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“As much as you wish,” he replies. His hands seek the skin beneath Hades' dark skirts; cotton tickling across his forearms as his hands explore the cool, firm curves of her pale thighs.
“I’m not glass,” she says, lips ghosting over Kore’s cheek. “Hold me like youmeanit.”
He digs fingertips into her hips, hard enough that Hades groans, her lips curving into a sensual smile. An expression that serves as permission. Kore’s inhibitions are gone as he bends, his teeth catch the fabric covering her chest. He rips the gauzy material, exposing Hades' pale breasts to the room. Her nipples—a faded, pale-pink watercolor tone–—harden. He’s not a virgin in the throes of his first time, but excitement fills Kore. One he hasn’t felt in years.
His tongue maps her exposed skin, delighting at the salty taste as Kore learns Hades' curves. Committing Hades to memory, along with each sound of encouragement she makes. Kore studies her; determined to remember the places that make her gasp with need and to avoid the ones that leave Hades yearning.
Queens aren’t supposed to know disappointment, and Kore throws himself into the role of devoted subject—a consort who aims to see every hunger fulfilled.
“Tell me what you like,” Kore says, his words hot against the skin of Hades' stomach.
“To forget,” she replies. Lovely fingers comb through his hair, scratching at Kore’s scalp with delicious pressure. “Whatever you do, my daffodil, make it good enough that I forget.”
Kore grins at the challenge.
Seduction is an art—one he never cared for, because sex came easily to Kore. Nymphs, naiads, lesser goddesses, and the occasional mortal all came to him with their thighs open, pleading for his cock. He never worked to make them feel satisfied. Kore touched where and what he wanted—how he wanted—for his own selfishness. In bed he had power, but it felt empty, and he got to the point where he stopped. After his rebellious teen years, Kore turned to books for something to calm his disquiet. It was in a book—written by Eros—that Kore learned of a different kind of pleasure. The pleasure ofpleasinganother. One he thought of, in theory, but didn’t care to put into practice.
Until Hades.
He begins with her face, kissing Hades with lips that are chaste. Agonizing minutes where he remains closed off to her, a treat she whines to know. Kore’s tongue teases hers, a rare taste that Hades chases with her own. He grins against her mouth as she releases a sound that tells Kore she wants more. Kore knows what Hades needs to get out of her head. He holds back, despite his desire to give everything Hades craves.
Patience is the best gift a lover can give, according to Eros, the self-professed King of Smut.
Kore places open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin behind Hades' ear, grinning as she wriggles against him with shock. How many of Hades' lovers held her with intention? How many didn’t love her right due to fear? Kore will rewrite them all. Eons of lovers that Kore will exorcise with the touch of his skin.
As Hades' thighs part, opening wider, Kore slots himself against her. His hardness pressed against the constricting, thick material of his jeans. Hades is bare, and Kore can feel the heat of her as Hades grinds his hip. Seeking friction.
Hades' hands slip up his neck and into his hair, holding Kore closer.
“Touch me,” she begs. He grins, deciding he enjoys holding power over his queen.
Kore moves down the length of Hades' body; his smile ghosts the cool skin of her stomach. His teeth nip, ever so slightly, against the tight swirl of her navel on Kore’s journey south. He kneels on the ground, her knees hooked over his broad shoulders. Kore’s gaze falls on the space between her thighs. The guarded secret of a queen revealed to him, like a prize. Hades’ skin flushes with desire, her innermost skin darkens with need, and Kore swallows. He recalls her taste on his fingers, diluted with the salt of his skin. Kore wants—noneeds—to taste Hades without anything polluting her flavor.
Kore holds back, curling his left hand into a fist. His short nails bite into his palm, grounding Kore through pain. Though Kore wants to drive his tongue deep within Hades, he starts with her soft knee. Kore’s mouth whispers a kiss over her skin while his tongue follows his lips.
Hades toes flex with each touch, silently praising Kore as he inches up her inner thigh. His teeth graze across the tenderness of her skin, eliciting a breathy moan from her. Emboldened, Kore does it again. This time pressing his teeth harder. She shouts, a sound that saysmorewithout a word. Kore digs his teeth into her again, grinning against her skin when she shudders. Releasing her, Kore licks over the indent his teeth leave behind.
A mark that says,I was here.
He kisses higher, deciding he’s teased her enough when Kore sees how her skin gleams. Hades' cunt drips with lust, so much that it seems to sparkle beneath the glow of her preferred candlelight.
Fuck.
Kore’s mouth covers Hades, sucking until she bucks off of the desk. Seeking more as Kore’s tongue teases the slippery folds of tender skin. Hades feels like silk in his mouth. Her flavor is skin and musk with another flavor weaving through the others—unique and tangy like a pomegranate.
“Kore,” Hades says. His name a plea as it falls from her mouth.
Kore doesn’t need Hades to name her desire. Though they are newly married—newly acquainted—Kore knows the language her body speaks. He understands Hades here, in these moments of passion, though he’s still learning her in other ways.
His teeth graze Hades' clit, before sucking the skin between his teeth, rolling her sensitive flesh against the blunted edges.
Her orgasm floods his tongue. The walls of Hades' cunt clamp around his tongue as Kore fucks the wet muscle in and out of her; licking her out while she rides that first wave of release.
Hades lies boneless when Kore rises; his face wet with her come. He grins down at the picture she paints. Hades' pale skin flushes red across her chest, up her neck, and blooms over her cheeks.
“Michelangelo would kill to paint you like this,” Kore says.
“If it were you lying on this table, fucked to breathlessness, maybe,” Hades replies, her words laboring through deep breaths.
