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“You don’t have to do this.”
“I do.”
“Not like this. There are other options, we could-”
“Hades.” The voice that cuts him off is soft, but firm. And looking into his lover’s eyes, it’s all Hades can do to keep from reaching out, knowing that he would never let him go. It drags his thoughts to the night before, even as hellfire rains down around them in a broken and destroyed city. The night before, when they had pretended. One last time.
—---
They hadn't bothered with words, not on this particular evening. Not when they both knew what the morning would bring.
Oh, Hades had tried. For hours. Days. Every stage of grief met with gentle words, soft smiles, and quiet apologies. Never once did Hythlodaeus waver in his decision. And in the end, it was his decision to make. No matter what underhanded tactics Hades had considered in his darker moments to convince the man otherwise, he had known better. He knew the other man better than that, and arguments and anguish would not be how he allowed them to part.
This is only temporary.
He repeats the words in his mind like a mantra as they make their way through the evening as if the skies aren't red and burning outside their apartment. As if Hades' entire existence isn't crumbling to pieces in his hands.
No, not in his hands. He uses those to hold onto everything he can reach, touch, knowing that this will be their final night together.
All of this is temporary.
The smile on Hythlodaeus' face is just as sweet as ever as Hades draws him in, no sign of the sometimes-mischief that overtakes him when they're together like this. No, he knows what the esteemed Emet-Selch needs, and he lets the man undress him with hands they both pretend don't tremble as twin sets of robes fall to the floor. Masks discarded, his title is left with them as he becomes the man so few ever see- the man who, despite all signs pointing to the contrary, is truly loved, and loves in return.
His grip is a touch too soft as he lays Hythlodaeus out on their bed, practically worshipful in his caresses. No teasing, tonight. One kiss leads into the next, Hades nearly crushing his weight onto the only slightly smaller man, arms bracketing his head and hands curling into that silken hair that's fallen from its braid to sprawl across their sheets.
When he works his way downwards, he leaves not an ilm of skin untouched. He finds the sensitive divots of the other man's hips and a gasp escapes him as Hades slides his tongue over a nipple before sucking harshly. The arch of his lover's back as he presses into the touch is beautiful, and the silver haired man above him uses the motion to free hand from hair to wrap around his back, sliding firmly down his spine. A sigh of contentment from Hythlodeaus, and clever fingers find their way into Hades hair. He doesn't tug or pull, allowing him to keep the slow pace and drink him in as they take their combined fill of these last moments.
When Hades does descend, it's the work of a moment to snap his fingers -an action in bed that never fails to make Hythlodeaus laugh for the absurdity of it- before taking his cock into his mouth and slipping that same hand below - now covered in a generous coating of slick from a terrible misuse of magic - and the laugh becomes a hitching, soft cry that has Hades closing his eyes tightly, committing it to memory.
Temporary.
Toned legs slide up the bed and along his sides, resting over his shoulders as the heel of one foot digs with only the slightest impatience into the small of his back. That causes a chuckle from Hades, mouth full as it is, and if he thought his lover had twisted in the bed before, it's nothing compared to the beautifully explosive reaction he receives as he takes him to the root, sliding that first finger into silken heat at the same time.
"Hades... Hades please."
He could ask for anything in that sex-warmed voice and Hades would acquiesce, every time. And he does, one hand braced on a lithe hip, dragging his tongue over Hythlodaeus' cock and pressing two more fingers in, not giving him time to adjust- knowing he doesn't want it. It's a good thing for the hand he's braced with because Hythlodaeus writhes in his arms when his fingers twist, an archer's grip leaving Hades hair to reach up, tangling hands together as he throws his head back onto the pillows, breath staggered and short.
"Please.
Now."
Another quiet laugh and Hades takes his time with the gentle stretching of his fingers, pumping them lazily just to watch the beauty that is the other man arching from the bed again before bearing back down against his hand. Hades pops off his cock with a gasp and a grin, ignoring the creeping despair that tangles in his lungs and limbs.
"There's the pushiness I know." The look he receives would be scathing if Hythlodaeus didn't look so thoroughly debauched already.
"Please."
Hades doesn’t respond with words, fingers withdrawing and relishing in the little moan of want it drives from Hythlodaeus as he slides his way back up, shifting the legs that had found their way over his shoulders to his hips instead. Arms wind their way around his neck as he lines them up, eyes closing and brow furrowing as the crown of his cock catches, pushes inside that impossibly perfect heat, and his own breath stutters at the soft sob Hythlodaeus tries and fails to muffle into his shoulder. Even with eyes closed, his own tears escape to land on silken soft skin as he pushes in with agonizing slowness, both of them gasping through the physical pleasure and emotional pain together.
Tentatively, carefully, Hades pauses his ministrations to pull back, just enough for their eyes to meet with an unspoken question, not surprised in the least to see the tears gathered in Hythlodaeus’ eyes to match his own.
“Yes, gods, please, yes.”
That’s all Hades needs to hear before he’s leaning down, intertwining both sets of hands together to press into the bed. Lips meet and mouths open, tongues long familiar with each other finding a familiar rhythm while Hades focuses, calling upon the slightest edge of his power. Breathes pure aether into Hythlodaeus' mouth just as he pulls back, pushing in and setting a slow, firm pace as he floods the other’s body with his essence- pulling his back in return, intertwining their souls just as much as their bodies.
It’s overwhelming. It’s nearly too much, and the resulting wail from Hythlodaeus is muffled only by Hades mouth as his hips stutter. He barely manages to hold onto his pace as those legs he so loves to worship tighten vice like around his hips, keeping time with him as the bones in their hands all but grind from how tight they hold on to one another.
It doesn’t last long- never like this. Hades relinquishes his grip on one hand to reach between them, still just enough slick left on his fingers to glide across Hythlodaeus’ cock and pump him in time with his thrusts. It’s all it takes for the lavender-eyed man to fall apart beneath him, coming in staggered waves that manage to hit both of their chests.
Hades isn’t far behind, lasting only a minute or so more before his gasping lover is pulling him back down for another kiss, less finesse but no less enthusiasm as he pushes another wave of aether into the larger man who jerks in his arms, climax like a lightning bolt that sets his nerves alight, leaves him with no room to breathe, or to think, of anything or anyone besides the lovely creature beneath him.
They rest, and they bathe, each lavishing attention on the other with soap slicked touches, firm, massaging grips, and bruising kisses they never would have dared to leave on exposed skin before. Unseemly. Inappropriate. Neither gives a damn, tonight.
When next they return to bed, the touches give way from sweet and loving to something harsher. More demanding. Possessive. Hythlodaeus finds himself on hands and knees, gasping as, still stretched, Hades slides inside him for the second time tonight. More lube, generously applied, makes the process as smooth as it has ever been, but nothing will change the fact that like this, he will always feel indescribably full and complete. Which is exactly why Hades has done it, he knows.
A shocked whimper escapes him as the pace moves from firm to punishing, before a hand is wrapping itself around his throat, yanking him up, back pressed to Hades’ chest as the thrusts never falter. His head falls back to rest on a strong shoulder, moaning when Hades’ free hand wraps around him again.
“You’re mine. Always. Forever. This is not the end, I swear to you. I swear it.”
It’s with another sob that Hythlodaeus finally breaks, orgasm the sweetest and worst he’s ever known. Pain not for him, but for what he knows this must be doing to his friend. His lover. His soulmate in every sense of the word.
When Hades comes, it’s with the harshest bite to his throat yet, and would that tomorrow was any other morning, he would have to have it healed along with the rest to keep from scandalized looks. He couldn’t possibly care less, not with the warmth of Hades filling him, and the wetness of the man’s silent tears trailing down the back of his neck, petted away with now gentle hands and kisses.
They manage to arrange themselves sideways into bed, still connected, and fall asleep that way.
Morning brings about soft kisses, quick showers, redressing and robes and coffee. As if they can’t hear the screams outside. As if one of their windows hadn’t been cracked at some point in the middle of the night. As if this isn’t the last goodbye kiss they’ll ever share. Before they take their leave, knowing it’s for the last time.
They don’t even bother to put their masks on as they close the door to the space they had shared for so many centuries.
—-----
“Hades.” Hythlodaeus repeats, voice still soft, barely heard as the apocalypse unfolds. “I love you.”
And with that, Hades world cracks, finally crumbling to the shattered earth at his feet. He watches as Hythlodaeus raises one hand in farewell, face contorting with the anguish he so wished to keep the other from seeing. And as he turns, only one word can be heard, whispered as Hades uses every ilm of strength to clench his hands, to keep from reaching out to keep him in his arms forever.
“Goodbye.”