Morning came with a slow crawl, sunlight bleeding into the Imperial Suite like an unwanted guest.
"Wake up, Lord Dionysus."
The voice echoed crisply in his mind, familiar now, but still insufferably smug.
"You've been unconscious for five hours and fourteen minutes. That's called sleep, by the way. Mortals do it. Regularly."
Dionysus sat up slowly, the silk sheets tangling around his legs. His brows knitted in faint confusion.
"I do not sleep," he murmured, voice raspy with defiance. "I… rest. Briefly."
"Mmm. Then you rested adorably. You drooled a little."
He ignored the system's jab, swinging his legs over the bed and running a hand through his tousled hair.
"The mission," he said sharply. "What is it?"
[A mortal has been picked for you to administer immense pleasure to, today, Lord Dionysus]
Dionysus drove to the location and while waiting he fell asleep again.
The sun had barely settled over the endless sky when Lord Dionysus was jolted awake by a sharp voice in his mind.
[Wake up, my lord. The hour is ripe. You've slept long enough for a god.]
Dionysus blinked, disoriented. The truck's leather seat had molded to his form. Had he… slept? Gods didn't sleep. At least not truly. And yet…
"I must be adapting to this realm faster than I thought," he muttered, adjusting his collar as golden light filtered through the dusty windshield of his beloved truck, Jimmy.
"Or you're just starved for pleasure and rest alike. You've been on Earth almost a full day, and still, no mortal defiled. Embarrassing."
"I've been patient," Dionysus growled, eyes scanning the barren stretch of road ahead. "She will come. You said so."
"She will. And when she does, you must be… persuasive. Not all mortals trust handsome strangers in expensive trucks on deserted highways, even glowing ones."
Dionysus chuckled, brushing back his hair with one hand as he looked into the rearview mirror. "Then I'll just have to charm her, won't I?"
Jimmy sat parked beside a nearly-abandoned gas station, its neon sign sputtering G S O L N in half-lit defiance.
The pumps were chipped and faded, coated in dust. Beyond that, an old rusted phone booth tilted precariously near the edge of the lot, the receiver hanging off its hook.
A 24/7 diner sat crookedly across the gravel, with a single flickering OPEN sign and an elderly waitress inside reading a romance novel. No other customers.
The general store next door looked like it had been frozen in time, run by an old woman who kept humming and rearranging cans of beans no one would buy.
Buzzards circled overhead.
It was the perfect place for a mortal to break down.
"She's supposed to come through here?" he asked aloud.
"Indeed," the system replied, almost smug. "She's one of your mortals. You can't touch her until the right moment. Until then, wait. And no, you're not allowed to 'entertain yourself' while you do."
"Cruel. You're cruel."
"I'm methodical. Let her come to you. She will. She'll be… stranded. Broken-down car. Dead phone. A classic damsel scenario. You're welcome."
Dionysus leaned against Jimmy's hood, arms crossed, watching the horizon.
"I've been on Earth for almost a day," he muttered. "A whole day. No wine, no moaning, no sex."
"Tragic. Want me to fetch you a tissue?"
"I want you to find me a naked woman."
"She'll be clothed, tragically, but you'll fix that soon enough."
He smirked despite himself, his eyes scanning the horizon again.
"Any moment now, right?"
"Tick-tock, god of indulgence."
The sun burned overhead, and the buzzards circled lazily.
And right on cue, a distant cough of an engine breaking down interrupted the dry air. Dionysus leaned forward, golden eyes narrowing.
There. A beat-up sedan limped down the road, steam hissing from under the hood, tires grinding to a halt.
The woman stepped out, frustration written across her features.
Dionysus's lips curled.
[Target acquired,] the system purred. [And she is definitely… worthy.]
The woman looked around warily. No cell signal. No one else for miles.
Just a truck, a glowing, otherworldly glint bouncing off its sleek paint job like it had been polished by desire itself.
Her eyes met his as she walked closer, uncertainty flickering in her gaze… then intrigue.
"Excuse me," she called. "My car just… died. You wouldn't happen to have a phone or… jumper cables?"
Dionysus stepped out of Jimmy slowly, deliberately. His voice was honeyed velvet.
"I can do better than that, darling. I can take you somewhere far more satisfying."
She hesitated, lips parting. Heat bloomed in her chest.
Something about him, his voice, his eyes, his presence, made her thighs press together involuntarily.
"I… shouldn't," she whispered, breath catching.
[But she will,] the system laughed. [They always do.]
Dionysus offered his hand, his gaze burning with ancient fire. "Trust me. You've already been chosen."
"I really just need to call someone, do you have a phone?" she asked again, squinting up at him, hugging her arms around herself.
Dionysus tilted his head, as if considering the question, then gave a slow, almost regretful smile. "No phone. No signal. No reception for miles."
She blinked. "You live around here?"
"I don't live, sweetheart," he said, voice like silk over whiskey. "But I'm here… for you."
She took a half-step back, her body responding to something she didn't understand. It was instinctive. Magnetic. Dangerous.
Her eyes flicked to the road, then back to him. "Look, I just… need a ride to the next gas station or somewhere with a tow service."
"Then come," he said simply, gesturing toward the truck with a lazy flick of his hand. "Jimmy's warm. And I don't bite."
[Liar,] the system whispered gleefully in his mind.
She hesitated. Her broken car hissed behind her. No other cars had passed in over thirty minutes.
The gas station looked like it hadn't seen working electricity since the 70s.
Her phone was dead.
Her options: a glowing, handsome man in a truck that looked too sleek to exist out here, or baking under the desert sun and hoping a serial killer came with better manners.
She swallowed. "Just a ride?"
Dionysus smirked, opening the door for her. "Just a ride."
"She's already wet," the system murmured. "You haven't even touched her yet. You're truly an artist."
She climbed in. The seat was warm. The interior smelled faintly of sandalwood and something darker, like wine-soaked roses.
The doors shut with a sensual click, locking her in.
He slid in beside her, one hand casually on the wheel, the other brushing against her thigh as he shifted into gear.
"Nice truck," she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady.
"It knows how to make a lady feel things," Dionysus replied, letting the engine growl to life beneath them.
The truck glided down the empty road, the sun casting gold against the cracked pavement.
For a moment, all was quiet. Then:
[Drive slow,] the system purred. "Let her stew. Let her imagine."
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his voice low. "You're quiet. Nervous?"
She snorted. "Wouldn't you be? I just got into a dangerously handsome stranger's glowing truck in the middle of nowhere."
"But I'm not a stranger," he said smoothly, eyes flicking to her lips. "You feel it, don't you?"
She didn't answer. But her thighs pressed together again.
He drove for a mile, maybe two, before the road dipped and narrowed into a lonely, shaded curve. He slowed down.
"You know," he said, voice low and dark now, "I don't pick up just anyone."
"I didn't think you picked up anyone at all," she replied, trying to sound sarcastic. But her pulse betrayed her.
"Let me show you something," he said, pulling gently to the side.
The truck stopped.
Her breath hitched.
"Why are we stopping?" she asked.
Dionysus turned toward her, leaning in. "Because I want to know… if you're ready to feel everything."
She looked into his eyes, ancient, stormy, golden. Her heart thundered.
He reached out, not forcefully, just brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"Are you?" he whispered.
[Give her the ride of her life, my lord,] the system said, dripping with hunger.