I Can Go the Distance
"So, you want to be a hero?" Mozenrath inquires, and the fiery youth in front of him nods and beams and begins to babble. Something about Gods and a mountain, and Mozenrath really doesn't care. He's just here to hold up his end of a bargain with the supposed Lord of the Dead.
Something about undoing this kid in return for an audience with his father.
"Well, I should warn you," Mozenrath cuts in, and the kid cocks his head to the side.
"About what?"
For a demi-God, the boy is surprisingly easy to back up against the alley wall. One hand on either side of his head, Mozenrath keeps him there, and grins at him. "All that glory and stuff, it comes at a price, you know," he breathes, and is only slightly amused when Hercules swallows hard and begins to squirm.
He drags his hands across those strong shoulders, then over his chest, down his sides, and stops at his waist. He pulls the boy closer, grinds their hips together, murmurs something about resisting all forms of temptation, then quickly kisses him with enough force to bruise human lips.
When they're on the ground, sated and sweaty, Mozenrath heaves himself up and dresses. A moment later, Hercules is caught in binds of dark and unbreakable magic.
Mozenrath sighs, shaking his head as he silences the boy's onslaught of questions with a finger to his mouth.
"Every hero has to fall sooner or later, kid. You just took the plunge earlier than most."