“Persephone?”
Her eyes lifted to his, and she smiled. She seemed peaceful, almost languid.
“I’m well,” she assured.
Hades exhaled, as if those words had given him permission. He knew he feared her regret, but nothing had prepared him for the physical toll of that anxiety—the tightening in his chest and stomach, and the dread that thickened the back of his throat. He approached, cupping the underside of her jaw.
“You are not regretting our night together?”
“No!” Her quick reply banished his anxious thoughts, and as if she knew he needed to hear it again, she added quietly. “No.”
His eyes fell to her lips, and he brushed them with his thumb. “I don’t think I could handle your regret.”
He felt strangely raw admitting what he’d been thinking moments before, and yet after what they’d shared last night, being vulnerable felt right.
He threaded his fingers through her silky hair as he pressed his lips to hers, insatiable as the desire he felt for her returned tenfold, surging through his veins, thicker than his blood, urging him to touch her, to take her, to fuck her. He didn’t feel inclined to play or tease, he gipped her thighs and lifted her off the ground and guided his heavy length to her entrance, bending her backward before thrusting into her. They were close, the energy between them intimate.
For a while, they held each other’s gazes, sharing breath and soft moans, but soon they were breathing harder, buried in each other’s neck, and as Hades moved, he felt Persephone come. Her sex clenched around his own, and she bit into his skin, which elicited a harsh growl from deep in his throat. It made him feel feral, like a beast who wished to claim. His arms tightened, and he pumped harder, dug deeper, until he came, emptying into her.
In the aftermath, Hades remained standing, still inside her, holding Persephone close until their breathing returned to normal. When he helped her to the ground, her fingers bit into his arms. He frowned and scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. As he did, she closed her eyes, and he frowned, wondering what she was thinking. Still, he said nothing and asked nothing, returning to his chambers.
Once inside, she opened her eyes.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he made his way to the bathroom.
“To shower,” he said.
He half expected her to protest, but she didn’t. She let him lower her to her feet in the shower, disrobe her, and wash her. As he worked, passing the washcloth over her calves and between her thighs and over her hips, she braced her hands on his shoulders, shivering as his lips gathered moisture from her skin.
“Hades.” She spoke his name, and he stared up at her from the shower floor. “Let me please you.”
Her eyes burned into his, and as she spoke, he rose to his feet. His hand came up and cupped her face, his thumb passing over her lip.
“And how would you please me?” he asked.
Her answer was to wrap her hands around his cock, thumb brushing his sensitive head, and lower to her knees.
“Persephone.” Her name was rough on his tongue, and he wasn’t sure why he said it—as a warning or in prayer. Either way, he didn’t feel completely prepared for her mouth, even knowing the sensations she’d coaxed from him the night before. This was somehow different. This was head given in the daylight, a choice that wasn’t spurred by frustration or given courage by wine. Her mouth was warm, her tongue teasing, her throat deep. He grasped her head and thrust into her until he came, and savored the sight of her licking him clean.
He helped her to her feet again and devoured her mouth until he could no longer taste the salty sweetness of his come.
They finished their shower and started to dress, when Persephone turned to him, holding the red silk of her gown to her chest.
“Do you…have something I can wear?”
He gave her an appreciative looked and answered, “What you have on will be just fine.”
The look she offered was a challenge. “You’d rather I wander your palace naked? In front of Hermes and Charon—”
He’d really rather not spend the day gouging out eyes.
“On second thought…” he said, and teleported to the only place he could to find a dress—Hecate’s cottage. When he arrived, the goddess sat at her table, a suite of cards spread before her. She didn’t look at Hades as she spoke.
“On the bed.”
He turned and found a green peplos waiting. He gathered the fabric and turned to Hecate.
“Have I told you that you’re the best?”