Chapter 24: Complete Surrender

As Nico stood before him, tall and imposing, Percy felt a shudder run through his entire body. The alpha pheromones radiating from Nico were unlike anything he had ever experienced before—more potent, more overwhelming than they had been even after Nico had first stolen his divine essence. With Hades' blessing and power added to what had once been Percy's own strength, Nico had become something beyond a mere demigod.

Percy's body responded without his conscious control. Heat flooded through him, pooling in his lower belly and spreading outward in waves that made his skin flush and his breathing quicken. His knees felt weak, threatening to buckle beneath him. The small of his back tingled with an unfamiliar sensation, a warmth that seemed to spread down between his legs.

"I can smell how much you want me," Nico said, his voice a low rumble that sent another shiver through Percy's body. "Your scent has changed completely since I took your power. Do you know that? You smell like submission now. Like need."

Percy's face burned with shame, but he couldn't deny it. His body was betraying him in ways he couldn't control, responding to Nico's presence as though it had been designed specifically for that purpose. And perhaps it had been—reshaped by Nico's theft of his divine essence, reconfigured to serve a new master.

"Please," Percy whispered again, the word escaping his lips unbidden. "I need—"

"What do you need, Percy?" Nico asked, taking a step closer, crowding into Percy's personal space. The scent of him—earth and shadow, leather and musk—filled Percy's lungs, making his head spin. "Tell me exactly what you need."

Percy swallowed hard, his throat dry. The rational part of his mind, the part that still remembered being a hero, being respected, being powerful, screamed at him to run, to fight, to resist. But that voice was growing fainter by the second, drowned out by the primal, instinctual part of him that recognized and responded to the dominance before him.

"You," Percy admitted, his voice small and trembling. "I need you."

Nico's eyes darkened, the ring of shadow around his irises seeming to expand. He reached out, cupping Percy's face in one hand, his touch both gentle and possessive. "Good," he said softly. "That's a start. But I want you to be more specific."

Percy leaned into the touch, unable to help himself. Nico's hand was warm and strong, and the contact sent sparks of pleasure through his skin. "I don't know what you want me to say," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Nico's grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to remind Percy of the strength in those fingers. "Yes, you do," he said, his voice firmer now. "You know exactly what you want. You just need to admit it. To yourself and to me."

Percy's breath caught in his throat. The words were there, hovering at the edge of his consciousness, but to speak them aloud would be to cross a line he had never imagined crossing. To speak them would be to surrender the last shred of his identity, the final piece of the hero he had once been.

But as Nico's thumb stroked across his cheekbone, as those blue eyes with their shadow rings bored into his, Percy found he couldn't resist. The words tumbled from his lips, each one a nail in the coffin of his former self.

"I need you to dominate me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To take me. To use me. To make me completely yours."

Nico's lips curved into a smile that was both beautiful and terrible. "There it is," he said softly. "The truth, at last."

Without warning, his hand dropped from Percy's face to his shoulder, then lower, fingers curling around Percy's upper arm. With a swift, powerful movement, he spun Percy around and pushed him toward the bed. Percy stumbled, off-balance, his weakened body no match for Nico's strength. He landed face-first on the mattress, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Before he could recover, he felt Nico's weight pressing down on him from behind, strong hands gripping his wrists and pinning them above his head. Nico's breath was hot against his ear, his voice a low, seductive purr.

"Tell me again," Nico demanded. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Percy turned his face to the side, struggling to breathe with Nico's weight on his back. "Dominate me," he gasped. "Take me. Use me. Make me yours."

Nico chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down Percy's spine. "Good boy," he murmured. "You're learning."

He released one of Percy's wrists, keeping the other firmly pinned, and trailed his free hand down Percy's side, over the curve of his hip, along his thigh. Percy trembled beneath the touch, his body responding with an eagerness that both thrilled and terrified him.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you now?" Nico asked conversationally, his hand continuing its leisurely exploration of Percy's body. "I see something precious. Something fragile. Something that belongs to me completely."

Percy's breath hitched as Nico's hand slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, warm fingers tracing patterns on the small of his back. "Yes," he whispered. "Yours."

Nico's hand stilled for a moment. Then, without warning, he gripped Percy's shirt and tore it away, the fabric giving easily under his strength. Percy gasped at the sudden exposure, the cool air of the cabin raising goosebumps on his skin.

"Beautiful," Nico murmured, tracing a finger down Percy's spine. "So delicate now. So different from what you were."

There was something in his tone—a note of contempt, perhaps, or disappointment—that cut through the haze of desire clouding Percy's mind. He tensed, trying to look back over his shoulder at Nico's face.

"Do you... do you hate what I've become?" he asked, voice small and uncertain.

Nico was silent for a long moment, his hand still resting on the small of Percy's back. When he spoke, his voice was thoughtful, almost distant.

"Hate is a strong word," he said. "Let's say I've discovered that what I wanted and what I now have are not the same thing."

Before Percy could process this statement, Nico moved suddenly, flipping him onto his back. Percy found himself staring up at Nico, who loomed over him, powerful and imposing in the dim light of the cabin. The contrast between them couldn't have been more stark—Nico, tall and muscular, radiating strength and dominance; Percy, small and weak, trembling with a mixture of fear and desire.

"Kneel," Nico commanded suddenly, standing and taking a step back from the bed.

Percy blinked, momentarily confused. "What?"

Nico's expression hardened. "I said kneel. On the floor. Before me."

The authority in his voice brooked no argument. Percy scrambled off the bed, his movements awkward and ungraceful in his weakened state. He slid to the floor, where he sat back on his heels, looking up at Nico uncertainly.

"Is this...?"

"Proper position," Nico instructed, his voice cold. "Back straight. Hands on your thighs, palms up. Eyes down."

Percy hurried to comply, straightening his back and placing his hands as instructed. He lowered his eyes, staring at the floor between Nico's feet. His heart was racing, a mixture of emotions swirling through him—embarrassment, shame, fear, and beneath it all, a deep, aching need to please.

"Good," Nico said, his voice softening slightly. "This is where you belong now, Percy Jackson. At my feet. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Percy whispered.

"Yes what?" Nico prompted.

Percy hesitated, unsure what Nico wanted to hear. "Yes... sir?" he guessed.

Nico chuckled. "We'll work on that," he said. "But for now, yes, sir will do."

Percy remained kneeling, eyes downcast, as Nico moved around the cabin. He heard the sound of a drawer opening, then closing, footsteps moving away and then back. He resisted the urge to look up, to see what Nico was doing. Part of him—the part that still remembered being a hero, being respected—railed against this position, this subservience. But that voice was growing fainter by the moment, drowned out by the need to submit, to please, to be possessed.

He felt rather than saw Nico move to stand directly in front of him again. Then Nico's hand was in his hair, fingers tangling in the golden strands that had grown so much longer under Nico's influence. The touch was gentle at first, almost tender, as Nico stroked through his hair, arranging it around his shoulders.

Then, without warning, Nico's grip tightened, fisting in Percy's hair and pulling his head back, forcing him to look up. Percy gasped, both at the sudden pain and at the sight of Nico looming over him, his expression a mixture of desire and contempt.

"Your hair suits you like this," Nico said, giving the strands another tug. "Long, like a girl's. Beautiful, like the rest of you. The only thing about you that was never strong or powerful. The only thing I didn't have to change."

Percy winced at the pull on his scalp, but didn't try to pull away. "Thank you," he whispered, unsure if it was the right response but desperate to please.

Nico's lips curved in a cold smile. "You're welcome," he said. "I'm glad you appreciate the changes I've made to you. There are more to come."

Still holding Percy's hair tightly, Nico used his other hand to undo the button of his jeans, then the zipper. Percy's eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen, a flutter of panic momentarily breaking through the haze of submission.

"Nico, I—"

"Quiet," Nico commanded. "You wanted this, remember? You begged for it. 'Dominate me,' you said. 'Take me. Use me. Make me yours.' Those were your words, Percy. Are you going back on them now?"

Percy swallowed hard, his throat dry. "No," he whispered. "No, sir."

"Good," Nico said. "Because this is who you are now. This is where you belong. On your knees before me, serving me in whatever way I desire. Now, open your mouth."

Percy hesitated only a moment before complying, parting his lips. Nico guided him forward with the hand still fisted in his hair, using it like a leash to control his movements. Percy allowed himself to be moved, surrendering control completely.

As Nico used him, Percy's mind began to drift. This was really happening. He was on his knees before Nico di Angelo, being used for his pleasure, completely at his mercy. The great hero of Olympus, the savior of the world, reduced to this.

And yet, as shameful as it was, as degrading as it should have been, Percy found himself responding to it with an intensity that shocked him. His body, reconfigured by the loss of his divine essence, seemed to crave this submission, this use. The omega physiology that had replaced his former alpha nature reveled in being dominated, in serving, in pleasing.

Nico's grip on his hair tightened painfully as he approached his climax. "Look at me," he commanded. "I want to see your eyes when I finish."

Percy lifted his gaze, staring up at Nico through tear-blurred eyes. The expression on Nico's face was one of pure dominance, of triumph, of possession. But beneath it, Percy thought he saw something else—a flicker of disappointment, perhaps, or regret.

Then Nico was finishing, and Percy had no more time to analyze his expression. He swallowed obediently, not wanting to displease his new master. When Nico finally released his hair and stepped back, Percy remained on his knees, breathing hard, waiting for further instructions.

"Stand up," Nico ordered after a moment.

Percy rose to his feet, his legs shaky beneath him. He felt vulnerable, exposed, with his shirt torn away and his hair disheveled. But there was also a strange sense of rightness to it all, as though he had finally found his proper place in the world.

Nico examined him critically, his gaze traveling over Percy's diminished form. "Strip," he commanded. "Completely."

Percy hesitated only briefly before complying, removing what remained of his clothing with trembling hands. Standing naked before Nico, he fought the urge to cover himself, to hide his transformed body. The contrast between them was stark—Nico, still fully clothed, radiating power and dominance; Percy, naked and vulnerable, his once-powerful body now fragile and weak.

Nico circled him slowly, evaluating him from all angles. "How the mighty have fallen," he murmured, his voice a mixture of satisfaction and contempt. "The great Percy Jackson, hero of Olympus, now just a pretty toy for my amusement."

Percy flinched at the words, but couldn't deny their truth. That was exactly what he had become—a toy, a possession, something to be used and discarded at Nico's whim.

"Do you hate me?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

Nico paused in his circling, coming to stand directly in front of Percy. He reached out, cupping Percy's face in one hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Hate you?" he repeated. "No, Percy. I don't hate you. But I don't love you either—not the way I once did."

Percy leaned into the touch despite himself. "What do you mean?"

Nico's thumb stroked across Percy's cheekbone, a caress that was both tender and possessive. "I fell in love with the hero," he explained, his voice soft. "The powerful son of Poseidon who could shake the earth and command the sea. The unattainable, perfect specimen that everyone admired and wanted. But that person doesn't exist anymore, does he? I made sure of that."

Percy's heart clenched painfully. "I could... I could try to be strong again," he offered hesitantly. "If you helped me, if you gave back some of the power..."

Nico laughed, the sound cold and without humor. "Why would I do that?" he asked. "Why would I give up what I've worked so hard to acquire? No, Percy. This is who you are now. My possession. My toy. My pretty little omega whore."

The words should have filled Percy with rage, with the desire to fight back, to reclaim what had been stolen from him. Instead, to his shame and confusion, they sent a thrill of desire through him. His body responded eagerly to the degradation, to the possessiveness in Nico's voice.

"Tell me you accept it," Nico demanded, his grip on Percy's face tightening slightly. "Tell me you accept what you've become."

Percy stared into Nico's eyes, seeing the shadow ring around the blue irises, the mark of Hades' power now merged with what had once been his own divine strength. He saw the triumph there, the satisfaction, the dominance. But he also saw something else, something that might have been loneliness or regret.

"I accept it," he whispered. "I accept what I've become. I'm yours, Nico. Completely."

Nico's expression shifted, satisfaction replacing the momentary vulnerability Percy thought he had glimpsed. "Good," he said. "Now, on the bed. On your hands and knees."

Percy complied without hesitation, moving to the bed and positioning himself as instructed. He heard Nico moving behind him, the sound of clothes being removed, and then Nico was there, his hands on Percy's hips, his voice in Percy's ear.

"This is going to hurt," he warned, his tone suggesting he wasn't particularly concerned about Percy's comfort. "But that's the price of submission. That's the cost of belonging to me."

Percy nodded, bracing himself. "I understand," he whispered. "I'm ready."

Nico entered him with little preparation, the pain sharp and immediate. Percy gasped, his body tensing reflexively, trying to reject the intrusion. But Nico was relentless, holding him firmly in place, forcing him to accept it.

"Relax," Nico commanded. "Take it. This is what you wanted, remember? To be dominated. To be taken. To be used."

Percy tried to obey, forcing his body to relax, to accept. The pain began to recede, replaced by a strange, unfamiliar pleasure that built with each of Nico's movements. His transformed body, now aligned with an omega physiology, responded eagerly to the stimulation, finding pleasure where there should have been only pain and degradation.

Nico's pace increased, his movements growing rougher, more demanding. He gripped Percy's hips hard enough to bruise, using him without regard for his comfort or pleasure. And yet, despite the roughness—or perhaps because of it—Percy found himself responding with increasing intensity, his body arching back to meet each thrust, his voice breaking on moans and pleas.

"Please," he gasped, the word escaping without conscious thought. "Please, Nico."

"Please what?" Nico demanded, his voice rough with exertion. "What do you want, Percy? Tell me."

"More," Percy begged, beyond shame now, beyond pride. "Please, more. Harder."

Nico laughed, a sound of pure triumph. "Look at you," he said, his voice thick with contempt. "The mighty Percy Jackson, begging to be fucked harder. What would your friends think if they could see you now? What would Annabeth say? What would your father think of his once-proud son?"

The words should have shamed Percy, should have filled him with rage and resistance. Instead, they sent a thrill of dark pleasure through him, heightening his arousal. He was beyond caring about his former life, his former identity. All that mattered was the here and now, the pleasure and pain being administered by the demigod who owned him completely.

"I don't care," he gasped. "I don't care what they would think. I'm yours now. Only yours."

"That's right," Nico growled, his movements becoming even more forceful. "Mine. My property. My whore."

His hand snaked forward, wrapping around Percy's throat, applying just enough pressure to restrict his breathing without cutting it off completely. The sensation was terrifying and exhilarating all at once, adding an edge of danger to the already intense experience.

"Tell me who you belong to," Nico demanded, his voice harsh in Percy's ear.

"You," Percy gasped through the restriction. "I belong to you, Nico. Only you. Always you."