Chapter Text
Somewhere along the line, she had learned that the feeling of Hades’ hands on her is not something she’d ever tire of, or maybe even get used to. His touch, with hands warm in contrast to the rest of the realm that he reigns over, always leaves a burning trail along Persephone’s pink skin in its wake.
They get like this some days, aching with the need to get their hands on one another. Sometimes they’re just so busy, and they have to skirt around each other at work. Nothing stops them from sending teasing, hungry looks like they know where they will inevitably end up once they’re finally alone. Persephone always feels it brewing within her, picking up traction throughout the day. The arousal pooling in her core has been gnawing at her relentlessly ever since she had finally clocked out. It’s only a matter of time before they’re at his home, kissing with scalding fervor while Hades’ hands fumble to open his door. It’s game-over the second they fell back on the couch together, mouths refusing to separate. Her favorite part is when his hands grow determined; she can feel herself grow wet with hot desire, so easily, while their hands work together—exploring each other’s bodies, tugging at hair, running over chests, gripping flesh with greedy palms.
He never makes her wait too long. He’s a giver, always makes sure she is satisfied before he does any taking, if she could even call it that. He always goes from cupping her cheeks and kissing her until the heat between them grows thick and heavy. Then his hands roam down her body until they find their way to the hem of her skirt, where they can grip the sweet flesh of her thighs that lies underneath.
“Gods,” she breathes with a shudder, her head tipping back against the armrest of the couch. His lips are on her neck now but his hands—Gods, his hands are so close and when they finally get there, her hips buck without really meaning to. He settles between her thighs, nice and comfortable, while his fingers work diligently to push her panties to the side. In just a moment more, Hades’ thumbpad is pressed against her clit, rubbing in tantalizing circles. He sucks a mark into her neck.
“So wet for me already,” he whispers against her skin, but his lips are gone far too soon. Persephone whines for him, but the noise is swallowed when his lips are on hers. He kisses her with searing desperation, tongues and teeth coming together. It’s not much longer before he slips a single digit inside of her, relishing in the way her core drags it in with hunger. He pumps it in and out of her a few times before curling it into that sweet spot that makes her mewl into his mouth.
“Just for you,” she gasps when he pulls back. Her walls quiver around his finger and she doesn’t even have to look to know that he’s wearing a smug grin. She does anyways, and the sight of it makes the pool of heat in her belly swirl with excitement. “Please—”
“Sweetness, I’ve got you,” he says, “you know that.”
With a whimper, she nods and lets him kiss her once more before he travels down. He uses his free hand to push her skirt up, adding another finger inside of her. She hears him let out a low sound once he’s down to where he wants to be, one that she responds to it with her own small moan. She can’t believe she gets this, gets him—someone who takes care of her so well and revels in it at the same time. He’s been like this since the very beginning; nothing has changed in the year and a half they’ve been together. Even in the months before they finally stopped dancing around one another, he was so caring and so kind. He never took from her. He gave her everything—time, love, respect.
He’s got her. His words ring true his head dips down and his lips wrap around her clit, two thick fingers dragging in and out of her, curling every so often. Persephone unravels underneath him, her hips rolling without shame. She wants him, needs him, and at this point, she’s not afraid to show it. Even though she can’t see it, he’s doing just the same, grinding helplessly against the couch in a pathetic search for some kind of relief. The sounds she’s making, the way she tastes, the grip she has on his hair—it’s almost too much. She’s riding his fingers with reckless abandon, nails close to digging into his scalp.
Hades laps at her, moving his tongue between her clit and to lick around his own fingers as they pull her towards the edge. The dual sensation proves to work because he knows she’s close with the shaking of her thighs and the way her breathing grows louder, heavier. She knows it too, as she can feel the tightening of her belly, climbing up to the peak, so, so close to the edge—
It comes out before she can stop herself.
“Please, please, that’s it, daddy, don’t—don’t st—”
Something grapples onto Persephone and sends her hurtling from the edge. The air goes still and immediate dread washes over her as it feels like the entire realm is zeroing in on her. The ground could begin to quake and the walls could come crashing down around them and she probably wouldn’t notice. Not one bit, because now her skin is hot for a different reason, and her heart is no longer racing for Hades. If it were any other time, she would’ve whined and huffed and pouted petulantly at the loss of his mouth on her, but she doesn’t this time.
She doesn’t even dare look down to meet his eye in fear of seeing the mortified look that she is certain is on his face. She is unsure of the technicalities of being immortal but she decides then she would not mind experiencing death firsthand. Not at all.
Persephone doesn’t give it another thought. In fact, she doesn’t give it even a single thought. One moment she’s there, and the next, Hades is left alone on the couch with mussed hair, tight pants, and thoughts of what in Gaia’s name just happened.