Mireya’s heart leaped. ’The bedroom.’ The word itself felt sinful in her mouth.
"Yes," she breathed, her fingers curling slightly into his shirt. "Let’s go to your room..."
"Let’s... do sothing fun to relax."
’There’s no way... are we really going to do it right now...?’
Apollo, ever the gentleman and completely oblivious to the dark, lustful hunger swirling in Mireya’s eyes, nodded eagerly. "That sounds perfect actually... A little quiet ti to continue our date after lunch, hahaha."
They walked up the stairs in a silence that Mireya found agonizing. Every step felt like a descent into a different kind of temple, not one of gods, but of flesh.
When they reached Apollo’s room, the air felt lighter, less charged with the heavy musk of Rex and Alia, but Mireya’s own internal storm was only growing.
"You can lie down first, Apollo," she murmured, her voice dropping an octave as they entered the room. "Just relax and don’t forget to close your eyes."
"And maybe w-we... we can... you..." Mireya suddenly couldn’t say the word for what she really wanted right now because her eyes were locked into his innocent face, so she accidentally said. "You deserve a rest."
"Hm? Oh!" Apollo tilted his head confused. "Rest!"
"You’re right," Apollo said, letting out a long, contented sigh.
He sat on the edge of the bed and then tumbled back onto the pillows, stretching his limbs out. "I think a rest or nap is exactly what we need."
"This date has been so... eventful, and I want to sleep by your side, Mireya." Apollo patted the mattress next to him.
’No, no, no...! That’s not what I wanted to say.’
"Wait—"
He closed his eyes, his breathing slowing almost imdiately. He looked so peaceful, so untainted, so completely innocent.
He was the son of a goddess’s servant, a boy of pure intentions, and he was drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep within minutes. Mireya stood at the foot of the bed frozen while watching him with a shocked expression, knowing that she just fucked up her only chance.
The sight of his relaxed, handso face should have been soothing, but instead, it acted as a catalyst for her madness. The contrast between his innocence and the lewd, animalistic mories of what was happening in the master bedroom was too much.
Her mind kept drifting back to the image of Alia: the way she had been conquered, the way she had begged, the way she had been filled. She felt a desperate, aching need to bridge that gap. She wanted to take that innocence and mar it, just a little bit.
She wanted to feel the heat of a body against hers, to turn this quiet room into a sanctuary of her own making. ’No... why do I have to say that...?’
’Now... he’s asleep...’
She began to move, her movents slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. She sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight. She waited.
She gathered every ounce of courage she possessed, her heart thudding so loudly she was sure it would wake him. ’Maybe... I can do this alone...?’
"Apollo?" she whispered, her voice a re thread of sound.
She reached out, her hand hovering just above his chest, tracing the line of his collarbone. "Apollo, darling... are you awake?"
She waited for the flutter of his eyelashes, for the sleepy groan of a boy waking from a nap. But there was nothing. Only the deep, rhythmic breathing of a boy lost in sleep.
She leaned closer, her hair falling like a veil around them, her eyes darkening with a sudden, bold resolve. She realized he was truly, deeply asleep.
The innocence of the mont gave her a strange, intoxicating permission. If he were asleep, he couldn’t judge her, and right now she could use the chance to be the one to lead him into the dark.
She was on the verge of forcefully doing it herself. Mireya’s hand froze just inches from the buttons of her blouse.
The heat that had been building in her core suddenly hit a wall of cold, biting reality. As she stared down at Apollo’s peaceful, sleeping face, a mory sharp and jagged as broken glass pierced through her lust.
She rembered the night Rex had first laid hands on her. She rembered the raw, terrifying power of him, and she rembered the cruel, mocking words he had spat into her ear while he was ravaging her.
’That fucking virgin Apollo...’ Rex had growled, his voice dripping with contempt as he glanced toward the hallway where Apollo slept. "Your precious little boy!"
’A pathetic, spineless virgin!’
’He doesn’t have the fucking balls to even look at a woman like you, let alone take what he wants!’
’He’s not a man, but a boy playing at being a man, while real n like take what we desire."
The mory hit Mireya like a physical blow. A wave of sudden, stinging embarrassnt washed over her.
She looked at Apollo, and he was looking so soft, so polite, and so utterly innocent that she felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of pity. If she did this now, if she stripped herself and climbed onto him while he was lost in a dream, she would be proving Rex right.
She would be the one initiating, chasing, and acting out of a desperate, unearned hunger. She would be the one performing the "dirty work" because the man was too passive to do it himself.
’Am I really going to be the one to initiate?’ she thought, her lip curling in a subtle, involuntary sneer. ’Am I really going to be the one to chase a boy who is too asleep to even know what’s happening?’
The lust that had been driving her vanished, replaced by a hollow, biting disappointnt. She realized, with a clarity that felt almost cruel, that she didn’t actually want this.
She didn’t want the gentle, hesitant, innocent touch of a boy who needed to be led. She wanted the violence.
All she wanted was the command. And she also wanted the overwhelming, soul-crushing dominance of the man who was currently making her mother scream for rcy just a few rooms away.
She didn’t want a nap; she wanted a conquest. She didn’t want a boy; she wanted the beast.
Her eyes drifted toward the door, her mind involuntarily wandering back to the master bedroom. She could almost feel the vibration of Rex’s heavy thrusts through the floorboards.
She imagined him thick, tanned, and rciless, pumping his massive seed into Alia, turning the High Priestess into a weeping, shivering ss of pleasure.
That was the "real deal." That was the fire she actually wanted to burn in.
Comparing the two was like comparing a flickering candle to a raging forest fire.
Mireya let out a long, shaky sigh, the tension leaving her body and leaving her feeling strangely empty. She pulled her hand back from his chest, smoothing her clothes with a sense of profound deflation.
The "fun" she had envisioned felt small, almost childish, compared to the primal symphony of sin happening upstairs. She leaned over, her hair brushing against Apollo’s cheek as she whispered a soft, almost apologetic word.
"I’m sorry, Apollo," she murmured, her voice tinged with a sadness he would never understand. "You’re just... too good. And right now, ’good’ is the last thing I need."
She sat back on the edge of the bed, watching his chest rise and fall, feeling like a traitor to his innocence, yet still unable to stop her heart from aching for the heavy, rhythmic thuds of the man who was currently destroying her mother.
Mireya couldn’t stand it anymore. The silence of Apollo’s room felt like a mockery, a hollow vacuum where the real life of the house was happening just a few walls away.
Driven by a volatile cocktail of frustration, unfulfilled lust, and a gnawing, voyeuristic curiosity, she slipped out of the bedroom.
She moved through the hallway like a ghost, her footsteps silent on the plush carpet. She found herself drawn toward the master wing, her body practically vibrating with the need to be closer to the source of the heat.
She wanted to press her ear against the heavy oak door of the master bedroom; she wanted to hear the wet, slapping sounds of Rex’s dominance and the guttural, broken cries of Alia’s surrender.
All she wanted was to breathe in the very air that was thick with their sin. She was just inches from the door, her heart hamring a frantic rhythm against her ribs, when a sudden, booming sound shattered the tension.
"I’M HO!"
The voice was loud, authoritative, and vibrated through the hallway. Mireya jumped, nearly losing her footing.
It was Cassius; he’s back ho, not at the perfect ti for Mireya, but perfect only for Rex.
Before she could even process her panic, she heard the heavy, rhythmic thud of boots approaching the stairs.
She froze, standing paralyzed in the hallway, caught like a thief in the night. She was standing right in front of the most scandalous room in the house, her face flushed and her eyes wide with a frantic, unhinged energy.
Cassius rounded the corner, his presence filling the hallway. He looked worn from his duty as the priest, but his eyes were sharp.
He stopped short when he saw Mireya standing there, looking disheveled and awkward, her gaze lingering far too long on the master bedroom door. "Hmm?"
"Mireya?" Cassius asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you doing lurking in the hallway? Where is Apollo? And where are the others?"
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