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The room is silent, but it’s a peaceful and comfortable calm. For a moment Penelope almost cannot believe that this place, Ithaka, is now her home and that it has been for almost a few months now. The sound of the ocean is no longer a constant rushing in her ears but a soothing whisper that lulls her to sleep and even now it makes her eyes heavy and her muscles rest.
Such blissful serenity is shattered, however, by a mischievous cackle from across the table, a sound which brings Penelope back into the present and back to the game board that sits between her and her husband, Odysseus. Said man seems to have spotted his next move and it’s one he’s apparently very proud of, if the smirk on his face is anything to go by. A welcome change, the couple have been evenly matched for the past ten turns, with neither being close to breaking the stalemate and drawing first blood. A testament to their mental strength as individuals and as a pair.
Penelope actually flinches when Odysseus finally makes his move. He slides his piece up to hers and swipes it away, the sharp knock of the wood smacking together and the clattering of her fallen warrior upon the tiled floor is a deafening clap of noise amongst the easy stillness.
Ah. So, Odysseus isn’t like uncle Tyndareus at all, he’s not just going to go easy on her, to let her win … to underestimate her.
Knowing where she stands, Penelope shifts her position, shuffling on the floor to sit closer to the board, she allows herself to lean over it and truly contemplate her next move, and Odysseus’ next move … and every move after that.
Her brows are knitted and her lip is caught between her teeth when her new husband’s voice rumbles through her ears.
“Hm?” She has been so lost in her move-making that she hadn’t heard him.
“Remove your scarf.” He repeats calmly.
Penelope’s studious expression warps into confusion, She straightens her back and cocks her head at the man across from her.
“My - My scarf?” Odysseus nods. Penelope doesn’t move. Her husband has never struck her as the type of man to demand things from his wife and even though his voice is bordering on the more gentle side there is still a current of authority running through it.
“You lost the turn, so you have to remove something. I suggest you start with your scarf, my love, don’t want to give me too much too soon, do we?”
Penelope blinks once. Twice.
Oh. It’s that kind of game, is it?
In truth, the sudden invitation earlier in the evening to play games had struck Penelope as a bit odd and certainly out of left field, but she loved a challenge and she certainly loved spending time with Odysseus so the answer had naturally been a very easy yes. However, now, as she curls her fingers around the material of her scarf and tugs it free from her slender neck, the Queen of Ithaka suddenly understands her husband’s earlier eagerness and mischievous bounce as he proposed their evening activities.
Nothing is ever straightforward with Odysseus. That she has learned very quickly. Still, indulging him is certainly a thrill.
“You can go first this time.” He says with a grin, gesturing his hand widely over the board.
“It was mine turn to go regardless.” She is quick to quip back, but she doesn’t allow him to distract her. Now that their little game has stakes sends her blood pumping and her heart racing. She’s not just going to move her pieces quickly and haphazardly in the name of good fun.
Oh no, she wants to win.
Their earlier stalemate settles once again. Pieces merely dancing around each other across the board as opposed to making decisive moves, Odysseus’ frustration shows in the way his eye twitches and his fist clenches in his lap. It makes Penelope smile softly to herself, to see her husband make such adorable expressions.
Eventually, it is Penelope who finds the first crack in the stone and is quick to strike.
Without the theatrics of her husband, Penelope simply taps her piece against his indicating his loss and that it should be removed from the board. Odysseus can only gape for a moment, clearly trying to work out where the sneak attack had come from and where he went wrong, but the frantic look in his eyes tells her that he’s drawing blank on both counts.
He composes himself quickly before speaking.
“Well played, my dear, well played.”
Odysseus then reaches across, ready to grab another piece and begin the next round, but a deft, slender hand is quick to seize his wrist and halt him. He looks up at her, brow quirked.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Penelope says, eyelashes fluttering.
“Am I?” Odysseus retaliates, his voice practically rolling into a purr.
“It’s not very sporting for a man to abandon his own rules, Odysseus.”
She has him there. He concedes. Withdrawing his hand from the board, he holds them up in mock surrender before complying. Slowly, he slides a ring from his index finger and places it delicately on the floor beside him. It’s a smart move and one he’s certainly proud of, if his shit-eating grin is anything to go by. Penelope narrows her eyes at him, personally not finding the display very funny or clever, but she doesn’t complain.
If that is how he wants to play this game then she is just going to have to beat him at it.
And that’s exactly what she does … for the most part.
Piece after piece is removed from the board as the lack of parts opens up the play more and more. Usually, it’s Odysseus’ pieces that fall and he removes his jewellery accordingly, though two strikes too many have now left him without sandals also. Penelope has not remained unscathed throughout her violent onslaught, however, and her feet are now also bare and her sash sits abandoned beside her, her dress falling dangerously around her frame as a consequence.
Her dark eyes flit from the game for a moment, a move she’d never usually make but she is curious about the current state of her husband. It seems he is faring no better than she. His hair is wild from a hand constantly running amok through it in thought, his cheeks are flushed slightly and there’s certainly a sheen to his brow. Penelope smiles to herself as she silently counts the moves she has left until she is victorious.
One.
All Odysseus has left is his tunic, that’s if he doesn’t pull a classic Odysseus move and start plucking hairs from his beard as a means of compensation. She, however, still has her hairpin, her necklace and a ring left before she has to even consider removing anything else. Minor pieces she’d saved until this moment, as she knew the game would open up and moves would get sloppy the longer they played and the more tension built between them.
Odysseus, it seems, is far too eager about the game that is going to come after this, if his recent moves are anything to go by.
“My love,” she coos suddenly, and it startles him into looking at her with his high brows and wide eyes. “It’s your move and I would very much like to finish this game before our first anniversary.”
He frowns. “You’re trying to rush me so I make a mistake — don’t be so obvious in your ploys, my dear.”
A bell-like laugh trills from her lips and shudders her delicate shoulders. “No, you’re not one to fall for such schemes. I apologise for underestimating you, but,” she allows a silence to sweep through, only continuing when she has his full attention. She gets it very quickly. “I had hoped we’d be playing something else by now…”
It’s a juvenile move, she knows. Still, she does her best to look petulant as she rests her chin in her palm and pouts her full lips, eyes doe-like and shining. Using sex to win would never usually be Penelope’s way, but even she can see that the game is hers regardless of whatever else she does, Odysseus’ final piece has done nothing but scamper around the board in desperate escape for the past eight turns.
“You’re cheating.” Odysseus narrows his eyes, but he shuffles where he sits and she knows that victory is hers. Her poor, darling husband has no blood left in his brain to commit to his next move.
The piece slides left and there’s a hesitation before Odysseus finally pulls his hand away, committing to his decision. A pause. The king realises his fatal mistake far too late and he curses before reaching for the piece again, only to be stopped by Penelope’s hand around his wrist.
“You made your move.” She says, voice firmer then he’s ever heard from her before. Eventually, Odysseus relents, his hand grows limp in her hold and he sighs, pulling back.
There is nothing smug in Penelope’s next move, she simply smiles and carries the appropriate piece over to Odysseus’ before replacing it entirely. With a flick of her wrist she removes her husband’s final piece from the board and renders herself the victor.
Odysseus graciously applauds the winner and bows his head slightly with a smirk.
“Well done,” he congratulates, “even if you resorted to underhanded tactics at the end there…”
Penelope rolls her eyes, Odysseus always has to make a comment, it seems.
“The game was lost the moment you gathered all your pieces here,” she indicates the far left corner of the board. “I just had to bide my time and bring them out one by one. It’s risky to put all your men in one place, y’know? There’s not always strength in numbers.”
Her husband looks thoughtful for a moment before conceding to her wisdom, nodding along in agreement and holding up his hands in defeat. In truth, Odysseus is not accustomed to losing at things, but it seems it’s something he needs to get used to with Penelope around, the women is a wise force to be reckoned with — even for him!
“A fair point well made.” He muses.
Suddenly, Penelope holds her hand out to him, reaching over the board to wiggle her fingers in his face.
“My spoils.” She says with a grin.
“Wha’?”
“I demand my spoils.”
Odysseus struggles to catch on for a moment before everything dawns on his suddenly. His expression turns wicked as he grins at her, playfully tugging at his collar.
“You’re demanding, are you?”
Penelope nods, dark curls bouncing as she does.
The king chuckles to himself slightly, both in sheer delight and also in disbelief. He had no idea the trouble he was bringing into his house when he asked for Penelope’s hand, but he cannot deny the thrill that rushes through him at every new thing he learns. Penelope is a mystery, she reveals her secrets slowly and at opportune moments and, in the short time he has been privy to it, it has driven Odysseus insane in the best way. He itches to know more, but appreciates the chase she’s set him on.
Eventually, he wets his lips and complies, hooking his fingers in the material by his neck and tugging upwards, pulling his tunic up and off in one swift moment.
Without breaking her gaze, he drops the warm material into her waiting palm.
Her look is equally as steeled as she curls her fingers around her prize and returns it to her lap, smiling sweetly all the while. It’s then that she drinks in the sight of Odysseus bared before her.
He’s hard and that surprises her. His cock is straining against his lower stomach and the tip is a deep, flushed red which looks even starker against the white fluid that leaks from his tip and beads there.
It looks painful, like he’s been hard for a long time and she feels slightly guilty that she truly hadn’t noticed. For a moment, Penelope is embarrassed about her own intensity and competitiveness, still, she can make it up to him now at least.
“Can we go to bed?” Penelope asks, her voice is pinched as the pressure in her stomach drops between her thighs and becomes too heavy to ignore.
Odysseus smiles at her gently, his eyes growing warm and his tanned skin stretches and creases in ways that certainly doesn’t help Penelope’s current situation. She wouldn’t consider herself frantic, yet compared to Odysseus she’s positively delirious! Ironic, considering he’s the one who’s naked. Yet, Penelope is slowly learning that this side is just for her, this slower, calmer and more authentic side. She feels honoured.
Slowly, Odysseus stands up but not before grunting slightly as the motion sends a spark of pleasure down his spine. Hardly enough to light an inferno, but certainly an indicator of how tightly he is wound and how the embers are starting to flicker.
Such a realisation makes Penelope scamper to her own feet even quicker, before Odysseus can even offer her a hand. Although she had won their game, her earlier advantage seems to have dissipated slightly and she’s seems far more concerned with loosening Odysseus’ strings for fear her husband could snap.
The journey to the bed is a short one and it immediately puts Penelope more at ease. This certainly isn’t their first time being intimate, not even close, but this relationship — and relationships in general — are still so new and fresh to the young Spartan woman. It makes her relish in the comfort, control and safety that their marital bed brings.
All things that Odysseus has never denied her.
Penelope is first onto the bed, instantly scooting back to sit against the thick, wooden trunk that their bed effortlessly grows from. She wiggles her toes slightly in excitement as Odysseus quickly chases after her, crawling up the bed and then her body before he captures her lips in heated, long-awaited kiss. Penelope sighs between their lips, her shoulders relaxing as a pleasant, honey-smooth warmth oozes through her entire body, settling pleasantly in her stomach.
When Odysseus allows them to part, Penelope studies her husband again. From his owlish brows to his hooked nose, she allows her eyes to flit to his lithe chest and his compact frame, admiring the roping muscles that she can see clearly beneath his sun-kissed, sea-crisp skin. However, Penelope is only human and she cannot stop herself from indulging even more, as her gaze flows further down to admire Odysseus’ hard, leaking arousal. Her stomach flutters as she catches sight of the fuzzy hair across his tummy that spreads into the darker, thicker hair at the base of his cock.
Blushing, Penelope catches herself and quickly looks back up, only to find Odysseus smirking wickedly at her.
She puffs out her cheeks and pouts.
“Are you going to allow me the same luxury?” His voice is as rough as broken rocks on the shore and equally as dangerous.
“What do you mean?” Her voice is small in comparison.
Odysseus doesn’t answer her with words instead he leans forward to plant his lips wetly on her neck, kissing and nibbling at the smooth column of Penelope’s throat. She gasps and her eyes flutter closed. Lost in the maddening scratch of his beard on her sensitive skin, Penelope doesn’t feel the hands fiddling with her dress for a good while. When she does, she’s quick to assist and the pair work together to effectively remove the infuriating garment from her body before Odysseus tosses it recklessly away.
He laves his tongue over a particularly stark mark on her neck one final time before pulling back to drag his eyes up Penelope’s fine form. She feels the touch of his stare and her skin tingles beneath it, making her toes curl and his thighs twitch.
“You’re incredible.” Odysseus tells her. The sincerity cuts the heated tension for a moment and Penelope smiles at him softly as she reaches up and strokes a hand through his tangled, chestnut hair.
As much as the romance warms her heart, Penelope cannot ignore the inferno growing in her gut and she wiggles slightly on the bed in impatience. Odysseus, as always, understands her perfectly.
Calloused hands curl over Penelope’s knees and her legs slowly slide apart, the action is mostly her own as she pants lightly and feels her face burn over the new exposure. There isn’t much time to feel vulnerable, however, as Odysseus’ body is quick to fill the space between her legs and his closeness, smell and warmth is more than enough to make her feel safe and shielded from anything apart from him.
Crudely, Odysseus shoves two fingers in his mouth and coats them in saliva, the action pops noisily in Penelope’s ears as she momentarily loses herself in the crass, animalistic and yet oddly compelling display. Odysseus begins to drop his fingers between them when Penelope’s brain catches up with her and she seizes his wrist. Instantly, his head snaps up and there’s a furrow of worry on his brow, but she smiles to ease his concern.
“I’m,” she swallows, talking about such things is still so new to her. Yet, she knows Odysseus would never laugh at her and he encourages the honest communication. “I’m okay. You first.”
Her husband cocks his head. “But I lost the game.”
“So, let me claim my prize.”
Her boldness seems to pay off, as Odysseus breathes out a stuttered obscenity before shifting on his knees slightly. The sweat on his brow has dishevelled his hair and when he peers up to look at her he looks thoroughly debauched and wild. It takes everything Penelope has to stop herself from whimpering.
“Are you sure you’re-”
“Yes.” She cuts him off, the topic still a little too embarrassing for her. Odysseus seems to realise this and he chuckles softly at her reddened cheeks. Not willing to embarrass her anymore Odysseus drops his eyes again, focusing on the small space that separates them. The weight in his gut is agonising now and the pinching sensation at the head of his cock has grown almost unbearable. Quickly, he lightly touches at Penelope’s arousal with his forefinger, desperate to satisfy his own needs but unwilling to compromise her comfort in the process. To his relief she is warm and wanting, his finger is wet when he pulls it back and Odysseus notices how she’s practically dripping in the anticipation of it all. Even his feather-like touch had elicited a gasp and a clench of muscle.
Reassured that he won’t hurt her or cause discomfort in his maddened lust, Odysseus takes the base of his cock in hand before guiding it between Penelope’s legs. Then he lets the shallow rock of his hips do the rest.
Penelope gasps and rolls her head back when she feels the familiar and pleasant weight slip inside her. It settles heavy in her core and has her eyelashes fluttering shut. For a moment, they are still. Penelope’s chest is heaving as she tries to the will the sparks zipping around her nerves to calm down. She can heard Odysseus above her, his own ragged breaths indicating that he is faring no better and it’s a comfort to know that she is not just easily overwhelmed.
They just have this effect on each other it seems.
Slowly, Penelope opens her eyes and raises her arms too twine around Odysseus’ neck. He’s staring down at her, pupils blown and lips parted. Though he’s still and waiting patiently, she can feel the tight muscles in his back can see his trembling arms beside her head from the corner of her eyes. He’s holding himself back.
Penelope smiles softly as she lifts her hips slightly and presses against her husband, a silent ask for more. The noise she gets from Odysseus in response is priceless, a choked gasp stutters from his throat before it melts between them into a lascivious, desperate whimper.
“You…” He berates her teasingly.
Penelope giggles. Then, she drops her voice and her eyes, rendering him utterly powerless. “Please.”
Odysseus obeys.
The rhythm they create is slow and careful, every drag and push of Odysseus’ hips is purposeful. Carefully, he slides his hands under the small of Penelope’s back, momentarily delights in the warmth of her skin, and without breaking pace he lifts her lower body slightly, before clambering higher on his own knees.
Penelope watches herself be manhandled and moved through bleary, lust-fuzzed vision. Her lips part to question her husband but the next forward drive of his hips gives her all the answer she needs. The angle is different, each thrust of Odysseus’ hips drives him deeper into her and Penelope cannot help but gasp and moan as the burning heat in her gut is stoked into an inferno.
Odysseus is faring no better, grunting out curses and chanting her name reverently every time he moves. A red-hot coil is settles heavy in his stomachs and his thighs are tight and trembling as he toes the delicate line between giving pleasure and chasing his own.
“Penelope.” This time it’s different. Even amongst the litany of her name that falls from Odysseus’ lips, she instantly hears the change in tone. His voice hitches on word and it’s spoken quicker than all the ones before, she smiles inwardly to herself and takes just a brief moment in the heady, hot desire to relish in the other type of intimacy they share. Their ability to understand each other so easily and quickly with so little actually spoken between them, to her it’s just as erotic and it has her toes curling.
Understanding, Penelope lets her hands slip away from around her husband’s neck and she instantly misses the warmth beneath her palms and the firm, taut muscles beneath her nails. However, she answers his plea quickly Her hands dips between their bodies, skimming past their sweat-slicked, searing skin, to toy delicately, but earnestly with her pleasure.
The moment the pads of her fingers skim across her raw, sensitive clit, Penelope clenches and arches her back, something that has Odysseus grunting in both pleasure and a warning.
Effortlessly and silently, they begin the steps to their new dance. Their bodies, again, fall in sync with each other immediately, Odysseus thrusts deeper as Penelope rolls her fingers tighter and tighter. Every flutter of pleasure that ripples in Penelope’s corse flits quickly down her own nerves and through Odysseus’ from where they are connected.
Their rapture shared as their bodies are one.
“Odysseus-!” Penelope gasps sharp, the coil in her stomach grows ever tighter and it steals her breath.
Said man is far more further gone than she and the evidence is in his erratic thrusting and responsive grunts as words fail him. Odysseus suddenly grips his wife tighter, pulling her impossibly closer to his body as he moans shamelessly in her ear. His body stills for a moment and Penelope’s eyes flutter closed as she feels a familiar warmth spread deep in her stomach. Odysseus continues to pant and his breath hot on her jaw, his body jerks twice more as his muscle fulfil the animalistic desire to fill her and fill her well.
Penelope, still doesn’t miss a beat, the coil is red hot now and she paws desperately at Odysseus’ shoulder, who slowly pulls back to look down at her; dishevelled, handsome and questioning. She cannot answer him with words, opting instead to surge upwards and capture his lips in a searing, messy kiss. Odysseus plays his part well, his brain kickstarting again almost immediately, as he licks his way into her mouth and chews on her bottom lip for good measure.
It’s enough. It’s everything.
Beneath him, Penelope’s back arches sharply and her body goes as tight as a bowstring, her mouth is open silently before her relief crashes into her. Hard. Her body trembles from her shoulders to her thighs and her voice finds itself, filling the room with a loud, heavy moan.
Penelope collapses to the bed, her nerves raw to the touch and her muscles still twitching.
Odysseus is quick to cradle her in his arms and arrange them together in bed, though his body fairs no better. He slips out from her and Penelope watches with amusement as the muscles in his arms flutter beneath his skin, desperate to keep him steady. Odysseus captures her little giggle and pouts at her, narrowing his eyes playfully.
The lay together, facing each other as they simply catch their breath as Odysseus tugs one of the woven blankets over them, ensuring Penelope benefits most from its heat. He hadn’t noticed the night chill had drawn in when he was … occupied.
Penelope hums appreciatively and snuggles down beneath the cover, until only her nose and eyes are visibly peeking out. Odysseus chuckles and runs a hand over her head.
“What are you like?” He says fondly and Penelope gives him a melodic giggle in return, her cheeks red and her heart singing.
Sleep tugs at her insistently, but she forces herself to open her eyes again as she’s hyperaware Odysseus doesn’t seem to be settling down for the evening. She peers curiously at him and follows his gaze towards their game board at the foot of their bed, a wedding gift she is now even more appreciative of.
Odysseus looks back and catches Penelope looking. Suddenly, he smirks, and pushes his hair off his face, exposing even more of his handsome features and making Penelope’s heart stutter.
“Best two outta’ three?”