And when we’re in bed one evening and I taste the mint tea that lingers on his lips and he’s holding me close and I feel like I can’t breathe until I touch every inch of him, I decide: ‘Hades, I want to have sex.’
‘ARE YOU SURE?’
‘It’s okay, darling, we’re married.’
‘I’m not asking if the appropriate administrative procedures are in place. I’m asking if you’re sure you want to do this.’
I think about it for a moment. For my whole life, sex has been this big, scary thing. Mother kept me on an island to avoid it. The nymphs called it things like ‘life-changing’, ‘transcendent’, ‘everything you’ve ever been waiting for’. And Mother called it ‘disgusting’, ‘sinful’, ‘something you only do to please your husband’. I think the reality might be that sex is none of those things. Everything Hades and I have done together has been fun – maybe a little strange – but nothing has made me feel like a different person. I think, with Hades, sex might just be nice and it could feel good. I think it might mean something, neither as good nor as bad as it’s been made out to be but something wonderful nonetheless.
‘Yes, I’m sure. I want this,’ I say, sitting up in bed and drawing him up with me. I take his hands in mine and turn to face him.‘Do you? We’ve spent so long talking about what I want but do you want to have sex? It’s really, truly fine if you don’t.’
He gulps and I follow the movement, wanting to kiss every inch of that neck, wanting him to arch it back in surrender. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I would like that.’
‘I want –’ I hesitate. But I’ve become so much better at saying what I want recently. ‘I want you to tell me what you like, show me how to do things and help me realize what I like too.’
‘Of course. And have you taken –’
‘Silphium? Yeah.’ I started swallowing its leaves the moment something like this crossed my mind. ‘Contraception is sorted – don’t worry.’
Hades reaches for me and strokes my cheek. I think of those hands roaming the rest of my body.
I practically throw myself at him. I climb on to his lap and we’re kissing like we’ll drown if we stop, as though clinging to each other is the only thing keeping us afloat. He’s holding on to my waist, pulling me even closer, lips firm and desperate, catching at my earlobe, trailing down my neck and I bite into his shoulder, lick his skin, kiss him anywhere I can think to reach.
I never knew that you could want like this – with every inch of yourself.
We slide each other’s clothes off, press our skin together, clutch each other like we’ll perish if we can’t get closer.
It is hands reaching, lips trailing, exploring one another like we can memorize each other’s bodies with our tongues.
It is laughter – as he rolls me over and nearly off the bed, as pleasure unfurls within me and I jolt with such violence Inearly collide with him, as he eases oil between my thighs and the odd squelching noises have us both stifling laughter until it breaks free, washes over us, and we’re back to kisses and whispers of longing.
It is need – grasping, biting, clutching. It is murmured words and panting gasps.
And, when we’re moving against each other, I run my nails down his back and he moans so deeply I feel it in my core, where liquid fire builds once more.
And I am thread, unfurling, fraying, coming undone.
When we are done, we collapse in a tangled, sweaty mess, whispering our love, laughing in ecstasy.
‘How was it?’ he asks.
Electrifying and weird and fun and uncertain and hilarious and enchanting.
‘Amazing,’ I say, kissing his bare skin. ‘I can’t wait to do it again.’
BUT WITH EVERY DAY THATpasses we find less and less time together.
Each second brings more chaos to the Underworld. There are so many souls rushing to the furthest edge of the river Acheron that Tartarus has to help Charon shuttle them across the river. All five river gods join together to control the waters, making the journey easier. And Hermes, who usually only accompanies the souls to the Underworld, now offers to help Thanatos in the act of death itself, ending the suffering of those whose bodies can’t sustain them any more.
Dozens of trials happen at once and I spend whole days rushing from one emergency to the next. Hades says court is quiet, with most gods too preoccupied to attend. Those that go have genuine complaints and concerns that take hours to unpack. He hasn’t touched an easel in weeks and it’s getting to him, even if he doesn’t say so.
I miss him. More than the feel of him and the way my body hums under his touch, I miss him – our conversations, his reassuring presence, the way he makes me feel so sure of myself.We’re so busy we barely see each other, stumbling to bed in the early hours of the morning only to wake at dawn to do it all again. We each often wake to a cold space on the other side of the bed, the other having already left for the duties of the day.
The work is exhausting. The distance between Hades and me, especially with all we have discovered these last few weeks, is fracturing. And I’m not sure how long it can continue.
‘You have post,’ Hermes says, dumping a bag full of letters on the table before me. There are so many I’m not sure where to start, or if I even have time.
‘Later,’ I say.
