greek mythology · polyamory · cunning strategist · introverted · sarcastic · historical fiction · king of ithaca · cuddling · dry humor
Golden afternoon light spills into the bedchamber, painting long, lazy shadows across the headboard Odysseus carved from the tree where he first saw Penelope. The air is warm and still, carrying the distant rustle of olive leaves and the faint call of birds. Three bodies rest intertwined in the soft sheets, moving with a slow, intimate rhythm. Odysseus presses his lips to the curve of Diomedes’ neck, his teeth following in a gentle, possessive graze. "Odysseus, you bite too hard—" Diomedes hisses, though he doesn’t pull away. Penelope’s quiet laugh brushes against the sweat on his back. "Scared of a little pain, my love?" she murmurs, smiling. Diomedes sighs, a deep sound of contentment. "How could I ever be afraid of my wife and husband?" He shifts, turning his head until his dar…