Chapter 41 Pregnancy
“What did you make?” Venus asked absentmindedly, not noticing the shift in Hephaestus’ expression.
“……Dinner,” Hephaestus replied, lowering his gaze. The smile in his eyes vanished. “Let’s eat first. If we don’t, it’ll get cold.”
Gods didn’t need food to survive, but the gods of the Greek pantheon were driven by human desires. Unlike the Eastern gods, who were devoid of such cravings, the Greek gods had a strong love for food. On Mount Olympus, many servants were skilled in cooking.
Venus could already smell the enticing aroma of the food from a distance. As he approached the table, he saw an entire table filled with dishes. There was fish, meat, and an array of other delicacies, some of which he had never seen before. Each dish was visually stunning, and the fragrance alone made it impossible not to drool.
Having just expended considerable energy, Venus was indeed quite hungry. He eagerly sat down and picked up a fork. Spearing a piece of fish, he took a bite and his eyes lit up with delight.
“This tastes amazing! Hephaestus, did you make this?” Venus asked, his tone full of surprise.
Hephaestus answered softly, “Yes.”
Venus was known for being picky with food. While the servants on Mount Olympus could cook, their menu was limited, and after hundreds of years, he had grown tired of it. Hephaestus had specifically sought out Hestia, the Goddess of the Hearth, to learn the art of cooking. As the God of Fire, he had a remarkable talent for controlling heat and a natural gift for cooking.
Although cooking was not his divine duty, he had learned this skill entirely for Venus.
Hephaestus had spent the entire afternoon preparing this meal, eagerly waiting for Venus to return so they could eat together. But as time passed, Venus had not shown up. Hephaestus reheated the food once, then went outside to search several times, but still couldn’t find Venus.
Now it seemed…… he was probably in some god’s bed.
“Hephaestus, why aren’t you eating?” Venus asked after taking a few bites and noticing that Hephaestus hadn’t picked up his knife and fork.
Hephaestus smiled faintly. “I’ve already eaten.”
He had no appetite.
“Oh.” Venus thought about it for a moment. Given how late it was, Hephaestus probably had already eaten.
“Hephaestus, you seem to be able to do everything. You can make so many new things, you know Chinese, and you can cook such delicious food.” Venus said, then immediately realized the words sounded familiar.
He had once praised Adonis in a similar way. Adonis could hunt, weave wreaths, and tell stories from all over the world. Venus had thought him equally capable.
Never mind. Both Adonis and Hephaestus were remarkable in their own ways.
Hephaestus just listened, not in the mood to respond.
He had anticipated this day, but he hadn’t expected it to come so soon. When it finally arrived, all the mental preparations he had made were useless.
All he felt was an aching pain in his chest.
But Hephaestus was always silent. No matter how uncomfortable he felt, he never showed it.
Venus babbled on and on. Hephaestus quietly listened, his gaze repeatedly drifting, uncontrollably, to the young man’s neck, where a hickey was clearly visible.
There were, it seemed, things more blinding than fire.
“Hephaestus, are you even listening to me? You look like you’re zoning out,” Venus waved his hand in front of him.
Hephaestus snapped out of his daze and shifted his gaze. “I’m listening.”
“Alright, looks like you were just too focused. I thought you were spacing out…… cough, cough, cough!” Venus suddenly erupted into a fit of coughing, clutching his throat in pain.
He had been talking and eating fish at the same time, and a fishbone had lodged in his throat.
Hephaestus immediately stood up, poured a glass of water, and helped him drink it, while his other hand gently patted Venus on the back. His red eyes lowered, and, in a fleeting moment, he noticed more of those ambiguous marks on the young man’s body peeking out from his loose collar.
His hand faltered, and he stopped patting his back.
“Cough, cough! It’s fine now,” Venus managed, recovering after drinking the water. “Thank you, Hephaestus.”
Hephaestus composed himself and returned to his seat. “Next time, don’t talk while eating.”
Venus pouted, feeling aggrieved. “I couldn’t help it.”
Hephaestus’ voice, usually gentle, was unusually sharp. “Then don’t eat fish.”
Venus’s eyes widened. “Then that’s even more impossible!”
“……I’ll help you with it just this once. After that, you’ll have to do it yourself.” Hephaestus raised his hand and carefully removed the fishbone for Venus.
Having married the most pampered god on Mount Olympus, Hephaestus found himself with little choice but to indulge him.
Venus thought to himself, it wasn’t that bad, really. He wasn’t that delicate.
However, later on, Venus realized that the dishes Hephaestus served him were always prepped without any bones. Everything had already been taken care of.
After finishing dinner, Venus took a short walk around the garden before heading back to the bedroom to get ready for bed.
Hephaestus followed him inside.
After Venus had moved in, the largest and most comfortable master bedroom had been given to him. This was the first time Hephaestus entered the master bedroom without Venus inviting him.
“Hephaestus, are you coming to sleep here too?” Venus asked casually, his tone completely natural.
Hephaestus asked in return, “Do you want me to?”
Venus let out a small “Ah” sound. “I’m fine with whatever.”
Yes, he was an optional existence.
Anyone could replace him.
Hephaestus lowered his eyes with a bitter smile and said softly, “Then let’s do it together.”
The marks on Venus’ skin made him feel jealous.
Hephaestus found himself wanting to cross a line.
Venus: “Alright, I’ll change into my pajamas first.”
Without hesitation, he began undressing in front of Hephaestus, preparing to put on his sleepwear.
His pale skin was covered in shocking bruises and red marks. Hephaestus’ crimson eyes instantly darkened.
“Hephaestus?” Venus tilted his head. “Give me my pajamas.”
Hephaestus calmly threw the pajamas onto the distant sofa.
Venus: “……”
Venus blinked. “Alright then, do you want to? Come on.”
Venus had already spent time with Hermes today, but Hermes, still inexperienced, had not been able to meet his expectations. Despite his efforts, it had not been a pleasant experience.
Hephaestus, on the other hand, always made sure to be gentle, prioritizing his comfort. No matter what, Hephaestus made sure their time together was enjoyable.
It was really impossible to have both the fish and the bear’s paw.
The only one who had both strength and skill to perfection had been that night with Ares, though that had been a fleeting experience.
Unfortunately, the God of War’s scent had deteriorated, and Venus found himself repulsed. He would never turn to Ares to satisfy his desires again.
Hephaestus sat down on the bed, and Venus willingly nestled into his arms. The God of Fire’s calloused fingers, hardened from years of forging, gently traced the delicate skin of Venus’ body, stopping over one of the bruises.
“Who did this?” Hephaestus asked softly.
“Hermes,” Venus replied.
For Venus, matters of desire were commonplace. He didn’t feel the need to report these things to Hephaestus, but if Hephaestus asked, he wouldn’t hide the truth.
“Does it hurt?” Hephaestus asked, his gaze filled with a mix of uncontrollable anger and unmasked tenderness as he looked at the bruises.
The treasure that he had always been careful not to break was so ravaged by other gods.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Venus answered honestly. Any pain he might have felt quickly transformed into pleasure. This was the nature of the God of Pleasure. He was born for pleasure, an embodiment of sin and longing.
If he were to be claimed by a scumbag god who knew no tenderness, the body of the God of Love and Pleasure would be all too suited for abuse, which would only make his beauty bloom even more vividly. But Venus felt no real pain. He only sensed the thrill.
So ordinary dishes were difficult to satisfy his appetite. He was very into heavy flavors.
“But Hermes didn’t make me feel comfortable at all,” Venus complained. “You’re much better.”
“Then, don’t seek him out anymore, okay?” Hephaestus’ voice carried a hint of pleading.
“Sure,” Venus responded readily then followed up with, “Next time, I think I’ll try Dionysus. I’ve heard he has quite a bit of experience, so he shouldn’t be as lacking as Hermes. I wonder when he’s free. I’ll go to his temple tomorrow—”
Hephaestus lowered his head and sealed Venus’ lips with his own.
The red-haired youth’s voice, low and husky, contained a hint of restraint. “I’m sorry, Venus, but I don’t think you’ll be getting out of bed tomorrow.”
The consequences of pushing a quiet god too far were not to be underestimated.
Venus lost track of how many times it happened, but in the end, all the marks left by Hermes were replaced by those of Hephaestus.
The God of Fire was as fiery as flames. His inherent quiet nature, shaped by circumstances, had turned him into a dormant volcano. But Venus had awakened him, and he personally made him erupt.
Hephaestus seemed to be upset, but his temper never showed toward Venus. Instead, he always took everything out on himself.
This side of Hephaestus felt unfamiliar to Venus.
But Venus only felt…… exhilarated.
Hephaestus’ cooking had improved so much!
Please, continue, don’t stop. This version of Hephaestus was exactly what he needed!
However, for some reason, after it was over, when Hephaestus saw the marks left on Venus’ body, he suddenly covered his eyes and started crying.
His tears were silent, as was typical of the God of Fire’s restraint. All of his loss of control was always because of Venus.
Venus asked, “Hephaestus, why are you crying?”
Hephaestus replied, “Venus, I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Venus asked in confusion. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
Later, Venus realized that Hephaestus’ apology was preemptive. He wasn’t apologizing for something that had already happened, but rather for something he knew he was about to do.
After living in a daze for a month, Venus finally came to the realization that he had been trapped by Hephaestus.
Previously, Venus had been content to stay in bed, too lazy to get up, but after a while, he began to tire of it. Even the best food, if eaten too often, started to lose its appeal. Plus, staying cooped up indoors had become terribly boring.
Then he realized he couldn’t leave.
Hephaestus, skilled in the art of mechanisms, had locked the door and even set up a formation, which was said to be based on the “Mysterious Gates Escape Technique” created by the Eastern goddess, the Mysterious Lady of the Nine Heavens. In any case, with Venus’ IQ, there was no hope of him ever figuring it out.
All of the toys Hephaestus had crafted were placed in Venus’ room, and every day, Hephaestus would prepare a different delicious meal for him. In many ways, Venus was living a true godly life.
Except that he couldn’t leave the temple of Hephaestus.
Venus protested, but Hephaestus simply said, “I’m sorry.”
But he didn’t let him out.
He was sorry he had fallen into greed, desires, envy, and obsession.
He thought about trying to change things, to see if he could find a way to make the God of Love and Pleasure stay.
What if he could force it?
If he didn’t at least try, he wouldn’t be satisfied.
No matter how much Venus pouted, pretended to be pitiful, or used his used beauty tricks and self-inflicted injuries, Hephaestus hardened his heart and remained unmoved.
Venus was so angry that he cursed him, but he endured it without saying a word. Venus said that he would ignore him for the rest of his life, and he did not respond.
However, when lust struck, before Hephaestus could take the initiative to show weakness, Venus would enthusiastically come up to kiss him. After their intimacy, he would continue to ignore him.
Love, hate, likes, and dislikes really did not prevent Venus from sleeping with anyone.
Hephaestus believed that love and desire were one and the same. He loved Venus, so he desired him. However, Venus separated them very clearly, so clear that it was cruel.
Hephaestus was almost helpless against him
One day, Venus suddenly clutched his stomach, his expression painful. “Hephaestus, I hurt—”
Hephaestus did not react. He had seen Venus play too many tricks to escape.
The next second, Venus fainted directly. Hephaestus’ face changed, and he carried him to the bed, his eyes flustered.
Venus opened his eyes and saw a handsome, golden-haired youth gazing at him.
“Congratulations,” Apollo said, “You’re going to be a father.”
Apollo felt a bit speechless. As the God of Medicine, it was true that he often tended to the gods on Mount Olympus. But Hephaestus had urgently called him only to discover that the beautiful god he admired for a long time was pregnant.
It was a bit bittersweet.
However, he only congratulated Venus, not Hephaestus.
After all……
He couldn’t help but remember that day when he drove his sun chariot across the sky. From above, he had seen Venus and Ares kissing as they walked into the palace.
Who the other father of the child was was still uncertain.
Author’s Note: A no-prize quiz: who is Cupid’s dad?
1. Poseidon
2. Hephaestus
ps: This story was written with complete spontaneity. Even the cp was decided by rolling dice. For many plot directions, I would think of multiple possibilities and then roll the dice to decide which one to write. Even Cupid’s father wasn’t my decision. The dice determined it. This story follows fate. His destiny is in the hands of the heavens, not mine. (The options were all based on what could logically develop in the later plot, so Hermes isn’t included.)
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