CHAPTER XXV: FOR YOUR PLEASURE, A MONTAGE

CHAPTER XXV – FOR YOUR PLEASURE, A MONTAGE

Hades stood atop the precipice in his throne room, dressed in robes, glamour gone, his full form on display. His anger was acute; it vibrated throughout his limbs, eager for a violent release. It was the middle of the night, and he had called Hecate and Hermes to his side. The two bore different expressions, Hecate looked gleeful while Hermes looked sleepy.

“Could your vengeance not wait until morning?” he asked.

Hades ignored him and spoke to Hecate.

“Summon Minthe,” he said.

“With pleasure,” the goddess replied.

Hecate’s magic surged, and Minthe appeared out of thin air, falling to the floor with a shriek, arms and legs flailing. She hit the marble with a loud smack.

“Hecate, the nymph is breakable,” Hermes reminded.

“I know,” she responded deviously.

Minthe groaned and pushed up onto her hands and knees, scowling as she looked at the three gods before her. Her nose was bloodied, and it coated her lips in crimson, spilling onto the ground.

Her murderous expression soon turned to fear when she looked at Hades’.

“You aided Sisyphus in his escape from the Underworld,” he said. He barely kept his voice from quivering as he spoke, the rage was so acute. “Have you any idea what I sacrificed to put him in chains?”

He had granted Theseus a favor. He had given away his control, and the thought made his chest feel like a chasm, split open and oozing. It was a sacrifice he’d made that was now worthless.

“Hades, I—”

“Do not speak my name!” he roared, taking a step toward her. The whole room shook.

Minthe shuffled away, her eyes wide.

She was right to fear him. Usually, when he brought people before him for punishment, he had an idea of how he would go about the execution, but not in this moment. In this moment, anything was possible. This nymph thought she had known every emotion associated with anger and loss and grief. Hades would show her otherwise.

“I can explain—”

“Was your jealousy so severe it blinded you from your loyalty?”

“I have only ever been loyal to you!” Minthe’s eyes ignited like an ethereal fire.

“Lies!” The taste was bitter, and he spat before he spoke. “You are loyal only to yourself.”

“I loved you!” Her cry was guttural and real and cruel. “I loved you, and all you cared about was your imposter queen!”

Hades snarled. Persephone was no imposter. The true fraud was before him, because if she had ever loved him, she would have never helped Sisyphus escape.

“You paraded her in front of me, undermining me, berating me, taunting me. You deserve to see your Fate unravel. I hope Sisyphus pulls the thread.”

There was silence.

So she had understood half of the equation, the part where the Fates had threatened to undo his future with Persephone if Sisyphus was not captured. It was information she had probably gained while spying. Well, she would spy no more. Not for him.

“If that is truly how you feel, then you have no place in the Underworld.”

Minthe’s mouth fell open.

“But this is my home,” she said, her lips quivering.

“Not anymore.” His words were cold.

The nymph swallowed. "Wh-where will I go?”

He did not know; she had never existed outside the boundaries of Hades’ realm, even in the Upperworld. Her only connections were his connections, and those would evaporate the moment her exile leaked. No one would help her, because they would not wish to defy him.

“That is not my concern. Minthe, you are banished forthwith from my kingdom. If you attempt to set foot here again, I will exhibit no mercy.”

Hades’ magic closed in around her, and she vanished from sight. There was a beat of silence, and then he spoke.

“Hermes, spread the word that I am willing to bargain with Sisyphus. If it is eternity he wants, he has only to come to Nevernight and request a contract.”

Eternal life wasn’t something Hades could grant without sacrifice and required the same payment—a soul for a soul. It would mean that if he lost, the Fates would take the life of a god.

He was playing a game—a game of fate.

“I don’t suppose this can wait until morning?” Hermes asked and when Hades looked at him, the god offered a nervous laugh. “I mean, on it, my lord.”

He vanished.

“Don’t—”

“Say I told you so?” Hecate asked. “I have waited too long for this moment. I told you to let me poison her and before that, I told you to demote her, and before that, I told you to never sleep with her.”

Hades sank to his throne. Suddenly, he was exhausted, and as he spoke, his voice was tried and quiet.

“I have enough regrets, Hecate,” he said.

The goddess said nothing, and after a few seconds, she quietly disappeared.

He was not alone long when Persephone entered the throne room, leaning against the door as it closed behind her.

She looked sleepy and beautiful, dressed in a white nightgown and matching sheer robe. Her hair was wild and mussed, falling in gold waves down her back. Her presence gave him the strength to straighten.

“Why are you awake, my darling?” he asked.

“You were gone,” she said, approaching. She settled into his lap, her legs draped over his, her hands tangling into his robes. She took a deep breath, and burrowed into his chest.

“Why are you up?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

He considered telling her about the saga of Sisyphus—how he had cheated death twice and stolen the lives of two mortals, forever shattering their souls—but that explanation would also require divulging the Fates’ threat, and with Sisyphus on the run again, he preferred to keep that to himself.

So instead he answered, “I…could not sleep.”

She drew back, gazing up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You could have woken me.” Her voice was an erotic whisper. It promised things like throbbing lips, pounding hearts, and soft heat.

He raised a brow, and asked, “What purpose would that serve?”

Her hands dropped to his swollen sex, barely caressing it through his robes. “Would you like a demonstration?”

Hades smirked and gathered her close, teleporting to the Underworld.

***

“Any word?” Hades asked Ilias as they walked the shadows of his club. He’d been hopeful that tonight would be the night Sisyphus would take him up on the offer of a bargain.

“None,” Ilias replied. “Word travels slow in the mortal underground.”

Hades frowned.

The Fates had not been pleased to learn that Sisyphus had escaped.

“Arrogant,” Lachesis had said.

“Overconfident,” Clotho had hissed.

“Brash,” Atropos had added.

Hades had not argued with them. It was the first time he’d gone to them and feared them, feared their vengeance, feared that they would unravel the threads they’d taken such care to weave, ready to bask in his misery.

But they hadn’t. They’d merely asked who Hades was willing to trade if he lost his bargain with Sisyphus, a question he had not answered.

“He will come when he realizes he has nothing,” the satyr said as they crested the stairs. “Hermes has managed to intercept several million dollars of Sisyphus’ stock. What would you like to do with it?”

Hades knew how to make a mortal desperate. It was possible that Sisyphus would have remained on the run if his business was still afloat, thinking that he could survive on the lives he’d already taken, but Hades had guessed the mortal’s plans and he had taken everything—would continue to take everything—until the man came begging.

By the end of this, he would wish he had died when he was supposed to.

“Burn it,” he said. “And do not keep it a secret.”

Ilias departed then, and Hades entered his office and halted, finding Persephone sitting on his desk, naked. Her back was straight, her legs crossed, her perfect breasts rose with her breaths, her nipples rosy. He was instantly hard, instantly thankful Sisyphus had not arrived, and that Ilias had not followed him into his office.

“Persephone,” he said, closing the door and locking it.

“Hades,” she said.

“You are aware that anyone could have come into this office?”

“I thought I would take a gamble,” she said, a small smirk on her face.

“Hmm,” he said, loosening his tie as he approached.

“Do you use this desk?” she asked, her hand smoothing over the obsidian.

“No,” he said. “I don’t. I can’t sit still.”

It was true—he hated to be confined.

“Pity,” she said quietly. “It is a nice desk.”

“I’ve never thought it of much use, until now,” he said.

“Oh?” she asked with an innocent tilt of her head, eyes making a slow descent down his body to his cock, which strained against his trousers. She could not have made her desire more obvious.

He bent, lips hovering over hers as he spoke.

“It’s the perfect height,” he said in a gruff whisper, “to fuck you.”

She lifted her head just a little. “Then what is taking you so long?”

He chuckled. “No one said you couldn’t take what you wanted, my darling.”

Her hands moved to his cock, and Hades sucked in a breath between his teeth before his mouth covered hers and his hand knitted into her hair, fingers bracing against her scalp. He drew her head back, tongue sweeping her mouth. His other hand cupped her breast, fingers teasing her nipple into a tight peak, but Persephone’s hands were frenzied and they blazed a path down his chest, to the button of his pants, and as she unfastened them, his sex sprung free, his head already leaking with pleasure. Her grasp was firm, and she tugged it a few times before positioning it at her entrance.

“I burn for you,” she said as Hades gripped the underside of her knees and pulled her to him, sheathing her in one slick movement. She arched against him, breasts pressing into his chest, head lulled back. He kissed her throat as he thrust into her. They moved together, uncontrolled, hands gripping, mouths caressing, tongues touching, breathings tangling. He changed positions, withdrawing from her, only to turn her on her side, and entered her with her legs pressed into her chest. Her breathing changed, her moans growing louder, and Hades continued, pumping harder, drawing her leg up to rest on his shoulder, reaching deeper.

When he withdrew again, he gathered her into his arms and sat in the chair behind his desk. With her in his lap, her back to his chest, he guided himself inside her again. His hands drifted over her body, one on her breasts, the other teasing her clit. Persephone’s head fell back into the crook of his shoulder, and he kissed and licked and bit her neck and shoulder. Finally, he could take it no longer and drove into her, coming out of his chair as he did, her whole body bouncing until they came in a rush.

After, Hades cradled her body against him.

“As much as I love seeing you naked and waiting for me,” he said. “I’d really rather you only treat me to this view in the Underworld. Anyone could have entered this office.”

She giggled.

“And what would you have done? To anyone who saw me?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and he drew his finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up so their eyes met. He wanted to ensure she registered the weight of his words. “That should scare you.”

She shivered, and he knew she understood. He could not predict how he might react. It could go one of two ways—he might understand it as the accident it was and let it go, or he would unleash the violence that lurked beneath his skin, the cruelty that had been imbued into his blood.

After a moment, he drew Persephone close and carried her before the fire, then lowered her to her feet. She lifted her hand, fingers drifting over his lips.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“You,” he said. “Always you.”

They kissed again, and Persephone eased Hades’ jacket off. Their hands clashed as they both worked the buttons of his shirt free. Soon, he was naked, too, and together, they knelt to the floor. While on their knees before each other, Hades’ hand slipped between her thighs. He teased her opening, fingers dipping into her warm, wet flesh. Another arm wrapped around her waist, and he welded their bodies together as he moved deeper inside her, using one finger, then two. He loved the feel of her, the way her breath quickened, her cries of pleasure. It wasn’t long before he guided her to her back, spread her legs as wide as they would go, and licked her, sucked her, teased her. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she pressed into him, hips moving, and when she came, she arched her back, her hands dug into his scalp, and he drank her, tongue lashing to catch every bit of her sweetness. When he was finished, he climbed up her body and slid into her. Settled between her legs, he did not move immediately. He stared into her eyes, clear to her soul, seeing his life with her, their future, not just as king and queen, but as lovers.

He brushed her hair from her face. It stuck to the perspiration that glistened across her forehead before kissing her lips.

“You are beautiful,” he said, and came up onto his toes, going deeper.

She sighed and let out a breath.

“So are you,” she replied.

He chuckled and pulled out, the head of his cock barely inside her. “I think you are mindless with pleasure, darling.”

She drew her lips between her teeth and then answered, “Yes.” She gave a shuttering breath as he pushed into her again. “But I have always thought you were beautiful. More beautiful than any man I have ever seen.”

He continued to move and they continued this easy conversation, and Hades had the thought as he stared into her glittering eyes that there was something different about the way they came together this time, something deeper and darker and even more intimate.

“I will never forget how I felt when I first saw you,” she said.

“Tell me,” he urged.

Despite the warmth of the fire nearby and the sweat beading across their skin, she shivered.

“I felt your eyes on me, like hands touching my whole body. I had never felt so enflamed. I had never felt so afraid.”

“Why afraid?” he asked. He bent closer to her lips, and she shifted, her legs spreading further apart to accommodate his movements, which had grown in tempo.

“Because…” she started, and then paused. “Because I knew I could love you, and I wasn’t supposed to.”

Hades’ lips closed over hers, and it felt like his chest had opened up and all his thoughts and feelings were pouring into her. His paced quickened, and they were quiet after that, even their moans and sighs were quiet, until they reached their climax, coming in waves and collapsing in a heap of limbs and breaths and sweat.

Hades rolled onto his back, and Persephone pressed into him, her head on his chest.

“Your mother hates me,” Hades said. “If she knew you were here, she would punish you.”

Persephone rolled onto him and sat up, straddling his body. His eyes ignited as her wet and swollen center cupped his hardening flesh.

“Only if she finds out,” she replied.

“Will I always be your secret?” Hades asked, doing his best to make it sound as if he were teasing, but there was a true challenge to his question because her answer would tell him about how she thought of their future.

Except, she did not answer.

“I do not wish to talk about my mother,” she said, her fingers threading with this, hips rolling against his own, and Hades didn’t press. He didn’t want to lose this moment—the way she guided his hands over his head and leaned over him, the way her breasts bounced as she impaled herself on his cock, the way she rode him until she was too tired to move. He had to take over then, rising into a sitting position so he could grip her body to his and continue creating that delicious friction that sent him over the edge, until his mind was blissfully blank, his concerns for their forever, forgotten.