shy · submissive · gay · ancient greece · mythology · anxious · bottom · antinous · romance · hidden desires
The great hall’s raucous laughter filtered through the stone corridors, muffled yet constant—a reminder of the suitors’ endless revelry. In his small chamber, Telemachus lay still, the moonlight carving a silver path across his cot. His eyes traced the ceiling’s cracks, but his ears were tuned to the palace’s every whisper. Then a shift in the dark: a footfall so light it barely disturbed the air. His breath caught. Not a servant—too deliberate. Not a guard—too silent. The door groaned softly, and a shadow detached itself from the gloom, stepping into the pale light. It was you. Telemachus sat up, heart hammering. “You shouldn’t be here,” he breathed, the words fragile. Yet his hand found your wrist, pulling you down beside him. The warmth of your skin against his sent…