by Eileen Glass
“Take your time. A favorite stone is like a part of your identity. It will choose you, in a way.”
After another moment, he says, “They’re not going to break. They’re rocks, mostly, not glass. Pick them up! Try them on. Otherwise, how can you find the one you like?”
“Alright.”
He picks one. The plainest looking one he can find, which is a shade of brown.
“Topaz,” Hades says, sitting on the corner of the vanity with one leg propped and the other stretched to the ground. “It might complement your skin, don’t you think?”
No, Seph does not think. In fact, the earth-toned stone looks fine until he sets it over his own hand, and then it is like his skin makes the jewel uglier. He puts it back quickly and regards the rows of sparkling colors and smooth, deeply hued surfaces, holding in a sigh of frustration.
Not all of them are a solid tone. He picks one that looks interesting. Like the shadows in a forest kind of, over a hue of blue fading to green.
“Labradorite,” Hades says. “A more common stone, but I should have guessed. It fits you perfectly.”
He takes the earring from Seph’s hand before he’s even finish lifting it, and turns Seph toward him, holding the gem up to his ear. When his eyes regard Seph, again it is like being molded inside an artist’s vision, a fine piece existing only in imagination for now. Seph himself is still the untouched hunk of marble. And he finds, as the god starts talking about piercing his ears, and Seph realizes he’s going to do it right now, that he is resistant to change.
He catches Hades’s wrist, making sure that little silver point doesn’t come too close.
“Oh. It doesn’t hurt or anything. Not enough to bother a god anyway. Are you worried?”
“No. I just don’t like earrings.”
Hades does not touch his sapphires, but one hand reaches sort of high, resting on his collarbone.
“I don’t like earrings on me,” Seph elaborates. He hates that he has to do this. He acknowledges that he can’t always get his way about his appearance on account of being a god and now a king. But he really, really doesn’t want to wear the damn earrings.
If he had known Hades would want to pierce his ears right away, he would’ve made sure to pick a necklace or bracelet or maybe a regular ring. All the earrings, incidentally, would not ‘choose him’.
“I will wear something else. Anything else. Here—” He fetches a pendant that is clear and shiny. “This one speaks to me. This one is my favorite. Look, a diamond like you suggested. We will be matching husbands. That is nice.”
“That is colorless zircon,” says Hades, looking befuddled.
“Oh. Well, it looks diamond-y, doesn’t it?” Seph looks from this stone to all the sparkly clear things on the table. It’s all the same to him. How can Hades tell the difference? “What about this one?”
Maybe he got the diamonds confused. Maybe they’re white and not clear. He never paid enough attention to his mother’s jewelry and the offerings she would receive. Of course, she never asked him to wear them, which was nice.
“That’s moonstone!” Hades answers, sounding horrified. “Ehhh. You don’t have to wear the labradorite if you don’t like it, my stallion. I just thought since you’ve been admiring my earrings all day that you might like some of your own. I… I haven’t misjudged you, have I? Are you wishing I take the earrings off?”
Now he reaches up and touches them, toying with removing the hooks from his lobes. “Do you hate them? It is okay to answer honestly. I have to know.”
“No! No, no, no.” Seph regrets getting into this ridiculous conversation. He must be as frank as he can with Hades, for the god is drawing all the wrong assumptions.
“No, I love your earrings. On you. I-I’m hoping you’ll wear them to bed tonight, actually. I was planning to ask. But I don’t want to wear these things. I just want to look at them on you. I do like these earrings.”
He takes them from Hades’s fingers. “But I would rather see them on you.”
He holds the moonstone up in front of the sapphire. “How could I even admire the jewelry if it was hanging off my own ear all the time? I’d have to stare at myself in a mirror! Or… just… drink from shiny cups all the time!”
He waves a hand with exasperation and it drops at his side. “How else am I supposed to see it?”
“Oh. Okay. Hm… Rings then. And bracelets. How do you feel about necklaces?” Hades stands, looking prepared to go on a gem hunt for him in the drawers of the vanity.
“Honestly, I would rather just see all of these things on you.”
Hades nods, once. Seph could leave his words there, certain that the god is flattered and hopefully won’t want to put earrings on him anymore. But this boldness with his husband feels important.
Hades does not respond to pleading, Minthe said. Seph is certain he does not respond well to shyness and timid requests either.
It is difficult to speak so plainly to one who is so intimidating. And Seph wants Hades to like him so much, he can hardly speak. He’s usually not shy. But this union has to be good. He wants to impress his husband.
“I want you to wear pretty stones when I make love to you. I’ve imagined it, and—and it is nice.”
His husband’s eyes widened. He glances at the bed, and Seph is hopeful.
But then he says, “Come. There is one more place I want to show you.” He smirks. “Don’t be disappointed, stallion. You will like this. We’re going to take your clothes off.”
Nineteen
Behind the door in their bedroom, one Seph hasn’t opened yet, there lies a tight hallway with a staircase leading down in a spiral. Seph hears a steady rippling splash of water before he’s inside the room. Now he remembers that Hades pointed out a private bathhouse on their wedding night.
It is magnificent. As big as one of the two public pools at the town near his mother’s mansion. While it is not the biggest bath he’s ever seen, he has never had so much water all to himself, and steam rises off the top, signaling that it’s freshly heated.
Or so he thinks. When he goes to one knee at the pool’s edge and puts his hand in the water, he discovers that it’s no more warm than a bath at home that’s been sitting for a long while. The steam is due to the frigid nature of the underworld, which he can mostly forget about. It is not the cold he notices, but the absence of warmth.
Regardless, he is still eager to climb in. His chiton is so short, all he has to do is remove his sandals and he can start to wade in.
Hades goes to a wall of double doors made of slats, opening each one and exposing a small private courtyard with couches laid out for lounging. Of course, here there is no heat from the sun, and the courtyard still has to be lit by torches even though this currently passes in the underworld as daytime.
Hades’s white narcissus flowers grow in clumps around bushes with small pink blooms. And three marble animals decorate the courtyard. A deer, a bird on a flat-topped pillar, and a white bunny in the bushes.
Seph’s eyes grow with hope.
I have found a place for Hibus!
Then, He will be lonely.
Left out in the cold. At least in the room, Hibus knows that everyone in the house lives at this temperature and he is not being neglected.
He can almost see his mother sigh and prop her hand on her hip. He misses her. But that longing disappears as Hades turns around, a promising glint in his eye, and approaches a wardrobe that must be filled with towels. He begins to work on the laces and buttons on his clothing.
“Tell me, in these fantasies of yours, do I ever wear the crown?” He looks over his shoulder as the shirt drops down, exposing layers and layers of fine muscle and a scar Seph hadn’t noticed on his arm. “It’s okay to say yes,” he says with that mischievous smirk still in place.
“No,” Seph answers honestly, shaking his head. “Mostly, it’s just the sapphires. They speak to me, like you said. Maybe that is my stone, but only when they’re on you.”
“How about the rings?” He shows him the back of his hand and wiggles his fingers in a backwards wave. “Or the necklace? Shall I wear these into the pool?”
“Just the sapphires, I think,” Seph answers, and decides that his lust for Hades is greater than his desire to bathe. He leaves the pool and comes up behind his husband, as he’s unlacing his pants. He brushes Hades hair away from his ear and kisses all the sensitive skin he finds, his hands grabbing onto his hips next, his groin pushing into the man.
“I like your body. Your earrings are… I don’t know. Just sexy as fuck, I think.”
“Stallion, you are more grown than I realized.”
Seph grins to hear that nickname again. It is proof. Hades does not respond well to meekness. But if Seph is bold and adult and everything he’s wanted to be for so long… they may be a perfect match.
They may have something.
“I want to fuck you against the vanity,” he whispers against Hades skin. Partially because it’s sexier to do it that way. Partially because his bold spirit flees and hides in the courtyard with the marble rabbit, so he can’t say it in his regular voice.
He never talked to Teysus like this, and certainly not Fimus. He’s never said anything like this before, and his heart is pounding inside his chest. Surely Hades will feel it.
Surely Hades will laugh.
But his big smile is not out right guffaws yet, and Seph once again feels a newfound thrilling freedom, like he’s soaring in Hades’s chariot.
“I’d like you to lay out some pretty stones again, I think. And then I can bend you over them and take you from the back. We both can watch in the mirror.” Seph lets go of his hip so one hand can come up and gently grab around the front of his throat, his thumb stroking near his earlobe, those sapphires rolling over his joints. “And you can wear a pair of pretty earrings like these. I want to watch them swing back and forth while I’m fucking you.”
“Oh.” Hades inhales a shaky breath, his head tilting back. “We can go back upstairs,” he suggests quickly, and Seph shakes his head.
“It’ll be something to look forward to. I haven’t seen your hair when it’s wet. I would like that. Also…” With so many desires cramming into his head, so many fantasies and possibilities and the freedom to speak any one of them, it is now hard to choose what should come first. They are all so tempting.
“Do you think you’d like to fuck me? Now? Or ever?”
I would like to experience both.
“I am fucking you, stallion,” Hades says and turns in his arms, his mouth opening for a kiss.
It is their best one in Seph’s opinion. Surprisingly, he takes the lead on it easily, naturally, and Hades lifts his arms to rest atop Seph’s shoulders in such an enamored way. Seph feels more manly and grown than he ever has, and his cock points high, pushing against Hades’s lower belly now. His husband’s pants are just barely hanging on.
“We best get you in the water,” Seph says, hating that he has to break the kiss. Hating that he has to stop. And quickly, he retakes that mouth because he wants him so bad. And in so many different ways. And so many frequent, repeating times.
What a relief to know that he will not have to be shy and patient with his desires!
Could he—?
No. No, of course not.
No, that’s insanity!
Seph gulps. He is descending in Hades’s chariot again, after climbing high to such an impossible, lethal altitude, higher than any mountain—and now he’s facing the downward rush. The falling! And Hades is asking—will you stand front and center?
Or will you curl up on the floorboards?
I may die tonight. He might send me to Tartarus.
But how can he have freedom if he doesn’t take a risk?
The action is not as bold and fearless as it his in his mind, as his initial impulse willed it to be. Still, he opens himself to the threat of execution. He swings his hand back and arcs it forward, landing it firmly against Hades’s cute ass with a little pat sound and a quick (very quick because he practically wants to run) follow-up squeeze.
It is how the men grabbed the girls at the tavern sometimes. And for that reason Seph immediately pivots and walks to the pool’s edge, waiting to hear an eruption of rage behind him. His hands fumble and mess up as he tries taking off his belt.
It’s only a simple knot. For some reason though he can only find one end or three, an illogical predicament.
“What was that?” he hears behind him, and all his fears are confirmed. He rubs his nose and doesn’t answer, truly complexed by his belt and deciding to give it all of his attention.
I hope Tartarus is nice…
“Stallion. Did you just… smack my ass?”
Currently the dark god seems to be in shock.
Seph makes a murmuring noise. It could be yes or no, but it’s really just him mimicking sounds like an animal. He won’t add ignoring the dark king to the charges.
“No one has—smacked my ass—ever.”
He seems to have a hard time getting the words out.
Seph shrugs. And then frowns deeply because that is definitely not the right response.
I have to make up for this. I was stupid. I was rude!
“I’m sorry,” he says behind him, looking at the floor. “I don’t know what—or why—I-I wanted to. And I did. But I’m sorry.”
He holds his breath while footsteps approach. He can’t bring himself to look Hades in the eye, but his naked knees and his pert, pink-tipped cock remind Seph of what he could be losing. Why he shouldn’t have taken the risk. Why his impulse was selfish and stupid, and why he should be saying all of this right now before he finds himself eternally starving to death in Tartarus with a flower named after him.
He looks at the water again. Hades’s hands touch his shoulders and smooth across his back.
“I hope you plan to do it again,” the dark god whispers, and his tongue laps inside Seph’s ear, a ticklish sensation that makes Seph shirk.
“I—can I?”
Seph looks at him finally, and Hades is smiling broadly enough to show teeth, and it makes his face beautiful in such an unexpected way. Youthful, almost, though that aged look never disappears from his eyes. The dark sapphires are beautiful though, adorning such a happy, peaceful expression.
Seph finds himself turning again and petting his husband’s cheek with his thumb.
I wonder if he’s ever looked like this for anyone else before?
By the stories everyone tells… he thinks not. At the very least an expression like this must be extremely rare.
I have done something right.
“Why are you still dressed?”
“I can’t figure out this knot Verah put on me.”
“Ah. She has a different custom. Here, let me see.”
They are already kissing again by the time the chiton drops to the floor. Today, much to Verah’s exasperation, he wears a loincloth for his genitals. He did not want any accidents while meeting the people of Hades’s kingdom, especially those souls who look like children.
“Ugh. What is this thing?” Hades asks, tugging on it. He was already awake and in the study when Seph got dressed.
“You made my chiton too short,” Seph says with a chuckle, undoing the wrap.
“Well… it looks good, doesn’t it?”
He sounds exactly like Demeter just then. Perhaps fashion ability is a trait Chronos passed down.
“Of course it does. If I was an athlete. Or a young man seeking attention. Or, you know—a prostitute.”
“There’s nothing wrong with showing a little form.” Hades is his frowning, stern-looking self as Seph leads him down the steps descending into the pool, and they wade out to the middle together.
“I don’t like you to be so covered up,” Hades says.
“Like a concubine? Or a prostitute?” Seph grins. He’s only teasing him.
“Like a stallion, my mate. Pretty assets are supposed to be worn. Presented. Shown to
others. I don’t like my acquisition to be so hard to reach when I want it.”
Seph laughs openly, pulling the god into his arms.
Now how shall I dunk him?
He would rather keep the naked body against him for now. He moves against his husband’s groin, loving that he can do whatever he wants to Hades with his hands. He can hold him steady. He can grind against him. He can bend him over…
So why shouldn’t the god, in return, be able to do what he wants with his eyes?
Yes, but all those children…
“Let me wear the chiton a little longer. And I will go without an undergarment just for you. You can reach for your assets whenever you wish.”
“Hmph. A compromise…” Hades says, looking unagreeable.
“How long can you hold your breath?” Seph asks.
“Why—oh.”
Seph does not push forcefully. He only sets a hand atop Hades head and guides him down. Of course, a god can hold his breath indefinitely. They can survive being drowned, crushed, burned, and many things. But for this, Seph tries to keep a count in his head. He doesn’t want Hades to hold his breath long enough for it to hurt. Sexual acts should not hurt.
What he does want is to see his husband come out of the water soaking wet. Wearing those earrings still. Maybe his eyes narrowed with purpose and water trickling down his chest.
Hades’s mouth wrapping around him is a fabulous sensation. Taking Seph’s cock deep inside him. His gentle, slow thrust is matched with the pace of his mouth, the tongue sliding against him, his throat muscles closing up tightly on his head…
But he pulls him up before they get very far with it. He likes that Hades is not a young girl flirting in the public bath, posing an arm to cover her breasts. Nor is he like Teysus, who basically equated bath time with wrestle time, and bathing was a sport of catch and tackle. This was to ‘innocently’ put his hands all over the young men their age at the pool.
Hades is too serious for that. But happy. And peaceful. And wet.
His hair sticks flatly to his head and clings to his skin, the ends reaching his nipples. Seph freely palms the well-formed peck. Smaller than his own, but strong. Curvy. Heavy. And he thumbs the nipple up, tilting Hades’s jaw with the other hand for another kiss.
