A First Press of Olives

Persephone's hand flew behind her to rest on his hipbone and she stopped him, then guided him forward, telling him without words that the distance was as far as he should withdraw. He exhaled against the shell of her ear and slowly pushed back in. Her back arched below him and her elbows started weakening. When they gave out and she fell forward, he caught her with one strong arm, encircling her in the space of another withdrawal and thrust.

Aidoneus pelted her shoulders and neck with kisses, then flattened his chest against her back and pulled her up with a hand cupping her breast. He was forced by position and the natural resistance of her body to go slowly. The great pressure around his shaft and the ever-increasing heat closing around the head pushed him close to the brink, but he withheld and refocused with every caress of her skin. He wanted her to come again, with his cock held in her tight chasm. He wanted to know and experience this part of her— with the part of him meant only for her. He wanted her to reach ecstasy again while he was within her.

Persephone's head spun in euphoria, her body lax and open, the whole of her being focused on the gentle rhythm of him sliding out and driving in. Out, in, out, in, pulling her with him in each direction. It didn't have the same feel as their normal intercourse, with the unknown ending and beginning present within and through each other, where they could lose track of the rhythm and just be— simply feel their union as one being. This was something more visceral— a pleasure that brought all attention back to the width of him and the weight of him pulling and pushing against the tightness of her entrance. Cool air grazed the front of her quivering body and she realized that her husband had lifted her upright. She leaned forward, supported, his arms circling around her to meld her against his skin.

Aidon trailed his hand down her belly and up her thigh, then found the soaked groove of her folds and stroked up and down the crease. His other arm clamped firmly across the front of her and she leaned into it heavily, unable to stay upright on her own.

Her voice broke and she writhed, discovering that the pleasure within her, usually eased and refocused by an empty clench around nothing, rebounded in waves through the rest of her body. The light touch of her husband's fingers contrasted powerfully with his cock evenly thrusting behind her and she cried out. His breath was heavy in her ear, his beard scraping against her neck. Her back and his chest were covered with perspiration and traces of olive oil, the contact heightened by the slick interplay of flesh gliding against flesh. He tightened his grasp and increased his speed, comfortable within her, urging her onward, pushing her upward. His fingers worked dark magic against the apex of her mound and his tightening sac rhythmically slapped against her aching lips.

"Come for me." He rasped his husky demand into her ear. His ardent voice spiked her pleasure ever higher and he felt it echo within her. "That's it. My sweet one... my beautiful one... come. Come, my cherished one... Let go... Fall apart with me inside you..."

Persephone crested at Aidoneus' lustful entreaties, rising to unknown heights. Then everything broke and crashed within her. Her ring bore down on his thickness, reverberating in waves throughout her body. Her eyes rolled back and her voice disappeared. Everything collapsed inward before exploding like a nova. Her climax ricocheted through her being from her fingers and toes to the tips of her breasts, to the pressure around his cock, to the flood of her essence drenching his fingers.

She heard Aidon's voice rise on the perimeter of her consciousness— his moans labored and timed with each thrust. He expanded inside her and his hands fell hard on her hips, steadying her as he thrust to the hilt one last time. His whole body stiffened and bowed, his head thrown back and his voice, her name, carrying to the rafters. Waves of his release splashed into her, dragging the last ounces of pleasure from her. His body shook violently as he emptied into her and Aidoneus pinned Persephone tightly against him so the erratic movement of his hips wouldn't hurt her.

The knelt like that, their hearts fluttering wildly— his against her back, hers against his hand. Her head lay back against his shoulder, his chin rested on her neck and all either could hear was their beloved regaining the ability to breathe. Long moments passed.

Aidon started pulling away with excruciating care, almost as slowly as he'd first entered her. The flared head gave them resistance and Persephone moaned at the renewed flare of pleasure and small bursts of passing discomfort. He groaned when his overly sensitive penis finally left her. Wordlessly, they crashed onto their sides, careless of the pillows, the empty cup, the tray it sat upon. He smoothed her mussed hair from her back and shoulder and pressed into her, cradling her from behind and stroking the length of her from shoulder to knee. She whimpered when he jostled her hip.

"How are you?"

She smiled, her eyes still closed. Her voice was hoarse. "A little sore."

"Same." He chuckled. "Not even approaching what you must feel, though."

"And I'm sticky." She smiled and wriggled around. The olive oil was cloying against her skin.

"I have just the thing for that." He rose from the bed slowly, his knees still shaking. Aidoneus took the water thief with him to fill it in the rushing waterfall outside their antechamber. The light was dimming along the Styx and evening had settled across the reaches of Chthonia. When he returned to the room he held the dripping bronze sphere toward the fire for a minute until it heated, then emptied its contents into the marble sink basin. He came back to the spent pile of limbs that was his wife and gathered her up in his arms. "Come here; up you go."

"I have little choice in the matter," she giggled weakly, pulling one arm around his neck as he scooped up the back of her knees with the other. He smiled and nuzzled her, then stood with her in his arms, kissing her full on the lips, his tongue dipping and twining with hers, their mingled tastes tinged with olive oil. She pulled back breathlessly. He brushed the tip of his nose against hers again, then gently set her down beside the hearth fire. The stone cooled her skin, making contact and drawing the excess heat from her sore cheeks and inflamed lips.

Aidoneus grabbed a sponge and ran it first across her back, dipping it in the water and scraping its rough surface along every inch of her skin. She luxuriated against his enfolding arm, her eyes closing as his ministrations traced each of her limbs with utmost care. He stood her up to clean her thighs and his face fell when he saw the pink handprints on her rump.

"I shouldn't have done that," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Done what?"

"Spanked you. I should always remember that..." He cast his eyes to the floor.

She searched his thoughts as he trailed off and saw a familiar vision of them plunging through fire, her cry of pain in the dark when he claimed her as his wife. "Aidoneus, my love, you did nothing wrong."

"After I took you from the world above, I promised myself. I swore I would never hurt you again."

"You didn't."

"What do you call that, then?" He traced the radial of bruises his fingertips had left on her hips.

"Aidon, look at me," she said, cupping him at his jaw line. "Isn't it time you forgive yourself for the very thing I forgave not a month after you brought me here? We both know why it needed to be done."

He looked at her thoughtfully, but his brow furrowed again, and he averted his eyes from her searching gaze.

She brought his focus back to her. "You didn't hurt me. Not once in all of this, in an act that could have because," she said, pointed looking at his groin, "well, you're by no means small."

He guffawed and looked away from her, embarrassed, before staring into her bright blue gray eyes. She took the sponge from him and wrung it out in the warm water before administered to him, brushing it over his chest and arms, his long legs.

"I admit I was curious," she continued while she worked, "but also a little frightened by this. I wanted it, to know all you as I'd said, but was so nervous I didn't want to ask you directly. And you were nervous, too, and you too kept silent, and I knew that you were withholding asking because you care deeply for me."

"I only ever wanted to protect you. And I think I try to protect you from myself, sometimes."

"Aidon, you don't have to. We trust each other. We love each other. But it saddens me every time you hold back from me, and from yourself. Tonight was one of those rare times you were able to bring down all your walls, and just let me in and be with me. And I loved it."

He took her hand within his and stood her up in front of him. "You did?"

"Of course I did."

"Everything?" He traced her disappearing bruises.

"All of it. Through and through. You promised yourself you'd never hurt me, but now I want you to promise me something. Can you?"

"I would give you anything. You know that."

"Then promise me— as I will promise you now— that we won't ever let our fear of each other come between us again. Or stand between the pleasure we share as husband and wife. Can you do that with me?"

He held her arms, stroking the curve of her shoulders with his thumbs, then wrapped himself around her, drawing her against his chest. His head dipped until his nose rested atop her head. "I will. I promise."

She closed her eyes and listened to the crackle of the fire and warmed in his arms as he rocked her to and fro.

"Promise me something in turn," he said. "That you will care for yourself, not put the world upon your shoulders, and if anything I do causes you any harm of any kind, you will tell me?"

"I shall," she answered. He kissed her and breathed in the scent of her hair. Persephone melted into him, relieved and pleasantly tired. "Though... I think that anything else we might try will have to wait at least until tomorrow."

His torso shook with laughter. "That's fine by me. Shall we turn in early to bed?"

"I had a better idea," she said, grabbing a large, black fleece from the bed in one hand and pulling along Aidoneus with her other. "Have you ever slept under the stars in the Elysian Fields?"