Page 16 of His in the Dark
HADES
S omething’s different about Persephone when I return for the evening, Cerberus padding along at my side. There’s an air about the room that's different as I stand in the doorway and I make my way in, bringing Cerberus with me. Absently I pet his head as I watch her, poised and still and then turn to the crackling lit fire. My faithful companion leans against me for a pat on all three of his heads, then makes a snuffling sound and goes to lie by the fire. The flames are low in the grate, barely there at all, and certainly not high enough to warm the room.
Yet the energy is undoubtedly different. Persephone stands in the center of the room, her hands folded in front of her, as she has many times in the past few days, but her posture is straighter. Prouder. There is an air of anticipation about her. Of challenge. My heart responds instantly, though I do not let this show on my face.
Instead, I move closer, watching her with every scrap of my focus. Something has happened today, though I do not know what. I will discover what it was—there is no doubt in my mind. I will ask Minox, if I must.
Inhaling the sweetening tension in the air around Persephone, I pause a few feet away, studying her intently. She lifts her chin and stares up into my eyes, the blush in her face a deeper shade of pink.
Fucking beautiful. At last I put my finger on it. She belongs here. She looks and feels like she belongs here. Like she owns the entire fucking room with her silk cream gown that pools around her and straight dark hair that only intensifies the color of her eyes. Gorgeous. The power that surrounds her is breathtaking.
“My queen,” I greet her, not reaching out to touch her. I’m cautious with every move, needing to see her when she’s like this. Craving every intimate moment and detail to be carved into my mind. I cannot distract myself with her curves under my palms.
Persephone’s chin tips up just slightly, her eyes dancing over my face. “You would give me anything?”
No greeting. Just a tempting statement from her lips. Almost flirtatious. As if she has the upper hand. My cock has never been harder.
Her voice is different. Not the pitch, but the tone. She has asked me questions without preamble before, of course, but there is a certain richness to her words now. A certain seductive power. Like she already knows the answer and it’s because she does.
“That is what I said,” I allow.
Her chest rises and falls in a quick, shallow breath. “You seem almost desperate.”
I smirk at her truly humorous statement. “Is that what you think?” I want for her, but I need for nothing. She will be mine. And I hers.
Persephone may think I do not notice, but I see the way she readjusts herself, her shoulders going back. Confidence . That’s what’s pouring off her, though I cannot tell if she has convinced herself to feel it for this conversation or if it has come from elsewhere. Somewhere in the shadows inside of her desperate to be freed.
“I think—” she begins, her voice level, with only a hint of the way it has trembled in the past. Persephone’s confidence does not reach to the innermost parts of her, then. “I think my mother and father will discover I am here at some point. I know they will.”
Again, it’s not her words that have changed. It’s her belief in them. She has made claims about her father before, but they were made out of fear and desperation. These are not. It is a significant change, and raises my hackles, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up straight. It is not a welcome sensation.
“Do you?” I ask, mildly.
“I think you only have so much time.” Persephone’s eyes narrow.
Of course she is right. Secrets don’t last forever. The tips of my fingers slip over the rough pads of my thumbs as I stand in deliberation. I let none of this show. I have had much longer to practice self-control, though I will admit that Persephone’s presence destabilizes it in ways I couldn’t have predicted.
“And how much time is that?” I ask her.
The ferocity in her expression increases as my question reaches her, a curiosity reaching her eyes. Almost like it’s a game. “I don’t believe you know.”
I chuckle, a shiver of unease running through me. Regardless of what Persephone believes, her mother and father cannot come to the Underworld.
However, others can come on their behalf.
Has someone told her? Has someone slipped her that tidbit of knowledge without alerting me?
My eyes narrow as I pace slowly and we watch each other. My body responds to her even as my mind ticks through possibility after possibility. Who, and where, and when? There are many souls who would have reason, and cover, to visit my realm. Some of them may have the means to access my private rooms. The keeper of keys. Seers and fates would know and so easily tell as their loyalty is to truth and only such things. There are ways to keep them out, of course, but not every method is foolproof. There is more power in my realm than I can hope to control with absolute authority, so I must remain prepared for my realm’s weaknesses—few as they are—to be taken advantage of.
In the silence, Persephone’s cheeks grow more flushed and the color slips down to her chest. Her eyes search my face again and again with shrewd concentration. It is so different from the days she spent weeping on the rug and curling up into a desolate ball in the bed next to me. The change is one I have craved, yet now that it is here, I find myself cautious in reaching out to claim it for myself.
Cautious and ravenous. It becomes harder by the moment to keep my hands off Persephone. I make a point of drinking in the sight of her, collecting as much information as I can without feeling it under my touch.
Persephone swallows, then takes another quick breath. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders. Every individual part of her shines in contrast to the rest. The softness of her hair makes me want the sharp line of her jaw. The strength in her posture makes me want to turn her into languid pleasure, stretched out on my bed…or any surface with room to spread her out for my enjoyment. The hard, focused way she stares into my eyes makes me want the trusting, relaxed side of her that she only reveals when she’s deeply asleep.
The duality of the Goddess who will rule this kingdom with me. I crave all of her.
“What is it you desire from me?” A sensual note rings in her voice, the pitch slightly lower than it was before.
My cock throbs. “I believe that’s obvious, my queen.”
A rueful smile quirks the corner of her mouth, then fades away. “You say that as if you could ever have an equal.”
“You think so poorly of yourself.” I’d meant to say this lightly, with the same distance between us, but some of my anger finds its way in. “Who put those thoughts in your head?”
Persephone’s lips part as if she already had an answer in mind, but she hesitates, closing her mouth again, her brown eyes even more intense as she keeps them locked on mine. The tension between us demands that I move closer.
It feels as if we’re balanced on a precipice, and Persephone could fall in either direction—back into her desolate stupor, or into the power I am still offering her.
It is so obvious she is meant for the power and the darkness. How can she be so blind?
She takes a deep breath, then moves back half a step. My heartbeat is the loudest sound in all of the Underworld. Will she sink to the floor? Move to the bed? Throw herself against me in a futile attempt to fight?
Instead, Persephone reaches for the clasps at the shoulders of her gown. Without looking away from me, my gaze caught in hers, she undoes one of the clasps, letting the strip of fabric fall gently down to expose the round top of one breast. The gentle sound of the soft fabric falling is nothing compared to the hammering in my chest.
My mouth goes completely dry. I have slept next to her for many nights, but she has never revealed herself to me like this before. I have the strong sense that I am watching something miraculous. Like a fragile flower of the Gods opening for the first time.
Persephone reaches for the other clasp and lets it fall, pausing for a few moments in a maddening half-dressed state. It is a promise of what else she might offer me. This should be an acknowledgement of her place in my realm—my queen, yes, but a queen who must rule at my side.
I cannot take my eyes off her. It’s not possible with the invitation before me. Her smooth skin and gorgeous curves. She’s bared to me and I can barely temper my desire.
Slowly, as if she is beginning to feel the power she holds in this moment, Persephone tugs her dress down and down until first one of her nipples is revealed, and then the second. The soft undersides of her breasts meet the light next, and I find that I am not breathing. This is nothing that I could not have taken from her, and yet this slow unveiling is charged with meaning and emotion beyond anything I hoped to experience.
Persephone does not stop.
She continues stripping off her dress, her hands careful on the fabric, bringing it down to her waist and over her hips. The silk clings to her hips for a moment.
“I do not think you care who put those thoughts in my head,” Persephone says softly, but I cannot take in her words. I can only take in the dip at her waist and the creamy skin meeting the fabric of her gown. “I know you do not care. You can’t take your eyes off me.”
I do not answer. My fascination with her is too obvious to deny. I am almost mad with the desire to see her with no clothing on at all. With nothing between us but air. And soon—nothing between us at all. My hands directly against her skin, tracing over that pounding heart of hers. Her pulse quickens, beating in the side of her neck, visible to me though she bears her nerves well.
My grasp on the thoughts I had prior to stepping into this room slips away as Persephone guides her gown over her hips and lets it fall to the floor. It seems to fall forever—for as long as I was trapped in the dark, at least—and then finally the fabric lands.
It no longer touches her.
There is nothing between us but air and crackling tension.
Persephone shifts her weight, lifting her hands to let her hair fall back over her shoulders. Almost no part of her is obscured from me now, save the shadows between her thighs, hiding the soft warmth. What little firelight comes from behind me seems to caress her skin.
I find myself jealous of that firelight. I find myself wishing there was nothing but darkness between us, and that the space itself was nothing.
Persephone lowers her eyes, then brings them back to mine. “Do what you want to me,” she says easily. She nearly whispers, “Have your fill.”
The air between us is thicker than it's ever been, humming with a sort of desperate tension. Is that coming from her or coming from me?
Her chest rises and falls with her quickening breath and I’m entranced. I cannot deny it.
I take a step toward her, then another, unable to keep myself away. But I do not throw her down on the bed, though I pine for touch too.
Instead, I lift my hand to the side of her neck and stroke my fingers along that fluttering pulse of hers, putting a bit of magic behind my touch. For her to feel what I feel. For her to know her power over me.
Persephone takes a quick breath, and I put more magic in that light, teasing touch. A flame bursts from my fingers. It will not hurt her. It will not burn her. It will sensitize her skin. It will make her come alive in ways I’m certain she has not felt.
She gasps aloud this time. Persephone can feel it—I have no doubt. She can feel my power in the form of fire dancing along her skin and flowing into her veins.
The darkest parts of me beg my body to fall to my knees and worship her, but I do not. I resist the weakness inside of me that craves her companionship.
I circle her, gracing my fingertips along the curve of her shoulder, and then the dip at the base of her spine, little flickers of flame and power. The shivers and goosebumps that follow in the wake of my touch have a delicate beauty to them. As does the soft gasp and scent of her arousal. She pines for me as I for her.
When I arrive back at Persephone's front, her nipples are peaked, and she's clasped her hands in front of her. I touch each one of her knuckles in turn. Persephone flips her hands over so her palms are up, and I give the center of each hand a lick of the fire.
Her pupils have gone wide with darkness. She looks up at me, her lips parted, her breath coming fast and more shallow than it was before.
The tension is still strong. She’s still holding tight to the confidence she found while I was away.
But her desire is growing stronger. Or else that is my desire growing stronger. It is becoming impossible to tell the difference.
I choose the former for the sake of my sanity.
I put the pad of my middle finger between her breasts and draw it down over the naked flesh of her stomach. Her belly contracts slightly as I skim my fingertip over her belly button, and then—slowly—travel lower.
Persephone is the one who moves in first. She steps closer, one hand rising to the collar of my robe. She curls her fingers around it and holds on, and then— then —she inches her feet apart, spreading her thighs.
My cock aches and every muscle in my body tenses with the need for more.
I let my head lean forward and inhale the scent of her hair. Persephone is already in need. Her arousal evident from her flush and the manner in which she trembles before me.
Slowly, with a gentle touch, I explore her folds, finding her wet, welcoming opening and teasing just so. Persephone does not close her thighs. I circle that place, my cock growing hard and impatient.
Instead, I move my fingers back up through her sweetness and find her swollen clit.
Persephone’s lips part with a gasp when my fingers settle over that place, her thighs trembling around my hand in an effort to stay open for me. A few light circles is all it takes to have her panting and holding onto my collar with more force. The pull in the air between us grows stronger as Persephone gasps, and then?—
Then there is magic in the air, as if it was always with her, but could not be found. Persephone cries out, her legs barely holding her upright. I tease her clit as she finds her pleasure, then slide my fingers back down and push them inside her to feel the flutters and clenches of her release.
“ Oh ,” she breathes. “Hades—” The sound of my name on her lips is divine.
She clenches down hard on my fingers, her orgasm heightened and extended.
I withdraw my fingers and find her clit with the pad of my thumb.
“Again,” I tell my queen.
For once, she does not disobey me. She rests against me, her lips parted and her clenched hands desperate for aid in keeping her upright. Her head falls back, and she loses herself to my touch.