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Nothing shall part us in our love till Thanatos (Death) at his appointed hour removed us from the light of day.
Apollonius Rhodius
ΔΔΔ
Harry never feared the Gods. His mother would always scold him and remind him that he needs to respect the Gods if he doesn’t want to get in trouble with them. She would participate in the rituals for them, bring sacrifices ranging from flowers to live lambs but Harry never saw the point. There were legends, myths and stories about meeting Gods and summoning them. But that’s all they were - stories. Harry never believed in Zeus’ children, the demi-gods running around Earth. He also didn’t think the Gods’ anger and rage that were supposed to cause havoc all over the world were something more than a fairytale preached by priests to keep the people in check. Humanity needs some faith. Harry personally doesn’t.
It’s an ordinary night when Harry meets him. He’s sitting on the beach near his mother’s house, like he often does, watching the moon reflect its beautiful surface on the sea’s wavy mirror. The peace this brings him is like his willpower to exist in the rushed chaos of Greece. All the arguing in the agora, the trials and murders. Philosophers preaching their ideologies, a new man coming every week with words about the ideal state and marriage, the meaning of life and whatnot. His mother, pestering him about finding a wife already. Harry’s head is buzzing with so many unnecessary words. So many sentences thrown around without any need for them. He wishes people would just think before they come into the agora and yell at the top of their lungs.
The man seemingly comes out of nowhere. His footsteps make almost no noise, despite walking on a pebbly beach. He sits down next to Harry as if they were friends and not meeting for the very first time.
“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” the stranger says.
Harry doesn’t reply. He came to the beach for silence, not a pointless conversation with an albeit handsome stranger, his beauty doesn’t make Harry know him any more than he does.
“You’re not very keen on conversations?” the stranger continues to prod, clearly not discouraged by Harry’s silence.
To Harry, the intruder's words are but a whistle of the wind.
“That’s a pity. But I don’t really mind silence when I’m in presence of such a beauty as yourself.”
Harry whips his head to the side and looks at the stranger with wide eyes. “Are you coquetting?”
“You have a lovely voice, too,” the stranger says with a pensive smile, just this soft quirk of the corners of his lips. Harry now notices his eyes, how the amber of them almost shines brighter than the moon. He’s never seen something quite like it before.
“Who are you?” Harry wonders with a small shake of his head. He can’t take his eyes off the stranger, the beauty of his strong features that are somehow soft even with their clandestinely hard edges is bewitching.
“I’m one of those you don’t believe in,” the stranger answers nonchalantly.
His heart misses an uncomfortable beat. Harry wants to laugh. That is if he had any strength left in him to entertain these behaviours.
“You’re funny. You should really play in the next comedy at the theatre. Or write a play yourself. Did my sister send you?” Harry raises his eyebrows at the stranger, waiting for an answer. As it seems, no matter how old he will be, his sister will find a way to try and trick him like they were still little children running barefoot around the town and wreaking havoc.
“Oh, Gemma? No, I’ve never spoken to her,” the stranger replies with a straight face. The played honestly is truly admirable.
Harry sighs. “You know her name. Stop playing around, just go home and then tell her I was terrified of you or whatever you wish to say. I have no interest in participating in these silly games.”
“I know a lot of things, Harry.”
The laugh that escapes Harry’s mouth then is unstoppable. He looks at the stranger, his enticing face ridden with confusion. “This is really good, I’m having fun. What more are you going to tell me? That you’ve come from Mount Olympus to make love to me? That I was cursed as an infant and you’re coming back for your payment? Are you going to take my soul, Your Holiness?”
The stranger frowns at Harry’s mockery, his smooth forehead crunching up and a ridge between his eyebrows appearing. Harry watches him with haughty abandon, this stunning street performer or an actor, sent here to ridicule Harry’s disbelief in the divine overseers of humanity.
“Gods don’t take souls, Harry. Dark creatures of the Underworld do. And you’re not cursed either. I came here for your beauty and your honourable soul. I never wished to offend you with my advances.”
The stranger’s acting is without a fault. Or he is truly just clueless and mad, lost in his belief that he’d a God. Harry might start feeling sorry for the poor man.
“So you’re trying to make love to me? I’m not a common whore. Get your coins out, get one in the town and leave me alone.”
The stranger shakes his head. “You truly have no clue who I am, do you?”
“A man who’s heard some of my previous lovers talk about me badly?” Harry shrugs. The reason why he is still having a conversation with this man is a mystery to him. He should have left the beach the second the stranger sat down next to him.
“I’m Zeus, the God of thunder and the sky. I’m the king of all Gods and-”
“Oh, here we go.”
“Why are you laughing?”
Harry stops his giggling for a moment. “You are so deep inside your delusions. Gods aren’t real.”
A lightning bolt hits the pebbles just a few meters away from them. Harry jumps, his heart beating faster than the waves hitting a cliff during a raging storm. The burning smell of the lightning lingers in the air like its ghost. There’s a black circle of sod mapping out the place where the bolt stroke. Harry’s eyes can’t seem to leave the thin columns of grey smoke rising up towards the night sky.
“Did you say that Gods aren’t real?” the stranger asks with a slightly menacing smile. “What would you call that? A stroke of fate? There are no clouds above us.”
Harry warily eyes the man in front of him. He isn’t shaken by the sudden lightning like Harry is, there is nothing about his demeanour that isn’t calm and collected. It is as if Harry was the only one to witness a bolt that could scorch a human down to their bones.
“I didn’t mean to scare you like this. I apologize. I should’ve probably shown you my powers in a different way but I didn’t want to be too obvious. The other Gods would see and they would find you, it would be just very troublesome. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“Who are you?” Harry repeats his question from earlier.
“As I told you before, I’m Zeus. I go by many names, that one is the one that is reserved for my divinity. By some, I’m called Jupiter or Dios. The people closest to me call me Zayn, which is my given birth name that I like to keep just for private affairs and not for the worshippers to chant. Nice to meet you.”
Harry’s jaw goes slack and he’s left staring at the man in front of him helplessly. Could he be talking to a God right now? A divine being that has powers humans could never possess? Was that lightning bolt truly real? Harry’s mind seemed to just collapse under the workload because he can’t make any sense of the situation he’s in.
“You’re,” Harry clears his throat, his eyes looking down at the pebbles under them. “Did you truly just make a bolt of lightning strike right next to us?”
“I did, yes,” the stranger, or rather, Zayn answers. Harry will never refer to him as Zeus or any other name he’s heard chanted in a temple. If he’s somehow ridiculed for this later, at least this will present a small piece of his dignity that was left untouched.
“So you’re a God?” Harry asks like a confused child.
Zayn smiles at him, this warm inviting grin that is an ocean away from the smirk Harry saw just after the lightning stroke. “Yes, I am. I swear I’m not lying to you.”
“Then what are you doing down here with me? I’m just a regular mortal,” Harry says quietly with a small shake of his head. He can’t fathom why a being, whose power and pure existence is worshipped all around the world would come down from Mount Olympus or whether he resides for Harry . A being, whose existence Harry doubted for almost his entire life is now sitting right next to him on a beach he’s been visiting since he was a little boy, talking as if they were old friends.
“Your beauty brought me here. And your heart, the goodness of your soul. I often take human lovers and I wish you become one of them.”
Harry finds himself lost for words. He can’t seem to catch his breath so he’s just watching Zayn wordlessly, this divine creature sitting in front of him, telling him he wants Harry to be his lover. It all seems like a dream verging on a nightmare.
“Can I,” Harry stammers. “Can I think about it first?”
Zayn smiles at him again, painting the perfect picture of serenity. “Of course, my dear. I will see you in two nights, at midnight, this same beach. Are you alright with that?”
Harry can’t find his voice again so he just nods.
Without another word, Zayn leaves a fleeting kiss on Harry’s cheekbone, stands up and disappears into thin air after a few steps. Harry’s head starts spinning.
Δ
The next morning, Harry does what he always does when he’s distraught - goes to talk to his mother. He met a God last night and not just any God, but the strongest of them all. The one that’s worshipped the most by masses. And if anyone knows something about Gods, it’s his mother.
After Zayn had just dissipated in lieu of a normal human exit like walking away, Harry had a very short moment where he regretted not listening to his mother’s lectures about the Gods inhabiting Mount Olympus. He might have known something more about the God he just met other than what Zayn basically told him as well.
Harry doesn’t make a fuss about the conversation. He doesn’t want his mother to actually know he was approached by a God. It would be better to keep it to himself for the time being… or forever.
Over a breakfast of tegentines and figs, Harry offhandedly throws out: “Could I ask you some things about the Gods?”
Harry’s mother immediately perks up at the words. “Sweetheart. Have you finally found your faith?”
Found his faith, sure. He absolutely found his faith, all of a sudden, just like that it came to him in a dream that he should worship the Gods. Of course, he didn’t talk to one of them in the middle of the night at a beach. And he certainly wasn’t asked to be the lover of the most powerful God there is.
“I, uhm, the Gods,” Harry starts slowly, choosing his words carefully. “The Gods have… um, spoken to me.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, my child! We can finally start going to the temple together!” his mother cheers. Harry is just mildly distressed.
“Anyways, I wanted to ask you about… Zeus?”
“Well,” his mother chirps, her breakfast now completely abandoned. “He’s the God of thunder and sky, also the king of the Gods. I can’t believe you don’t remember this? And there’s too much, love. I don’t know where to start!”
“How about his… his lovers? His mortal lovers,” Harry asks carefully. He’s scared he becomes transparent any second, all his thoughts and memories exposed to his mother like a play.
“He’s known to have lovers of all kinds. Many, many children too. But that’s normal for all the Gods. It’s impossible to count all of their offsprings. There are mortals with divine blood walking all around the world. He’s said to be extremely charming. He’d have you wrapped up in his spell in seconds. Women who have seen him said that no statue could do him justice. But there are also the dark stories about Zeus and his lovers.”
Harry puts the fig he was about to eat down on his plate. “What stories?” he asks with a hesitant voice.
“Stories of broken hearts. Stories of rape. We can’t know everything for sure but the Gods aren’t always kind,” his mother says with a sad smile.
Harry stills completely. Rape ? Zayn didn’t seem like the type to force himself on a lover, especially not after he let Harry have two nights to think about his offer. But then again, he did produce a bolt of lightning that could have killed Harry if it struck only meters closer. And Harry doesn’t know what can happen when they see each other again. He should probably consider taking a dagger with him. It wouldn’t help him that much since Zayn is a God and all, but maybe it would help him feel safer.
“Mother?” Harry asks after a while of them quietly eating their breakfast.
“Yes?”
“Would you agree to be a God’s lover? Like, if for example Zeus approached you and asked you to be his lover.”
She’s quiet for a moment, clearly weighing the words in the head. “I don’t know. He’s a God and I’m just a mortal. Sometimes a God spends one night with you and leaves you for good. I wouldn’t want to get my heart broken like that. They live for thousands of years, we only have decades.”
Harry remembers the lingering feeling of Zayn’s lips on his cheek, how he could almost feel it tingling for hours. How his heart was beating anxiously, willing time to go faster. How he was ready to say yes minutes after Zayn had left. He should probably learn how to take his mother’s advice before he sees Zayn again.
Δ
The moon is barely visible when it’s the time for Harry and Zayn’s meeting. Unlike the first time Harry saw him, the sea isn’t painting a beautiful picture of the moon’s face. It’s strangely peaceful, as if the whole world knew a God was supposed to ascend down to the land of mortals tonight.
Harry sits almost at the same spot as he did two nights ago. The evidence of Zayn’s lightning is gone, the charred pebbles cleaned by last night’s rain. Harry’s palms are sweaty in anticipation, his heart beating like a battle drum. What if Zayn doesn’t come? He could’ve found a new lover already, someone more beautiful than Harry, someone with an unadulterated soul. A lovely girl or a boy who would be virginal and also not hesitant to say yes to being a God’s lover.
A few minutes after midnight, Harry sees a figure walking on his left out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head to see Zayn walking down the beach, a white chiton covering his impressive physique and golden sandals wrapped around his calves up to his knees. His black hair is framing his face, his exquisite beautiful face Harry couldn’t get out of his head since the moment Zayn disappeared.
Harry can’t fathom that Zayn is here, walking towards Harry with a hushed smile, as if they were already lovers, meeting under the moonlight to whisper sweet nothings into their ears and kiss until their lips ached. He doesn’t think as he stands up from the ground and runs towards Zayn, grabbing his face between his palms and brazenly kissing him. Zayn reciprocates the kiss almost immediately, opening his mouth and teasing Harry’s lips open with his tongue. They share a few moments of passionate kissing, their tongues meeting for the first time in a series of encounters. Zayn’s face is soft under Harry’s fingers, his hair silky to the touch when Harry gets his fingers wrapped in them. Zayn pulls Harry close, his arms around Harry’s waist, their chests touching. Maybe it’s just the passion, maybe it’s because he’s kissing a God but Harry has never felt like this when kissing someone. The burning want inside his chest, the way his mind just quiets down to complete silence, the only things his thoughts picking up being Zayn’s lips and the way their bodies touching feels. It nearly stings Harry’s heart when he finally pulls away from Zayn, Harry panting, his chest rising and falling heavily while Zayn looks nearly untouched.
“Yes. I want to be your lover,” Harry says, their faces so close his hot breath hits Zayn’s face.
“I’m so happy you said yes,” Zayn says candidly. A God expressing happiness over the affection of a mortal. “I couldn’t help myself and while watching mortals, I kept going back to you. I couldn’t wait to touch you again. I almost begged Eros to make sure you wanted me too, but I didn’t want this to be false.”
“Are you going to leave me forever after one night?” Harry asks, his heart pounding in his throat. He needs to know. The stories can’t be all false and he cannot ruin his poor mortal heart for an immortal God.
Zayn smiles, tucking a curl behind Harry’s ear. “No. I know you must have heard stories but… you’re not like everyone else. I’ve wanted you for years. I saw you once in a kapaleia in the neighbouring city. You were with a lover and I was so jealous of him. But I couldn’t bring myself to interfere. You were so happy.”
Harry remembers that night, one full of drinking and passion with a lover who’s no more than a memory now. He doesn’t recall seeing a man as beautiful as Zayn though. He would have noticed him. He’s sure he would.
“I didn’t see you. Why didn’t I see you?” Harry asks, searching Zayn’s face.
“I was disguised. Us Gods, we often take the appearance of other beings to keep our faces hidden. But this is me, this is my true face. I gave you my name and I’m showing you my true face too,” Zayn’s warm hands are on Harry’s hips as they kiss again, slower than the first time. There’s no rush as if they could kiss for centuries and be content.
“You’re not going to rape me, are you?” Harry asks after they part. Zayn looks at him with wide eyes and lips shaped with a silent gasp, horrified at what Harry just said. “Because there are stories. So many of them. And you’re not very nice in them. I don’t want that to happen.”
“Harry, I would never hurt you. Those are stories. Rumours created by my past lovers and stories of imposters pretending to be me or some other Gods just to use it for their own gain. I swear to you I would never do that. I can have as many lovers as I wish, I don’t resort to sickening violence to get a lover.”
Harry didn’t realize he had been holding his breath, but his lungs are finally filled with air when he wraps his arms around Zayn’s neck and brings their bodies together so they’re touching chest to chest.
“And you didn’t fuck a dolphin, did you?” Harry mumbles into the skin on Zayn’s shoulder. The story he found in one of the books in the town’s library was insane but after all, with Gods nothing is impossible.
“What?”
Harry takes a deep breath, raising his voice a little. “You have never fucked a dolphin, or have you?”
The vibrations of Zayn’s laughter get all the way to Harry’s heart. Harry pulls away, keeping his hands on Zayn’s shoulders, his cheeks probably burning crimson.
“Fine, fine. Sorry, I asked before I decided to sleep with someone if they ever fucked a dolphin when it was considered true by many people. My bad,” Harry starts laughing too, Zayn’s ringing laughter too contagious.
“Don’t worry, my love. I have never made love to a dolphin. Poseidon did though.”
Harry stops laughing, searching Zayn’s face for the trick he must be pulling. There is no sign of laughter. “Oh, you’re serious.”
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be? Poseidon is very close to the sea creatures. And dolphins are extremely intelligent.”
Harry stares at him in disbelief and mild disgust.
“You know, when you spend so much time under the sea, your perception of reality gets distorted,” Zayn continues, talking to Harry like a teacher to a child. It might be a bit too much information about Gods, more than Harry wants to hear right now.
“I never want to hear another word about Poseidon. Can we switch to a different topic?”
Zayn laughs and leaves a kiss on Harry’s cheek. “We can do whatever you want.”
“Alright, I have one more question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why me?” Harry asks, his voice breaking at the end. Zayn’s grip on Harry’s hips tightens, his face falling with concern. “Why were you so… enchanted by me? Why do you want me to be your lover? I’m not a virgin, I’m not the most beautiful human walking the Earth. I’m ordinary, in the worst sense of the word.”
Zayn kisses his cheek tenderly, then his cheekbone, his brow bone. “You might not see your own beauty, or your kindness and wonderful soul but I do. I’ve had so many lovers over the past centuries and millennia that I couldn’t count them, even if I tried. Not many of them stand out but you do.”
“Oh,” Harry says, a smile twitching on his lips, his poorly concealed attempt on changing the depressing topic. “You’re quite the whore then, aren’t you?”
Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up on his forehead. There’s a smile threatening to break free so Harry isn’t worried he’s going to get like, struck by lightning for offending a God or something.
“I don’t think I have ever been called a whore. This is refreshing.”
Harry laughs, throwing his head back. “I must be bewitched. I’ve never felt… quite a connection to someone I barely knew. Am I under a spell that will wear out minutes after I spread my legs for you?”
His heart doesn't feel heavy and Harry wonders how that might be. It's true that he's never the one to be a prude but after not believing in the Gods ever since he was a little boy, one would think he would have a harder time becoming a God's lover. Why doesn't it feel wrong? Where did the desire come from? He's trying to believe in himself enough to know that this isn't purely a trick or an illusion.
“No,” Zayn says with an easy smile, his eyes soft. “There is no spell. But perhaps it might be fate.”
Harry blushes, hiding how he’s about to catch on fire and burn while little red hearts spark from the fire instead of sparks. “Oh, what aren’t you going to tell me to get me in bed? Fate? What’s next, a prophecy?”
Zayn laughs, pulling Harry close and biting his neck, leaving a kiss on the spot afterwards. “I can create a prophecy, sure. How about, you were meant to be born in a small seaside town and soften the heart of a God who almost forgot what love is? Is that good?”
“It’s adequate. But we should probably leave the beach. I don’t wanna have a reputation of slut who makes love on a public beach.”
“That isn’t a bad idea,” Zayn says and takes Harry’s right hand into his, already turning towards the path that leads to the edge of the town and the cliffs. “Follow me, my love.”
Δ
They walk for a few minutes, holding hands the whole time until they reach the cliffs overlooking the sea. It’s out of town, far enough that they won’t be seen or heard by curious neighbours.
A single house stands there, a small one with two stories and brown shutters. Just a plain white house, architecturally typical for the area. The hills and mountains around are creating a backdrop for it. A few trees stand around it, hiding it even more from unwelcome guests.
“We can’t be found here,” Zayn says as they enter, the front door unlocked. “This place is under a protective veil, hidden from the eyes of Gods and mortals alike.”
The inside is modest, furnished like any other house in the town. A living room with a few loungers and a fireplace, a kitchen with a stone oven, some cabinets and a table with chairs. Somehow, there are candles already lit everywhere. They don’t stop downstairs, instead, they go right up the thin staircase which ends in a small hallway with three sets of wooden doors.
Zayn opens the first door which was hiding a bedroom. Once again a simple room with one large bed and not much more furniture. The room has a balcony, looking out to the sea. Soft candlelight coming from a single candle is illuminating the walls.
“Is this it? Fucking and nothing more?” Harry says after closing the door, mostly just to be a menace.
Zayn turns around and looks at him with a blank face. “Do you not want to make love?”
“I do. But not only that. Should’ve brought me some fancy dinner and wine before, to be honest. At least that if we do not have time for proper courting.”
After a telling smile between them, some food and wine appear on the small table in the corner because of course, it does. Gods are ridiculous.
They do make love that night, but only after hours of talking over wine that seemed to never leave their glasses. Harry was desperate for it and yet he tried to pretend like he wasn’t easy, that he won’t just lie on his back for anyone. The stories from his early adulthood, when he wasn’t even twenty, those would beg to differ since he wasn’t very picky about his lovers. Zayn is a God but that doesn’t mean Harry’s going to abandon his sort of newfound morals for him.
Making love to a God is a far cry from doing the same with a mortal. Perhaps it’s just the effect divine beings have on humans but everything fits together like stones of a fortress. The feelings are more powerful, every single touch so intense Harry nearly forgets his name. They seem to move as if they were controlled by a single mind, every touch meeting its counterpart, every kiss poised perfectly. When Zayn fully enters him, Harry swears he blacks out for a second.
They lay together afterwards, wrapped around each other under a thin sheet. Zayn’s hand is in Harry’s hair, twisting the curls around his fingers gently. The sun comes up as they talk in hushed voices, feeling as though any noise would disturb the peace around them.
Harry falls asleep sometime around when the sun’s already making the sea shimmer with its rays and the birds are singing their songs outside their windows. He wakes up alone when the sun is high up on the sky and a note on the pillow saying “ Eight nights. Come to our house. I’ll be waiting for you at sunset.” Harry would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat at the word our .
Δ
Harry is smitten. As he walks back from the house on the cliffs, a smile doesn’t leave his face the whole time till he reaches his mother’s house. He greets townspeople doing their usual chores around town, smiles at them as he walks past. He even starts whistling at one point. To put it simply, Harry’s just happy. Sated, after a night of food and wine, followed by hours of lovemaking. He finally spent time with a lover that didn’t just fuck him and left until they would do the same thing. Well, technically, this night wasn’t that different in this aspect, it was a world away thanks to their conversations that weren’t shallow. He felt appreciated, loved and not used as he did with some of his past lovers. Zayn is a God and yet he gave Harry his undivided attention all those hours they were together. He listened to Harry’s mundane problems like he didn’t have a million better stories and greater worries from his millennia of rule. A God and a human, and yet their rendezvous weren’t tainted by a power imbalance. It was just passion and affection, two souls coming together to get lost in each other’s bodies.
Harry’s mother yells at him when he comes home, stressing the fact that it’s already the early afternoon and Harry didn’t tell her he would be gone that long. He apologizes and she hugs him with a scoff and a slap on the back of his head.
Harry’s life doesn’t suddenly change just because he’s sleeping with a God. He still helps his mother with the house and their garden goes to the market and visits his sister. Sometimes he goes to a taverna or a kapaleia to see his friends, see what’s the newest gossip around town. It’s all the same as it was, only now he has nights when Zayn comes to see him to look forward to.
He doesn’t research anything more about the Gods. Since most of the stories he read after the first time he met Zayn turned out to be completely bogus, he figured that reading more of them would only end up the same. His mother asks him a few times if he wants to go to the temple with her but Harry just declines with a smile and an “ I pray to them on my own, mother.”.
Their second night starts with a dinner they cook together. Zayn’s already waiting for him on the patio outside the house, playing with a stray orange cat. Harry wouldn’t even know he’s a God, much less the most powerful one of them if there wasn’t a certain heavenly aura around him. As though he’s constantly illuminated by the brightest sun rays, shining just for him. The way his eyes glow like they have their own little fires inside them. He’s a divine being through and through, even if he’s flawless at presenting his humanity.
Zayn meets Harry in the middle, kissing him and whispering “ Hello” into his lips. Then he leads them inside like the last time, only now they go into the kitchen.
“I saw how strangely you looked at the food last time we were together so I thought we can cook together,” Zayn says when Harry notices the ingredients on the kitchen table and lit a fire in the oven.
“You can cook?” Harry asks with disbelief.
Zayn smiles and kisses the back of Harry’s left hand. “Yes. Gods don’t need to eat but we do indulge in food and wine very often. And believe it or not, I get bored sometimes and on one of those instances, I learned how to cook from an emperor’s chef.”
“How did that happen?” Harry laughs.
“Well, I disguised myself as kitchen help. Told the chef I wanted to become great like him too and I guess he had a good heart so he taught me almost everything he knew.”
Harry shakes his head with a smile. “Next time the people are in a temple, begging you to do something and you’re ignoring them, you’re probably playing dress-up and learning skills you don’t need.”
“Or I’m with you,” Zayn whispers before kissing Harry again. Harry gets lost in the kiss, his hands trying to reaching any part of Zayn’s naked skin. His fingers find the gold pin holding Zayn’s chiton together, trying to unclasp it before there are slim but strong fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand away. Zayn pulls away and Harry frowns at him.
“If I remember correctly, last time we were together, you wanted dinner and wine. Stop trying to skip it this time when I’m trying to be romantic. I have not indulged in honourable romance in centuries.”
Harry would lie if his cheeks didn’t turn crimson as he watched Zayn walk away from him and start meddling with the food on the table. It’s incredibly easy to forget who Zayn really is, even with his glow and ancient wisdom, when they’re hidden in a small house, bickering like an old couple. It’s magic in its own right.
“As much as I appreciate your romantic gestures, last time was our first time. Tonight, on the other hand… I wouldn’t mind if you bent me over that table right now.”
“You’ve got quite a filthy mouth.”
“My love, you’ve only scraped the tip. I have more from where that came from.”
Hours later, Harry stands on the balcony, naked like the day he was born because no one can see him there, why couldn’t he stand naked under the moonlight then? He watches the calm nightly sea, waves hitting the cliffs softly. It’s bizarre how happy he is. The whole world just seems brighter. Even his ordinary days are full of beauty and joy he hasn’t seen before. Is it love? Harry was certain he had been in love with before but what if it was all just a foolish infatuation and this is what love actually feels like?
“You’re beautiful.”
Harry turns his head, looking at Zayn in the bed over his shoulder. He must have been watching Harry the whole time. There’s a small smile on his lips, the one full of ancient knowledge.
“Thank you,” Harry says with a shy smile, turning back to the sea.
“You could be an Olympian with that body.”
“Now that’s just untrue flattery.”
Harry suddenly feels a pair of arms wrap around his middle, a warm torso pressed against his back. A kiss pressed into the side of his throat.
“I loathe the way your footsteps make nearly no sound,” Harry breathes out and takes one of Zayn’s hands from his lower belly into his.
“I could write odes about how gorgeous you look, standing here naked in the moonlight. Your broad shoulders, strong back that tapers down to thin hips and a delightful arse.”
Harry can’t help but laugh at that. He leans his head back on Zayn’s shoulder and lets go of his hand. It takes a second before Zayn’s both hands are roaming all over Harry’s front, caressing his abs, teasing his nipples, tracing his collarbones.
“The way your hair cascades down to your shoulders,” Zayn continues, leaving a kiss on Harry’s cheeks. “Your long, long legs. I could go on all night, my love.”
“How is it that you can still find beauty in a mere mortal like me?” Harry asks.
“There is beauty in everything and everyone. You just have to look for it and appreciate it. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been alive for millennia, there is always something new to see and admire.”
Harry turns around in Zayn's arms then, trying to map out every millimetre of the God's face. He always knew that Gods were supposed to be beautiful but seeing one up close is a world away from hearing about it from fables and myths. Ever since he was a child, Harry imagined them as beautiful but in a terrifying way. Like giants walking the earth and blinding poor mortals with their beauty, lacking mercy of any sort. The truth is completely different. Harry's touching a God at this very moment and he isn't scared. Zayn is more of a marble statue than a ruthless glowing giant.
“Thank you,” Harry says in a quiet voice then, leaving a fleeting kiss on Zayn's cheekbone.
“For what, my love?” Zayn questions cluelessly as if he didn't have knowledge about every single thing in this world.
“For seeing me for who I am,” Harry replies simply.
Their eyes exchange a moment of understanding, no more words needed. Two beings so vastly different but of the same origin when it comes to their souls. Their lips lock in a kiss, their skin burning with the anticipation. Leaving the moonlight behind, they blindly walk to the bed, falling into it in a heap. For the first time, Harry settles himself between Zayn's legs and the fire doesn't stop burning.
Δ
“There is a fable about shame,” Harry says in the early morning as birds chirp outside and the sea rages against the cliffs. “By Aesop. Have you heard of it?”
“I have,” Zayn affirms. His hands barely stop moving and even now they are fondling Harry's hips and arse like he couldn't simply get enough of his body.
“Is it true?” Harry inquires, perhaps foolishly.
“Well,” Zayn clears his throat. “Taking this night into consideration, what do you think?”
The playfulness in his voice is only cemented by the smile Harry sees when he cranes his head up to look at the face of his Godly lover.
“It's bullshit, right?”
“Absolutely,” Zayn laughs brightly, Harry joining him a beat later.
As their chuckles die down, Zayn's face gets serious all of a sudden and he takes a breath to speak. “You know, there are countless stories about us Gods. Not many of them are true. Some were planted by us to fool people, to better ourselves in their eyes. And sometimes people try to use our names and actions to basically do their bidding. I've learned to ignore them mostly.”
“To me, it seems as though you are not at all the God that people fear so much,” Harry says, his voice just above a whisper. “My heart could not ache for the God I thought I knew of.”
“Well, I have been cruel,” Zayn admits, his eyes avoiding Harry's. “I'm a God and I'm the King of Gods. It isn't easy sometimes. The world has to keep moving forward and I cannot keep other Gods' mischief or some puny wars hinder the people's lives. It's easy for me to say that something takes a hundred years. I am immortal and I have lived for as long as our world has existed. But humans don't even have that many years in a lifetime.”
Harry's heart drops at the realization. His youth will be dead and buried soon and what has he done? Slept around and became the lover of a God. Even if Zayn wanted to be with him until his death, Harry doubts that a God would bother himself with an ageing man.
“Love,” Zayn says softly. “I will not abandon you. Trust me, please.”
“Will I be your lover all my life?” Harry wonders, a hint of sadness in his voice. “What will my mother say? Unmarried, with no children. She can't know who you really are. To her, I will be a failure.”
“I have a plan for us,” Zayn reveals, the words steady and confident. “You do not have to worry about anything, my love.”
“It hasn't been long since we met, how can I know that you won't leave for good this time.”
Zayn just smiles secretively, kissing Harry's forehead. “Have a little faith. Which reminds me, I have some obligation in Olympus. Apollo wanted to meet and I would hate to be late.”
He then gets out of the bed, leaving with a sudden rush of coldness that causes Harry goosebumps. Harry watches Zayn as he puts on his chiton, cape and sandals quickly. Their eyes meet and despite the uncertainty, neither of them can help it but smile.
“I will send you a message,” Zayn says as he bends down and kisses Harry for the last time. “Next time, I want to take you somewhere. You'll see. Goodbye, my love.”
Harry fails to gather enough breath and strength to say goodbye. He doesn't want to. Perhaps he can fool the Fates and if this was meant to be their last encounter, they won't notice its taking place already.
Zayn walks to the balcony and looks at Harry one last time with that smile soaked with millennia of knowledge that Harry loves so much before he, in a classic God-fashion, simply dissipates into thin air.
And even if Harry tries to sleep after Zayn leaves, his mind is too busy with thoughts, both positive and completely disastrous. What is this plan that Zayn has? When will Harry see him again? Is this love or a Godly trick?
Dawn is coming to an end when Harry lays a hand down on his stomach and stares at the white ceiling while attempting to count the cracks. His insides are twisted with uncertainty and his heart is pounding so loud Harry fears it will cause an earthquake. He can't see a clear picture of his future, no matter how hard he tries. Many ideas and images pass Harry's head before slight calm washes over him. Why worry when there is barely anything to fear about?
ΔΔΔ
He’d pleasured Hera and a few thousand others, and when Hera learned about those thousand others…heads had rolled.
Gena Showalter