Steam still clung to Dionysus's skin as he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel hanging low on his hips.
The hotel suite was a blend of mortal luxury, crisp linen sheets, velvet curtains, and a sprawling marble bathtub that had managed, for a brief moment, to soften his perpetual scowl.
The bath had been… pleasant. Not quite divine, but the heated water had teased the tension from his muscles, leaving him in a rare, almost languid mood.
He stood there, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet, his golden hair slightly damp and curling at the ends, his chest still glistening with the faint sheen of water droplets.
The room was quiet, until a sharp knock echoed from the door.
Dionysus's gaze drifted lazily toward the sound. With an almost careless flick of his wrist, he unlocked the door and pulled it open without a second thought.
Then his heart did an unexpected somersault.
The woman standing in the doorway was… breathtaking.
Thick in all the right places, her curves poured into a dangerously tight dress the color of deep burgundy wine.
The satin fabric clung to her full hips and generous breasts, the plunging neckline leaving little to the imagination.
Her skin was warm-toned, glowing under the soft hallway lights, and her lips, gods, those lips, were painted a sinful red.
For the first time since descending to the mortal realm, Dionysus felt a twinge of something uncomfortably close to desire.
A mortal, one not of his choosing, not plucked by the gods for his mission, yet she stirred something primal within him.
She leaned against the doorframe, one hand playing idly with the delicate strap of her dress. "I heard," she purred, her voice smooth as silk, "that we had a very special guest staying in the penthouse tonight."
Dionysus arched a brow, his lips parting slightly, his tongue flicking out to wet them. "Is that so?"
Her gaze slid over him, his bare chest, the taut muscles of his abdomen, the towel riding dangerously low on his hips, and a playful smile curved her lips. "It would be… unprofessional of me not to check in. Make sure you're well taken care of."
His heart gave another traitorous thud. This wasn't divine magic, no spell or enchantment, this was simply human lust.
Raw and simple. His eyes darkened, the god of pleasure awakening like a sleeping beast beneath his skin.
"Is that part of your duties as a hotel attendant?" Dionysus mused, his voice a low purr.
She stepped inside without invitation, the door clicking shut behind her. "It's part of my personal service," she whispered, trailing a manicured finger down his chest. "For guests who… inspire me."
Her touch was like a spark against his skin, mortal but maddening. Dionysus didn't stop her, didn't want to. He was already falling, the familiar haze of pleasure beginning to coil through his veins.
Their lips met.
It started slow, like a match held to dry kindling, before it ignited into something wilder.
Her hands roamed his chest, nails scraping lightly down his sides, and his fingers found the curve of her hip, pulling her closer until there wasn't an inch of space between them.
He kissed her deeply, a low growl rumbling in his throat, tasting the wine on her lips and the faint sweetness of whatever mortal perfume she wore.
She moaned softly into his mouth, her hand slipping down to tug at the edge of his towel. It loosened, just a little, but enough for him to feel the cool air graze his skin.
His head spun, his instincts flaring to life. He wanted her.
He needed,
DING!
The sound echoed through the room, jarring and mechanical.
[Warning.] The system's voice chimed, emotionless yet somehow managing to sound both stern and amused. [Engaging in intercourse with an unapproved mortal will result in a penalty. Minus 20 points.]
Dionysus froze. His lips hovered against the woman's, his body already pulsing with need, only for the words to sink like a stone in his stomach.
This isn't intercourse, Dionysus thought.
[Intimacy. Minus 20 points.]
The woman, oblivious to the sudden tension, kissed along his jawline, her fingers dangerously close to unwrapping his towel. "What's wrong?" she whispered, trailing her lips down his neck.
[Proceeding will result in an immediate deduction.] The system repeated.
His jaw clenched.
She pressed herself against him again, and for a brief, maddening moment, Dionysus considered ignoring the warning.
He was a god, after all, the god of pleasure. Rules were mere suggestions.
But then he heard it again, [Minus 20 points.] the system bellowed.
His competition. The leaderboard.
If he fell now, if he indulged in a mortal who wasn't chosen by the gods, he would be starting this mission in the negative. He couldn't afford that. He had to win.
"Fuck," Dionysus growled, his voice rougher than intended.
The woman blinked, startled by his sudden shift in mood. "What?"
He stepped back, his hand tightening around his towel as if it were the only thing grounding him. "You need to leave."
Her mouth fell open in shock. "What?"
"Go." His voice was cold now, the heat from moments ago replaced with a sharp, biting edge. "Now."
She gawked at him, completely bewildered. "But I thought, "
"You thought wrong," he snapped, though the sting of his own denial throbbed deeper than he'd expected.
The woman huffed, her face a mix of embarrassment and frustration, but she adjusted her dress, flipping her hair over one shoulder. "Your loss," she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.
Dionysus didn't reply. He simply watched as she stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her.
The silence that followed was deafening.
He stood there for a moment, his chest heaving, his body still aching with unfulfilled desire.
Finally, the system's voice broke the quiet. [Smart choice, Lord Dionysus. Though I must say, you did seem… very close to failure.]
Dionysus raked a hand through his damp hair, his jaw tight. "Shut up."
[Well be careful, my lord. Else you might be losing your legendary self-control.]
Dionysus didn't respond. He simply stared at the door, the one that separated him from the mortal woman he almost ruined everything for, and cursed under his breath.
He was a god. He would win this.
Even if it killed him.
With a darkened gaze, Dionysus started.
The night air was thick, the desert sands outside whispering against the blackened windows of his car like a thousand needy voices.
The leather seat beneath him creaked faintly as he shifted, restless, burning.
He dragged a hand down his bare chest, breathing hard, fighting the ache that gnawed at him.
The pressure in his blood, in his bones, was unbearable.
He needed.
God of Pleasure.
And yet here he sat — untouched, unfulfilled — because the first mortal he was meant to ravish had not come.
And the rules were very clear.
His hand wandered lower, skimming along the taut muscles of his abdomen. His head tipped back against the seat, a low, guttural growl rumbling from his throat.
[System Alert: WARNING.]
A bright, cheery chime echoed in his skull.
He cursed under his breath.
[Pleasuring yourself will result in a deduction of 10 points.]
[Current Score: 0 Points.]
[Future Score (If you proceed): -10 Points.]
Dionysus growled louder, fingers twitching, almost trembling with need.
The rules.
He clenched his fists, veins pulsing against the golden cuffs still glinting at his wrists.
"Fucking ridiculous," he muttered.
He squeezed his thighs together, trying to will the heat away, but it only made the ache sharper, hotter.
[System Note: You have not had any sexual encounters for 24 hours.]
[Side Effects: Heightened frustration, reduced patience, impaired judgment.]
He slammed his palm against the dashboard, the glass shivering.
"I KNOW!" he roared into the empty night.
Silence.
Then — a sly little voice in his mind:
[You could always just touch yourself a little…]
[Surely a god deserves a tiny indulgence.]
Dionysus glared at the ceiling, furious and aroused in equal measure.
His body throbbed.
His hips rolled involuntarily.
His hand crept lower again — traitorous, desperate.
Another warning flared in his mind:
[Proceeding… Loss of 10 Points. Embarrassing Record Logged.]
"Gods damn it," Dionysus hissed.
He wrestled with himself for another long, miserable minute, beads of sweat glistening on his skin.
Every pulse of desire was like a drumbeat, urging him closer and closer to the edge.
In the end, he yanked his hand back with a growl, fisted it into his own hair, and pressed his forehead to his knees.
"I will not lose points over this," he snarled.
He curled up on the seat, his entire body buzzing with frustrated need.
The system gave a smug little ping:
[Good boy.]
Dionysus groaned miserably into his arms.
Sleep crept up on him like a thief — the exhaustion of fighting his own nature finally dragging him under.
He dreamed of warm hands, whispered moans, the taste of pleasure on his tongue…
But as he slept, his body was still burning, still aching, and his first mortal had still not arrived.