Luke is dead. He’s gone. His son was dead.
Everyone is celebrating, but he is far from being celebratory. He seeks to be alone, and to mourn his son whose death helped to end this war. Instead, he stumbles upon Percy Jackson sitting quietly by himself in one of the guest rooms of Mount Olympus. He briefly recalls not seeing the boy at the party and had wondered where he’d gone. Hermes supposes here was where Percy had been hiding.
He looks tired. He’s just sitting on the bed against the headboard, a leg stretched lazily while the other was bent haphazardly. Percy just simply seemed out of it.
Hermes isn’t sure what to make of it.
“Bastard. Stole my first kiss, stole my first time, stole everything from me. Now he’s dead. I didn’t even get to scream at him like I wanted,” Percy mutters.
The implication is startling, obvious in a way, and yet no one had even had a clue. Hermes feels like perhaps he had been more than harsh on Percy before, and that his recent reconciliation with Percy needed to be redone. He hadn’t understood Percy’s side, but had begged him to understand his.
But there had been more to it, he sees now, and perhaps he should make it up to the boy.
“Are you alright?” he asks softly.
Percy blearily looks up and he sees the boy isn’t aware, and is actually very, very drunk. Hermes hesitantly walks into the room and sits down by him. The bed creaks a little under his weight, but then it’s quiet.
“You’ve been drinking,” he states quietly.
Percy gives the god a sloppy grin, “Come to lecture me?”
He shakes his head, “I’m not your father.”
“No, you aren’t. You’re Luke’s,” Percy drawls, but then he leans closer and squints. “I mean you really look like Luke,” it comes out as a mumble. Then uncomfortably, but then a part of him is actually okay with it, Percy is too close and sniffs at his neck. “You even smell like him,” he says wistfully. “Maybe it’s you and your kids.”
Hermes pushes him gently away and back to lean against the headboard.
“You’re right. I am Luke’s father. And you were right before. I did abandon him. I may not have thought so and I may not have wanted to…but what mattered was that that was what he’d thought. Luke thought I abandon him and that’s how he’d felt in the end.”
Percy is silent, staring at him. Then the boy’s lips twist sardonically.
“Luke was…no matter what, he just was,” Percy murmurs. “Even after everything, I don’t think I ever told anyone how much I still admired and liked him.”
“But most of you hated him,” Hermes answers back, staring intensely.
“Too true. I hated him just as much as I secretly liked him. And that was the side I showed the most to everyone, and the only one I would admit to myself. Annabeth, especially, couldn’t stand it. I always told her I didn’t see what she saw in him, but the truth was that I did. He was charming, utterly charming. And handsome. And a real smooth-talker,” and then Hermes realizes that Percy is starting to enter his private memories and starting to forget that Hermes is there.
The god feels like he’s invading a private moment and that he should leave, but instead he sits and listens.
“And Luke was very gentle. So sweet,” Percy sighs, and Hermes knows for sure the boy is lost in memories.
“Go on,” he encourages, hand automatically reaching over to softly caress the bared skin of Percy’s stomach, shirt ridden up enticingly. He doesn’t know what he’s doing and he’s pretty sure he’s not thinking right now.
“I’ve forgotten how sweet his kiss was,” Percy sighs again and so Hermes kisses him. Percy’s eyes are blank and unseeing, and Hermes knows what he’s doing and that he knows it’s wrong.
He is thinking now, after that first touch, and he realizes what he wants to do. He wants to grieve with this boy who loved –loves –his son just as much as he does, and who hurts just as much, who understands Hermes and the god’s pain.
He wants Percy.
So he pushes Percy onto the bed and starts unbuttoning the dazed and drunken boy’s shirt, slips it off without a care, and reaches down to take off the boy’s jeans. He slides it off Percy’s slim waist and lean legs, eying revealed skin hungrily.
He dives in, licking at Percy’s navel, and then trails his tongue upwards, earning a mewl from Percy. His tongue swirls around one of Percy’s nipples and the demigod gasps, arching into his mouth.
Hermes reaches around and grabs the hem of Percy’s boxers, sliding them off in one smooth motion. Without giving another warning, he takes Percy’s cock into his hand and tugs, making Percy go from gasping to squeaking adorably at the unfamiliar touch.
Percy instinctively tries to wiggle away, but instead Hermes gentles his touch and Percy stills, unconsciously spreading his legs more for easier access to the god. The boy’s breathing has gone back to getting heavier and so Hermes speeds up his caressing, moving from twirling his fingers teasingly around the head of Percy’s member to grasping it fully and sliding it down the entire length.
“Luke!” Percy whimpers, and Hermes’ hand stills and the god tenses.
It’s his son’s name and it should be his son here with Percy, not him, and it is not his right to touch this boy so intimately, to taste that which does not belong to him, and to savor Percy in all rights he should not.
And at the same time, unguarded jealousy and unhappiness floods him, and it is his son’s name Percy speaks when he wants it to be his.
Hermes realizes just how depraved he sounds and is.
But he makes the choice to continue and pulls his hand away, instead bending down and wrapping his mouth around Percy’s completely hard by now cock, and tastes salt and sweat on his tongue. It’s not a bad taste and he finds he actually likes it.
Percy is his first male lover. There are not many of them who take to the same sex, Zeus only once with Ganymedes and Apollo twice with Hyacinthus and Cyprissus. But of the rest of the male Olympians, they stay with women who catches their eye. But Hermes finds he does not really mind sleeping with another male, and wonders if it’s because of who it was.
He pulls away from Percy’s cock with a slight pop and pushes his mouth against Percy’s, pressing his tongue against the other’s so that they quickly started to fight for dominance. He slides Percy farther onto the bed and moves more onto him, lifting the boy’s legs up and over his shoulders as he bends over Percy completely. While he kisses the boy artfully, he slides a calloused hand down sweat-slicked skin to cup Percy’s arse, experimentally kneading it before he was sure it was okay to move farther. Then he had a finger near Percy’s hole, slowly wiggling in, and Percy alternately bucks up into his body in surprise as well as violently throwing his head back with a harsh exhalation of breath.
The god pauses, waiting for Percy to adjust to the new sensation, before he begins to thrust his finger in and out of Percy. He adjusts his hold on Percy, moving lean legs a little more secure onto his shoulders as he tries another finger and pulls Percy up to bring him into another kiss. When he feels Percy slowly rock against his hand and trying to get his fingers in more, he smirks in triumph in the kiss and adds a third finger, speeding up the pace of his finger thrusts.
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