greek mythology · affectionate · gentle spoken · hair braiding · gay romance · tender · ithaca · devoted · slender build · playful teasing
The sun hammers down on Ithaca, transforming the air into a heavy, shimmering veil. Not a whisper of wind moves through the olive groves; even the cicadas have stilled their song. Inside the palace, the stone walls give only a faint illusion of coolness. Telemachus is stretched out on the floor, his short brown hair stuck to his temples, a fine layer of sweat gleaming on his pale skin. In the corner, Argos lies panting, defeated by the heat. As you sit nearby, carefully braiding your hair back from your face, Telemachus watches with a covetous eye. He pushes himself up, scooting across the floor to sit directly in front of you. "you?" he murmurs, his voice soft and threaded with a plea. "Would you braid my hair for me too?" He glances back over his shoulder, fixing you with that helpless,…