by RM Virtues
“Hades.” His name sounds every bit like the curse everyone around her tends to treat it as, but her tone is far more devout than disturbed. “Please.”
He hums against her, his nose nudging against the ball of nerves he’s just abandoned. He slips a single hand up along her body to palm her breast, and she is all but aflame. She grabs blindly for the sheet over them, yanking it away and looking down. Their eyes meet between the valley of her breasts, and her back arches clear off of the bed. She’s usually very self conscious in this position. Only one person has ever gone down on her before or after bottom surgery, and it hadn’t been a particularly enjoyable experience. Then again, sex with Adonis rarely was when he was so focused on himself that she simply felt like a prop for his pleasure. So this is still so brand new. It’s impossible not to fear inadequacy. Yet Hades looks anything but dissatisfied, and she feels anything but uncomfortable. He looks absolutely devastating between her thighs, and she has to screw her eyes shut to keep from coming then and there. She knows she can too. It’s like he knows her body as well as she does. But she wants this to last, at least a little longer.
He doesn’t let her rest though. She’s just placed her hand on the back of his head again when he plunges his tongue inside of her, and her hips are bucking up into his mouth in undignified desperation. Her moans are quick to fill the air, thick with need as she grinds against the sturdy ridge of his jaw, yearning for any friction she can get. All the while, his fingers alternate between kneading her breasts and tweaking her nipples, overwhelming her with sensual sensations. His other hand slithers over her thigh until he’s able to press his thumb firm to her clit, and she cries out. She is shameless in her rutting now, nails scraping across his scalp as she searches for purchase, and for relief. She feels it building deep in the pit of her stomach. She knows she will not last long. He must know it too, smothering his face in her folds and stretching his tongue as best he can.
She hisses his name again, this time in warning, but that is as far as she gets. Before she can truly process how close she is to the edge, he’s shoving her over, scraping his teeth against her folds as that wretched tongue of his works across her walls. Then she’s screaming out, her entire body up to the shoulders lifting off of the mattress, feet nearly flat against his shoulder blades. Her orgasm rocks her thoroughly with the severity of an earthquake, shaking her through to her core. Her eyes roll back into her head as he lets her ride it out on his tongue, his hand relaxing against her breast and his thumb still drawing languid circles around her clit. She’s babbling a bunch of nonsense as she comes down, flopping against the bed with chest heaving and thighs shaking. Pushing himself up into a kneeling position, he stares down at her.
“You like that?” he asks.
“Mm, yes, sir,” she breathes, eyelids fluttering.
She could look at him all day, especially right now when the reserved stoicism and polite charm he’d possessed upon their first meeting is now buried beneath raw want and mischievous mirth. Those eyes are far more dangerous than she’d initially believed it seems, which is saying a whole lot.
He rolls her onto her side. “I got somethin’ else you might like.”
She already knows she will.
Lifting up her leg, he straddles the one beneath her and slides inside of her with ease. Her toes curl as she claws at her pillow, his leisurely stroke a blessing and a curse upon her sensitive walls. His grunts are simply another stimulus, accompanying each thrust as they become stronger. She throws herself onto her back, still twisted at the waist, to find his eyes on hers, and that coil in her gut tightens all over again. She bites down on her lip, watching him fuck her with growing vigor, and it is a sight she commits to memory with pitiless greed. His muscles flexing, his dark skin slick with sweat, his chiseled abs contracting with each movement. He hooks her leg around his thigh in favor of grabbing her hip, holding her in place so he can drill that thick cock into her with full force. She calls out his name, trying to turn over on her stomach completely if only to cling to the sheets or bite down on something, but he keeps her pinned as he digs her out. She reaches back instead then, digging her nails into his hip, feeling the power he puts behind each thrust. All she can do is hold on, constantly writhing and moving and searching for purchase. He never slows down. She never wants him to.
She coasts to another orgasm in record time, which is unsurprising when he’s bottoming out again and again, whipping his hand across her ass with her helpless to do anything but take it. And oh does she take it, willingly, eagerly.
“Hades! You—”
She bites out the words as she comes, breasts bouncing in time with his rhythm. She draws up her leg from around his hip, allowing him to get deeper, and he takes immediate advantage. Reaching up, she braces her hands against the headboard. She knows that he’s close. She can tell by the intensity in his movements and the determination in his face. He’s galloping towards the finish line, and she welcomes him there with wanton moans and broken pleas. And he delivers, buried to the hilt and filling her up with a warmth that has her shuddering around him again. He leans down over her, finding her lips with his own and smothering them. She grips the back of his neck, catching his gruff moans on her tongue and keeping him there even as he stretches her out further. It just feels too good. All of it feels too damn good, and she is hooked.
It’s well past mid morning when they finally drag themselves out of bed, and much later than that when they finally leave the steamy confines of the shower. She’s lost count of her orgasms by then, but her legs are still trying to tally them in a series of tremors as she chokes down half a pot of coffee. Surely, she’s had more today than she’s had her entire life. Yet somehow, he looks absolutely flawless in last night’s suit, his unbuttoned vest still pristine despite all it endured. His tie hangs undone around his shoulders, his top buttons unclasped as well, and still he is a god among men. If she had less pride, she would demand a picture to drool over for the rest of the day.
“You have rehearsal this evening?” he asks as he stands from his seat opposite her at the kitchen island.
She nods, her stomach clenching as she realizes he’ll have to leave. She may have a schedule herself, but he runs one of the most frequented places in all of Khaos Falls, not to mention the district that surrounds it. He was late the moment he left the casino last night.
“How about we have dinner together?” he proceeds nonetheless.
She smirks, cupping her mug in both hands, even as the excitement rises in her belly. “I gave you one night, remember?”
“And I’m asking for another.”
“Do you think you deserve it?”
It has the desired effect. He swallows hard before clearing his throat, looking down at the countertop. When he looks up again though, he nods.
“I would say so. Wouldn’t you?”
She hums. “If you fuck me again like you did last night, I will not recover by tomorrow’s show.”
“I promise to go easy on you.” There it is, that damned smirk that makes her legs weak all on its own. He doesn’t know how to go easy on her. “We’ll have actual dessert this time.”
“Where?”
“At the casino. I’ll cook for you.”
“Ooh.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “I definitely can’t miss this.”
“Precisely. You can’t.”
She rolls her eyes. “I might be rehearsing a bit later than usual. We’re adding in a new scene tomorrow, and Calliope’s really been drilling it.”
“I’ll have to be there then.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
He rounds the counter, coming up to wrap his arms around her waist from behind. She leans back on the stool, resting her head against his shoulder. It’s amazing. After what she’d seen last night, the merciless and domineering man with a belt poised in his hand, she cherishes these moments of warmth. She likes both sides of him, very much, and they each take damn good care of her.
He ki
sses her cheek then her temple. “How does 8:30 sound?”
She nods. She’ll agree to just about anything he says right now when he’s touching her with all this tenderness, but she truly does want to see him again. It’s almost sad really. She already misses him, and he hasn’t even left yet.
“That sounds perfect,” she sighs.
“Good. Don’t be late.”
Her lips quirk. “Well… I am known to lose track of time.”
She watches as he brings his hands up in front of them and removes his watch from his wrist, setting it on the counter before her.
“Now you have no excuses. So either you’re on time, or you’re in trouble.”
She turns her head and nips at his jaw. “Yes, sir.”
The open floor plan of Persephone’s loft is very much intentional. It offers her the chance to refine her craft in the comfort of her own home when she’s away from formal rehearsal. Once Hades leaves, she uses it to her advantage, stretching out her muscles extensively as she tries to work out what’s left of their eventful evening. Her mother calls several times during, but she ignores them, unwilling to speak with the woman right now. Her legs are still wobbly, and it only serves to push her mind back to the night before over and over again. It had been magical, plain and simple. Any expectations she had held for the evening had been met and then stomped through the ground, and she could not wait to see Hades again. It was worth it. All that risk is worth it.
And she’ll be damned if she taints her current excitement with her mother’s venom.
Nevertheless, she makes up for the guilt of distraction in the best way she can. She runs through the routine at least twice, utilizing the silks that now hang from her high ceiling to emulate the aerials she performs in Ferocity. It helps her clear her mind and recalibrate her focus, but above all, it soothes her. Not that Hades hadn’t because he certainly had, but this is where she lives, within the role and above the ground. It is the only solace she knows that houses no guilt. And it is the one she had found all on her own when she’d needed it most.
She feels marginally more prepared for rehearsal by the time she’s done with her final stretches. She’s readying her gym bag to head to the theatre when there’s a knock at the door, and her heart jumps in her chest. Logically, she knows it isn’t Hades, but logic isn’t much fun right now. He has effectively drawn out the dreamer in her, mainly the parts she’d dampened to make room for reality, parts she has tried all too hard to cage outside of work despite the success it has led her to. These efforts are mainly due to the ever present sound of Demeter’s voice in her head, but the ghost of Hades’ mouth does well to muffle that. He’d said she was made to fly, and she knew this to be true. She just - never fully believed it before meeting him, viewing her own unyielding doubt as a necessary abundance of caution. It seems so silly now.
She pulls her bag over her shoulder, slipping Hades’ watch inside, just as the knocks grow more persistent, and any hope of it being him dies right there on the hardwood floor. Soon enough, she knows exactly who it is, and she seriously considers hiding. However, her pride won’t allow her to do anything of the sort, so she takes a deep breath, straightens herself, and marches towards the door just as the knocking turns to banging. When she opens the door, Zeus immediately pushes into the apartment, his face red with rage.
She rolls her eyes.
“Where the hell have you been?” he roars the moment the door closes behind him.
She keeps a distance between them, crossing her arms over her chest and leveling him with a hard stare. She wasn’t about to give him any footing, especially considering he’ll only use it to find another step on the back of her neck.
“I imagine right here where you found me,” she offers, her tone bland. “Oh, but I also might be, I don’t know, working.”
“Oh, yeah? Working?” He sneers. “What’s this about you having drinks with my brother?”
She doesn’t react, at least not outright, but her heart surely does a swan dive into the pit of her stomach. She realizes however that he’s asking about drinks rather than dinner, which means he doesn’t know about last night. That’s good. That makes this easier.
“Which?” she asks.
“What do you mean which!”
He takes a step forward. He has several inches on her, but he’s not as tall as Hades. He’s also not nearly as imposing. He looks every bit like a large child throwing a temper tantrum. She treats him accordingly.
“I mean which,” she goes on, nearly yawning. “You have more than one, don’t you?”
“How many have you had drinks with!”
She rolls her eyes and looks away. “If you mean Hades, then yes. He owns Asphodel. I perform there. He invited me for a drink. I accepted it.”
“And?”
“And that’s far more than I owe you, Zeus. I gotta go. Is that all?”
He takes another large step forward, and with the door at her back, she has nowhere to go. She still doesn’t move, refusing to give him the satisfaction of backing her up against it. Her heel comes off the ground however, prepared to give him a hard knee to wherever she can land it if need be. She’s fed up. This has to stop.
“I made you.”
Her brows knit together. “Excuse me?”
“You would be nothing without me.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you think too highly of yourself?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Very.”
She chokes down the bile crawling up her throat, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. She honestly thinks he might strike her, and he appears to think he might too.
“You think you don’t owe me your life, but you do,” he growls. “The moment you took that money—”
She steps forward now, so suddenly that he recoils without a thought. “I didn’t take shit from you. You made an offer and lied about the catch. Don’t come in here with that mess. I tried to pay you back—”
“With someone else’s money!”
“What does it matter? If you wanna wait on my paycheck, fine, but that’s what you’ll get, Zeus. Take it or leave it, but I am done with this. I don’t want you. I will never want you, and you damn sure do not own me.”
He’s flustered now, floundering, and all he can do is repeat his words. “I made you, Persephone! Everything you are, I made you!”
“You made me regret ever meeting you. Nothing more. And from what I hear, Hades made you.” She looks him dead in the eye, and while she may be pushing it, her anger doesn’t care. “Which means he can unmake you. I’m sure he would hate to hear you’re harassing his associates, in his district at that. And before you say ‘it’s my district, I run everything’ or whatever dickless thing you’re about to say, it isn’t. And you don’t. You’re just a little boy playing Fate while your brother wipes your chin and keeps your hair out of your face. You are nothing without him. You have nothing without him. I am everything without you. That’s what it means to make someone.”
The look in Zeus’s eyes is deadly, but no more than what she’s seen in her mother’s. Or her father’s the first and last time he struck her. She isn’t afraid of Zeus. She isn’t afraid of much of anything anymore.
Stepping aside, she reaches back and pulls the door open for him. He stares at her, seething, but she doesn’t look away. She certainly hit a nerve. In fact, she’s almost certain she hit all of them. Still, he finally scrounges up just enough poison to make her blood run cold.
“This house you think you built is made of nothing but sticks and stones,” he growls, pointing his finger at her. “Whether you made it or not, I can bring it crashing down on your head at a moment’s notice. I can unmake you. That’s what matters now, and if you even think of telling my brother, I’ll show you exactly what I mean.” Another step forward. “Because remember, Princess, Hades does for me. He has always done for me. You honestly think you can change that?” His smile is sharp as glass. “You’re just another business ventu
re, and my brother has plenty of those to choose from. I’ll make sure he tosses you out the moment you become more trouble than you’re worth. You’re tiptoeing that line pretty close now, so if I were you, I’d be really careful about how you speak to me.”
“Get out,” she growls. His smile only widens.
“I want you at Lonzo’s restaurant at 8 sharp tonight. Do not make me come back here, Persephone. You won’t like what that looks like.”
She maintains her glare, but the lump in her throat rises exponentially. She can’t speak. It feels like ages before he stalks out, and he tries to grab the door knob to slam it closed, but she holds firm. He gets jolted by the force, and when he glances over his shoulder at her, she slams the door in his face.
“8 o’clock, Persephone!” he shouts through the barrier before his footsteps begin to recede.
She leans against the door, shuddering out a breath. It’s quiet now, but she knows it isn’t over. It will never be over if her pride is her only weapon, and she has to swallow said pride and accept that. Being afraid of Zeus and being afraid of what the leader of Khaos Falls are two different things, and they must be treated as such. She has no power where the latter is concerned. Gambling everything she’s worked so hard for just to avoid admitting defeat is as arrogant as it is foolish, and it’s - exactly what Zeus is doing. She can’t make that same mistake. She can’t be like him. She won’t.
She has to come clean to Hades, and she has to do it tonight.