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Zagreus wonders if it’s a coincidence that all of the gods are larger than him by some magnitude. Even Hypnos, diminutive by god standards, towers over him just enough, his spindly hand fully spanning Zagreus’ face as he lazily strokes long fingers across his cheek, brushing his mouth. The blood-red sheets on the bed are cast aside, and Hypnos’ voice is lilting and gentle but not quite on the side of comforting that Zagreus would have expected. Hypnos’ gaze is unnerving, seemingly looking through him, that smile lazily half-cocked. Zagreus feels stripped even more bare than his nudity should allow. He curls his toes into the soft top sheet, the flames at his feet flicking harmlessly onto the fabric as Hypnos takes his time.

There’s a sense of suspended time amongst the towering furnishings of Zagreus’ room, usually only ever seen in passing as he flits away. The silence around them hangs eerily. It’s hard to understand what Hypnos is saying, his usual cheerful lilt softer, differently mocking. In this context, his excitable cascade of words and tonal arpeggios is slowed. It is still-strange and hard to follow, and Zagreus has to remember to breathe evenly and consciously as Hypnos’ cool hands span his ribcage, brush over a sensitive nipple, trail down his stomach and play with the fine hairs below his navel. He tries to focus on Hypnos’ words as he feels himself near-floating within the sensory strangeness, but they wash over him like the Styx itself. The feel of the room seems to change, wavering at the edges. It’s becoming hard to keep track of Hypnos’ hands on him, touching his chest, his legs, his back, his shoulders, his mouth and then long fingers probe into his throat.

It’s easier to let his eyes roll back and let the focus of the underworld fade away, let the only surfacing sense be of the cooling wetness on his cheeks as he drools around Hypnos’ hands in his mouth. Hypnos is cooing at him nonsensically and Zagreus feels more like a pet than a witting partner. He reaches out to reciprocate touch and a hand gently guides his reach back to the bed, the other still probing his mouth, two others parting his thighs. Hypnos has so many hands, voices layering on one another as he hums gently, a giggle sounding in Zagreus’ ear and tickling it with warm breath. A shiver runs down Zagreus’ spine followed by the tingle and caress of so many fingers, the brush of lips at the base of his neck.

He tries to reach out again, but he is immobile. He opens his eyes, but he sees nothing, hears nothing but soft breathy laughter. He feels as if he is floating even as a slickness drips in between his legs, pushing inside him gently at first and then none too gently at all.

Zagreus feels a cry wrenched out from him as Hypnos’ fingers curl into him, brushing up against his insides with care and insistence. His body gives way to their seeking, his knees spreading further to provide access. He feels as if he’s being fully stroked from the inside out by hundreds of hands, his voice cracking as Hypnos leans over him. Those heavy-lidded eyes and flickering irises consider him, glowing almost iridescent in the half-light that seems to shift hues. Their noses brush and Hypnos leans forward to part Zagreus’ lips in a gentle kiss that deepens so naturally that Zagreus feels as if he’s blinked away the time. Hypnos’ tongue is sweet with nectar and fills his mouth so pleasantly that he cannot help but elicit a muffled moan around the welcome intrusion. He feels filled from head to toe, his head swimming as Hypnos’ cool palms move down his thighs to bring their hips closer together. Zagreus feels hardness against his leg and he suddenly wants with such a heady rush that he closes his eyes in a sea of swirling color. The stretch from Hypnos’ fingers aches so pleasantly, and though they reach deep inside they are still not enough, not compared to what must be coming.

A thousand dulcet whispers tickle the shell of his ear as Hypnos nuzzles his neck and begins to press inside, parting wanton slickness with the most pleasurable of aches. Zagreus is pinned, completely filled by something that moves eerily inside him, and perhaps it moves more than it should but how can he mind when he is so full and the hands are so gentle as they ply him and pose him. He’s seeing the room in flashes, Hypnos’ hair curls white then blue then purple iridescence, shifting color and form as Zagreus feels another hand around his neck. He cannot breathe and he does not need to because the thrusts are slowly dragging inside and pulling hoarse cries out of him, raw and vulnerable animal sounds. He whimpers as he feels a finger slowly circling his nipple, another cool hand pressing at the small of his back and tilting his hips even further back to allow deeper access. There is nothing but the feeling of being full, so deep that he is aware that he must have been hollow all this time, he must be truly nothing who has only now been filled with something.

He tries to tighten around the intrusions, prevent them from leaving him this way and then suddenly there is a breathy gasp, a laugh. He feels a flood of warmth inside him and oh, if he was full before now then this is so far even beyond that. Zagreus is suffused with wet curling heat past his brim, stretching him beyond his limits and he snaps like an overextended bow-string, his release arcing between them and coating his stomach. His throat feels parched from crying out even as a lazy grin curls his lips. Hypnos is whispering again, and though it is hard to grasp the words he knows they are gentle and not for him to hear. Zagreus lets them drift past his ears like the comforting susurration of embers and ashes, floating towards the sky.