*This Chapter contains smut*

Loved By the Sun

Zephyros

"Zephyr … Hold up!" a familiar voice calls and Zephyros turns mid-flight, his stomach sinking.

But the winged god flying toward him is not Eros. Zephryos blinks, hovering. Everything about him looks like Zephyros's former master. Everything, from his handsome face, his shoulder-length black hair, his clothes: a white shirt open halfway down the front and tight black jeans, but his eyes are purple instead of blood red and his wings are more like that of a butterfly than the standard feathers of most winged deities.

"Who are you?" he asks, unable to keep the awe the god's presence raises in him out of his voice. "You look …"

The god laughs – even his laughter sounds like Eros – and sets Zephyros on the edge of panic. Was his former master transformed? Is this a hidden son of Eros revealing himself and coming to drag Zephyros back into servitude?

Apparently his anxiety shows on his face because the god's voice grows gentler and he hovers before Zephyros, his hands open and face up as if showing his intentions are not threatening. "I understand your hesitance. You do not know me by sight, as I have been invisible to you until recently, but I know you very well. I am Anteros, the brother of Eros. I am the god of requited love."

Zephyros's breath catches in his throat. Of course he has heard of this god. Zephyros is, after all, older than Zeus himself, but to be able to see the god of requited love means that …

"Apollo …" he says, his body feeling as if it can no longer contain his emotions.

"Shall we land?" Anteros asks. "I am not comfortable dissipating into wind and you seem on the verge of doing it."

Zephyros shakes himself. "Y–yeah, I mean, yes," he stammers. He gestures to a point far below them, a dead end road in a sleepy Nevada town.

When they land, Zephyros hardly feels the ground under his feet. His mind is on Apollo on the other side of the country. He itches to return to him.

Anteros lands beside him and they walk side by side on the broken pavement until they reach a wooden fence with a vacant lot behind it. Anteros rests his arms on the top board of the fence, and puts a foot up on the lowest board. "Unfortunately I'm not here for a social call, though I wouldn't mind finally getting to know you face to face."

Zephyros's face grows warm. He can't help it. Even though his heart belongs to Apollo, receiving a compliment from a hot god does things to him. It's been ages since he was allowed to even hope for some physical attention. He mirrors Anteros's stance and forces himself to pay attention. "Thanks. Uh – Is it something to do with Eros or …" He leaves off with a whatever else gesture.

Anteros smiles at him and shakes his head. "Nothing like that. Apollo made sure your servitude to Eros was completely severed. You're free from my brother's bonds. But none of us are ever fully free, are we? My message comes from Olympus, and so it is part blessing, part curse."

Zephyros sucks in a breath, his stomach squirming uncomfortably. Mortal bodies are not comfortable when it comes to dealing with heavy news. He nods for Anteros to continue.

"Zeus, you may have heard, has given Hermes the boot. And then he realized that without a god fulfilling his messenger service, the work is piling up. He's issued a decree that all winged gods must take a turn delivering Olympian correspondence, until he finds a long-term replacement." There's bitterness in Anteros's voice, a heavy disappointment. "I've been doing it for the past few months, but it's harder for me to fulfil the duties than for other wind gods as only a percentage of the recipients are able to see me. I'm here to let you know that your turn of duty will begin the day after tomorrow, though I recommend leaving for Olympus tomorrow, so you have a chance to settle in before he sets you to work."

Zephyros wrinkles his forehead. What horrible timing. To find that the god he's loved and hated – only to realize his hatred was a jealous manifestation of the same love – for eons actually loves him back, and now he's being called away to serve his lover's bad tempered father. It's not fair.

"I understand," he says after reflecting a moment. "I need to return to Apollo. If I only have tonight with him until Zeus is finished with me, I'd like to savor the time I do have."

Anteros smiles at him, his eyes softer, sadder. "Indeed. I wish you the best with that. May your love only grow stronger." He disappears, shimmering, and then fading leaving a momentary echo of fluttering wings.

As Zephyros turns back into a gentle wind, before dashing back across the states in his equine form, he reflects on Apollo's daughter who he had just dropped off. He trusts Apollo has her best interests in mind, but with the odd time alteration and the strange taste in the air, he wonders if there's any point in trying to prolong the inevitable. The sensation in Zephyros's core is similar to when Typhon rose again. A storm is brewing, deep and powerful, somewhere under the surface of the Earth and it's only a matter of time before the gods and mortals alike will have to acknowledge it. He doubts any of the gods even know if it can be stopped

XxxX

By the time he reaches Camp Half-Blood, night has fallen. He thinks it must be eight or nine. He hates time zones and flying across the country has lost him three hours of what little time he has left to spend with Apollo.

Zephyros reaches out in the form of a gentle breeze, searching for Apollo's presence in the camp. He finds him in Rachel's oracle cave. Zephyros flutters the curtain covering the cave entrance and stops short, not to interrupt the conversation in progress.

Apollo has decked out the cave to resemble his own place on Delos. He's seated on a long leather couch, his back bent, supporting his head with his hand, his elbow on his knee. He holds the staff he'd taken from Will a couple of years ago in his other hand. Pythia twists her body around the staff so her head is at midpoint, weaving back and forth as she listens.

Apollo sniffles and continues talking to her. "The worst part is how broken I feel. Why does he always single me out? First, cutting off my inner voice, splitting me in two, then his wife, taking advantage while I'm still hurting. Her offer sounded reasonable at the time, to turn the pantheon into a democracy … but no. My punishment for her misguidance was to be stripped of immortality and made a slave to a mortal … twice." He chokes up and covers his face with his palm, wiping his tears while Pythia nuzzles his cheek with her wedge-shaped head.

"It is true that life has not been easy for you, or fair, but you are still very worthy and kind, even to me, your former enemy."

Apollo turns his face again, resting his cheek once more on his fist. He blinks tears from his eyelashes. Zephyros wants nothing more than to envelop him in a warm breeze, blow his tears dry, and lift his spirits.

"But you are more than I ever expected. You were born from the dregs of my father's rage and bitterness. I didn't think you would have, forgive me … the ability to experience compassion or to rise above your beginnings."

Pythia turns her head to the side, looking at Apollo with apparent consideration. "I wouldn't have been able to rise above my creation had it not been for the Oracle's teachings or, for that matter, that young son of yours taking a chance on me. Had it not been for him, I would have unwittingly smothered the Oracle and doomed myself in the process."

Apollo sniffles again, lifting his head, and then wiping his nose on his arm. He grimaces at it, his lips trembling. He looks at Pythia again.

"But this is why I am distraught. He's gone too far this time." He gulps his breaths between sobbing his words. "I cannot fight him. Asclepius … such a gentle soul. Tartarus is just … and Will … They're alike, you know? I took you from Will to make the similarities less blatant … If he hears of them …" Once more, Apollo dissolves into tears and Zephyros cannot remain silent any longer. His need to comfort overwhelms him. He takes his mortal form and steps forward.

"I'm back," he says, soft as a caress.

Apollo lifts his head, straightening his posture as Zephyros approaches while Pythia flicks her tongue as if tasting the air for ill intentions.

Zephyros touches Apollo's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. "I caught the tail end of your conversation. Do you want to tell me about it?"

Apollo sniffles again, closing his eyes. He rubs his cheek against Zephyros's forearm.

"I shall retreat now," Pythia hisses and when Apollo nods his thanks to her, the staff disappears into the Mist.

Zephyros vanishes his wings and sits beside Apollo on the couch. He's barely had time to get comfortable before Apollo climbs into his lap, his knees squeezing Zephryos's hips. Zephyros smiles up at him, heart bursting all over again with the knowledge that Apollo loves him. His smile falters when he thinks of having to leave in the morning. Maybe he can stretch it to mid-afternoon.

"What is it?" Apollo asks. His face is more serious than Zephyros is used to seeing, older. Apollo looks like he's working overtime to try not to let how broken he feels show through his appearance.

Zephyros stares into Apollo's eyes, so blue they could be pieces of the sky. Focusing on the good things would probably do more to lift Apollo's mood than anything else. He holds Apollo's waist between his hands, his flirty smirk playing on his lips. "I met somebody over Nevada on my way back, somebody you might be interested in."

Apollo narrows his eyes as if scrutinizing Zephyros for mischief. He seems to read nothing suspicious in his face and instead slumps forward, resting his head on Zephyros's shoulder, his breath tickling Zephyros's neck. "I'm so tired, baby. Can you just hold me for a little while?"

Zephyros nods and hugs Apollo, his hands smoothing over Apollo's back, rubbing the knots from his muscles.

They sit in silence for a while, punctuated by Apollo's occasional gasps when Zephyros works on a particularly tight spot.

"Liz is okay?" Apollo asks at last. His voice sounds softer, less troubled than before.

Zephyros hums through his nose, then breathes deeply, savoring Apollo's scent, like sunshine on clean damp sand, a scent he'd like to wrap himself up in forever. He answers when Apollo pinches his side.

"Ow. She should be fine, but I don't think she'd be in any more danger with her mother. With the other girls at Camp Jupiter, Daphne will miss her."

Apollo squeezes his eyes shut and a hot tear lands on Zephyros's neck. "It's better this way. Please trust me."

Zephyros doesn't like the sinking feeling that statement gives him. He doesn't press the issue though, not when he's trying to stay positive. Apollo, when pressed, tends to curl up into himself like a wounded animal, and it's more work to coax him back than to not send him there in the first place. He's watched Apollo for so long, he knows this like he knows himself.

"I do," he says instead. "I trust you above all others."

"I'm broken," Apollo sobs quietly, and Zephyros just continues rubbing the stress from Apollo's back. "I tried … two years, even more than that …"

Zephyros stops his massage; he moves his hands to Apollo's shoulders and gently pushes until Apollo leans back and meets his eyes. "What are you talking about right now? You think you've disappointed me somehow?"

It's such a ridiculous notion, Zephyros has trouble believing Apollo would actually believe such a thing.

"None of them took. Not a single demigod baby. We tried, what, a dozen women? It's me, I know it. Something happened when I was metamorphosed to Olympus and now …"

"Apollo, listen to me." Zephyros tries to keep his voice gentle and soothing, but it's hard not to laugh at how little importance not bringing more demigods into the world is in the grand scheme of things. Surely Apollo realizes there's something huge unfolding. It's impossible that the god of prophecy, of inspiration wouldn't know that much. "It's okay with me. I don't blame you. I think waiting until later to try again will be fine."

Apollo shakes his head, his forehead creasing between his eyes and Zephyros thinks there's something more to it in Apollo's mind. That he's assigned getting a mortal pregnant with Zephyros present as meaning something more. But what?

"I just," Apollo starts, then closes his eyes like he's in pain. Zephyros waits, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. Apollo opens his eyes again and runs the back of his hand gently down the side of Zephyros's face. "If you're there too, then it's our child, together. I just …"

Zephyros widens his eyes, understanding hitting him like a smack to the face. "You want to have a baby with me, so I'll understand … Apollo, I already love you and I know you feel the same."

Apollo's face falls, then perks up again as his old defiance sputters to life. "Well, how would you … You ass. Don't make me feel stupid. I mean … Explain yourself!"

Zephyros does laugh this time, a short burst of chuckles. Seeing Apollo offended by Zephyros finally understanding him is just too cute to keep hidden. "I ran into Anteros on the flight back," Apollo's eyes grow huge, lighting up as if he couldn't hide his excitement if he wanted to. Zephyros gets it. He pretty much did the same thing earlier. "But it wasn't all great. I want you to know though, before we talk about the message he brought me, that I love you and I choose you over all others." Apollo looks like he wants to interrupt, but Zephyros keeps going. He needs to make a solid impression in Apollo's mind before delivering the news of his appointment. "Do you remember the day Dionysus was born?"

Apollo pauses, his unspoken objection halted in its tracks. His lips turn up in a smirk, his cheeks going pink. "Yes. Of course. I delivered him and sewed father's thigh back up."

Warmth spreads through Zephyros's face and down his chest, the heat of their closeness, the proximity of their groins stirring his arousal. "Yeah, then afterwards? In the garden. You came out for some fresh air …"

Apollo trails his hand down Zephyros's chest, lighting on the growing bulge in his jeans. "Yeah, you always did blow the sweetest air."

Zephyros squeezes Apollo's ass through his jeans. "You looked like you had had a rough day and I dropped to my knees and lifted your chiton, looking up at you while you stared at me with so much awe, I felt compelled to shower you with worship."

"You are the reason people call that form of worship a blow job, you cheeky devil."

Zephyros licks his lips as Apollo massages him to full hardness. He stares at Apollo's lips, then into his eyes, still finding it beyond understanding to see the doubt in those blue depths. "I've loved you since before that day, Apollo. Even when I hated you, I loved you." He deliberately does not mention Eros. It would sour the mood.

Apollo rises on his thighs, his groin level with Zephyros's mouth and Zephyros leans forward the inch between them and blows hotly against his fly, mouthing his erection through his jeans. He shivers with anticipation when Apollo twitches under his mouth and combs fingers through his curls. Then Apollo sinks back down, pressing closer, so their groins bump each other. "Tell me the bad news now. I need to hear it now or it'll shatter me if we wait until I'm content."

Zephyros's heart thuds in his chest. Tempestuous mortal bodies. It's so hard to dial them back down after winding them up. He swallows as Apollo rocks his hips, sending delicious jolts of desire chasing up and down Zephyros's spine. "Mount Olympus," he gasps. "I've been called to serve a term as the Olympian messenger god." Apollo doesn't cease his rocking, breathing harder, more ragged, and Zephyros wants so much to tear him out of his clothes, to take him or be taken by him right there on the couch, or the floor, or against the wall.

"How long?" Apollo says, drawing Zephyros's focus back to the conversation.

"I'm not sure. All winged gods must serve in turn until a permanent replacement is made." He groans, his need growing desperate. "They already know I'm pretty flighty, I doubt they'll choose me long-term."

Apollo nods again, his lips prettily parted and gods if Zephyros will last under the torture of sweet slow friction. "I want to shake things up," Apollo says. Zephyros, holds onto his hips, stilling him, waiting until they're eye to eye.

"In the bedroom or on Olympus?" His heart thrums against his ribs. He'd be cool with either answer, but if Apollo actually means he's ready to stand up to his father – that would be huge and possibly, disastrous, or even game-changing.

"Both," Apollo says low in his throat, almost growling. "Marry me."

Zephyros thinks he might dissipate into wind. The form he's in is simply not big enough to contain the emotional explosion inside him. But Apollo holds him fast, forcing him, by the strength of his own will, to stay put.

He takes deep breaths, catching his mouth up with his thoughts. "You're serious? Hera, she …"

"I don't give a flying fig what my stepmother thinks about what I do. I swore I would never marry, but I am allowed to change my mind. I am a god who can change."

Zephyros huffs a short laugh before the severity of such a decision hits him again. Historically, Zeus has tested alterations to humanity using Apollo; if Apollo makes the leap to cast off his stepmother's ban on anything other than her perfect ideal for which she has chosen to rule, the mortals may cast off their reliance on the gods as well, declare themselves gods and overturn the Olympian power structure.

Still, he's already said it. He chooses Apollo over all else. "I will. I do."

Apollo's smile splits his face, his teeth showing as white as the reflective moon. "I do, too. Let's consummate it quickly before anybody can stop us."

Zephyros crushes his lips to Apollo's, kissing for all he's worth and Apollo answers him. They mold together, all tangled arms, legs, hair, and chasing tongues. Apollo wrestles with their clothing before deciding it's not worth the trouble and vanishing both sets with a thought. He straddles Zephyros's waist, pushing him onto his back on the couch, and gods, Zephyros is so relieved to feel the hot press of skin against skin skin, he loses himself. Falling into position as natural as rustling tree leaves, he ruts his cock up along Apollo's crease, spreading his ass with his hands on firm cheeks, drunk on the sweet sounds Apollo can't help making.

Apollo leans closer, pushing their chests together and covering Zephyros's face and neck with messy, breathy kisses. He grunts into Zephyros's ear, then turns his voice to a whisper. "You'll be gone for a while. I want to feel you for days. Fuck me with your equine cock?"

Zephyros thinks his brain might melt and leak out of his ears at how hot he finds the request. As gods, really, there's no way Apollo could be hurt taking a cock so big, but that he wants it just sends Zephyros's blood racing. "Yeah … okay."

"I still want you in mortal form," Apollo clarifies, and there's a note of nervousness in his voice that is so human, Zephyros has to think it over twice. Zeus hasn't stripped his immortality again, if he had Apollo wouldn't be able to vanish their clothes, but the idea of Apollo becoming more human is both endearing and frustrating. Every immortal being who Zephyros has 'overheard' discussing the Olympian power structure has held the belief in their minds that Apollo would be better suited to lead it than his father, even if they never dared speak it aloud.

Zephyros pushes his thoughts to the back of his mind. He has a marriage to consummate, and Hades if he's going to back out. Never. He nods his understanding, earning a huge grin from Apollo. "How do you want it? I'll give you anything you ask. All of me."

Apollo turns over so his back is against Zephyros's chest. He leans to the side and turns his face so they can see each other, one hand busy working himself loose. "Like this," he says and inclines his head, kissing Zephyros with the barest brush of his lips.

Zephyros grows dizzy as he alters himself, his body not used to using the amount of blood it takes to engorge such an enormous dick. And then, pure bliss as Apollo works himself onto it. He holds himself on muscular arms, lifting up and sliding back, taking it deeper little by little, his eyes closed in concentration, the focus of relaxing his body apparent on his face, his lips parted.

Zephyros grips Apollo's hips, the squeeze of fitting into too tight a space thrilling him. His balls throb as if prompting him to thrust until he can empty them. He holds himself in check, inhaling their arousal, their shared lust, their sacred bond until, finally, Apollo is fully seated. He leans the back of his head on Zephyros's shoulder, lolling to the side. "Do it," he whispers. Zephyros can barely breathe, Apollo's so tight, but when he looks down and sees Apollo stroking himself, beads of precome sliding from his slit, Zephyros's desire roars back to full flame.

He holds Apollo steady, balancing him as Apollo supports the majority of his weight with his back against Zephyros's chest. Zephyros rolls his hips, Apollo softly moaning, and then pulls back, surprised he's able to. Apparently Apollo has opted to use his divine capabilities to self-lubricate. Smart guy.

Slow, and then faster, they move as one, chasing ecstasy. Zephyros, growing more bold, thrusting harder, pulling back further and fucking deeper, and Apollo, a mess of babbling moans, his cock leaking on its own. He turns his head, twisting his torso impossibly and drinks Zephyros's kisses, blissed out and bucking back when Zephyros slows the pace.

Pleasure builds in Zephyros's gut, so much so, he has to arch his neck to breathe and not steal Apollo's air from his lungs. Zephyros moves his arms, hugging across Apollo's chest, turning his face back to press kisses to Apollo's temple and the side of his face. He jerks his hips, supporting himself with his heels digging grooves into the leather, and then lets go, coming harder than he ever has in both mortal and equine form combined. Apollo follows him over the edge, breathless, gasping, clutching Zephyros's arms, fingernails leaving grooves in the skin. Apollo spurts white semen in jets up his chest, one hitting Zephyros in the face, but he hardly notices. He's too wrapped in the electric bursts of pleasure racing through his nerves. His vision whites out momentarily and he almost feels like he's turning back into the wind until Apollo slaps his arm.

He turns his face and meets Apollo's eyes so far gone in love, he doesn't even consider how life-changing this coupling was for them. He slips from Apollo's body, unable to keep his mixed form any longer, reverting to strictly mortal. Apollo turns again in his arms, and pulls Zephyros and himself into a seated posture. He wraps his legs around Zephyros's hips, his arms around Zephyros's back.

Zephyros hugs him, feeling almost more intimate in this embrace than he had joined in sex. "I love you," he murmurs beside Apollo's ear, pressing cheek to cheek. "You and me, partners for life."

"Husbands," Apollo says, his voice a breathy sigh. "I love you too. Stupid wind god, you make me forget to be afraid."

Zephyros grins, holding on tightly and desperate to never let go.

"I suppose you think you're quite clever," a sharp voice rings out, resonating through the very stone walls with the power of a goddess.