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Pirithous
Thalia’s distress had settled into something harder when she returned, her hand wrapped and her brown eyes sharp, determination mixed with longing. Pirithous was not certain that was any better than the confusion and frustration, or the fear that had sent him bolting from the bed that morning. It still made him sick to think what she might have done, if he hadn’t woken in time. If he had not been so tuned to her and had not noticed her anxiety...
Protect her, he prayed, hoping that her nameless god would listen. He did not dare appeal to Aphrodite, no matter what role she played in Thalia’s worship. It would only tempt her to play upon his emotions, if not Thalia’s as well. And how had Aphrodite managed to keep her place while all the rest of the gods fell away? Why had Persephone not appealed to the goddess of love for a place in this new faith? Surely there was room for a goddess of spring and a queen of the Underworld. A matron of lost souls perhaps? Aphrodite could have made the gods into saints and angels if she so desired. Yet, she had not or Persephone would not have had cause to free him. Why?
He stared at the lands of his past, so small compared to the globe. So small, but they had all thought themselves to be the center of the world. Perhaps he had spoken more truly than he realized, about the gods each making their own races of men, scattering them across the earth. Did that mean Gaia was only the earth of Achaea? But Gaia was not truly a goddess. She was greater than that. She simply was.
And Aphrodite had come from the sea, from the white foam that rose in the water after Kronus’s testicles had been severed from his body and flung there. Could Aphrodite have been waiting for such an opportunity? Not born from the foam after all? Perhaps it was only coincidence that Aphrodite chose that moment to reveal herself.
He shook his head. He knew well enough who Aphrodite was, and what she was capable of doing. She was a true daughter of Kronus. Sly and dangerous, determined no other god should usurp her power. She had probably made some bargain with Thalia’s god, or charmed him with the pleasure she might give, and dug in like a tick once she had found the right place to bite.
Thalia had brought him a glass of water and the medicine her friend had given him to take. She rattled the small jar and he looked up from the globe.
“Every morning and every evening,” she said. “Until they’re gone. And I don’t care if I’m still here to give them to you or not, you’d better take them or I’ll hunt you down and cram this impossible childproof cap down your throat.”
He felt himself smile. “You would not find me to make good upon your threat, Thalia.”
“You want to make a bet?” she handed him one of the white pills. “Swallow it whole.”
He washed it down with the water and she helped him set the glass back on the table, so as not to jar his shoulder. It still ached abominably from the physician’s poking, but he could feel already that the fever had dropped and he did not fear waking in confusion anymore. He should find out what Thalia had done with his sword, but he did not want to think of it. When he was well enough to swing it he would have to leave her once more.
Assuming he had the strength to do so a second time.
“Now,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, facing him. “You really should get some rest.”
“I will never find the peace to do so,” he said, for her emotions had resolved themselves again, and he feared what she would do once he slept.
She frowned, her eyes softening as she smoothed back his hair, her fingers cool on his forehead. “What can I do to help? There has to be something.”
He caught her hand, closing his eyes and pressing it against his cheek. She smelled like fresh cream and summer sun, and he bit back a groan as desire pulsed through him so violently it made his shoulder’s ache turn into a tongue of fire.
“Pirithous?” she asked, leaning closer, her soft body pressing against him, molding to his. Not close enough. “Are you all right?”
He grunted, not trusting himself to speak, and kept his eyes closed so he would not see the warmth in hers, the tenderness. His need pained more than just his shoulder, his body hardening at the thought of her, hot and slick and welcoming.
“Does your shoulder hurt?” She shifted away, the pills rattling. “Steven said I could give you the Vicodin, but I’m not sure if it will help, and if it makes you hallucinate...”
“No,” he managed to say, not because he understood the words she used. She spoke too quickly. It was the current of fear that flowed through her, cooling his lust. “No, I am well enough. You need not worry.”
“It’s because you chased me outside, isn’t it?”
His lips twitched at the contrition in her tone and he opened his eyes to see her staring at her bandaged hand. “It is not that, Thalia.”
She lifted her gaze, eyes filled with guilt even as they narrowed with suspicion. “You’re sure you didn’t hurt yourself when you jumped off the deck?”
“I did not,” he assured her.
“Then why is it bothering you so much?” she asked, leaning forward again to peel up the corner of the bandage.
He stopped her, his hand wrapped around her wrist so tightly he could feel the beat of her heart. His desire welled up again, even with so brief a touch of her fingers against his skin. He inhaled deeply through his nose, but it only fogged his mind with her scent. She looked up at him in surprise, and when their eyes met, her concern flickered, melted by a lick of heat. Her breath caught in her throat, the small noise of want feeding his own. He swallowed.
“You should go,” he rasped, his throat thick. He felt no pain at all now.
“I can’t,” she breathed, and he realized dimly that he still held her wrist, but she made no move to free it. Her gaze drifted to his shoulder. “I’m not sure...”
“It does not hurt enough to stop me from wanting.”
“We shouldn’t,” she said softly, but the lick of heat had become a flame in her mind. She still did not so much as test his hold on her wrist. “I shouldn’t.”
He said nothing, his chest tight. Waiting. It took all his will to keep his lust within his own body, for if he let it bleed into her mind now, he would never know if she had given herself willingly. And he would not force her. He would not take this choice from her, no matter how badly he wanted her. Needed her. Some part of his mind wondered if this was Aphrodite’s doing, but his body didn’t care. It just burned.
“Maybe just—” She licked her lips and he growled. A shiver went through her body, her eyes darkening, and the flame leaped higher of its own accord. “If it would make you feel better...”
He exhaled, drawing her closer. “Much.”
And then her lips met his and he had no need for words anymore.
***
THEY HAD WASTED NO time undressing. Thalia’s skin was silk beneath his fingers, and he only wished he had two hands with which to touch her, to hold her, to caress her. She tilted her head, her hair falling over her shoulder onto his chest, dancing over his breast. He wrapped the length of it around his wrist, pulling her down. She came willingly, straddling his stomach, and he felt the heat of her body against his. Too high. He groaned, but she only laughed, her teeth grazing his earlobe.
“So impatient,” she breathed. “What happened to the Pirithous who pinned me under him for a solid hour, refusing to do more than kiss me?”
“He learned what pleasures you could give him with more than just your lips,” he said, releasing her hair to set his hand against the curve of her hip, encouraging her as she slid just a finger’s length down his body. Still too high, but closer. She caught the length of his need between them even if she denied him entrance yet, and the heat of her center softened the sharpness of his desire. So close.
He had no choice but to let her lead, one armed and captured beneath her, though he lacked the patience for it. “Please, Thalia,” he murmured, trailing kisses along her jaw, down the column of her neck.
She sighed with pleasure, her hips moving in slow undulations, teasing him with just the barest suggesting of invitation. She was so warm, so wet, and her need... He grinned, and her half-closed eyes widened suddenly at the rush of his own desire, white hot and aching. She stiffened, her body going still, and then rippling with a shudder of shared longing.
“Cheater,” she gasped as she slid down his length, her entrance welcoming him with shudders of its own. She moaned softly as he filled her, the sound almost as satisfying as the warmth of her body wrapped around his, and her forehead dropped to the point of his shoulder. Even after she had accepted him, she still teased him, for she did not move for a long moment, her breathing ragged as she rested atop his chest.
“Will you make me beg twice?” he asked, running his hand up the length of her spine until she shivered. It was a very pleasant sensation. He did it again, and her body tightened around his, making him groan. “Like that. Please.”
Slow circles, pulling just so, tight, then eased, then gripping him again. Not enough to bring him near release, but enough to keep him hard with the wanting of it, desperate for the touch of her skin against his.
“More?” she asked, lifting herself up enough to meet his eyes.
He let his gaze fall to her throat, then her breasts, his hand slipping up, closing around the soft mound, fingers finding the hard pebble, circling. She sighed again, her back arching toward his touch, and he lifted his head, closing his lips on her other breast, using his mouth and tongue to make her moan.
Her slow movements sped up, her hips rising and falling now, and his own rising to meet her. She held him so tightly, and he fit so well, sinking deep inside her with every fall. His hand grasped her hip, guiding her movements, and he let her feel his need building while he listened to hers. It was a swirl of desperate color, deep purple and blue behind his eyes as she edged closer to her peak. Her nails dug into his chest, her eyes closing, her head tipping back as she rocked her body against his.
So beautiful.
So close.
He dropped his hand to the place where her body met his, brushing his fingers against the tangled curls of her center. She whimpered, tipping back just enough. His thumb circled the hood of her desire and her body clutched hard around his own, purple and blue becoming bright white and the ecstasy of release. Her cry of pleasure lit fire to his own. He shuddered hard, groaning as her body spasmed, and his whole body tensed with the flood of his seed into her womb. Once. Twice. And again, until he had no strength left.
She collapsed against his chest, her body and hair damp with sweat, and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her there, stroking her back. She nuzzled his throat, her lips pressing against his pulse, her teeth grazing against his skin with a playful bite. He was still hard and thick inside her, but she made no move to lift free, settling herself against his body instead, as if the place where they were joined was an anchor to her soul.
“I love you,” she murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion and her body half-limp with sleep. His heart leapt at the words, then twisted. “Love you, Pirithous.”
“Hush, now.” He kissed her temple, smoothing her hair. How he kept his voice so even when his mind raced with worry, he did not know. Love. He had known his own, but had not hoped—she had been so determined not to love him, he had thought she would be safe from that pain. “Just rest.”
He could only wish for peace enough that he might do the same.