampled hard here with the outline of footprints too large to be a mere man’s. This must have been the resting place of the fiend he sought; and as Theseus lifted his head, he finally laid eyes upon his prize. At the very edge there was the minotaur, poised on all fours and hunched in on himself. If his breaths had not been so ragged, Theseus would have thought he was asleep. He was a large creature, with a muscular back that trembled with each pant. The intensity of it drew Theseus to wonder if some youth had happened upon the minotaur before him and managed to wound the beast terribly; it took some of the wind from his victorious sails, and the thought was so disappointing that he forgot to nobly declare his intent as he typically did.

It was therefore the minotaur who rounded upon him first. Something must have alerted the monster to his company, for all of a sudden his head whipped about, black eyes blown wide and his grey-touched nostrils flared. He tasted at the air with great snuffs before he recoiled back inwards, trembling.

“Go,” the fiend’s sudden snarl echoed across the four walls, but Theseus was not intimidated, not when his voice sounded so tense and pained.

The prince scoffed. “I am not a coward who hides from my battles, unlike you!” And now did he think to pose himself quite gallantly: one hand planted upon his hip, and the other pulled his father’s sword from its scabbard. “Prepare yourself, monster!”

The minotaur did not look furious or frightened, as Theseus anticipated. Instead his bull expression was… antsy. But those eyes were still ones of a predator: they did not waver from Theseus for a moment. “I cannot… restrain myself,” he managed.

“Ha, I can more than bear your strength!” Theseus laughed back immediately. But even as he did, something felt not right. Theseus had heard stories of the minotaur: it savaged the young men and maidens sent of Athens’ retribution. He had anticipated for it to charge at him in a battle so glorious it would be sung of across Greece. Instead, it seemed he needed to coax the beast into fighting him, which was irksome. No foe had refused his challenge before, none of the chthonic bandits or even the minotaur’s sire, who Theseus had wrestled in the fields of Marathon.

And perhaps it was his own fervor for battle, but it seemed that the minotaur also felt this precipice. The beast’s breathing had only grown more heavy with Theseus standing before him; every inch of those muscles had drawn tense, and his ears were pricked with what Theseus could only assume to be animalistic interest. As he should be! The minotaur had certainly never witnessed a challenger like Theseus before, one who could more than meet his mettle. There was an electricity between them and it only mounted in the silence. This was how heroes felt before their trials, Theseus was certain. The anticipation, so palpable, and the line that drew him to his opponent, like there was nothing else in the universe but them.

Excitement leapt in his chest as the minotaur’s hesitation must have caved to some other desire, for the beast shifted, his powerful limbs pulling him into a stand. But as he did so, his legs parted, revealing what he had been so fervently hunched over.

Theseus nearly dropped his sword.

Flagging between his legs was the minotaur’s cock, broad as Theseus’ forearm and flushed a deep red. The prince’s cheeks were coloring and his sword-bearing hand had gone lax; that sheer thickness was making his mind flounder and his mouth run dry, unable to even process what he looked upon. It was already so hard that it must have been painful — but what enraptured Theseus the most was the bulge at its base, above the minotaur’s taut balls. He could not tear his eyes from it. If this was a trick of the Erotes, they were already wearing at his resolve.

The minotaur advancing towards him, cock bobbing with his steps, shook Theseus back to the present. This was not the charge he’d expected, but it was sort of one none the less. This is where he should lift his sword and cleave the scourge of Athens’ pride. None would need to know of what came before it, and he would have his legacy still. But his hand sweated around his weapon and his legs were frozen to the ground.

“The arrow of Eros,” Theseus forced out as the minotaur came ever closer. That was the only explanation. “We have been both struck by the cunning gods, to — to distract…”

His words failed as the minotaur now stood before him: so tall, so muscular. There was such fervency in his eyes that Theseus felt pinned beneath them. What he had mistaken for battle hunger was a desire for something very different than Theseus’ blood, and the prince’s head reeled as he wondered why none had warned him that his foe might rut. Perhaps they did not know. Or perhaps they thought it did not matter, as it shouldn’t have—

But again he fractured as the minotaur’s head ducked close to his, hot breath heavy on his skin. “Please,” the minotaur rumbled in his ear. “Please, champion. I must.”

Fortunately, there were no other witnesses for that strange, whining noise Theseus made in response. That part would not be in his victory songs.

“So you must?” he asked, some heady blanket falling over him. It did not matter whose will it was that made Theseus reach out a hand to close the gap between them, touching the creature’s massive chest. The minotaur’s entire body immediately shook beneath Theseus’ fingers, feather-light as they were, and a soft, strained noise came from the beast’s throat. The way his muscles jumped was so sensitive, so desperate to be touched. Theseus marveled as he traced the minotaur’s collarbone and watched him keen; there was some self-loathing in how restrained he was, so obviously yearning to rut his erection against Theseus’ body with the way his hips kept twisting. Theseus did not know how long it had been since anyone had touched the minotaur, let alone like this. He had been stranded in this labyrinth for years. How many ruts had he endured by himself?

Theseus’ sword clinked to the ground as his second hand joined the other. “Has no one ever pleasured you, minotaur?” the prince asked, as sultry as one might be when faced with a bare cock in the middle of a labyrinth. He took fistfuls of the minotaur’s pectorals and squeezed, enjoying the pained and pleasured moan that the other immediately made.

“No,” the minotaur choked out. He was panting through his open mouth now, far too inebriated of his own lust to be anything but forthcoming. “Been — alone.”

“A most cruel punishment for your offenses,” he replied, though he was far more distracted beginning to tease the minotaur’s nipples.

What was truly incredible was that the minotaur’s body was so much like a man’s, save for the thin layer of fur across his skin and his sheer size. There was much, Theseus was realizing, that went unsaid in the stories of the beast — namely how quickly his nipples could be worked to hard buds, and the delicious way his chest sagged against Theseus’ touch in a silent beg of desperation. His pectorals were so large that Theseus could not help the thought of how they’d feel in his mouth. But when he pulled away to readjust, the minotaur’s hand suddenly snapped out and grabbed ahold of his wrist.

“Don’t stop,” the creature husked. His eyes were hazy as they pled, and Theseus’ vision swam in them. “Need you.”

Theseus licked his lips, feeling those words and the sheer strength of the minotaur’s hold straight to his dick. The pteruges around his waist were tenting and there was a different precipice he stood at now, but, gods, he wanted it. Battled excited him: it was the burn of his blood, the utter devotion of his body to the fight. How could tender romance compare? And certainly not when his foe was so tall… so powerful.

“Tell me,” Theseus breathed, “What is it you need?”                                                                                    

The minotaur’s rumble came without hesitation. “Breed you.”

And that was enough to make Theseus’ eyes flash wide, though he was most surprised at the sudden heat that shot through his body. All at once he was enraptured by the image of the minotaur’s cock deep within him as the creature bucked with the imperative to fuck, to breed. His throat tightened. That girth would ruin him, and he wanted it.

The minotaur must have — quite incorrectly — taken his silence as balking and had again begun to plead. “Please,” he moaned, and he was guiding Theseus’ hand back to his flexed torso. “When you are not touching me, I—I cannot… cannot think. Please.”

There was not a man alive who could order Theseus to do anything, but this was no man, and he did not hesitate. Even just running his hands against the beast’s ribcage seemed to sate that overwhelming heat within him; the minotaur’s throat arched handsomely as he threw his head back, eyes half-lidding. His thick thighs widened their stance so that his cock was more prominent, twitching in want.

“Do you have a name?” Theseus asked suddenly. He had not been intending to.

Neither had the minotaur. His head lolled back down so he could look into Theseus’ eyes. The minotaur’s nostrils were flared and he did not reply immediately, as though recalling something from so long ago. For a silent beat the moment seemed to be broken, but when he finally spoke, his head bowed. “Asterius.”

Was he ashamed? It seemed there had once been a man within him that was deserving of a name, though Theseus had never heard of him, not from Aegeus and not from Ariadne. The prince’s face split into a grin: wicked, and challenging. “I said I could bear your strength, Asterius.” He leaned into Asterius’ chest and craned his head as high as it could go, hissing into the minotaur’s collar, “Show it to me.”

Asterius’ incredible restraint shattered. At once the minotaur seized him, ripping his tunic down the center with a snarl. Theseus managed a gasp but Asterius was already moving to his belt. It snapped with an easy give of the leather and Asterius flung it and his pteruges clear across the dirt. The cold air tantalized his skin and without even looking he knew was hard — and gods Asterius had barely even touched him, it was just that primal gleam in the minotaur’s eyes that made Theseus’ spine shudder with anticipation. The minotaur seemed as hungry for his bare flesh as he had been for Theseus’ touch. The way he explored Theseus’ torso was starved and possessive, hard enough to bruise, but that only made the prince’s blood pump faster to imagine being decorated wherever Asterius gripped him.

The minotaur grunted as finally his hips jerked up against Theseus’ body, rubbing his cock against wherever he could get friction. He was as hard as a steel pole, and Theseus moaned weakly at the sheer desperation with which Asterius pulled him closer. Asterius wasn’t going to last long. He must have been vehemently humping his hand towards an unsatisfying orgasm before Theseus came upon him — and while Asterius frotting and splattering his skin with cum made his cock ache between his legs, it was not what either of them needed.

“Your hand hasn’t satisfied you, has it, Asterius?” he could not resist asking.

“No.” Asterius’ voice pitched to a growl. Theseus relished his frustration, but oh, there so much the poor bull did not know! “Not enough.”

Even while held crushingly tight in the minotaur’s grip, Theseus laughed. “Then I will be the first to show you satisfaction, my opponent!” There was such thrill in knowing that no other had ever touched Asterius, that he would be the first and only to bring the great beast to his knees — if just in a slightly less traditional way than he had initially planned. Theseus’ bravado had trounced all desire to slay the minotaur immediately. This was a far more enticing and glorious conclusion… the reason for his journey to the labyrinth be damned. He would sort out restoring Athens’ honor later.

Asterius had initially just snorted at Theseus’ declaration, but the prince punctuated it by placing his palms against Asterius and forcibly pushing the minotaur back. He did not miss the surprise that flashed across Asterius’ face as he stumbled back a step, that Theseus could actually move him. Triumph singing through his veins, it was with pure delight that Theseus fell to his knees between Asterius’ legs. That beautiful, godly cock bobbed wantingly before him. Precum had beaded at its head and dribbled down its length, down the throbbing veins that ribbed it. It was sweet temptation that no mortal could resist. Theseus had touched himself before, of course, and many other men, though none of them could possibly challenge Asterius’ girth. The prince marveled as he wrapped his fingers around its base just above the minotaur’s knot. At the foreign contact, Asterius jerked, pressing into his hand.

He was easy to please, Theseus idly thought, though he had seen none of the prince of Athens’ talents yet. Leaning in, Theseus flicked his tongue out of his mouth to chase a line of precum from base to tip.

Asterius groaned immediately. “Yes.”

The minotaur’s cock twitched against Theseus’ lips and in response Theseus squeezed him more tightly, earning a long, drawn-out moan from above. Desire curled in Theseus stomach. He had never heard such delicious noises, so primal and heady, so full of need. His other hand found its way to Asterius’ meaty thigh to brace himself, and he wetted his lips before parting them to sink down over Asterius’s cockhead. The minotaur even tasted like a man: salty but not too bitter, and throbbing like a virgin in Theseus’ mouth.

Asterius writhed against him, and his hand found Theseus’ head immediately, his fingers hooking at the base of his skull. “That is — good.”

Theseus could have laughed at how horrible the minotaur was at any sort of coital dialogue, but it was difficult with Asterius’ length against the flat of his tongue. He pushed lower, taking more and more of Asterius into his mouth until his jaw was stretched and he threatened to gag. His lips slid back up as he pulled himself into a rhythm, slow and tantalizing, teasing Asterius with licks beneath his shaft. The minotaur was becoming undone beneath him. His breath trembled through his massive body and his head leaked with desire, which Theseus adoringly sucked and toyed with his tongue. Suddenly then Asterius managed to yank his head forward as he bucked with untamed desperation into his mouth that the prince really did choke. The strangled noise must have massaged Asterius’ cock in some pleasing way for the minotaur shook with a bellow, gripping fervently at Theseus’ hair.

He was too close, Theseus realized, and he forced himself backwards. Asterius was reluctant to release him; the minotaur dug his fingers into the back of his head much to Theseus’ irritation, and he shoved against Asterius’ thighs until the other relented.

“I deserve far more than a ‘good’, Asterius,” he huffed.

His poor foe (was that even correct anymore?) seemed too deep in the throes of lust to form a response, which was satisfying in itself. Asterius’ eyes searched his face, likely for whatever word that would compel Theseus to suck him again. “More than good,” he amended. It was occurring to Theseus that the minotaur was more accommodating than anticipated; if Asterius had not been in the midst of his rut, would he have even fought like the beast Theseus expected him to be? Theseus would have never learned his name, that at least was certain. “You are… very good. With your mouth.”

While he should have been upset, Theseus found himself grinning in amusement. “Ha, is this the adulation with which you treat all of your lovers?” he asked as he leaned in, brushing his lips against Asterius’ knot. Imagining it inside him made him tremble. “None more handsome than me, I am sure!”

“I told you—”

Theseus laughed. “I jest, Asterius!”

This camaraderie did not feel as unnatural as it should have, and so instead Theseus distracted himself by dragging his tongue against that bulge. He hummed against it, lidding his eyes and sucking at the sensitive skin. All indignation was swept from the minotaur’s voice immediately. His breathing again became heavy and he moved to cradle Theseus’ skull with unexpected gentleness. If it was a bid to encourage him, it worked. That slight pain in Theseus knees from kneeling in the dirt felt so far away, and even his own untouched cock was eclipsed by the warm musk of Asterius’ knot. Theseus worshipped it with his mouth, alternating between licks and sucking kisses.

Please,” Asterius’ strained voice suddenly came. His thighs had begun to tremble. “I need this — need you. Now.”

Theseus could not have agreed more. He groaned as he sat back on his heels and his gaze wandered upwards, almost dreamily. The minotaur was, in his own way, rather beautiful. Asterius’ voice was deep enough to shake mountains, his physique utterly divine, and beyond the heat of his stare there was something more than a mindless beast. Theseus raked his hands against Asterius’ thighs. “Asterius,” he breathed. It was his turn to beg, and he was more than willing. “Breed me.”

The minotaur bellowed as he fell atop him, at once urging Theseus’ back against the ground and covering the prince’s bare body with his own. Their faces were close now, far closer than before, and Theseus reached to cradle Asterius’ face just below his ears. His fur was dirt-crusted but still soft as his thumbs rubbed circles against it. Asterius pushed past his touch to bury his muzzle against the tender skin of Theseus’ neck. He inhaled deeply and his body shook in a groan as he did; the desire and arousal must have been rolling off him in waves. There was thrill and terror of having the Bull of Minos above him while he lay naked in the labyrinth, and both feelings equally contributed to how achingly hard he was.

Theseus rolled himself onto his stomach and knees. His head pounded with the weight of this, but it was nothing compared to the sheer desire that Asterius would soon be completely within him. His thighs parted and he arched himself, hearing Asterius shift above him and pant just right over his shoulder. The minotaur had been pushed to his brink, and now even positioned like this he was becoming insatiable, eager thrusts rubbing against the cleft of Theseus’ ass. Theseus bit back a groan, and with his head pressed against the ground he reached back with both hands and spread his cheeks wide for Asterius to claim. There was at once something nudging against his entrance and Theseus’ body seized up as Asterius’ cock began to nudge within him. At first it seemed gentle — then the minotaur’s restraint shattered, and with a snarl he sunk himself inside.

The friction was painful even with how he’d wetted Asterius’ dick. Theseus cried out as it burned, but he gritted his teeth in determination and buried his head into the crook of his arm. Asterius was larger than anything he’d taken before; the stretch was a mix of pleasure-pain, consuming his senses so utterly that Theseus was aware of nothing else besides Asterius’ cock pushing within him. It did not matter how he looked, debauched and open for the minotaur’s raw need. There was something so satisfactory in how Asterius came to fill him, inch by inch, burning away an emptiness Theseus never realized he had. His body trembled, and a voice that certainly sounded like his was softly begging—

“Deeper, deeper, more, Asterius...”

The minotaur did not reply but paused as he settled completely inside him. His weight hunkered down atop Theseus’ back, positioning himself, and Theseus was grateful for the moment to adjust to the girth. The way Asterius’ nose found his ear was almost tender — though then Asterius gave him an expectant nudge, and Theseus would not deny him a moment longer.

“Come, Asterius, fuck me,” he grunted out. There was not much dignity to be retained in this situation, but Theseus was finding that he did not mind. If this was loss, perhaps he wore it better than he’d thought.

The encouragement was all Asterius needed. His groan sounded relieved, and Theseus felt his length slowly ease from him — and then with punishing force it slammed back in, sending his hips rocking. Involuntarily he shouted, fingernails digging into his skin.

“Good,” Asterius rumbled above him. “I want to hear you. While I am — fucking you.”

He staggered over the swear, but Theseus hid a smile against his arm at the minotaur’s enthusiasm. Asterius was building a steady pace, his thrusts rough and needy, but the pain was bleeding away as Theseus loosened. The drag of Asterius’ cock against his insides was making him gasp in time with each jolt of his hips. Theseus never had a talent for being silent, and particularly not when he had such an excellent reason to be loud. His breaths pitched into whines. Nothing had filled him like this, completely him so wholly that he utterly sagged against the ground, letting Asterius plow into him with mounting ferocity.

“Oh Asterius, Asterius,” he babbled, only dimly aware how with what frequency he was crying out the minotaur’s name. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did, somehow. With Asterius so powerfully holding his thighs steady, all Theseus could think of was his name. Of the stars. Asterius was truly proving that he deserved to be decorated in the skies like Greece’s great heroes. “Yes, hah, you’ll fill me, Asterius! I shall take all of you, before Olympus and eyes of Greece!”

Despite the fact they were very alone, his voice still made the minotaur’s cock twitch inside of him. Arousal flashed through Theseus as well. His own length was hanging hard and heavy between his legs, but he knew the moment he touched himself it would all be over. His skin was so sensitive, toes curling, and inexplicably Asterius’ knot seemed to be growing inside of him. Theseus could feel it with each thrust, stretching him further and plugged so deeply within him. Then the minotaur’s cockhead suddenly rubbed against his prostate, white hot pleasure jolting through him and he shouted, his entire body writhing.

“Asterius, plug me, oh, please, gods, Asterius!” The words flooded from his tongue as though they were the last he’d ever speak. Theseus’ fingers dug at the ground for some kind of purchase, pushing himself back against Asterius as the minotaur mercilessly pounded into his prostrate, alighting Theseus’ nerves with pure desperation. The heat had coiled tight in the pit of his stomach and he clenched his eyes shut. Asterius pistoned deep inside him and without even touching himself, Theseus suddenly came with a shout, jaw sagging and his eyes rolling back in his head as his orgasm washed through him. So overwhelmed, he scarcely noticed how Asterius’ movements became staggered and shallow, not until the minotaur roared and Theseus felt the warmth of his seed within him.

And it kept coming. His eyes widened in shock as Asterius continued to milk himself within his innards. It was sheer euphoria. Theseus clenched himself around Asterius in both amazement and encouragement, basking in the chorus of grunts the minotaur made as he slowly eased down from his orgasm. The most incredible of all was that Theseus could feel the knot firm inside of him, a prominent but not unpleasant weight, trapping that warmth within him. Asterius was still throbbing; he hadn’t a clue how long it would take for the knot to deflate, but in the moment, it didn’t matter. As Theseus’ blurry eyes stared out ahead of him, they caught sight of his sword, discarded alongside his shredded tunic and belt.

“Are you comfortable?” Asterius spoke before Theseus did. He sounded softer now. Complacent.

Theseus tried to laugh, but his throat was scratchy. That feeling of camaraderie had returned and this time he didn’t resist it. “I am no dotard, Asterius! You may have bested me today in our vigorous battle, but in my defeat has our boundless rivalry been born,” he scoffed. Though with a faraway sigh, he settled back down. “But yes, I am comfortable. Far more than I had thought.”

Asterius gave a snort that Theseus might have mistaken for laughter, if minotaurs were capable of such a thing. “I will take care of you,” he murmured. It must have some post-coital rut instinct talking, though inexplicably a strange warmth settled in Theseus’ chest.

He should have protested this all or at least made some attempt to keep his pride, but his limbs felt heavy in the wake of his orgasm and it was easier to let Asterius reposition them both. With now gentle hands, the minotaur eased him onto his side and then curled his own massive body around him, radiating warmth against Theseus’ rapidly cooling skin. He did not even have the energy to move as the minotaur licked the sweat from his shoulder blades and neck. As Asterius’ tongue came close to the shell of his ear, he groaned minutely, eyes flickering shut.

“What do I call you?” Asterius suddenly asked.

Well, he deserved that much. It was not fair for his rival to not know his name, after all, and normally Theseus made a point to introduce himself early. It was satisfying when his opponents fell knowing who precisely had bested them. Of course, in this situation, there had been extenuating circumstances that had proven rather... distracting.

“Theseus,” Theseus announced, but boneless, his reputation right now a lazy script. “Born of Troezen, blood of Poseidon, prince of Athens.”

Facing away from Asterius and so drunk off his afterglow, he completely missed the way the poor bull’s eyes suddenly shot open wide, to hear who exactly he’d mated with.