Prometheus almost cried, his breaths stuttering audibly as he helplessly spread his thighs wide at feeling Hades's cock brush against his entrance. No matter how hard he pulled against Hades's grip, his boyfriend kept his wrists pinned down. It was maddening. Absolutely maddening. He was going to die. Seriously. Seriously.

"I-I can't!" he choked out, his voice raw with utter desperation as he bucked his hips almost wildly, cock bouncing from the jerky movements, its head dark, "I really- c-can't...! Hades, please, let me- let me...!"

-

Ah.

Prometheus blinked, a little wrongfooted at the sort-of acceptance of his not-all-that-serious offer, and stared as Hades slouched off to his bedroom. Well. Hm. Okay then.

He went and showered, feeling much more alert and sober as he changed into the clean clothes Hades gave him. He felt a little lost when he returned to where Hades set up the bed for him, eyeing it uncertainly. Normally, he didn't sleep at a stranger's house, but he felt unsure about making himself at home by watching television until daybreak. He wasn't sure if Hades would get annoyed at him rubbing his dirty hands over everything.

So, after some dithering, he shuffled off to Hades's room - just after he sent that long, irate message to Hythlodaeus.

"Hey, uh, Hades?" he said, knocking on the door before peeking inside, "Can I borrow your phone real quick? I wanna call Hyth."