Author's Note:
This story is largely inspired by the writer Sarkopheros, who helped me realize how much fun this kind of writing can be. If you're unfamiliar with his work, this will include things like hyper-sized cocks, cum inflation, and the like, as well as modified elements of Greco-roman mythology.
Everyone, even the "boys," are over 18.
Have fun!
*****
The desk had been a solid piece of black marble, veined with silvery white. Otho had clacked one thick gold coin onto the cool stone. Engraved on its face was an elaborate E. The man behind the counter had raised an eyebrow. He had been lithe, with a round face and auburn hair held back in a loose ponytail, and on his lapel gleamed a pin with a similar E. He had looked over Otho, eyeing him from stubbled chin to muscular torso, leaning forward to peer briefly further. Immediately, he had stood straight and blinked once. Otho had placed a second coin beside the first.
"I won't ask," the receptionist had said.
"Another time," Otho responded.
"Another? There isn't-" the man cleared had his throat. "Should there be another time. As for this time, what will you have?"
***
Crackling torches dimly illuminated a hallway of stone. Plush, patterned red rugs softened the floor and muffled echoes. Doors of dark wood, some closed, and some open to small chambers, lined the passage. Nearly every room leaked sounds - the rhythmic creak of furniture, carnal moans, or quieter, wetter noises. The air was thick with sweat, smoke, and sex.
Otho pushed closed the heavy oak door at the end of the hall, the bottom sliding audibly over the soft rug. He was tall and olive skinned, with black hair cropped short and three days' stubble. His wide chest and flat stomach were dusted with straight hair. Large muscles bulged smoothly on his arms and chest like surging, rippling hills. A single vein snaked a short distance under his right bicep. A pale scar cut a bald line across his left side, from above his navel to just under his ribs. Lit by the torchlight, the curves of his musculature were etched into flickering contrast.
Neat pubic hair framed the base of his enormously thick cock, a log of flesh that swung heavily to just above his knees. It was as big around as his stout bicep and ended with a fat, pale purple glans whose tip poked out from wrinkled foreskin. His scrotum, sagging under the weight of two grapefruit-sized balls, hung low and loose between his thighs in the heat of the stone passage. Otho's deep hazel eyes flickered in the torchlight, scanning the numbered plaques above the doors.
Decimus, a pale boy up to Otho's shoulder in height, was at the man's side. His dark brown hair, caught in the torchlight, shown an almost imperceptible green tinge. His lips were thin and plum-red, his eyes deep green with flecks like sparks. His pink dick wagged playfully over tightly drawn balls. A small "X" was tattooed on his right shoulder blade. He nuzzled into the crevice of Otho's deltoid as they started to walk down the corridor, sucking and kissing needily. His white fingers massaged the base of the man's cock, whose central vein ran as thick as the boy's forearm.
"I'm not supposed to say this," Decimus whispered into Otho's shoulder. His breath was warm and sweet, like cherry blossoms on a late spring breeze. "But you're not going to need two of us. Even with these." He skimmed fingertips over one of Otho's balls, barely touching. A tingling sensation spread from the boy's touch and into Otho's groin.
The man looked down at Decimus and smiled quizzically, but he said nothing.
"Have you ever been with a nymph?"
"I haven't." Otho's voice was deep and rich, marked by traces of gravel.
"This is what we do, Lowlander."
Otho, his arm around the boy, traced a tanned finger up his hip, followed the curve of his side. His skin was soft, as tender as though it had never endured the bite or chill of winter.
"We'll see."
They walked slowly, Otho gazing into open chambers where men and creatures lay together in heat. In one room, which had its door flung open fully, a man with long, golden hair and shimmering black eyes squatted over another whose face was hidden, riding him The top had unusually hairy legs that were structured strangely, almost backward, and that ended in black hooves. On his back, he moaned softly as his obsidian-eyed lover lowered himself on his fat cock, pressing taint to ball sac.
In another, two men with rich, brown skin watched Otho pass. They were fucking doggy-style with sheets tangled at their knees. The top's ball-slapping rhythm slowed, but the bottom did not seem to notice. Decimus smirked as both of the men chased after the pair with their eyes full of pleading desire.
They continued on past the smoking torches a good distance, although an end to the corridor never came into view. At a quiet, closed door, Decimus stopped and pressed a hand to the ancient wood. It opened silently, revealing a room with a large central bed with clean, red sheets. A musky, earthy smell added itself to the smoky sex that permeated the corridor. A couch sat against one wall, and torches on either side of the room lit the stone chamber with warm, wavering light. A man sat, his hairy, hoofed legs spread, in the center of the couch. He was bearded, and two short horns poked from within a mass of curled hair on his head. Between his legs on the floor knelt a boy, as pale as Decimus but with slightly longer, straw-blonde hair. His shoulder bore a small "VIII." The boy's head bobbed on the satyr's cock.
