Because the cost of failure was unthinkable, nothing Imperious or his minions ever did was without purpose. The stakes were simply too high. Even something so otherwise innocuous as date night was to be used as a means to an end.

Although Pollux supposed that was a rather uncharitable way to characterize tonight’s outing. Marcus had given him and Castor a mission. Choosing to turn it into an opportunity to have a date had been their prerogative.

With the historic vote on the Let Supers Lead bill just around the corner, proponents and detractors of the legislation were out in force. Castor and Pollux had been tasked with putting a finger on the scales of power on Marcus’ behalf by attending a fundraiser where some of the bill’s most influential and outspoken political supporters were in attendance.

"Did you see the way that old man was looking at you?" Pollux muttered in Castor’s direction as they descended the stairs. "Looked like he was about ready to jump you by the time we were done."

Castor chuckled. He leaned in and said, "I would have let him too. He was a proper silver fox, that one."

Pollux chuckled. On any other night, in any other place, they might have looked conspicuous talking conspiratorially as they were. Tonight, however, it was quite commonplace to see people huddled together in private conversation.

He supposed it was but a fact of life in such a politically charged environment. A dozen, dozen plans and schemes were afoot tonight, and he wouldn’t exactly have been surprised to find out there were more.

"He was," Pollux relented. "I stand by what I said, though. You would have looked amazing in a tall red dress."

Castor scoffed. "We’re on a date, Pollux," he said. "I think it’s about time that we went out as a pair of men in love. Don’t you think?" he said.

Pollux chuckled. He supposed it was fair enough. And Castor did look rather splendid in his red suit.

Crimson was the color of the evening, as it was with every gala, ball, and reception at the Geryon. A reference, as Pollux understood it, to the mythological red cattle of the sun that the establishment’s namesake Greek giant had tended to.

And if Pollux were to see tonight’s dignitaries as cattle, he was fairly confident that Castor was the prize bull to put all the others in attendance to shame. Except maybe himself. He rather liked to think he had a good sense for fashion, after all.

"You could still have worn the dress," Pollux teased.

Castor blinked and cast a pointed look down at himself. After a moment—for emphasis—he turned his gaze back to Pollux and quirked an eyebrow. "I would have looked ridiculous," he said.

"I don’t know…" said Pollux as he walked two fingers up the middle of Castor’s chest. "I think a big muscular man practically spilling out of a sexy red femme fatale dress has its own appeal. Don’t you think?"

Castor opened his mouth but struggled to find his words. After a series of false starts, his cheeks turned pink. It was an adorable sight to see.

Pollux lived for moments like these. His beloved other tended to run his mouth if given the chance and precious little could render him speechless.

There were other means available to Pollux if all he wanted was to shut Castor up when the latter was enjoying the sound of his own voice a bit too much. Such methods weren’t strictly appropriate for use in polite company, however.

After the better part of a minute, Castor spluttered and finally relented. "F-fine. You win. I’ll wear the dress one of these days. You happy?" said Castor.

Pollux cracked a small grin and went on his tiptoes to kiss Castor on the cheek. It was one of the few occasions that Castor was taller than him. "I’ll hold you to that," he said.

"I’m sure you will," said Castor. He shook his head and rolled his eyes but it was all in good fun. Even the exasperation in his voice was cut through with fondness. "Mm. Did we finish everything we were supposed to do?"

Pollux consulted his smartwatch. Normally, the two of them would have remote support from N3R0 but at events like these, there was always the chance that a technopath could be among the guests. The risks simply outweighed the benefits.

After checking over the mission details, Pollux nodded. "Yep. Looks like we’re all done," he said. "We even took care of some of the optional stuff."

Castor licked his lips. "What do you say we go back to our room and make a proper date night out of it?"

Pollux chuckled. Ending the night properly had always been the plan. Going back to the room, not so much. While he had to admit that the suite Marcus had secured for them was indulgent and luxurious, it paled in comparison to their accommodations at Marcus’ estate.

"I have a better idea," said Pollux. He took Castor by the wrist and went through the doors in the back of the foyer, across the grand hall where some of the guests were still milling around and socializing, and onto the rear balcony of the hotel.

While Pollux had every intention of defiling their suite by having his wicked way with Castor later on, he was in the mood for something more daring. He looked over his shoulder and smirked at the confused-but-playing-along look in Castor’s eyes as they hurried down the stairs and into the gardens.

They made their way over the cobblestone paths past the pool, the gazebo, the outdoor lounge, and the picnic tables. The waist-high hedges passed by on either side until they found themselves finally at the foot of the grand oak tree, where the hedges ringed the perimeter of a small clearing around the towering giant’s massive trunk.

"Pollux, are we…" said Castor.

Pollux flashed a lopsided grin at him as he tugged Castor over to the side of the tree, where there weren’t any benches to get in the way. "Strip," he said.

In the dim light cast by the handful of garden lamps that illuminated the cobblestone path ringing the base of the tree, Pollux saw the flush in Castor’s cheeks and grinned even wider. It was hardly embarrassment, he knew for a fact.

Prudish was not a word anyone they knew would associate with them. They’d gotten up to much more mischief in their youth such as that one time they’d hosted a massive orgy in one of the Hall of Heroes’ training rooms.

---

Pollux was grinning from ear to ear. Castor at least had the grace to look a little bit remorseful, but even he had a half-smile on his lips while he stared at his shoes.

It had been a grand affair. A single training room in one of the Commonwealth’s most esteemed institutions, filled to the brim with men of every shape, age, size, and walk of life.

Even just thinking back on it had Pollux sporting a half-chub, one that he didn’t bother to hide. There wasn’t any point if he and Castor were about to be kicked out of the program anyway. He was just happy to lean back, fold his arms behind his head, and replay the symphony of moans, groans, grunts, and skin slapping against skin that had made the training room’s walls ring.

"I can’t believe that the two of you would pull a fucking stunt like this," fumed Rubedo, the program adviser for Castor and Pollux’s batch of recruits. "If you’d brought in that many outsiders, forget expulsion! You’d be looking at time in the big house! Decades! "

Pollux grinned. "But we didn’t!"

"Yeah. You didn’t. And that’s the only reason I’m not packing you into the back of a Custody van." said Rubedo.

"That’s right! We didn’t do anything wrong!" said Pollux. "Except maybe making a mess, but that’s not sanctionable."

Of course, the trick was that even though there had been hundreds of bodies packed into that training room, there had only ever been, strictly speaking two people in there.

Rubedo rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You… You don’t even understand what you’ve done, have you?" he said. "I won’t exaggerate when I say that there is a very, very thick layer of depravity over this whole sordid thing and there are things from the footage I wish I could un-see—"

"But are there things you’d like to see again, Coach?" Pollux interrupted.

Castor glared at him.

Rubedo did the same. "Okay. Enough with the wisecracking, smartass," he said with a shake of his head. "The fact is, if you wade through the rampant perversion that the two of you knuckleheads displayed, there is an incredible show of power underneath."

Pollux didn’t really see Rubedo’s point. All they’d done was push the limit of their powers. He’d cloned himself and Castor a couple dozen times and Castor had changed the clones’ appearances like he always did. "I don’t really see the big deal," he said. "What’s so different about what we’ve done before?"

"Seriously?" The disbelief in Rubedo’s voice was practically tangible. He looked at Castor as if searching for some sign that he hadn’t gone insane but was met with a similarly blank look.

Rubedo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "The two of you, together, can pretend to be at least a hundred different men."

Pollux tilted his head. "So?" he said. "It’s not like massive orgies in the middle of town are going to save the world."

The stare Rubedo gave Pollux was tinged with murderous intent. "You could fill a restaurant with clones. Pretend that you’re an entire government agency. Make an army!"

That was the confusion. Pollux shook his head. "Look, Coach. It’s one thing to control a hundred clones while they’re all doing the same basic thing—fucking—and another entirely to make them all do different things! That’s way too hard!"

---

Pollux shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to be taking a trip down memory lane. Not when he had dessert right in front of him.

Suffice it to say, he and Castor weren’t any strangers to exhibitionism and risky sex. The side of the tree they were standing on wasn’t fully exposed to anyone who might decide to take a stroll through the garden, but it wasn’t all that well hidden, either.

There was a straight line of sight between them and the balcony. They were far enough away that it would be difficult to distinguish who they were, but not impossible.

Castor was already slipping off his suit jacket when he said, "Doesn’t this run the risk of compromising the mission?" he said.

"Don’t you worry about that," said Pollux as he watched Castor with a little smirk. "Just make us look like we’re staff if we get caught." The little shiver that his words inspired in Castor didn’t escape his notice.

"You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?" said Pollux.

Castor licked his lips. "You don’t even know," he said. He’d started off unbuttoning his dress shirt carefully but it didn’t take long before he was popping them open one after the other. "It’s been so long," he said.

Pollux chuckled. "It definitely has," he said, whistling as Castor yanked the two halves of his dress shirt out of his pants. "I should try and see if I can make you scream so loud someone notices."

Castor’s breathing audibly quickened as he was stripping off his undershirt. "That had better be a promise, Pollux," he said with rich, unrestrained desire in his voice as their eyes met.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Pollux’s lips. He took a step into Castor’s personal space and leaned in, voice low and gravelly as he murmured, "Of course. You know how much I love to hear you sing."

Castor fumbled his belt in his haste to unbuckle and cursed under his breath. "Stupid manly hands," he grumbled once he finally managed to yank the belt off his pants.

Pollux laughed. It was rare that Castor played the part of the bigger guy but the complaints were ever the same. Not that Pollux minded being the smaller in any way. Putting a big man in his place had its own unique appeal.

In the dim light of the garden lamps, he took a moment to examine the skin that Castor had taken on. First thing was that he was handsome, though Pollux wasn’t sure if that was just his bias speaking. Still, the rest was just as remarkable.

Shinoda Takeshi was the name attached to the cover identity. He was the scion of the reclusive Shinoda family, heir to their considerable slice of the aluminum processing and asteroid mining industry.

Takeshi was a good six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and bright green eyes. His arms were muscular, his grip was strong, and his chest was two slabs of firm, corded muscle.

His body, which seemed as if it had been chiseled from a solid block of granite, spoke of a man that treated working out and eating well as a religion. His legs were solid and thick like tree trunks, his calves hard like stone, and his cobbled, washboard abs were so cut it looked like he could grind a rock to dust on them.

As an accomplished businessman with an incredible body and a disgustingly large fortune waiting for him, Takeshi should have easily been one of the Commonwealth’s most desirable bachelors. There were just two little issues with that.

First and foremost was Patrick Lange, Takeshi’s husband, childhood sweetheart, and right-hand man—played tonight by Pollux. Second, and perhaps more importantly, Takeshi, his whole family, and even his dearly beloved were all ghosts.

They didn’t exist. They had never existed. Not as anything more than code. They were all constructs, legal fictions meant to hide Marcus’ incredible wealth and political influence.

That being said, Pollux couldn’t help but think to himself, as his gaze hungrily traced the rock-hewn V-line of Castor’s borrowed skin, that Castor had done a truly incredible job at bringing the fictitious Takeshi to life.

Pollux was hard already and Castor hadn’t even finished stripping yet. He rubbed himself through his pants, eyes hungrily tracing the lines of Castor’s Adonis belt as the latter stepped out of his pants.

Castor’s interpretation of Takeshi didn’t have a treasure trail leading to the prize currently hidden by the pouch of a red jockstrap but that suited Pollux just fine. He preferred his boys smooth, after all.

Pollux licked his lips. "Shoes."

Castor kicked them off to the side, stuffing his calf socks into them.

Pollux couldn’t hold himself back any further. He placed his hands on Castor’s chest and traced his fingers down the sculpted muscles. "And this," he said as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Castor’s jockstrap.

Off came the jockstrap, as if Castor couldn’t bear to have it on a moment longer than he needed to. And when it was gone, kicked to the side where it became tangled in the branches of the hedge, Castor grabbed Pollux by the neck and pressed their lips together.

The height difference meant that Pollux had to crane his neck back for once to Castor’s kiss but he didn’t mind in the slightest. He moaned into Castor’s mouth, heat and need alike coursing through his veins. Decades together and yet every kiss seemed just as intense as the first.

Maybe it was their separation. Maybe years of yearning and longing had made their reunion all the sweeter. But they had had months now to catch up and the flame had not so much as flickered.

While Castor’s fingers were laced together around the back of his neck, Pollux’s hands wandered Castor’s body. One set of fingers swept around Castor’s waist, dancing on his skin before he palmed one of those firm, muscular ass cheeks.

The other hand continued lower. Pollux brushed his fingertips along the chiseled line of Castor’s Adonis belt before continuing on to the prize—if it could be called that—that it pointed to.

He cupped the hefty, full set of balls dangling from between Castor’s legs. He cradled them in his fingers and teased them by rolling them in his grasp. His thumb, he brushed over the gold filigree that encased the rest of Castor’s manhood. He rubbed the tip, spreading the glistening slick that was leaking from there.

Shinoda Takeshi—as Castor interpreted him—was quite well endowed. Not that it counted for much when every last inch of the ten that he had was crammed into a cage that was barely two. Little wonder, then, that it looked like the cage was ready to burst—not that such a thing could possibly happen.

When they broke apart for breath, Pollux gently squeezed Castor’s caged cock and balls. "So much meat for such a little cage," he said with a little smirk and the cage twitched in his hand.

"It’s so tight," Castor whined. His hips rolled, bumping the cage against the palm of Pollux’s hand. Such little stimulation and yet that was all it took for fresh pre-cum to dribble out of him.

"And it’s only going to get tighter," said Pollux with a smirk. Although it was Marcus that had caged Castor, Pollux had some limited authority to unlock him. Not that he had any intention to do that tonight. "Turn around."

Castor obeyed without question. He faced the tree and placed his hands on the coarse bark. Without needing to be prompted, he leaned forward and rested his cheek against the trunk, shuffling his legs apart.

Pollux smirked. With one hand, he eased Castor’s cheeks apart using the heel of his thumb. He used the middle finger of the other to tease the smooth, trembling entrance that had been hidden between them.

Castor’s cheeks tensed at the moment of contact and he spread his legs even further to accommodate Pollux’s touch. "Trigger me, Pollux," he whined, his fingers rasping against the coarse bark as he balled them into fists. "Please."

"Oh my," said Pollux with a little smirk. He released Castor and worked on slipping his jacket from his shoulders. He carefully set it aside as his fingers moved to his collar to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"Please, Pollux," Castor whined, pushing his ass back against Pollux’s crotch. "It would be so good. I want to feel my brains turning to mush while you fuck me. Please."

"Goodness me." Pollux chuckled. There was a glint of mischief in his eye. "What would your colleagues say if they heard you, Takeshi?"

"Pollux!"

Pollux shrugged off his dress shirt and removed his belt. He looped it around his hand and dragged it over the curve of Castor’s ass. "Patrick, dearest," he teased. "I should hope you haven’t forgotten your own husband’s name."

Castor’s ass cheeks clenched as Pollux dragged the belt over the supple mounds. "F-fuck…" he muttered under his breath. "Y-you’re such a tease."

Pollux grinned. "Imagine the scandal if we were caught. The big, strong heir to the Shinoda Metals Group, their headstrong, rising star, Alpha male CFO spreading his legs like a bitch for his dear husband…"

"D-don’t be absurd, Pollux," Castor managed through gritted teeth.

The shiver that went down Castor’s spine was all the confirmation Pollux needed that Castor was buying into the tale he was spinning. No matter what Castor might have had to say about it.

Pollux pressed his crotch against Castor’s ass. The front of his pants was feeling quite tight and there was no doubt in his mind that Castor would feel it. "It would be in the tabloids before you had a chance to blink," said Pollux. "I can see it now. ‘Shinoda Takeshi—Dom Top in the Boardroom, Sub Fag in the Bedroom?’ Although, I’m sure they can make it more distasteful."

A soft whine escaped Castor. "P-please, Pollux. Just… Just fucking stick it in already! I-I need your cock inside me right now!"

Pollux persevered, however. He knew it would take only a little more prodding. "Imagine the waves it would make if the public learned how much you detested thinking, how desperately you are to be a brainless fuckhole instead…"

"Pollux, you dick…" Castor growled under his breath.

"The story would dominate the papers," Pollux whispered, grinding his yet-clothed cock against the cleft of Castor’s ass. "The headlines would read, ‘Shinoda Takeshi: Smarts aren’t Sexy,’ or even, ‘Shinoda Takeshi: Dumber is Sexier,’ perhaps."

"D-damn it, Patrick," Castor growled under his breath. "T-this had better not show up on the papers tomorrow."

Hook, line, and sinker. Pollux smirked. "That’s up to you, dearest. All you have to do is try and—" He took a quick step back and raised his hand, the one with the belt looped around his knuckles. He swung down, landing the flat of the belt across the top of Castor’s ass cheeks with an audible crack,

Castor’s whole body lurched at the impact. Bark crumbled under his fingers as he arched his back. "Patrick, Fuck!" he cried out.

"—and keep your voice down," Pollux finished, grinning from ear to ear. He rubbed the thumb of his free hand over the welt that he’d left on Castor’s ass. "Oh, dear. Not a good start, I’m afraid," he said.

"Y-you’re incorrigible," Castor groaned. And from the tone of his voice, he was speaking as Takeshi—not as Castor.

"Well, don’t you worry about anything now, dearest," said Pollux. With one hand, he undid the button and clasp on the front of his dress pants, shimmying them down his legs as he pressed his body up against Castor’s back. "Just relax and be a good jockboy."

The tension melting away from Castor’s shoulders was visible. The way his eyes glassed over, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth as the trigger sank into him, was incredibly hot.

Pollux’s cock surged in his underwear. He yanked the briefs down to his knees, his cock springing free. He grabbed himself by the base and tapped it on Castor’s ass.

A vapid giggle rumbled out of Castor. The lower register of his borrowed form made the sound all the hotter. "Is that your, like, your cock in your pocket? Or are you, like, just happy to see me?"

Pollux had to grab Castor by the shoulder for balance. He felt as if all the blood in his body had rushed to his cock. "You’re so fucking dumb. That’s not even how that’s supposed to go."

Castor giggled. "Oh, I’m like, so airheaded," he mumbled. He inched his feet further apart and bucked his hips, backing his ass onto and shaking his ample cheeks against Pollux’s rock-hard cock.

"That’s right," said Pollux. He moved the hand that was on Castor’s shoulder to Castor’s waist. He reached up and rapped his knuckles against the back of Castor’s head. "Nothing going on in here," he said.

Castor guffawed. "Head’s like, so empty!" he said.

Pollux lined himself up. Castor was ready for him, wet and slicked for his cock—like always. He slid inside with ease, groaning as the velvety heat of Castor’s tight fuckhole gripped his length.

"Fuuuck. Patrick! Bro. Your dick, like, feels so good," Castor breathed. He gyrated his hips, grinding back against Pollux’s cock. "Fuuck, Bro your fat dong’s splitting me open, bro. It feels so good. Wanna, like, get married?"

Pollux had to bite back a laugh. He pressed his body against Castor’s, his own frame considerably smaller than the broad-shouldered hunk that was Castor’s. "We’re already married, dumbass," he growled under his breath.

"Woah!" Castor’s eyes widened. Whether that was from Pollux’s hips starting to move or some form of profoundly idiotic epiphany remained to be seen.

"Fuuuck, bro! Does that mean I get to, like, have your fat hog every day?!" Castor blurted out, his hole clenching around Pollux’s cock.

It had clearly been the latter.

Pollux chuckled. He moved one hand up from Castor’s hips and used it to palm and knead one of the firm pecs of the borrowed form. "That’s right. You’re my husband. That means I get to use this fat ass whenever I want."

"Aw, fuck, bro!" Castor moaned, tossing his head back as he rocked against Pollux’s thrusts. "That’s, like, so fucking awesome, bro! I’m, like, always so horny for cock!"

"Heh. That much was obvious from the start," said Pollux. He squeezed Castor’s chest, fingers digging into the meat of that firm pectoral before finding a nipple to tease and tweak.

He moved his other hand up to Castor’s chest as well and eased up on his thrusting. "Big strong man. Acting so reserved and dignified." He played with both nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers as they hardened at his touch. "Hiding the truth that all you really are is a desperate little slut."

Castor moved his hands further up the tree for leverage and once Pollux had stopped thrusting, he took matters into his own hands. "Fuck, bro, you’re, like, so right!" he moaned as he arched his back and moved his hips, fucking himself on Pollux’s cock when Pollux wouldn’t do it for him. "Like, I love cock so much! I’m like, the biggest slut for fat, juicy man meat ever!"

Pollux yanked hard on Castor’s nipples, drawing a desperate little cry from those lips. "Fuck. Look at that. Such a big strong body. You could be pounding smaller men into the ground but you can’t even stop fucking yourself on my cock like a cheap fucking whore," he growled under his breath.

"Oh, fuck, bro, it’s like, so good," Castor groaned in that low, dull voice of his borrowed form, sounding utterly devoid of any intelligence whatsoever. "Y-you should, like, try your cock sometimes, bro! Like, it’s so good. Like, I can’t get enough of it, bro!"

Pollux relented on Castor’s nipples and moved his hands back down to the big lug’s hips. "Yeah?" he said, fingers digging into the firm musculature as he returned to his earlier rhythm. "You feel that cock?" he said.

Castor moaned and nodded. "Yeah, bro! Like, it feels so good!"

"You want this cock?"

"Fuck. Bro. Like, if I could have your cock inside me all day I would!" Castor mewled.

"Yeah?" Sweat beaded on Pollux’s brow. "You want more?"

Castor bucked his hips in answer. "Fuck yeah, bro!"

Pollux picked up his pace. "Faster?" he said.

Castor nodded. "Please, bro! More! Like, give me all you’ve got, bro! I need it!"

"Yeah, dumbass?" said Pollux, drawing all but the head of his cock out of Castor’s heat before snapping his hips forward and slamming the bigger man against the trunk of the tree. "You want me to ram your tight fucking cunt harder, you braindead fuckslut?"

"Fuck, bro! More!"

"Fuck. There really isn’t anything in that thick skull but sex, is there?" Pollux growled, putting more and more force into every pump of his hips. "You want me to destroy your muscle pussy, don’t you? You want me to fuck you right through this fucking tree, huh?"

"Aw, fuck, bro! You can really do that?" Castor panted. "Oh, bro, like, that would be so fucking hot!"

Pollux laughed scornfully. He loved how oblivious Castor was to mistreatment when he got like this. "No, you fucking dimwit! I can’t actually fuck you through a tree!" he growled.

Hearing every dumbass, unfiltered thought that spilled from Castor’s lips when he was in this sort of state was a turn-on beyond description. It gave Pollux more energy, the strength to keep fucking away at Castor’s sweet ass.

"So much brainpower in that stupid head and you’d rather throw it away and be a piece of fuckmeat," Pollux snarled, reaching around to the front of Castor to grope the straining cage. "Tall. Smart. Handsome. Hot as sin. You could have had dozens of bitches hanging off of your arms and taking care of your needs."

"Like, fuck bitches, bro!" Castor moaned. He was bucking his hips against Pollux, meeting every vicious thrust with eager gusto. "Like, your cock is so fucking good, I’d rather have your cock!"

"Fucking dumbass," Pollux laughed. "I guess cock-whores like you can’t be helped. Can you even count to ten, cock-for-brains, huh?"

"Bro! A-are you even serious?" Castor moaned. "Like, of course, I can. O-one… N-nine… T-three… S-seven…!"

Pollux could scarcely hold back when he saw the look of utter concentration on Castor’s face. All that effort and still so, so wrong. "Fuck!" he moaned. "How are you even CFO?"

"Bro, wait!" said Castor. He pushed off of the tree and looked over his shoulder at Pollux with wild eyes. "I’m a CFO?"

Pollux stopped for a moment. Castor had never asked him to stop before. "Yeah, dumbass. You are," he said, a little curious about where this was going.

"Bro," said Castor, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Bro! Does that mean that I’m like, an alien?! Like, bro! Do you even know what this means? I have a spaceship!"

Pollux shivered. His cock jumped. He reached up, grabbed Castor by the back of the head, and pushed him back up against the tree. "Gods," he muttered under his breath as he fucked Castor with renewed vigor. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything stupider."

"O-okay, bro!" Castor moaned. "W-we can go to my spaceship a-after you breed me."

"Gods!" Pollux moaned. He didn’t even care who heard him at this point. "No, you fuckwit! You’re not an alien! CFO means you’re in charge of the money!"

"S-so does that mean… Like… I don’t have a spaceship, bro?" Castor whined.

"Just shut the fuck up and take my cock," Pollux snarled. Any more and he didn’t think he’d be able to hold back.

He put every ounce of strength that he had left into fucking Castor’s ass. The air filled with the plap, plap, plap of skin slapping against skin, getting louder with every impact.

"Fuck yeah. Take my cock, you stupid himbo," Pollux grunted as sweat dripped off of him onto Castor’s back. "Feel that fat hog pounding your brains to mush. Not that there’s much left in there."

He was close. So close. And he didn’t think he could hold back anymore.

"F-fuck, bro! I-I’m coming from my ass!" Castor moaned.

Pollux gritted his teeth, giving Castor a few more ragged thrusts as he felt his lover’s walls fluttering around his length. With a roar, he slammed his cock home one last time and came harder than he had in a little while.

As shot after shot of hot cum painted Castor’s insides white, his caged nub throbbed and leaked a weak dribble of cum as his whole body spasmed and shook around Pollux’s cock.

"Good fucking jockboy," Pollux grunted as he ground his hips against Castor’s ass, churning around his cum inside the slut. "Very good fucking jockboy."

---

"No!" Godspark said in the most decrepit tone of voice that he could manage. He hunched his shoulders forward, imitating the way that he imagined a withered crone might stand.

Lightning crackled across his skin as he allowed the current to flow through him. He opened his eyes. They were incandescent with power. In that same voice from before, as papery and ancient as he could muster, he declared, "I am the senate!"

Splaying his fingers out in front of him, he released the lightning that he had been building up for the last minute or so. Searing white-hot arcs of crackling electricity leaped from his fingertips and struck the dummies in the back of the room.

Sparks flew and lights sputtered. The number on the screen to the side climbed and flashed to indicate a new personal best.

Godspark straightened up and rolled his shoulders. He was really rather proud of himself, though he quickly deflated, cheeks taking on a strong tinge of pink when he heard applause from behind him.

"Well done, my little thundercloud." It was Marcus but he was dressed in his Imperious uniform. Just the sight of it was enough for Godspark to strain in his cage. "It seems Godspark is coming into his own."

Godspark sheepishly scratched his cheek. "I-I was just doing some practice, Master," he said.

"And with admirable results too, I must say," said Imperious. A little smirk played on his lips as he walked up to Godspark.

Imperious wrapped an arm around Godspark’s waist. His hand found its way to a round, firm ass cheek, palming it through the fabric of the Godspark suit, while the other groped the filigree cage that was between Godspark’s legs.

He leaned in, his bright blue eyes glinting with mischief. The heat of his breath ghosted across the skin on the side of Godspark’s face.

Godspark tensed with anticipation when Imperious took a breath. He hung on to every moment, waiting to hear what his Master would say.

"Your decrepit evil star emperor voice could use work, however," said Imperious as he nipped at Godspark’s ear.

Godspark turned red.

"Master!"

---

A man sat cross-legged in the lotus position in the middle of a room. It would have been unremarkable if not for the fact that he was hovering a good foot off of the surface of the raised dais that he was on.

His body shed a soft and gentle light that illuminated the chamber. Behind his head was a halo of golden light that formed eight concentric rings and sharp, geometric rays. The rings each played host to solid circles of gold of varying sizes that were affixed to them.

The rings and rays of the halo slowly rotated independently of one another. It was as if they were modeling the solar system, with the man’s head being the sun.

Hovering a few inches over the man’s lap was a book. The leather cover with its gold fittings and intricate decoration looked indescribably ancient—and so too did the vellum pages that each seemed to emit their own soft radiance.

"Knock." Said the man.

There was a knock.

"Knock."

There was another.

"Knock."

And one more.

Without opening his eyes, the man continued to speak. "The guest cleared his throat—" The faint sound of a cough filtered into the room. "—and once he’d mustered the courage to speak, declared the reason for his visit."

"Bathala. I have come to make a report."

"At the end of the hallway the man stood in appeared a door where once there had not been a door. Its frame etched itself into the metal, rendered so perfectly that it seemed almost impossible that only moments ago there had not been a door."

And it was so.

"The man pushed the door open but waited just before the threshold. The walls, ceiling, and floor of the chamber beyond stirred. They undulated and groaned, fluids dripping from the creases and orifices in the flesh. Fresh meat had arrived and the Chorus was hungry."

And it was so.

"The guest knew better than to step past the threshold undefended. And so he waited. It did not take long for his patience to be rewarded. A metal bridge extended from the dais to the door, just wide enough for a single man to cross. As long as he was careful not to fall, he would be safe from the hunger of the Chorus."

And it was so.

"The man’s multicolored loincloth swayed with every step he took across the bridge. And though he knew it to be solid, he felt as if it were rocking under his feet. He stopped halfway, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart, the terror that gripped him only subsiding once he had stepped onto the dais."

And it was so.

"The man knelt before Him and mustered the strength to speak. He had a report to give. When he had gathered his thoughts, he lowered his head and looked at the ground. He was not worthy to raise his eyes to Him, his Lord. He spoke."

Hari shuddered. Absolute obedience in the face of absolute power. "Bathala, we still do not have the votes."

The man in the middle of the room—Bathala—spoke. His voice reverberated from the walls, laden with power. "Though His visage remained perfectly serene, the room shook with His displeasure. Hari trembled in fear. The terror that gripped him was rightfully deserved. The news he had delivered was not the news that He had wanted to hear."

"As he reflected on his shortcomings, Hari came to know in his heart what he needed to do. He needed to ensure a positive outcome for the vote by any means necessary. He also knew the fate that awaited him should another failure come to pass."

"Cowed and humbled in the presence of the Divine, Hari crawled on his hands and knees back across the bridge. Fear and awe churned in his stomach, and alongside them, the utter bliss of having been in the presence of the Divine."

"Arousal was the instinctive response of the mortal when faced with the absolute of the Divine. Hari ached with need as he crossed the bridge. He stopped halfway, scrabbling in vain for grip on the bridge’s metal as searing pleasure scorched him from the inside."

"Hari’s many-colored loincloth tented as his manhood pulsed and throbbed. His arms and legs trembled, threatening to give way. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through his body, building inside him until, at last, release."

"Hari came. His eyes rolled back into his head. His toes curled from pleasure. His arms and legs gave from under him and despite his best efforts, he could not stop himself as he tipped over to the side."

"The pleasure of a mind-numbing orgasm mingled with the terror of becoming one with the Chorus as the single moment of freefall smeared into eternity. At the very last moment, just before he passed the point of no return, Hari regained his strength and his bearings and wrenched himself back onto the bridge."

"Terrified, Hari hurried out of the chamber. The door closed with a deafening crash behind him. The bridge faded into nothing. The walls, ceiling, and floor of the chamber writhed and trembled for only a moment longer before once more returning to stillness."

And it was so.