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“Kore,” she gasps, desperation in her voice. “Please,” Hades says as if she’s not sure what she’s asking for.
“Come on my cock, love,” Kore commands. Snapping up into her, deeper, and using his hand on her hip to hold Hades firm as he grinds against her. Giving her all the friction she needs. Warmth floods between them, a slick silky feeling as her cunt flutters around him.Pulsatingas she rubs against him through the aftershocks.
Kore follows her, his own orgasm ignited by hers. He fills Hades, jerking his hips in erratic movements. As Kore stills within Hades, he wonders if his seed will root in her womb. A fleeting hope seizes across his chest, tightening the muscle, as Kore places soft kisses along Hades' jaw.
“What are you thinking?” she asks, once their heart rates steady to a normal rhythm.
“I’m cursing Helios, praying that he will not rise and lead the dawn across the sky,” Kore says, giving Hades a half-truth.
Hades' hair tickles against his throat, black strands that Kore curls around his fingers.
“Though we’ll be divided, I am always with you.” Hades tells Kore with an earnest gleam in her pale eyes.
It won’t be the same.
When he leaves, Hades will lock his memory deep. She won’t think about him; she won’t call for him. She will treat him like another fleeting soul who has come and gone. Another weak memory lingering in empty obsidian halls.
They remain silent—wrapped in each other’s arms—watching a clock on Hades' wall. As the seconds tick closer to day, Kore holds Hades tighter.
“Release me,” she whispers, once dawn breaks. “Release me and go.” The final command Kore receives from this queen.
He closes his eyes, nods once, and rises from the bed. The remnants of their night’s passion flake from around his groin, and he knows nothing will remain once he washes Hades from his skin. Kore hopes the fish in Olympus' rivers die, that the waters run dry, and that death bleeds from his skin the way Kore bleeds from his heart.
May Olympus feel my misery as her own.
29
Kore
Returning home is supposed to be a celebration, but Kore feels as if he’s marching to a death knell and not the strum of Apollo’s lyre.
Demeter demanded a ball, and Zeus gave in to her with surprising ease.
“Persephone has returned!” Nymphs cheer, showering Kore with a colorful mix of flower petals. “The earth will heal!”
He thinks about his own sacrifice. Bitterness enfolds Kore; he can’t forgive that he’s a god denied happiness for mortals, who don’t even know him. They raise statues in a maiden’s honor, temples for a sweet creature, and participate in cult rituals for a goddess that does not exist.
“Persephone,” one of the nymphs says, grabbing his arm and beaming up at him with a wide grin. “Do you need a cleansing touch after lying with the Goddess of the Underworld?”
He yanks his hand from her hold, offended that she believes her skin could compare to Hades'. Nothing will chase Hades' delicious poison from his veins—she’s the dragon he’ll always chase.
“Don’t touch me so casually,” he booms, and those around them pause. Kore shakes his head, weary of the stares that burn across his skin. “Where is my mother? Where is Demeter?”
One of the nymphs points toward Zeus' palace—the golden monstrosity that rises out of the highest point of Olympus.
“She’s preparing for your ball,” a satyr adds into the sudden quiet.
“Excuse me,” Kore says, begging off the company that surrounds him. It’s too suffocating after nearly a year spent in a silent and still realm.
“Not now,” Kore yells when others run toward him, delighted by his return. He’s all too happy to disappoint them. This is not Kore’s place; his place is in the Underworld, beside Hades. He hurries to the palace, hoping he can make Zeus see reason and convince the King of the Gods to return him to Hades.
* * *
The gardens surrounding Zeus'home are tame, predictable, and boring. His mother worked to undo all the wild lushness Kore crafted as he waffled through various moods. He didn’t think he could be hurt anymore by the woman who has hated him his entire life, but here he stands, hurt all the same. Demeter takes everything of Kore and grinds it down to nothing, forcing him into the mold she designed for herself, and he hates her for her constant demeaning ways.
The hedge of Zeus' form offends him. Kore takes his rage out on the unsuspecting shrub, decapitating it without thought or worry for the consequences.
“You know,” Zeus' smooth voice filters through the garden. “That could be seen as an act of treason.”
