Baking in the sun wasn't Hyacinth's idea of fun, but his lover had a preference to the warm sands and the soft beaches of this realm; considering the events of The End, some time away indulging the God that had died in his arms was the very least that the avariel could do. As bare as the day he was born, feathers lined with gold stayed folded behind him as he kept his gaze focused on the book in his lap before Apollo called out. A trick of the light spun a discus of gold into the other's hands, the God did always have a very acute sense of humor. Another head injury was on the horizon, "Let's see if Zephyrus is still bitter." Hyacinth said as he stood and moved through the warm sand to take a stance. He knew very well what Apollo was trying to do and while the Spartan had his resolve he was incapable of resisting a goad when it was placed in front of him.

@hyckinthos Location: let's go to the beach beach Notes: Apollo needed a vacation from his vacation and i had a dream so we doin it

The little island off the coast of Italy was mostly uninhabited. It'd been visited many times, but it had a pretty beach that Apollo had decided long ago was his. He'd had a temple somewhere around here once, but that hadn't been the reason that he'd dragged Hyacinth out to the beach. The golden sand was perfect for them, the clear, small waves that chased them up and down the shore – a place of contradictions. A mortal realm that held its own beauty, but also not enough. Not like Elysium. Apollo would have to think of something eventually, but he was only one god amongst peasants.

Apollo was grinning now, clad in nothing because what did he have to hide when it was just the two of them under the sunshine on a beach? Then there was the avariel, the only one worthy enough of Apollo – to Apollo. He moved towards the avariel now, letting the water crash around his ankles. His lover was a walking contradiction. Soft avariel feathers indicative of seraphim, there was a strength in his jawline that contrasted with the almost delicate slope of his nose, a dark sensuality in his soft lips set against his clear eyes. Hard edges softened by golden skin. A face full of contradictions, just like Hyacinth himself, who kept himself out of Apollo's reach – but only for the time being. His words were sometimes soft, but pointed, and a rough voice that followed suit. Another contradiction. In Apollo's hands, a discus made of light formed, solidifying after a moment, "Care to play?"

GREEK MYTHOLOGY MEME | [4/7] MORTAL MYTHOLOGICAL FIGURES: HYACINTHUS

Hyacinthus was a handsome Spartan prince that was fiercely loved by the gods Apollo and Zephyros. Zephyros, known as The West Wind, grew jealous of his rival Apollo and one day as the pair were playing discus, blew the discus off course causing it to strike Hyacinthus in the head and kill him. The grieving Apollon then transformed the dying youth into a larkspur flower (hyakinthos in Greek) which he inscribed with the wail of mourning “AI, AI.”

Blatant Daario thirst post 💙

At that, Hyacinth laughed. "Again." He repeated before rolling back on Apollo and placing his lips upon him. Warm like the sun, Hyacinth dragged their lips together as he willed all the stamina that he could muster to return to him. It didn't matter how many times they had been doing this or for how many days, the senate could wait, the world could wait: the world had ended and that world was the God beneath him. Hyacinth wouldn't allow another moment to be wasted, and he absolutely would not permit audacious Apollo the ability to mutter the words that the avariel had ever underperformed.

Fortunately, Apollo's libido was a thing of legends. He'd pleased many, many people in his lifetime, but he'd been an honest man as of late. He would never betray Hyacinth's trust now, anyway. But he did enjoy a good tease. He grinned once more, filled to the brim, as his avariel stayed perched between his thighs. There was nothing more fulfilling, literally and figuratively, than to see Hyacinth somewhat content. Rome would have to do for now, until he found a place worthy enough for the two of them. The mortal realm did have its beautiful places, and Apollo already imagined an island in the sun off the shores of all the old places that used to worship him. His fingers curled around Hyacinth's strong jaw, "Again."

Angular, toned, and refined; Hyacinth felt the flush of his body rock against Apollo's with every stride. Their lips tangled together as Hyacinth tasted the heat that broiled through the air itself. Definitive, haunting, and familiar. Unseen were the marks that Apollo had raked across Hyacinth's soul already, long torn and buried across the breadth of his chest. Time and time again the Spartan would return to the other, to his bed, to his side, to every part of him that Apollo permitted. It wasn't for any duty, responsibility, or debt of patronage, but because as much as it was possible to love another, Hyacinth loved the God beneath him. Finality swelled within him, warmth spread like the flames of the sun as he felt himself fill the vessel that Apollo inhabited. Release washed from him once more as his body blanketed the other's, collapsing in a way as he smiled against Apollo's lips. After a brief moment of reprieve he lifted himself enough to look into the other's eyes, Hyacinth's fingers brushed through the curls over Apollo's forehead, the other wrapped around the length splayed between their abdomens.

"Again?"

There were plenty that wondered why. Why would Apollo lower himself to an avariel; he was a god, he could have what he wanted. Though it all came in the form of the Spartan. Tethering their souls together had been easy, no second thought about it. Apollo was a vicious enemy; he knew how plagues could deteriorate anyone who stepped close, how to heal them if he wished – none had suffered more so than the wind that had thought they deserved Hyacinth's favor simply because they asked. Apollo's thighs rested on the sharp hipbones of Hyacinth, the Spartan's brutal pace nothing less than what the god wanted.

Every time he was filled, he'd demand more. More until the two were spent, until the afterglow bronzed the avariel's skin, and Apollo's warmth evened out. The words were quiet, ones that Apollo never let go of. He was melodic in his own words. To curse, the heal, the god always had something to say. Hyacinth's gift was his devotion and intention, and Apollo saved that for the avariel as well. "Forever, beloved," he murmured in return, his fingers dragging along the other's swollen mouth. Apollo could say more, but he'd give the other silence: something that he was sure would be appreciated. Pulling Hyacinth down, he pressed another kiss against his lips, "I release you from this prison," he teased, letting his legs fall to either side of Hyacinth's body.

Hi everybody meet my new imaginary boyfriend ✨ Gunnar ✨

[Michiel Huisman in Zack Snyder’s Rebel Moon, currently on Netflix]

Another santa hat was placed on his head and since the holidays were over the demigod figured it was likely time for him to hit the road. "You're helpless?" Hyacinth smiled, knowing well that Narcissus and the rest of their kind were anything but. A seat at the table was a good start, if nothing else Hyacinth could ensure that his kind weren't taken advantage of again.

"Hyacinth, please, you're such a tease." Narcissus put another santa hat on the avariel's head, fixing it so it was aesthetically pleasing at all times. He couldn't have it flopping around everywhere. "So, Senator, what are your plans for our kind? Our poor, helpless kind?"

"The elves?!" Hyacinth sputtered, here the Spartan was thinking that Prometheus would have been sick of them by now, "You know things are bad when you have to move back in with your grandparents or-" Prometheus was older than all of them, "Nieces and nephews." Talk about embarrassing, but red faced and cheery, Hyacinth couldn't help but laugh at the thought. "Relax, it's a party, of course there's a lot more than alcohol in it- you should get used to it considering where you'll be living." Elves and their tricks, the Dusk especially. Hyacinth tipped the drink to his lips again and went quiet as if he was deep in thought, brow furrowed as though he were about to express one of his profound thoughts once more. Instead he just began to giggle.

Prometheus used to throw caution to the wind and drink his little heart out, singing songs and laughing with the humans until dawn. The only problem was he metabolized everything far too quickly - a speeding trip around the block and he was mostly sober again. And, as an energetic drunk, the avariel's fun lasted about 10 minutes before he was off and running about. So he rarely bothered; he hadn't been drunk since Eden. But as he grinned at the sight of a drunk Hyacinth, he reminisced about how fun it might be to indulge again. "What whole thing?" He muttered wryly, taking the other avariel's drink. "All's well. I got a nice place in the Dusk Court until I figure some things out in the city but I appreciate the offer." Pros grinned in amusement before draining most of what remained. "Gods-" He coughed, cringing as he handed back the glass and laughed. "You know this is definitely more than wine, right?"

As far as Hyacinth was concerned, once you'd seen one of these markets you'd pretty much seen all of them. Narcissus' perpetual good mood was refreshing at least, it was nice that Hyacinth wasn't expected to say much of anything. He could always count on the tiefling to entertain himself for any length of time. "I am." That was a lie but he'd never say no to wine.

"Sometimes I feel like you take me for granted," Narcissus sighed, standing up now as he fixed his santa hat. They showed off his beautiful horns, and that was just the way the tiefling liked it, "Come on. I want mulled wine. Are you excited to see the markets? Rome is trash, but I'll lighten the mood for us."

@prometheanpiero location: Hakan's Christmas Rave notes: someone spiked the Spartan's wine

"I'm sure this whole thing is going to blow over in no time, until then you're welcome to stay in the guest house if you need it." Hyacinth didn't want to think about his treasured bestie squatting somewhere, bestie was a new word that he'd been introduced to recently. That Nabi girl had been throwing it around at the last senate meeting. "Are you having fun, drink, have fun with me. We're having fun here."

@pelcrus location: Hakan's Christmas Rave notes: sunglasses for kenyer

There had to be something in the wine because Hyacinth was much chattier than usual, not to mention he felt like he was buzzing in a way. Like his skin had started humming: the lights seemed more vivid, and Apollo had never felt so... good. "You know what Pelorus?" Hyacinth began, "I think you're pretty great." He nodded at this, it wasn't like the man ever went above and beyond, in fact as far as marshals went he probably had to be the most unmotivated of the bunch. Pelorus did it all with style though, even as he sat there in pyjamas.

Hyacinth ll Saturchella

We took our chance Like we were dancing our last dance

Apollo was a God and as a God he saw it as his right to lavish those he deemed worthy with his blessings, to elevate them above those around them so his blatant favour was as clear as the midday sun. Pride, strength, and certainty defined the laconic creature and for all that Apollo wished to devote to him Hyacinth didn't want any of it. This was what he wanted; more than the God beneath him, more than the God's blessings, and more than the gifts that could be laid at his feet. Those were meaningless trifles that any deity could have thrown at him - and they had, because one and the same too many assumed a demigod's heart was so easily won. From Apollo all Hyacinth wanted was his affection, his love, and his respect. Those three things held more value than any boon or treasure, those three things were the only immaterial items that mattered to the Spartan. For all Apollo's wealth, they were all that had any value to Hyacinth.

His body moved against the other's, their pacing switched periodically across the hours or the days that had transpired between them. Fervent in one instant, languid in the next as the pair savoured the skin between them. Even ministrations as the avariel felt himself building once again, his hands everywhere at once, his lips attached to the vessel that Apollo had inhabited. Another mark, another brand made from love as the creature's pacing picked up once more. Hyacinth's head tilted to look into the God's eyes, even through the hues of the chosen vessel he could see the divinity that glimmered within. That sparkle of ecstacy and delight. Hyacinth said little, but the words he used were always carved from absolute, raw intention.

"I love you."

Hyacinth moved, and Apollo easily went. The god bent for no one, no one perhaps except the avariel. Too often he'd watched people bow to him, and he enjoyed that. But his back arched under the calloused hands of a spartan, his vessel reacting easily to the pace that Hyacinth had set. Apollo had chosen a form glorious enough for Hyacinth to have, to ravage, because it was only meant for that. Lips meant once more, ragged breaths between them as Apollo let out a moan of Hyacinth's name.

He could feel the other deep within him, hitting every part of him that was intimate to the avariel. It made his back arch, and his mouth whisper sweet praises to the one that was worth it all to him. No life was worth his own except for Hyacinth's, and if he could make the world bow to the Spartan once more, he would. Worship was easy, it was divine, and Apollo would bathe Hyacinth in divinity if the Spartan weren't so stubborn. Aching, Apollo tangled his fingers into the other's brown locks, holding on tight as light spilled between them and Apollo reached his overflowing point once more.

Michael Huisman

Framed in the light of either dusk or dawn - Hyacinth couldn't be sure just how much time had passed - Apollo was lit with gold. The fine hairs of his vessel's form were alight with the mystical hue. His skin glossed by the rhythmic passion that seemed to set them both ablaze. It could have been this forever, two bodies with no definitive end or beginning; Apollo was connected inherently to the division of souls. Creatures that were too powerful to remain entwined, Hyacinth thought that in this act that the avariel had been severed from him at some point. Cleaved away and tossed towards the mortal realm, only to be picked up and stitched together after the fateful fall of a discus.

Hyacinth's hands were strong, his body sturdy, and he used the leverage of both to turn the God onto his back. Rolling his hips on top of him as light streamed through the parted velvet curtains, bits of dust framed in the shafts that cascaded about them. Nothing between them but skin, heat, and the tandem that Hyacinth set in a fluid, marked pace. His tongue was not that of a poet's, he could not hold any fanciful tune, but he claimed the famed deity's as if it had been carved by Pygmalion himself.

Apollo liked to burn with the heat of the sun. This was no different, as he felt completely filled by the Spartan he was straddling. He was overflowing, bodies that met in a rhythm as ancient as the music of the muses. So many had fought for Hyacinth's heart, over and over again, to the point where killing the avariel had seemed like the best answer. Not for Apollo; sweat slicked skin was now beneath his lips, as fine as the ambrosia the gods loved so much. His fingers threaded through the curls that decorated the soldier's head, the prince of his heart – he'd make him a king, if he could.

He didn't need to whisper honeyed words about love. It was such a mortal word, one that did not envelope what Apollo felt about his avariel. There were times when they were apart, when even the mortal words couldn't figure out how he truly felt. His mouth moved to press against Hyacinth's, tasting every inch of the avariel's mouth. Swallowing any words, any breath, he'd steal it and keep it for himself just to have a part of the avariel with him.

Narcissus had been talking for so long that Hyacinth had simply stopped listening, it was entirely possible when the Spartan put the bulk of his effort towards it. Narcissus had asked a question and then when there was a period of silence, only then did Hyacinth realise that Narcissus' lips were no longer moving. The Spartan looked up and aptly phrased his own question. "Hm?"

Hyacinth was such a good friend. Narcissus stood by that, all things considering. The Spartan prince sat there and listened to him, and Narcissus wished for nothing more. "Anyway, I know it wasn't that great for you, but I had a good time." A pause, a blessed pause, and Narcissus picked up another bottle of very expensive wine, "Where are you going to live now? Oh favored lover. Elysium is gone. Shame. I really deserved to go there."

Michiel Huisman as Sgt. Eric ‘Prince’ Haas ECHO 3 (2022– ) S01E10: Heat