by RM Virtues
“Do you accept your punishment?”
Her voice is hoarse. “Yes, sir.”
His knuckles trace a path down her spine as he unbuttons his shirt at the slowest possible pace. He sheds it from his shoulders before he dusts his fingers down her arms with the lightest touch, her hips shaking against his as they leave her wrists to tease the hem of her pajama shorts.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers against her ear. “Your honesty will be taken into account.”
Yanking her shorts and panties down, he elicits a moan from her, and that patience he’s depending on immediately begins to dwindle at a much faster pace. He slaps her ass once if only for the sake of calling it punishment before he unbuckles his belt. She seems to have adapted a Pavlovian response to the sound though, her body trembling visibly as a whimper escapes her. He folds it in half and snaps it, and she throws her hips back on instinct.
“Fuck, Hades,” she groans, dropping her head.
“I haven’t even touched you yet, baby.”
“Do you even have to?”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“That’s the last thing I’m tryna put in your mouth right now.”
He smirks at the sound of her purr, reaching between her thighs and stroking her lips. Her knees bend, threatening to buckle, and she drops to her forearms on the counter. He keeps his touch light, but she’s already wet, coating his fingers in arousal. He takes his time exploring her folds, and in time, she starts grinding down into his hand. Only then does he pull away, earning another groan.
“You gonna take what I give you?” he questions.
“Yes. Yes, I will.”
“Everything I give you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
She knows damn well what she does to him too, and she doesn’t skimp on it. Bringing his arms around her, he holds the belt in front of her face.
“Open your mouth.”
She does so hesitantly, and he peers around her to watch. Then he carefully slips the leather between her teeth. She takes the hint and bites down.
“If this belt hits the counter, I stop. That means the only reason it should be hitting the counter is if you need to say your safeword. Do you remember what that is?”
She nods.
“Good girl.”
Freeing his cock from his trousers, he slides it between her thighs, both of them sighing in a mix of content and exasperation. He reaches around, guiding his tip through to the other side and tapping her clit generously on each trip. His stroke starts slow, and she mumbles around the leather, her hand darting down to grip his. He halts.
“Uh uh. Put that hand back where it belongs.”
She is quick to oblige, slapping it back down on the counter, but her hips push back against him, insistent. He’s rock hard as it is, but if he eats up enough time with foreplay, he might be able to curve the urge to fuck her into a stupor that might hinder her work tonight. He… won’t make any promises, aloud or otherwise. The patience is thin, and her body is begging, and he just wants to be inside of her. After another minute of messing around, he’s at his limit. Pressing a hand between her shoulders, he bends her forward. She spreads her legs further, giving him enough room to guide his swollen head to her entrance and push inside.
“Fuck, Seph…”
Dragging her back up by the hair, her muffled moans meet his ears as he starts to thrust. His hands wrap around the fronts of her thighs, holding them in place so that he can speed up. Soon, it’s sloppy and slippery and absent any control whatsoever, but the way her walls contract around his dick is the only thing he can focus on. Her body sags against his as she struggles to both keep her hands on the counter and keep the belt between her teeth. His fingers find her clit again, and she tosses her head back, a cadence of cries caught in her throat. He wants them.
“You come for me - before that belt hits the counter - and we can call it even.”
She wastes no time, working back against his cock and down against his fingers, gripping the edge of the counter and using it to her advantage. He slows his own movements, letting her lead, if only so that he doesn’t come too quick. She unravels with a scream like shrapnel, bleeding around his belt and piercing the air in every direction. He holds her to him to keep her from collapsing, and she rides it out, bouncing on the balls of her feet just to keep riding him. Once she settles, he gingerly takes the belt from her mouth, planting a kiss on her cheek.
“We even?” she breathes.
“Yeah, we’re even.” He takes each of her arms and pulls them behind her back. “But we aren’t done.”
Securing her wrists with the belt, he steps out of his pants before turning and marching her into the living room area. He pushes her down on her knees atop the chaise near the balcony doors, her face down against the cushion. Straddling the furniture, he remains standing, the head of his erection knocking against her folds like a battering ram. Winding the free end of the belt around his fist, he slides back inside of her. She calls out freely now, turning her head and attempting to look at him over her shoulder.
“You slick bastard,” she moans, biting her lip.
“Who are you calling slick?”
He pushes his cock as deep as he can, and her mouth falls open as her eyes roll into the back of her head. He leans forward, his own lips parting as spit spills from them over her ass. He uses the lubrication to massage her hole, continuing to stroke in her pussy, tremor after tremor racking her body. He loves to see it. Tentatively, he sinks his thumb into her, and her chest momentarily comes off of the chaise.
“Fuck, Hades!”
“You want me to stop?”
“—Don’t you - dare!”
“What do you want?”
“Fuck—”
“What do you want, Persephone?”
“I want you to - fuck me - harder.”
His dick jerks inside of her. “Say it again.”
“Fuck me harder!”
He slides into a whole other gear before she can inhale, slamming into her with reckless abandon. Everything he’d felt the night before, the anxiety, the apprehension, the uncertainty of the future: it all gets thrown down and worked out in a furious sequence. It may be the first time he hasn’t held back in any discernible way, putting his full strength behind the swing of his hips. It echoes in the sound of them colliding with hers. She strains against her bonds, burying her face in the cushions before her, his name a broken hymn against them. He sinks his thumb deeper into her ass as he leans back, the coil in his belly tightening to capacity.
“Hades, I’m - I’m gonna come. I’m gonna —”
He only pounds her harder, laying claim to what is his and what will always be his if he has any say in it. She rises up, her chest parallel to the chaise as she cries out, her orgasm rushing through her until the fruits of it paint his thighs and stomach. Her body is still convulsing when he pulls his thumb free and releases the belt, grabbing her hips and drilling into her with short and quick thrusts. He only has a few more in him before he locks up, his back straight as a rod as he roars out, coating her walls in thick streams before it drips out onto the upholstery. She moans his name, both of them collapsing in a heap on the chair. A gentle quiet consumes them, absorbing their labored breaths. His skin is slick with layer upon layer of sweat, his shaft still pulsing, but he’s never felt better in his life.
She’d chosen him too.
He frees her arms, and she groans as she stretches them out, gripping the top of the chaise and pushing herself up. He presses soft kisses to what skin he can reach along her side, trailing down over her hip. He has no clue how much time has passed, but he imagines they’d cut deep into that couple of hours. Then she cries out.
“Hades!”
“Are you gonna be late?” he asks.
She doesn’t answer.
He looks up at her, but she isn’t looking at him. She’s staring out the balcony doors.
&nb
sp; “Seph? What is it?”
He clambers up onto his knees beside her, following her gaze. The city spans out before them, Casino Asphodel rising above it on the horizon. There, amidst the hotel tower and the casino’s dome, billows a thick, black cloud of smoke.
21
Persephone
Persephone keeps her distance. It’s difficult to watch Hades walk through the ruin, his face ashen and expression stoic. People are talking to him, but she can tell he hardly hears them. He directs them as he always has, but his eyes are glassy, absent of the life she’s fallen so fast for. It pains her to see him this way.
It had taken hours for them to put the fire out. While no one had died, several people had been injured and taken to the Healer’s District. Most of the damage was isolated to the pantheon, but a large part of the dome had been badly damaged as had a wall in Elysium. The casino as a whole had to be closed for the time being, and while the fire department had deemed the hotel safe as it was on the opposite side of the property, Hades had offered all of his guests a refund and a free stay later down the line as a safety precaution. More accurately, he had instructed Thanatos to do so because beyond what was absolutely necessary, he was hardly speaking at all.
It’s late by now, and of course, all of Persephone’s shows are cancelled for the foreseeable future. At the moment, she can hear Charon speaking with Apollo, a built man with a head of tight curls and flawless dark brown skin. She knows him of course. Everyone in Khaos Falls does, and she also knows he’d designed Casino Asphodel from top to bottom. He’s appraising the damage alongside his contractor, attempting to offer Charon a realistic estimate on repairs. Something tells Persephone that it’s good he’s here, and when he offers Charon a timeframe she just misses, the latter looks relieved. Persephone moves closer to Hades as Charon approaches him.
“He says the structural damage is minimal,” Charon explains. “We can block off the affected wing and use the rest of the casino once we air out the smoke, but he says they can get the dome and Elysium good to go in about 6 weeks. The Pantheon will take a bit longer, but they’ll work as quickly as they can. It has to be repaired with great care due to the use of acrobatics in the theatre.”
Both Charon and Hades glance at her, and Hades reaches for her hand. She slips it easily into his just as Hecate appears before them. Persephone can’t read her face, but she imagines the redhead is as confused and upset as Hades. They built this place together. She can only imagine how Dionysos is going to feel when he hears about Elysium, and Persephone… Well, she’s trying not to think about what it means for her. Without the Pantheon, their residency is more or less over, which limits her options as to what to do next. Even if she returns with Calliope to Deucalion Heights, there’s no telling where or when their next show will be. She could wind up across the Aegean at any rate, and that scares her. She’s just getting comfortable in her hometown again, and she and Hades are moving forward with one another. She isn’t ready to leave. She isn’t ready to put a hold on her dreams though either.
She decides not to focus on that right now.
Thanatos appears, and it’s evident he’s been in the damaged part of the building at some point. His black suit is now grey with ash, and soot stains his white dress shirt as well as his cheeks. He looks tired but in good spirits, and he claps a hand on Hades’ shoulder.
“Got the last of the guests out,” he reports. “Rebooked a good amount of them for later next month, and there weren’t too many complaints. You alright?”
Hades side steps that question. Persephone squeezes his hand.
“The word on Tartarus?” he asks.
“Still on lockdown,” Charon states. “I reached out to one of my informants but have yet to receive a response. Should we move forward with a lockdown of our own?”
“No.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for debate. “We will not be made to look weak. And if they’re still in lockdown, it would do no good. I won’t punish the rest of the city for their stupidity. I want the tapes gathered and gone through. Everyone should be talked to. I want to know what area was targeted and by how many people. I want reports on the injured, including staff, and I want to ensure any expenses, medical or otherwise, are taken care of without them having to worry.”
“It will all be handled, Hades,” Hecate interrupts gently, placing a hand on his chest.
Persephone feels the immediate effect Hecate’s touch has on Hades, his muscles relaxing and his shoulders dropping several inches from his ears. Somehow it soothes her too, and she brushes her thumb over his knuckles. She meets Hecate’s eyes then, and they both seem to be thinking the same thing—they need to get him out of here. He needs to rest.
“Let’s go upstairs, Hades,” Persephone offers up, placing her other hand on his arm. “Let the dust settle.”
“She’s right,” Hecate adds, curling her fingers against him. “You need time to rest, to clear your head. We all do, and there’s nothing else we can do until the cleaning is done. Tomorrow, we can tackle things head on.”
He seems to consider it for a moment, and Persephone can tell he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. She’s never seen him do that before. Then again, she’s never seen him in a state like this before. She doubts anyone has because no one has ever attacked the River Styx District. This is what he looks like after disaster strikes, sullen and shaking, and she would do anything in her power to keep from ever having to see it again.
At last, he nods in agreement, and Persephone feels herself expelling the breath she’d been holding. He turns to Thanatos with final thoughts poised upon his tongue, but Thanatos nods before he has to say a word.
“I’ll check up on the cleaning crews, make sure we’ve got everything cleaned up and blocked off.”
Hades nods once more, his eyes wandering over their heads towards the rubble. Water still rains from the roof, and the ash and debris still waits to be cleared. He clutches Persephone’s hand harder. She doesn’t let go.
At last, he allows the two women to lead him towards the service elevator, dropping his gaze to the floor in front of him. The smell of smoke lingers in the air, sticking to their clothes and following them through the space. Once they’re in the elevator, he exhales the heaviest sigh, and he seems to shrink substantially. He puts an arm around each of them, resting his head against the cool panel of the wall, and both women move closer to him. They catch each other’s gaze for a moment, a mutual gratitude smoothed out in the space between them. Persephone doesn’t know if she would have any clue how to help him without Hecate. They’re still learning about each other, and she’s still processing the whole event herself. While she can handle his stress when it comes to her, this is so much bigger than Zeus’s temper tantrums, especially if the Tartarus District is responsible. If Persephone knows one thing about the place, it was that nothing good ever came out of there. They promised not to think about that tonight however. Tonight was for rest. Tomorrow would be something else entirely.
When they reach the suite, Persephone finds that all of her bags had been placed neatly in Hades’ bedroom, which soothes her immensely. She had told Hades it could wait, but he’d called Aphrodite himself to ask her if she could gather Persephone’s things from the apartment, and she had been more than eager to do so if only to get Persephone out of there. Aphrodite hadn’t stayed long, but it had been good to see her, and she’d left with the promise of stopping by the next day so that she could hear all about Persephone’s visit with her mother and see if there was anything she could do to help.
“You should go take a shower,” she whispers to Hades, her heart aching over just how lost he looks at the moment, standing in the hallway.
“Mm,” he hums, finally turning his gaze on her. “Will you join me?”
She nods, her lips curling. “In a minute.”
He offers a dramatic roll of his eyes but obeys nonetheless, stalking off through the bedroom and towards the master bathroom. Hecate watches him go before lo
oking at Persephone. The two women share a worried look before each of them smile, the expression strained at best.
“Has this happened before?” Persephone questions, sitting down on the bed.
“Oh, you mean someone trying to burn down Asphodel?” Hecate quips, sitting beside her as they both laugh. “No, nothing even remotely close.”
“I mean him. Like that.”
The redhead sobers some. “No, I can’t say it has, not like that. Honestly, the last time I saw him this - lost is when his mother passed. And before that, his father. He doesn’t get lost. He’s the one that leads the lost.”
“That’s soothing.”
She giggles. “We’ll get through it though.”
Persephone wets her lips. “Who do you think did it?”
“Thanatos swears it was Coeus.” Her sigh tells Persephone that she isn’t so sure. “It’s the most logical explanation. Who else would be so stupid?”
“What about Zeus?”
Their gazes drift together all at once, but the doubt is palpable between them. Zeus simply isn’t stupid enough, and he certainly isn’t smart enough either.
“That man has never gotten anything past Hades,” Hecate concludes. “Even if he roped someone else into doing it, there is no way Hades wouldn't trace it back to Zeus if he did it. The idiot wouldn’t risk it.”
That much, Persephone can agree on. Zeus may be on the cusp of an epic temper tantrum, but he wouldn’t risk his place at the top of the food chain. Hades is his meal ticket, the very throne Zeus sits on carved from his bones, and it would be suicide to try such a thing. Going after Persephone is one thing, but to target Asphodel? You would have to have a deathwish.
“But you don’t think it’s Coeus,” Persephone affirms.
Hecate smirks. “No, I think it’s his sister. Tethys is far more calculated and three times as smart as he is.”