“Ah. Yes.” Poseidon settled back against the divan and cleared his throat. “I think it’s best if we start at the very beginning. What do you know about Medusa?”
The question was odd, but it brought Griffin’s dream of being the doomed handmaiden back to him. “She was one of the Gorgons, right? She had snakes for hair and could turn men to stone if they looked at her. But there’s a Roman legend that says she was also a priestess of Athena’s. You seduced her in Athena’s own temple, and Athena got so pissed off that she turned Medusa into a monster as punishment.”
Poseidon sighed. “Correct in overview, completely wrong in context,” he said. “There was indeed a Gorgon named Medusa, but she and her sisters were demigods in their own right. The Medusa I speak of was a beautiful maiden who did serve as Athena’s handmaiden. Since Athena and I don’t get along, my consort Amphitrite was the first one to meet Medusa. As it turned out, Medusa was our agapetos, our destined mate. I found out later that Ammie had held off on introducing us because Medusa was inexperienced with men. She was afraid that I’d simply tumble the girl into bed and have at it without any concern for her feelings.” His smile was bitter. “A well-grounded fear, as it turned out. A few weeks after Ammie had met Medusa, I had been drinking with Zeus and Hermes in Zeus’s palace, and had gotten very … merry, I suppose you could call it. At some point I decided to return to my palace and see if Amphitrite was home. I felt quite relaxed, and had hopes of lying with her.”
His expression changed, turning sorrowful. “And then, on the steps of Zeus’s hall, I ran into Aphrodite. Quite literally.”
****
Millennia ago
Well into his cups, Poseidon stopped short on the steps of Zeus’s palace, aware that he had just caromed into something small and engagingly bouncy. He blinked down at a head of massed ringlets the color of honey and smelling of rose and jasmine, and smiled.
“Well met, Goddess of Love,” he said, rather proud of himself for not slurring as he stepped back. “What a pleasure to bump into you. Heh.”
The gorgeous goddess looked up at him, displeasure doing nothing to blunt her radiant beauty. “Poseidon,” she said, eyes narrowing in the light of the torches of Zeus’s courtyard. “You reek of the vintner’s.”
He waved a hand in the general direction of the palace. “My brother has been most generous with his wine tonight. But what could bring a lovely creature such as yourself out at this time of night? Surely you should be tucked up snugly in bed?” He smirked. “Or is Ares off overseeing some tedious mortal combat?”
The goddess’s eyes flashed as displeasure turned to anger. It was no secret that Hera, upon seeing Aphrodite after her emergence from the waves off Cythera, had sought to forestall the King of the Gods’ lust for this beautiful new goddess. As the Goddess of Marriage, Hera suggested that Aphrodite’s loveliness would be the spur to a new War of the Gods and recommended that she be married to their son Hephaestus, the lame god of the forge, thus short-circuiting any divine battle over Aphrodite’s favors.
Zeus, having noted the warning glint in his consort’s eye, reluctantly gave his approval, and Aphrodite was married that afternoon to Hephaestus. Unsurprisingly, Aphrodite had recoiled at the sight of her new husband with his twisted leg and refused his bed. Soon afterwards she chose Ares, the God of War, as her lover, and the two had been on-and-off romantic partners for centuries.
That being said, their relationship was tactfully never mentioned, and certainly never in such bawdy terms. “You have had far too much to drink, Sea Lord,” Aphrodite said, tossing her head. “I have no idea where Lord Ares is, nor would I have any reason to know this.”
“Hush, lass.” He patted her kindly on the shoulder, making her stagger a bit. “Who you warm your bed with is your own business. I mean nothing by it.” There was a pleasant stirring under his chiton at the thought, and he hoped that Amphitrite had returned from wherever she’d been going for the last few weeks. “In fact, I’m of a mood to do some warming myself if my consort is home, so if you don’t mind—”
Something ugly flickered across the goddess’s face for a moment, then disappeared as if it had never been there. “Amphitrite?” the Goddess of Love said with the sweetest of smiles. “She’s probably with your agapetos, sea lord.”
Some of the alcoholic haze left Poseidon’s brain. “My—what?”
“Your agapetos? Didn’t Amphitrite tell you?” Aphrodite said, eyes wide and innocent. “You have a second mate, and she’s quite the young beauty. Her name is Medusa, if memory serves me right, and she is a handmaiden at Athena’s temple.”
Poseidon blinked at that. Since his marriage to Amphitrite he had known that there was another mate out there waiting for them. Hadn’t he spent decades winnowing through the loveliest nymphs, demigoddesses, and maidens he could find searching for her? And there she was, practically under his nose.
A wisp of common sense poked through his drunkenness. Yes, there she is, serving in Athena’s temple. And that grey-eyed battleaxe isn’t likely to hand her over, agapetos or not.
He straightened, barely weaving. “Thank you for your information, Lady Aphrodite,” he announced. “It is much appreciated.”
An odd, self-satisfied look sleeked over the goddess’s face. “May you receive what you so richly deserve, Lord Poseidon,” she said, before turning and heading off to her own palace.
It didn’t occur to him until it was far too late that Aphrodite’s parting words weren’t a blessing.
****
Sneaking into the compound behind Athena’s temple was simply a matter of making himself invisible. It was difficult to hold in his chuckles as he strolled straight past the unaware guards. But his niece had been his foe and competitor in too many things over the centuries, and he knew she wouldn’t take kindly to his suddenly appearing in her demesnes.
And quite frankly, he was feeling far too good to tolerate Athena’s waspishness. He had an agapetos to seduce, after all.
Clever Ammie, finding her before I did. You always were quicker than me, my love.
After some hunting he found the small, clean cubicles where the priests and priestesses slept, carefully divided by sex so that there would be no hanky-panky going on. He glanced at each sleeping form, but none of them matched Aphrodite’s description.
She has to be here somewhere. Exploring, he stumbled across a small courtyard that was open to the sky. There, a beautiful girl stood nude in the moonlight, washing herself.
Even sozzled he could feel the irresistible pull emanating from her. This had to be Medusa. Gaia’s tits, Aphrodite was right. She is exquisite. With small, pert breasts and slender hips, she was a delicate ivory rosebud to Amphitrite’s fully bloomed beauty, and the contrast made him want to weep with lust. The very thought of having them both in bed with him—it was too delicious to contemplate, not if he didn’t want to spill on the courtyard’s stones right then and there.
He stepped forward, one of his sandals grinding softly on the flagstone. Medusa spun with a laugh, obviously thinking that one of her compatriots had risen to join her. Or is she expecting Amphitrite? Have they made love in this courtyard already?
The girl froze when she saw him. It was too dark for a mortal to make out details, but undoubtedly his height and shoulder breadth had given him away. She snatched up her linen towel and held it to her breasts. “How dare you intrude in the goddess’s temple without invitation!” she cried.
Poseidon shrugged. “I would have asked, but I doubt if she’d have let me in.”
His agapetos’s chin came up at that. “Leave this place,” she ordered, “or the wrath of the Lady Athena will fall upon your head.”
He laughed. “It wouldn’t be the first time my niece was angry with me. I’m certain it won’t be the last.” He held his trident up. “Light.”
The barbed tines burst into golden light, revealing himself. Medusa’s huge dark eyes widened even more as she recognized him.
“M-my lord Posei
don,” she stammered, dropping to her knees. “I apologize. I never expected to see you here.”
“So I gathered.” He cocked his head to the side as he considered her. “You’re everything she said you were, my sweet,” he said, leaning a bit on his trident. “Come, get off your knees. You shouldn’t kneel to your agapetos. At least, not unless you want to.”
He leered a bit at that, imagining those perfect pink lips wrapping around his straining shaft. Ooh, and if Amphitrite joined in, wouldn’t that be delightful...
The girl got to her feet, struggling to wrap the towel around her. “May I ask what you’re doing here at this time of night, my lord?” she said, her voice trembling.
No, that wouldn’t do at all. He was here to seduce her, not frighten her. He spread his arms as if embracing the night. “I heard the good news, my sweet,” he said expansively. “Amphitrite and I have finally found our third mate, our agapetos. And you are indeed a creature of rare beauty and delicacy. I thank the Fates for bringing you to us, Melusine.”
The girl frowned at that. “Medusa, my lord. Really, this is not a good place for us to meet.”
“Oh, tut.” Poseidon glanced around at the courtyard walls. He could open a portal to one of his temples, but it would certainly be noticed by Athena. That was the last thing he wanted. “I’m sure Athena wouldn’t mind too much.” He reached out into empty air and pulled back a small amphora and two golden cups that looked silver in the moonlight. “Let us toast to our meeting, my sweet, and all the happy years the three of us will spend together.”
Medusa tugged the length of linen more tightly around her. “Where is the lady Amphitrite, my lord? Will she be coming here soon?”
“I certainly hope so.” And that was honest enough. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait, hm?” He unsealed the amphora and poured its rich contents into the cups, offering one to Medusa. “Shall we have a drink while we’re waiting?”
The girl pressed her lips together nervously, but accepted the proffered cup. “All right,” she said. “Just one drink, though, my lord. It’s late, and I have to get up early for the morning rites.”
“Excellent. Such a good girl you are, so dedicated. Athena is lucky to have you as her handmaiden.” Poseidon winked at her as he lifted his own cup to the heavens. “A toast to our happiness,” he said.
“To our happiness.” She took a cautious sip, her expression relaxing slightly as she tasted the wine. Poseidon drank deeply from his own cup, savoring its contents. The wine was an excellent vintage to begin with, one of Bythos’s better finds, and the nectar he’d added to it gave it a pleasant undertone that warmed him to his toes. The addition of the gods’ own liqueur would be guaranteed to settle any lingering doubts Medusa had about him.
And in fact she smiled now, taking another sip and licking her lips afterward. “This is quite wonderful, my lord,” she said. “It feels like it’s bubbling through every part of me.”
“I’m glad it pleases you, my dear.” Poseidon reached out and called forth a soft blanket, directing it to spread itself in the corner of the courtyard under one of the battleaxe’s interminable olive trees. He sat down, making himself comfortable. “Sit with me a moment,” he said, patting the cloth. “I’m afraid I’ve had quite the evening and I’m somewhat fatigued.”
Medusa obeyed, walking somewhat unsteadily to the blanket and seating herself at his side. “This really is excellent wine,” she mumbled into her cup.
“Yes, my son Bythos is quite proud of his cellar, and generous with his better amphorae.” Poseidon took another deep draft from his cup, smacking his lips appreciatively. “What a beautiful night, eh? The stars shining overhead, not a cloud in sight. Absolutely perfect.”
“Yes, it is.” She gazed up at the spangled lights caught in the web of the heavens, smiling at something that caught her notice. “Oh, look. There’s Orion.”
“Where?” The god arched his neck, staring into the sky. “Oh, yes. Hello, son.”
Medusa blinked at that. “Orion was your son?”
“You’ve never heard the story? His mother was Euryale—one of the Gorgons, you know.”
Medusa shuddered. “But I thought the Gorgons are horrible monsters. How could you lie with one?”
“Oh, Euryale had her charms. And it wasn’t like she was your namesake. Even I couldn’t bring myself to bed with that horror.” He sighed as he looked up at the bright constellation. “It was before I’d met Amphitrite, of course. Orion was one of the finest hunters ever born, a sure shot with spear, arrow, or slingshot. He once slew a giant bull with his bare hands. I was quite proud of him.”
Medusa gazed at the sky, face open and awestruck. “What happened to him, lord?”
“Oh, he was foolish. Proud of his skills as a hunter, he boasted that he would kill every animal on earth. My grandmother Gaia heard of this, and in her rage sent a scorpion to kill him. The little beast stung him, and he almost died, but Asclepius the Healer was kind enough to bring him an antidote that rid him of the scorpion’s venom and restored him to life. Unfortunately his great-grandmother was still vengeful towards him, so I had him placed in the heavens to protect him.” The god leaned back on his hands, staring up at the starry form of his lost son. “He was a good boy, Orion. Just a bit boastful.”
Medusa frowned. “But that would have been horrible, to kill all the animals on earth. Why would he even have wanted to do such a thing?”
“Well, boys will be boys.” Things were taking far too serious a turn for Poseidon’s liking. He picked up the flagon and poured more nectar-laced wine into her cup. “Drink up, my dear,” he said. “The wine will keep you warm.”
“‘M not cold.” But she drank the wine anyway. “Shouldn’t we go find Ammie?”
“Soon.” Poseidon brushed a curl off her shoulder and watched her shiver at the sensation. “You are so lovely, with skin like ivory and eyes the color of richest sard.”
Medusa giggled. “How can you see that, my lord? The starlight makes everything black and white.”
“Not to a god. I would see you in fullest color even if we were in the darkness of the Underworld itself.” Poseidon picked up her hand it up and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “Your hair is the color of forest earth, and your lips are the palest, pinkest coral.”
She blushed at the compliments. “Thank you, lord. And you are quite … massive.” She giggled again.
Poseidon beamed at her words. “Any male would kill for such words from his lady love. And you haven’t even seen me undressed yet,” he said, waggling his eyebrows in a comical manner.
She goggled at him for a moment, then burst into a silver peal of laughter. “Ammie said the bull was well chosen as your sacred animal,” she chortled, trying to take another sip of wine in mid-laugh. The heady liquor slopped out of her cup, spilling down the front of her towel. “Oh, poo. Look what you’ve made me do.”
“My apologies, my dearest,” Poseidon said indulgently. “Allow me to make things right.”
He pulled a damp cloth out of the air. With the strange precision that came from this level of inebriation, he mopped at the stains over her breasts.
Medusa looked down at his hand as if he was washing someone else. “You’re not supposed to touch me there,” she said, hiccupping softly. “’S against m’lady’s rules.” Her eyes drifted closed, a dreamy smile crossing her face. “But it’s nice. Ammie did that, too.”
The sea god felt his eyebrows rise at that. “Oh, did she?” he said lightly. “And what else did my lovely consort do to you?”
“Kissed me. Touched me.”
The innocent passion in her voice went straight to his cock. “Where?” Poseidon breathed, acutely aware of the thickening beneath his chiton.
“Everywhere. My face, my neck, my breasts. Between my legs. It was wonderful.” Eyes still closed, Medusa was definitely swaying back and forth now. “I hope she gets here soon. I want her to touch me again.”
“I can touch you like that. I can m
ake you feel wonderful.”
“Mm.” Medusa fell back onto the blanket, the cup tumbling from her hand as her slender limbs lay splayed in welcome.
It was all the invitation Poseidon required. With a thought he made her towel disappear. Her lithe young body was something he wanted to gorge upon, with its innocent breasts and soft triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs. She tossed her head like a child in sleep, lips pursing once before going slack again.
He shed his own clothes just as quickly, crawling over her and nudging her thighs open with a knee until he could lie between them. Gripping his cock, he rubbed the head of it between her vaginal lips, relishing the heat he could feel there. She wasn’t wet yet, but that would happen soon enough.
With a grunt, he thrust into her. Something delicate resisted him for a moment, then snapped under his onslaught. Her eyes flew open, as did her mouth. Instinctively he clapped a hand over her lips, smothering her cry. “Hush now,” he ordered.
Dark eyes stared up at him, growing glassy. He removed his hand, claiming his first kiss. Her lips tasted of wine and nectar, and he feasted on them.
She tore her mouth away, turning her head from him. Still so shy. That was all right. He pulled out, then thrust again, causing her to gasp.
“Please, my lord, no,” she whimpered. “Stop, please. Please.”
So modest, so shy. “So lovely,” he mumbled in her ear, starting a rolling movement that sank him deep into her sweet furrow. Her fluids finally began to flow and he was able to thrust freely, chasing his pleasure.
All too soon, he felt his orgasm rise. With a muffled grunt he shot his seed into her, groaning at the tight warmth surrounding him. It wasn’t like Amphitrite—there was no internal fluttering of her muscles milking him deliciously, no arms and legs twining around him, no low, purring voice in his ear urging him on. But still, the pleasure was enough to wipe his consciousness clean, making him see stars.
He sagged down on the girl, hearing her breathless squeak. He just needed to rest a moment, and then he would see to her pleasure. Just a moment…
Deep Water Page 17
