by elda lore
I missed how he held me close to him, enveloped inside his arms. His chest a shield of armor, protecting me, but from what I didn’t understand. He was hesitant, never making any attempt to touch me deeper, kiss me harder, worship me in a way my body craved from him. I went to bed on edge, hopeful he’d cross the line. I wanted to taste his mouth again, trace over the scar dividing those lips and savor him. My hands itched to feel the pulse of the clock on his chest and the cock in his pants. My body was not blind to the desire his expressed as he pressed against me from behind. He never held me front to chest. Perhaps he preferred it that way.
Still staring out at the early evening sky, the door to his room opened. His presence filled the space before he approached me and I sighed in relief. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him until he was present again.
“You stayed.” His muttered greeting brought a tug to my lips. It pleased me to surprise him, which his tone betrayed.
“Where else would I go?” I turned away from the glass, refusing to look at my home in the distance. It called my name daily but I was no longer certain it was the place I was meant to be. My arms crossed over my chest, shielding my heart from any verbal assault from him. He’d been very angry when I called out help for Tripper. He’d been even angrier to learn I wasn’t a virgin. The brutality of his words should have scared me, but all it did was force my body to cry out a plea: Take me. Make me yours. Apparently, he did not have the same desire, as he disappeared for days. I remained stationary, holding my breath while we stared at one another. His face was still cold, clenched and chiseled. His jaw clicked like he had words to say and fought them from escaping.
“Where have you been?” I said, and then held a new breath as thoughts of a greyish-redhead clouded my vision for the millionth time in what felt like as many hours. Images of him entwined with her haunted my dreams, filling them with scenes of Hades taking her in a manner he refused to use with me.
“Out,” he responded sharply. “And for too long.” He exhaled and ran a hand through his wayward dark hair. He looked tired, and I recalled his body didn’t require sleep, but he rested often with me. He stepped away from me. Then froze. His eyes inspected the room, but I knew instantly where his gaze stopped. He inhaled deeply.
“What’s that?” he snapped, tension still emanating from him. It appeared his anger had not cooled completely in the days he was absent. He crossed the room in three long strides and spun to face me while he stood near the round table. His hand swiped up half the fruit.
The guilty cook brought me a peace offering.
“My name is Edwin. This will protect you,” he said reverently, staring down at the fruit presented on a wooden plate. “Your heart, your body and your mind.” The heavy drawl over the last word concerned me.
“It will help prevent the transition.” His dark eyes stared at me, willing me to understand.
“Am I dying?” The thought burst from my mouth. He laughed heartily.
“Humans die a little every day, love. But being here, I’d worry the process will accelerate.” I understood. If I stayed too long, I’d die down here, earlier than expected. Maybe that was the plan for me, I thought that day. Maybe Hades did wish to kill me, slowly.
“I must warn you,” Edwin said, interrupting the shuddering thought, “You must not ingest the seeds.”
“Why?” I blurted before recognizing the severity of his tone. Realization dawned slower. The seeds would kill me.
Edwin cut the fruit briskly, and I jumped at the sudden thud against the chopping block. Blood red juice and a plethora of seeds poured forth from each half.
“I’d like to offer you a taste of home.” His eyebrow arched, hinting to me. “It will remind you where you are from.” Edwin’s tone softened. Instantly the red-green outer shell filled a memory. My mother, the farm, the land. My mind drifted and I envisioned a tree outside our orchard. Planted by my grandfather long ago, it centered the decorative garden on the side of our estate. The unusual fruit was difficult to grow in the Midwest, but not impossible. Grandfather made it work.
Edwin scooped the meaty center onto a teaspoon and told me to suck the seeds but not swallow them.
“If he catches you, there may be trouble.” The fruit was a necessary evil. To stay alive, I must eat, while technically I wasn’t allowed to consume anything. The experience compared to eating cherries. As delicately as possible, I spit the seeds back into my palm. My hand stopped prickling. I spread my fingers and wiggled them back and forth. Packed with potent powers, Edwin assured me the pomegranate would protect me.
“Have you tasted the fruit of the dead?” Hades’ eyes opened in horror.
“No. I was told it would keep me alive.”
His fingers clenched and seeds poured forth between his fingers. He stalked slowly in my direction.
“Who told you that?” His deep voice hissed low, an eyebrow arched and his head tilted. He looked sinister and sexy all in one, and the space between my thighs pulsed in a rhythm I’d never experienced. The rapid beat drummed faster than my heart. He paced toward me like a predator to prey, and I froze in hope of capture.
“A friend,” I choked.
“Ah, more friends, I see.” His voice slipped from his tongue, as sinister and as irritated as his expression. He stood within my space, forcing me to peer up at him. The fruit smashed in his hand, and pulp squished between his fingers. He dropped the flesh to the floor and raised his red, juice-covered hand to my face. Hesitantly, he wiped the pulpy meat over my lips.
“Fruit of life.” He mouthed the words reverently, whispering them like a prayer. “You give me life.” His mouth followed his fingers and he tasted me. His lips sucked the red juice off of mine, drawing each part of puckered skin into his mouth. His tongue slipped forward, slowly lapping at the flavor, swirling, teasing, with its potential entrance. He tugged the lower bow and wrapped his clean hand around my neck. The instant his fingers made contact beneath my hair, the kiss deepened into a fire ball of desire.
His mouth mashed mine, melding and molding. He drew each drop of juice from my skin and dragged it into him. His tongue darted forward, bridging the gap to mine, and tangling to devour me. We pressed forward, melting into one another while our mouths apologized.
I’m sorry, his begged.
Pick me, mine replied.
I didn’t want to think of him with another woman. I couldn’t bear the thought he’d gone to someone else in his anger, to relieve the tension. He sucked on my lower lip then released me with a soft pop. My mouth stung with the pleasure, juice still coating my chin. The fist filled with pulp and seed pressed against my chest, against the bare skin exposed from my open flannel shirt. Massaging over me with juicy bits and softened seeds, his hand dipped into my bra and cupped my breast. His eyes closed and we both sighed in relief. My hands came to his biceps, gripping his arms, hoping to hold this position as he toyed with my breast, covering it with sticky fingers.
His clean hand ripped down the front of the flannel, shredding buttons. The shirt fell free. He tugged down one cup of my bra and his mouth covered me. He sucked deep then let his tongue release to twirl over the hard peak of my nipple. He licked and lapped, cleaning me of juicy fruit. My back arched, forcing him to draw me into the heat of his mouth. My hands delved into his hair, holding him in place. My hips started a rhythm of their own, rocking forward, searching for contact with him.
He pressed me backward until the back of my knees hit the bed. His hand guided me downward. Abruptly, his mouth left me and he reached for the half fruit on the floor. He scooped out more meat and then slipped my bra strap down to release me fully. He smothered my other breast before returning to feast on me. Kneeling between my knees, he suckled the juice and my core beat uncontrollably.
“Hades,” I moaned, running hands through his hair, tugging in appreciation of his mouth on me.
“Firefly, let me consume you,” he breathed as he kissed the valley between my breasts. His palm slipped down
my abs and paused at the button of my jeans. There was no way I could deny him. He was correct in his statement that he could violate me, and I would beg for more. I needed from him something I couldn’t describe, but the fluttering rhythm between my thighs sang out in want. The butterfly bracelet at my wrist flapped almost violently, straining for that mysterious desire that lived deep within me.
Hades removed my jeans and underwear awkwardly, his one hand still covered in remnants of fruit. He stood once the jeans slipped over my feet, crossing the room and returning. The second half of pomegranate held in his hand, he knelt slowly, almost genuflecting between my thighs. His eyes focused on his mission as he trickled the juicy remains over the center of me. I cried out at the sensation: cool and sticky. Sweet fragrance filled the room as the scent of the crushed fruit lingered in the air.
His mouth came toward me as he further parted my thighs. The first lap of his tongue jolted my upper half off the bed. His sapphire eyes pinned me back. One brow arched to tease me and his tongue struck again.
“Oh Hades,” I cried, my hands returning to his hair. From then, his mouth orchestrated a feast of me. His lips sucked folds of sensitive skin. His tongue plucked at a nub rip for pleasure. His mouth paid attention below like it had my lips above and something crawled up my calves, swirled behind my knees, tickled the inside of my thighs, and burst out of me. I cried out, again rising from the bed. His mouth relentless, he refused to release me as he devoured my core. My knees rose and I held his head, reveling in the wonders of his lips on my lower ones as the sweet, teasing tension built again. The feeling dissipated momentarily, only to rise anew as the fluttering returned to my lower abdomen. My breasts tingled, and sparks of excitement flitted down my stomach.
“Hades, I…H…H…H…” I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t explain what happened to me, but it was going to happen again, and it was going to be huge. The flitting sensation turned into a field of butterflies, released to fly forth, taking a powerful second orgasm with them. Exultantly, I screamed, tugging on his ears. I flopped back on the bed while he pressed tender kisses to my lower region, then slipped down to give homage to my thighs. He blew air on me, and I flinched. My head rose and I was met with a glistening mouth and a deep smile.
“I was right. You are the fruit of my life, and I have missed you.”
I sat up and opened my arms, folding him into me and pressing his head against my naked chest.
WINTER
Heaven
[Hades]
The concept of heaven was lost to me as a son of The Underworld, but if I had to imagine it, it would have been her. Her cries. Her pleas. All for me, in my name, because of what I’d given her. Her sensitive skin seeped with something I didn’t understand. Only the H sound exhaled from her lips, unable to form my full name in her loss of will. The rhythmic rock of her hips matched the lapping licks of my tongue.
“I don’t know what this is,” she cried out before she released.
“It’s me wanting you, and you wanting me.” I blew the words across her folds before finishing my feast.
“I’ve never felt anything like that.” She inhaled against the top of my head as I listened to her heart race beneath the skin of her chest. I breathed in her damp fragrance: sweet sweat caused by the exertion of orgasm and potent pomegranate smothered over her skin. I kissed the top of her sticky breast. I don’t know what came over me. Seeing the forbidden fruit struck something inside me. Did she want to stay forever? Had she meant to eat something that would prevent her leaving, keeping her here permanently? Could she have fallen for me like I had fallen for her? When you’re at the bottom like me, the only place to fly is upward. She lifted my spirits and gave me hope. She was my firefly. A bright light in the darkness of my life.
“I never felt anything like that either,” I answered into her breast. It was the truth. The way she stood there, letting me cover her lips, then suck them dry. Her mouth was a mystery—warm and moist, desperate for discovery. Then her breasts: firm and ripe, and ready for me to inhale. Finally, the center of her had been wet and seeping, teasing me to take a taste. She was a delicacy, and I could live off of her. More than the uncontrollable attraction I had to her, it was the way I caught her smiling at me. The way she looked at me, like I was a puzzle and she wanted to piece me together. She wanted to know me, not as the prince of darkness, but Hades, a creature who had thoughts and feelings. Heaven, I thought again.
When I walked into the room, the relief that she remained filled me like the sea rushing the shore. Seeing her watch the sun disappear, my mind softly spoke to hers.
“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”
Although the sun set, marking night as a new day, she was my sun. I whispered it to her breast. “You are the Sun, my Juliet.”
She was the celestial center of my life and I orbited her, not by choice, but by sheer gravitational pull. She tugged my head upward and chastely kissed my lips.
Her eyes fell. “I should take care of you, Romeo.” Her fingers skittered down my abs, but I caught her wrist.
“That was for you.” I paused. “And for me, because I’ve waited so long to taste you.” She nodded, her eyes still avoiding mine. I tipped up her chin. “What is it?”
Her tear-filled eyes and weak smile startled me. She shook her head to ignore the question.
“Answer me,” I commanded softly, ducking my head to look up at her downcast eyes. She closed them, cutting me off from the dark glimmer.
“If I’m the Sun then, Give me my Romeo, and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.” She paused.
“If I’m the Sun, then you are stars, lighting my darkness, and I am…” She paused again.
The pad of my thumb brushed at an escaped tear. I kissed her cheek to wash away the memory of sadness. Tucking her hair behind her ears, my lips quivered with words I’d never said before behind them. The emotion was too much.
I kissed her briefly drawing out of her the strength of those words until we both were breathless again.
“You should shower,” I offered, instantly filled with visions of her naked body and desiring to share the wet space with her. She nodded in agreement, and silently stood for the bathroom. I watched her shut the door, closing me off. My body vibrated with the need to follow her, to take her under the hot spray, impale her to satisfy myself, but my heart overruled and parts of body would have to heed. I would not take her against her will.
I climbed onto the bed, aching, while I waited. She returned clean and fresh dressed in one of my light gray tees, an oddity among my wardrobe. Climbing up the bed, I twisted to cradle her against me. I liked to think we’d rest peacefully, but I sensed something wasn’t right.
“Christmas is coming,” she spoke softly in the darkened room. The statement surprised me.
“We don’t really celebrate.” She had to have known we held a different belief, but I understood the premise behind the holiday.
“I figured.” Her shoulders slumped and a different thought came to me.
“When is your birthday?”
She twisted to face me, her cheeks brightening under the dim lights circling the bed.
“In March, when is yours?” Her voice rose with excitement, the tone almost giddy.
“A few days before Christmas, on the Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year.” Born of a winter sign, I loved that darkness nearly ruled one full day before my cousin took over the light.
“Oh.” Her back relaxed against me. “Do you celebrate? Have a party?”
I chuckled softly into her neck. There wasn’t really a point to counting the years. The ancient watch on my chest rotated the same way, marking the days, no matter what year. The second
hand never passed thirty-one.
“Not really.”
She twisted in my arms again. “We must do something. I’ll think of something.” She looked up and kissed my jaw. I grunted playfully. Nestling her face into my chest, I ached harder, willing my body to obey. My fingers stroked through her golden hair and eventually she slept. Peeling myself free from her, I headed for the shower to relieve some of the tension.
--
A week later, we sat on the floor of my room. Edwin prepared a cake at Persephone’s request and she refused to let me eat it alone. Watching me, I saw her mouth twist and she swallowed hard. I imagined she missed the sweeter things in life and I longed to offer her a bite. We hadn’t further discussed her eating the contraband pomegranate, although I discovered how Edwin got the fruit. Her mother sent a basket as a peace offering. Demi Fields had been in contact with my father, gifting him a portion of the land he desired. He refused, on principle, he stated to me. He wanted it all. His older brother, Zeke, had become involved, working on a plea. I couldn’t guarantee any more than my father I’d ever let her leave. She was too important to me. She was everything.
“What’s this?” I asked when she presented me with a box wrapped in brown paper.
“Happy birthday,” she said, her face beaming, the mouth curled wide. My head tilted in curiosity, but my lips responded to her bright smile.
“Thank you.” I felt like I imagined a child would feel: overwhelming excitement. I ripped open the paper and unremoved the box lid. Inside was a glass container, filled with innumerable tiny yellow shapes.
