Hades and Persephone Ch. 04

Chapter 4 begins with Persephone's dream, a duplicate of Hades's dream at the start of Chapter 3. Enjoy!

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"Mmmm, I love dianthus! I have never seen any blossom so beautiful," Persephone murmured to herself. Delicate petals only a few shades darker than her lips beckoned her to caress their velvety contours.

As she was supposed to attend a banquet at her aunt Hera's manse that evening, she took care not to allow dirt to smudge her ivory gown. Stray curls escaped her pinned up hair and waved in the slight breeze.

She had wandered farther out than she ever had; Persephone had never been to this place of peace and perfection before. While she knew her mother would be looking for her shortly, Persephone could not tear herself away from the pastoral beauty surrounding her.

It was only after she raised a bloom to her nose and inhaled the fragrance from the blossom that she realized that she was no longer alone. A glance up revealed a man she had never before seen. He was not a mortal surely; Persephone was still in the realm of the gods.

Robes of blackest night cloaked him in gloom so at odds with the lovely, sunny field where Persephone luxuriated in the feel of the sun warming her skin mixed with the softness of the fragrant soil beneath her. Who was he?

Whoever he was, he approached, striding forward as if this place of beauty and light were his domain. Her heart trip-hammered; her breath caught in her throat. Persephone found she could no longer focus on the bucolic natural beauty, her senses were honed only to him.

His deep voice rumbled from his lips, smooth yet commanding. "I am Hades," he pronounced, and Persephone shivered, comprehending at last her mistake.

Worried he would become offended by her staring, she lowered her gaze and swallowed. Hard. "I am Persephone, Lord Hades, daughter of Demeter." The mention of her mother had her glancing around, worried that her mother even now may be searching for her.

She glanced up again; she could not help it. Everything about his appearance and voice intrigued her. Hair, dark with tight waves, clung to his skull and disappeared into the inky blackness of his robes. Lips that were at turns stern and dismissive, yet with a curve that made parts of her moisten at the thought of that flesh pressed against her lips, curled up at the corners.

"May I offer you some assistance, Persephone? What brings you to the Elysian Fields, my dear?" His tone was like the finest nectar on her tongue.

For several moments, she did not register his words. "I'm sorry, Lord Hades. I did not realize that I had trespassed upon your property. But the flora is so lovely here," she whispered, her fingers reaching for--and caressing--a quivering dianthus petal.

Her apologetic blue eyes met his crimson gaze. "No apologies necessary, dear one. Might I offer you a brief repast?"

"That would be lovely," she murmured, perceiving her famished state. As he stared at her, she grew uneasy. She, a maiden goddess, was alone with Hades, a god well over twice her age and far more experienced than he. Not only that, she was also alone with him, the king of the Underworld, on his own property, where his word was law.

Dark shadows scurried about to bring an ugly ruddy orb to Hades as well as the requisite nectar and ambrosia. To appear refined and delicate, Persephone nibbled and sipped at the offered victuals until her curiosity got the better of her. "What is that?" she pondered aloud, lying back on the soft grass and blooms.

Lazily, she watched as he expertly slit open the lumpy, unsightly sphere, twisting it open to show her the ruby seeds within. "This, my dear, is a special fruit found only here in the Underworld. A pomegranate. Ugly on the outside, this fruit contains these plump seeds that burst with luscious juice when you eat them. Here, have a taste."

Her gaze was transfixed by his nimble yet strong fingers retrieving twelve of those juicy ruby-hued seeds. How would his fingers feel on her skin? Teasingly, he waved his hand before her face, and her eyes followed the small pile of juicy scarlet seeds cupped in his palm.

Persephone licked her suddenly dry lips and struggled to speak, to refuse. "I - I - I really am nearly full from the nectar and ambrosia, Lord Hades," she started to explain.

The god of the Underworld lightly pinched one seed and brought it to his lips. Persephone wondered how those fingers would feel pinching her now-taut nipples. "Mmmmmmmmmm," she heard Hades moan and shivered. "My favorite. Are you sure that you are too full to - taste?" He lightly pinched another seed and offered it to her, his finger brushing her lips as her mouth opened to receive the treat.

Whether her moan was from the stroke of his finger on her lips or the heady, nearly erotic taste of the pomegranate, she was not sure.

Moaning softly, she opened her eyes to see him gazing down at her. "Thank you, Lord Hades, but I really must be going now."

Hades's lips twisted in a parody of a grin. "Are you sure, my dear? You may taste a few more, if you like."

His recommendation, his presence, the electricity flowing between the two of them, crackling, almost visible, reduced her half-hearted protestations to naught.

Practical, level-headed Persephone, so at odds with the whimsical fancies of her mother, gave in to her desires.

"That would be lovely," she concurred, cursing the breathlessness of her voice.

With each turgid, juicy seed that he teased past her lips, Persephone's moans became more aroused.

As she bit into the fifth one, juice spurted over her lips, and her tongue greedily sought the drops that escaped. Her eyes flared open upon hearing Hades's growl.

Half of a breath later, Hades pulled her into his embrace, the first such embrace she had ever experienced. His lips danced over hers, soft nibbling kisses that melded with his growls, making her melt into him.

Overwhelmed, she gave in to his seduction. The awakening arousal she had felt for the last several minutes lit a flame within him, and she met the growing carnality of his kiss with her own sincere passion. His hands traveled over her waist, her ass, and finally to her breasts that traced, first reverently, and then groped, inflaming her further.

The ripping of her dress from neck to hem barely registered, and she arched her back so that he could possess her naked flesh with those strong fingers.

Persephone felt the warm grass and flowers again at her back as she gazed mutely up at him. Her lips parted to accept another taste of pomegranate, but they closed around one of his fingers and suckled softly, her tongue flicking and tasting the slight saltiness of his flesh. A turgid heaviness pressed against her thigh, and Persephone parted her legs slightly, opening to him.

Hades's lips meandered to her breast, then to her nipple, wringing harsh cries from her lips. Impatient fingers tore at his robes, revealing his rampantly erect cock.

Her fingers greedy, Persephone reached to curl her palm around his cock. She let out a soft growl of protest as he pulled both wrists above her head and admonished her, his breath warm on her breast, "No. You will have your turn later. After. Now, pet. Now is time for something else entirely."

The hot blunt head of his cock teased her leaking slit. Persephone inwardly rejoiced, secure in the knowledge that she would finally understand what desire was.

But then...Hades sat back and covered her with the mangled crumpled silk of her chiton.

"Persephone!" Her mother. And she was furious. The young goddess clasped the ruined dress to her form, embarrassed because her mother found her in such a state.

When Persephone failed to respond, silently willing her mother to just go away, Demeter continued, "Come along, Persephone. It is time to return home."

Really, that was too much. Yes, she was Demeter's daughter, but she was no longer a child. Her eight-hundredth birthday had passed several years ago. Still, as Hades made no move to continue their...proceedings, maybe it was best to return home with her mother.

Wobbly legged, she stood up and away from Hades.

When he spoke, it was not directed at Persephone but at Demeter. "Demeter!"

Clutching Persephone, Demeter turned to glare at the god of the Underworld. "Hades. Persephone and I are going home. I won't discuss this with Zeus. It will do no good; he has done far worse than you have here today with my daughter and will continue to do so."

Persephone was positive that Hades would interfere with their leaving no further. When he didn't speak in response, Penelope was even more sure of it.

Instead, he opened his hand to reveal that only six pomegranate seeds remained. "Your daughter ate six of these. As a result, she will stay here, as my wife, for six months of the year. You know there is no other recourse. I could be cruel. I could claim her as my wife forever. But I'm not - unreasonable. She may divide her time between here and with you."

The audacity of the god! Because of some arbitrary eating of the pomegranate, she was to be his wife, his prisoner, for half of the year? Her earlier passion cooled to ice.

Yet, when he crooked his finger at her, why did Penelope just mutely follow, her chiton in tatters around her, her heavy pendulous breasts bouncing with each measured step toward her fate?

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Hades knew she dreamed; he had watched her for these ten hours and had watched the dream progress in varying stages. The end of the dream troubled her; her plush welcoming lips had tightened to a discomfited frown.

With a tenderness completely at odds with the punishment and the passion he had meted out earlier, he swept back the curls that teased her cheeks. Her eyes closed in half-slumber, she whispered "Hades."

His heart warmed far more than it should have. She was not his; she would never be his permanently. For these brief hours, however, he would revel in his temporary possession of her.

"Wake up, pet. Wake up, slave," he muttered against her ear, nibbling the soft flesh of her lobe.

Murmurs and soft stretches were her response. Gradually, by degrees, she became more aware, and her eyes fluttered open. "Good morning, Master," she whispered sleepily.

His fingers traced through her soft waves of gold, twisting slightly to pull her closer. "Good morning, slave," Hades growled against her parted lips.

Her eyes flared with passion, Persephone's lips kissed his, hungrily from the start.

Hades's good intentions of teasing her slowly awake and slowly making love to her vanished in that instant. Wild for her, he clasped her tightly to him, lifting her leg up by the thigh to curl around his hips. Fingers manipulating her folds, he tested the wetness he found there, plunging and curling his fingers within her to torment her g-spot.

Persephone howled -- there was no other word for it -- when her orgasm crashed over her. Her leg tightened around his hips, and she shuddered as he plunged within her, pistoning in her molten core.

His fingers finding her bared nipples, puckered pink in the firelight, he twisted and teased, plucking each one, eliciting whimpers, pleas, and moans from his slave. He rolled over on his back, pulling her up over top of him and growled out one command, "Ride."

Sweetly awkward, Persephone experimented with riding his cock. Atop him, his cock filled her, impaling her, and she savored the feel of him so deep within her; her pussy spasmed, milking him softly. Hades bucked beneath her, moaning, and she rejoiced that she had this small measure of power over him. She was not dominant, no, but the fact that her body could eke out such a greedy reaction from him made her nearly drunk with triumph.

Slow to begin, Persephone soon established a rhythm that inflamed both of them in turn. As he neared his orgasm, Hades again bucked, his hips nearly unseating the goddess. At last, they fell over the precipice at the exact same moment, the clenching of her pussy around his cock milking him, making him spurt even deeper within her.

She collapsed on top of him, her breath harsh, her breasts pillowing his chest. His teeth closed over the tendon in her neck and he bit down, nearly delirious from the reaction that action elicited in Persephone.

Her pussy dripping against his cock. "You are insatiable," he mock accused.

"I can't help it," she whispered against his neck.

They lay there, her body draped over his, for hours, each unwilling to move, to break the peaceful spell.

Neither spoke much. Both enjoyed the comfortable calm, broken only rarely with soft pronouncements. Around them, Hades's minions scurried, readying the chamber and the manse for the day ahead. For responsibilities.

The light from the sun gradually warmed over most of the room, highlighting the couple intertwined on the plush carpet. Persephone knew her time with Hades, this interlude at least, was drawing to a close, and she could not resist lamenting, "I wish I could stay here forever."

Immediately, she felt him withdraw from her emotionally. Then, moments later, he rolled them over so that he could separate from her. Hades stood, first naked and illuminated in erotic detail by the firelight, and then enrobed, the cushy velvet shrouding his glorious nudity.

He did not speak. Finally, Persephone could take the oppressive silence no longer. "Did I say something wrong? Something to upset you?"

Hades turned away from her and faced the fireplace, grasping the black marble mantle with white-knuckled fingers. "You cannot stay. You do not belong here. You do not belong here with me."

From the mirror above the hearth, he observed her lack of comprehension. "But...why?"

"I prefer to be alone. I have responsibilities here that do not afford the presence of another to be a distraction. You--you haven't seen Tartarus. You are all light and air and goodness and innocence. Tartarus is the opposite of that. I deal with it every day. It is my reality. You could not deal with that reality."

"So, I am just a distraction who can't deal with the big, bad parts of the big, bad Underworld?" Her words and eyes were tinged with hurt.

Hades steeled himself for what he was about to do, about to say to her. "In a word, yes. That's not a bad thing," he rushed to explain. "You will make some other immortal very happy with you by his side."

"But not you," she responded, her voice hollow.

"Not me. I am too old for you, for one thing." Seph shook her head in the negative, but he pressed on. "I am. And far too serious and stolid and boring for someone as energetic as you."

She shook her head. "I am the submissive to your dominant. You haven't found a match your equal in millennia. I am here offering myself to you, and you are refusing. I don't understand." Persephone felt tears sting her eyes and she willed them away.

"There is more to life, more to existence than mere sex," he countered.

A sharp intake of breath was her initial response. "So, all we share is mere sex?"

"Yes." If she chose to hit him now, he would not duck. He knew he deserved it.

"You don't know me at all," she asserted. The glare she delivered stripped him bare and found him wanting.

Above her, the ceiling rumbled, grumbled, then rent in two. Stairs coalesced and solidified in the debris. Gathering the skirt of her newly mended shift dress in her fists clenched with fingers taut with nerves, Persephone turned, prepared to ascend the staircase to the world above.

Hades's strong hand coiled around the delicate curve of her forearm, halting her progress. She spared a troubled glance at his grip. "You made your point quite clear, Sir," Persephone's usual dulcet tones were transformed to the grating of sandpaper -- anything to mask the tears burgeoning in her eyes, crystalline droplets that threatened to spill over.

The king of the Underworld was at a loss. "Seph--" he began, his clutching hold softening.

Her breath visibly quaked. Shades drifted by in the gloom for several moments until Persephone wrenched herself violently from his grasp and squared her shoulders.

Eyes now brittle and achingly cold as Nordic ice warned him of the words to come. "My friends have leave to call me that, Sir. Your words have negated that relationship." Persephone's stance and face softened briefly revealing the stark pain his pretense of indifference caused. "I would like to return to my shop now, please. As you mentioned, we both have commitments which keep us too busy to see each other again."

With that, she swept regally away. Hades was left to do nothing but follow, all the while wondering if he had made the most egregious mistake of his existence.

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Hades surfaced to see Persephone efficiently gathering the detritus from their picnic. As she slammed the basket closed, the dark lord of the Underworld flinched.

"Please. Allow me," he offered when she started to hoist the basket herself.

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." Deft and delicate fingers instead carried the strappy sandals, swaying slightly in her hold.

They walked in miserable restraint to his rented Mercedes. There, a drizzle seeped down from leaden skies that matched Persephone's mood.

The parking lot of the Owl's Roost contained only the familiar vehicles of those who worked the stores and stalls. The Mercedes glided into a space with effortless grace, and then Hades cut the ignition.

Persephone injected her voice with a fake cheeriness that seemed, as it was, a sickly shell of her natural grace and exuberance. "Thank you so much, Mr. Doukas. I had a lovely and educational time." His hand sliced through the air, ending the grotesquely chipper facsimile.

When he made no move to say or do anything else, Persephone bleated out a single, "Why?" that hung on the heaviness of the air in the car.

Why did you stop? Why are you sending me away? Why do I have to go? Why don't you want me? Those were what she wanted to say, what she desired to rage at him.

"Because you don't belong there. In the Underworld. With me. Because my mission was to convince Demeter to return to Olympus with you. So that Hera could find someone appropriate for you to marry. So that, my responsibility fulfilled, I could return home to Cerberus and the Underworld to my unending obligations there -- in peace." His tone was harsh--his words even more so.

His devilish orbs, glowing red, bored into her azure ones. Hades saw each crafted word, each cruel, cutting phrase, land as he had intended.

"I...see." As Hades offered no comfort from the onslaught of his words, Persephone's hands twined together, serpentine, an effort to distract her from the litany he delivered. Resolute, her tone formal, she spoke, "Thank you, Hades. I"m sorry my mother and I disrupted your responsibilities. Farwell. I know we shall not meet for some time from now, if ever."

"Farewell, Persephone," he echoed, reaching over and past her to open her door. Or, at least, that is what he swore to himself he had intended.

Her delicate breath warmed his cheek, and his intent was forgotten. Needy, greedy fingers caught her up to him, clasped her, as his lips plundered hers. Her warmth soothed him, steadied him, even as their passion burned toward combustion.

Hades pulled back at her first breathy moan. Locking his emotions, his need, down tight, he fostered up the same look of bored indifference as before.

"Farewell, Persephone," he repeated, feeling -- not seeing -- her hand crack against his cheek, the chill invading as she gracelessly exited the vehicle, lurching into Jessica's waiting arms.

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"What happened? Where have you been? What's wrong? Did he hurt you?" Persephone's very human best friend -- her first best friend and only best friend -- shot the very not-human Hades and his departing car a glare of menace.