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Gods can be jerks sometimes. Like mortals, but stronger.
Melinoë couldn’t shake Dora’s words. They lingered as she ascended Olympus the next night, her moves mechanical. Her body had fallen into habit after dozens of battle-worn nights, blasting through Ephyra, and hurtling from ship to ship in the rift with practiced precision.
Despite this, the godly mountain always proved more of a challenge, and she was panting as she neared the summit, coated in blood and gore. It didn’t matter how many nights she did this; how her expectations of what awaited her became more and more solidified as she battled her way to her relatives.
It was tiring.
At first, Melinoë ignored her exhaustion, because her duty took precedence. It was duty that could have her overlook her screaming muscles and subdue the protest of pain that seized her with every hit.
She was raised for one purpose—to defeat Chronos and save both her house and lineage in doing so.
Yet, with every night aboveground and under, she learned more about the gods, the very relatives she fought to aid. It wasn’t just one instance that planted the disquiet now rumbling in her heart; it was countless, with Dora, with Arachne and even with the surly Heracles.
Even Odysseus’s words of reassurance could do little to assuage her. It wasn’t enough to dull her blade. No, Melinoë could no—would not—turn from her task at hand. But perhaps for the first time in her life, doubt had begun to stir in her heart.
And, of course, it was Prometheus who was the first to raise such sentiment with her. Melinoë stared blearily at the next door, knowing the Titan waited for her on the other side.
She was reluctant to admit it, but if she was being honest with herself, she had begun to look forward to their encounters. For if nothing else, the Titan always proved a challenge. He was smart, almost too smart for his own good, and and it was a curious thing fighting a being who was so clearly operating on his own terms.
Melinoë was no fool. She had begun to suspect many nights ago that Prometheus served no true master but his own self. Ironically, it was his own chatty tendencies that led her to this conclusion; his obscure talk of doing his part even when falling to her was illuminating enough.
She chuckled as she approached the door, Descura weighted in one hand. “Whoever said he spoke little had clearly never met him,” she said to Frinos, who plodded faithfully beside her. Her familiar blinked balefully and she kneeled to pat his head.
“What do you think, Frinos? Will he see right through me tonight?” she asked the frog. Frinos cocked his head, intently listening. “Or will I get more talk of his foresight?”
Melinoë loathed this tendency of his. Who was he to tell her what she would do or what was possible? She huffed, remembering his title, but her conviction remained. He marked her as an agent of change, and so she would usurp this future he saw written in his visions, his title be damned.
Even if he was irritating, as of late, Melinoë found herself thinking of Prometheus often. She thought of his severe punishment, viewed in distaste by even her lord father. She thought of how out of all the godly figures she had come to know, he was one of the few that had not a single petty squabble to his name.
And above all else, she thought of his compassion that he wore so visibly, unmarred by aeons of suffering. She flexed her ghostly arm, a reminder of her own empathy.
Despite her best to suppress it, in quieter moments she thought of different things. The texture of his brilliant hair, rippling in the heat he produced. The powerful bands of muscles that worked as he sought her in battle. The resigned smile he reserved for his last moments, bandages undone and dripping in ichor.
Melinoë blamed Dora for these traitorous thoughts. It was Dora who had put together “Prometheus” and “hunky” in the same sentence; though, admittedly, it was Melinoë who instantaneously thought Prometheus was surely the more handsome one when facing off against his brother.
It was these things on her mind as she climbed the stairs, the bright Titan coming into view. With her ascent, came the change in temperature to remind her whose domain she entered; warmth licked at her skin in the way the bright blue flamed crackled against Prometheus’s hand.
He always struck an impressive figure, though Melinoë would be thrashed a hundred times over before ever admitting it. On many nights, she had chosen the growth spell Circe offered just so her height might stand a bit more evenly, instead of resting at his muscular stomach as it did now.
He stood in his usual stance, blue hair waving gently as she approached. He looked serene as always, unsurprised to see her prevail to his summit.
On cue, his eagle perched on his gloved hand gave a peal cry.
“Did you train him to do that just to appear extra menacing?” she asked, her quip missing the usual playful note. The Titan cocked his head, his burning eyes narrowing.
“Agent of Change,” he greeted. “You look unwell.”
“Thanks,” she replied sardonically. “Your way with words never fails to impress. Believe it or not, fighting through countless creatures and beasts will do a number on you.”
“Not that,” Prometheus murmured, drawing closer. She tensed, lifting Descura at the ready, but with one motion, the eagle flapped its wings and flew off far above them. “You are unsettled.”
Blasted Titan. Melinoë kept her expression neutral and her weapon up, even with Aetos gone. “Well, it’s not exactly soothing to battle through hundreds of traitorous wretches like yourself.”
She injected a lighter tone, at odds with the discomfort swirling in her belly, realizing how incredibly inconvenient it was to try and hide things from a Titan who could see all.
Prometheus was close enough where she could strike him with her staff. She met his contemplative gaze, determined to not show how he had discomposed her. For Melinoë was stubborn, and the childish will in her (a deficiency as the headmistress branded it) refused to yield to the Titan, especially when it came to acknowledging the truth of some of his words.
His eyes burned brighter as if he could read her thoughts. “Ah,” he said. “So you have discovered the history of your friend Dora, and with it, your certainty in the gods has been shaken.”
“Hardly,” she scoffed. There was some veracity in her words—she couldn’t say she had turned against the gods. Only that she had begun to…
“Question then?” Prometheus stepped closer, Descura pressing into his broad chest. Melinoë inhaled sharply, wishing yet again how she was at least a few heads taller to match the Titan. He loomed over her, close enough where she could smell his musk and the salt of his sweat.
Melinoë clenched her teeth as she felt a tug in her belly at his proximity, heat radiating off his form. Insanity. It had to have been some trick played by Aphrodite, despite having none of the lovely goddess’s boons on this night.
“Has the dutiful soldier begun to question the divine right of the gods?”
His white teeth flashed with his comment as she flushed. Her body betrayed her, but she was always too honest to hide her tells. It was one thing, ironically, Melinoë thought she shared with the Titan. He wore his heart on his sleeve, rage and compassion alike on display for all to see.
There was none of that in his face now. He looked down at her, watching. Waiting.
Melinoë pressed Descura further into his skin, only making an indent in his firm muscle. It would take more that that to draw ichor from him, she knew that well. “I see you’ve resorted to mind games after being thoroughly bettered by me,” she taunted. “Desperate times, Prometheus?”
An expression crossed the Titan’s face so quickly, that if Melinoë had blinked, she would have missed it. She had never seen it on him before, even when she had beaten him.
She could have sworn it was disappointment.
“I see you are not yet ready to challenge what you consider to be true,” he said quietly. “But it will happen one day, not far from now, Agent of Change. I have seen it. You and I will develop an understanding.”
She snarled, talk of foresight finally angering her. “Enough. I will not be swayed by your talk of what I will or will not do. Come to the task at hand so that I may pass.”
Prometheus’s flames grew brighter. “Indeed. Let us do our dance once more so we may move to another more fruitful night.”
Melinoë brandished Descura, her body primed for battle. “Frinos,” she said, her familiar alert at her side. “Wait for me outside.”
The Titan’s face hardened. “Do not take pity on me, not when you are in such a wretched state.”
She scoffed. “I don’t see your oversized bird around here. Let’s keep it simple tonight—just you and me.”
Prometheus said nothing, but allowed her familiar to skip back to the more comforting snows outside.
“Simple enough for you, Agent of Change?” he asked, his flames growing brighter.
It was never simple with him. Melinoë attacked, her body falling into practiced habit once more. He was large and strong, so much stronger than she was; but Melinoë knew him by now, confident in her ability to take him without her familiar.
She memorized his tells, when he would lift a leg for his earth shattering stomps or when he would summon the flames that had immolated her in the past.
He was stronger, but she knew how to whittle away at him, piece by piece. At least, normally she did. Her thoughts and his words had unmoored her, and she made careless mistakes, leaving her gasping.
“Your mind wanders,” Prometheus panted. His bandages were coming undone, revealing dark ichor from his wound that never seemed to heal fully.
Melinoë wondered briefly what fighting Prometheus would have been like in his prime, before aeons of imprisonment had altered him. It was impossible to think that he could have posed more of a challenge than in his current state.
“And yet, I still have you almost on your knees.”
He chuckled, removing his glove and flexing powerfully. “Careful, princess. There are many possibilities tonight and in the nights to come where the opposite may be true.”
She blinked. Gods, her physical comforts at the crossroads had warped her, for his words elicited images of a different variety, ones that Aphrodite would croon at. As she lifted Descura once more, she reminded herself it was just banter.
Just banter.
She swung the weapon at his head, which he dodged swiftly. Lightning sparked from her attack and he grunted as she dropped under another kick, coming up behind him. She landed a hit on his back and one large hand darted out, tearing the bottom of her dress.
Melinoë dashed away, feeling the singeing cloth on her thighs. That could not happen again. She avoided him getting his hands on her at all costs, paying the price dearly the first few nights of their routine.
She could hear him following, so sprinted in a circle, quick enough to come up by his side once more. She raised Descura with both hands, spotting an opening in his ribs—
He stumbled. This wouldn’t have stopped her, had Melinoë not caught the look in his eyes, far off and distant. His jaw was slack and he was elsewhere, witnessing a future possibility that had untethered him to the current moment.
She halted, chest heaving, her weapon still raised in both hands. “Erm…”
In all their nights together, this had never happened. Melinoë was uncertain of protocol, though she knew what the headmistress would urge in this moment. But it felt dishonorable to attack him while he was unaware, so she lowered the staff, coming closer.
“Prometheus?” she asked, feeling rather foolish.
Consciousness snapped back into place in his ember eyes as he met her gaze. Quick as a whip, he wrenched Descura from her grasp, throwing it aside. It was her turn to stumble as his hot hands grabbed her, one pinning her wrists and the other flattening against her waist as he threw her into the ground.
She cursed as she fell hard, the Titan falling with her, his grip unyielding.
Gods above and below. This is what she deserved for being so soft towards a foe. She should have landed the hit when she could, as her teacher had instilled in her to do so. Melinoë hoped Selene wasn’t watching, lest she impart this moment of weakness to Hecate.
“I thought you above such petty tricks,” she spat. She was trapped within his powerfully built arms and legs, struggling futilely against his bondage—his strength was immense. He was everywhere, the sheer size of him ensconcing her within his muscles and heat.
They were closer than they had ever been, his nose able to brush hers if he wished. She felt deep into her reservoir of magic, ready to pull herself back to the safety of the shadows.
“Tricks?” he murmured. His handsome features were dazed from whatever vision had seized him. “No, little goddess. I have no tricks. I have been disarmed by a most peculiar set of possibilities.”
Even in this compromising position, Melinoë found it in herself to roll her eyes. “Gods, just deal the blow if you’re going to prattle on about the possibilities—“
“You and I,” he continued, seemingly unaware of her retorts despite his eyes being trained on her. “In a position much like this one, night after night.”
She froze. “W-what?” Her leg jerked and she felt it then—he was hard. The absurd length of him—gods, his size—pressed against her thigh, and it stunned her into silence. Her mind went blank, unable to comprehend what was happening.
“Your face exultant in ecstasy. Lips parting to beg me for more.” His head dropped to her neck and Melinoë’s breathing grew very shallow, feeling his hot sigh on her skin. Even if Olympus had fallen, she could not imagine a more unexpected turn of events. There was ichor dripping from the wounds she had inflicted on the Titan, and blood on her from the ones he had dealt in turn.
“I don’t think I would ever beg you for anything,” she managed, her usual playfulness missing. Trying, she was trying to steer this back to a place of sanity—
He chuckled, dark and low. “Worry not, little goddess. On some nights I beg as well.”
Melinoë’s breath whooshed out of her. There was a buzzing in her ears as she pressed her eyes shut.
From fighting to fucking.
It was ludicrous and yet she could not stop herself from imagining what he spoke of, caged in his fine form as she was. His burning touch. His heat, searing across her, in her, pulling pleasure free. Feeling his bright blue hair as some part of her had always desired.
Tendrils of it hung in her face now, the strands tickling her. She could’t put up her front, not when faced with this unlikely turn of events.
“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered. “You, who won’t share your sight even with the master you serve.”
Melinoë opened her eyes to see him watching her under heavy lids, his lips parted. His strong hand splayed on her waist, spanning the full width of it, and she cursed the traitorous rippling she felt in her nether regions. The flames on his charred hand didn’t burn her, even while the heat seeped through her garments.
“You know well that I am not one to resist the Fates. My question is would you?” He lined his body up against hers, his straining bulge rubbing against her wrappings, and she gasped. “Would you deny yourself?”
Another fluttering in her belly silently answered his question. But Melinoë could not yield that easily. “Deny myself? You think highly of yourself, Titan.” She took a deep breath, taking in his musk—earthy and a tinge of salt from his sweat. Her blood, already hot from battle, was thrumming again in anticipation.
She had made up her mind.
“You are open to it,” Prometheus whispered. He was nosing along her jaw, earrings dragging, and she shivered as she felt his teeth tracing along her skin. “Had you not been, you would have long retreated to the shadows that protect you.”
He planted a kiss on her neck and her eyelids fluttered. It would be simple to let go. To let the Titan have her any which way, to be driven to madness with the pleasure he could incite in her.
“Let go of me.”
To his credit, the Titan immediately obliged her. His warmth was gone, and Melinoë found that she missed it as she propped herself up on her forearms. He sat on his knees, lacing his large fingers together, and she bit back a smile at how meek he appeared, even covered in ichor and grime.
She wondered if there was a possibility where she denied him completely. One where she rebuked him and they went back to their nightly clashes, ignoring the offer once made.
Maybe there was, with Prometheus watching her carefully as she approached him. His expression was neutral as it could be considering his usual intensity; but some small part of her thought he was keeping a tight reign as she was, reluctant to let the other know what they were truly thinking.
Even sitting, his head stood above hers. For the first time, Melinoë considered their size discrepancy in a different context, one where the intimidating bulge she felt earlier would have to be dealt with.
No matter. She had traded blows with the Father of all Monsters. She could manage this much.
Melinoë slowly extended her hand that was whole, touching his cheek. He stiffened imperceptibly, confirming her suspicions.
“You’re nervous.” She felt the hollow curve of his cheekbone, noting the shadows under his eyes. He looked worn from his lifetimes of punishment, and not for the first time, Melinoë felt her heart tug. She had never been close enough to examine him like this, and he let her, eyes closing as he uttered a scoff.
“You remain committed to foolish notions, little witch.” Despite his words, he leaned into her touch and Melinoë was moved by how close he let her come. The Titan was in a position where she could easily strike him as she did moments ago, yet his eyes remained shut.
“I think I’m right,” she said, moving her fingers to his vivid hair. The texture was softer than she thought it would be, and thick. She scratched his scalp gently and he groaned, making her heart beat faster. “I think there’s a future out there where I say no, and that makes you nervous.”
He shook his head, eyes still closed. “And telling me what you saw?” She nudged a parting in his legs so she could step even closer, laying her unearthly palm on his chest. His muscles rippled beneath her touch. “I think you wanted to influence my choice, flame thief. You want this to happen.”
“Your choice,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around her. She inhaled at the sensation of being held tightly, his heat pressing in on her. Her body still ached from their fight, a wound on her thigh twinging, but she ignored it. “So you accept, Agent of Change.”
Melinoë brushed her lips against his cheek in response and he shuddered. Maybe earlier in their relationship she would have treated him roughly, determined to maintain the upper hand.
But her heart softened seeing how eagerly he leaned into her touch. How long had it been since he had experienced intimacy? No being was meant to be alone as he was, for aeons. Aeons where mortal empires rose and fell, and now, here they both were.
Melinoë moved her lips to his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, one at a time. She did it slowly, and could feel his breathing increasing in pace as she left marks of her green lipstick behind.
His grip tightened with each gentle touch and his jaw went slack. She refused to tell him how he had stirred change in her heart, how she was beginning to regret some of her more obstinate moments with him.
Instead, Melinoë handled him carefully, softly, as he hadn’t experienced in generations.
He moved his hands up her dress and she relished his blazing hands on her hips, the warmth bleeding through her wraps. “I must admit, I thought you to choose an approach that would be…more rough,” he murmured as she continued kissing him along his jaw.
“A possibility that I would shove you around? But isn’t that a reality every night?” Melinoë pressed her lips against his, and felt him laughing. The kiss deepened, his tongue gently meeting hers, and Melinoë felt warmth in a different area as her body began to anticipate the Titan.
She drew her hands down his neck, his large chest muscles that twitched beneath her fingers, enjoying the hard sensation. Melinoë felt Prometheus slowly slide her wrappings down, his touch pausing at the cut on her thigh.
“The fountain—“
“No,” she cut him off, already knowing what he was going to ask. “I’m fine. We can start.” There was no time to waste, she told herself. Greater and more terrible things awaited her on this night; but the reality was that she was impatient.
As if reading her mind, the Titan planted kisses on her thighs, lifting one of her legs in the crook of her elbow. He tugged the rope on her thigh down with his teeth and she shuddered at the sensation of his teeth dragging along her skin.
She fumbled quickly at her chest plate, her dress dropping with it in one fell swoop. She stood before the still seated Titan, watching his hungry gaze rove over her bare skin. Melinoë placed one hand on his chest.
“Now you,” she whispered. She lay back on the hard ground, propping herself up on her forearms as the Titan undid his wrappings, then discarded his pants standing before her in all his glory.
Gods. Melinoë swallowed, her throat turning very dry. He was ridiculously, absurdly large, the full, erect length of him instilling a different sort of doubt in her. She couldn’t even admire his newly exposed muscles as he joined her on the ground with a kiss, her mind focusing only on the trembling heat she felt against her thigh.
“Frightened?”
The taunt immediately grounded her, and Melinoë bit his bottom lip in response. The Titan groaned, and she felt him grow larger somehow. He brushed his mouth against her jaw, alternating licks and kisses on her neck.
“Worry not, little goddess,” Prometheus chuckled. “It will work.”
She found little reassurance in his words, but still her panic eased as the Titan’s mouth trailed down her skin, to between her legs. Melinoë twined her hands in his hair, removing the bandages bound there and casting them aside.
A gasp escaped her as he licked her folds, and Melinoë felt his fingers tighten on her thighs at the sound. She didn’t know what to expect when it came to the Titan’s skills—it had, she assumed, been some time since he had engaged in certain…intimacies.
He wasn’t rough. He wasn’t impersonal in the way she knew males could be. Prometheus lapped at her gently, growing her already aching want. Melinoë could not keep herself from moaning, from her grip tightening in his hair and her thighs closing like a vice around his face.
Distantly, she realized he was listening to her, to her cues and reactions. As one area elicited a particularly strong tensing of her muscles, Prometheus kept his ministrations in that place, determinedly building her pleasure. Melinoë could feel her gratification pulsing, growing tighter and tighter—
She cried out as she came, her release echoing through her shaking body. It was a hard climax, and Melinoë quivered through several aftershocks. The Titan kept his attentions on her sex, continuing to lick her as she shook, until Melinoë dragged him by the hair back to her lips.
They met each other sloppily, Melinoë’s slick covering the Titan’s chin. She cared not, wanting only to see his face, his strong features content in drawing such a reaction from her. They kissed deeply, the Titan’s hot body fitting against hers, one of his hands grasping her hip tightly.
Melinoë felt for him, for his erect desire. As soon as she wrapped one hand around the velvet skin—gods, her fingers could not even wrap around him fully—she felt Prometheus’s free hand on her explorative wrist.
“You are impatient, little goddess,” he chuckled, his voice hoarse. “You will get your time.”
Her grumble turned into a gasp as she felt one large finger slide into her. He was burning hot, but the heat of him eased her already relaxed inside. Prometheus continued kissing her, closing his mouth around her stutters as he curled his finger inside of her, again and again.
The Titan’s breaths grew more ragged, and that only served to heighten the burning inside Melinoë, knowing that he was just as aroused as she was. He added another finger and she groaned, her nails raking down his neck.
“Prome—mmgh—“ the Titan covered her lips with his own, and Melinoë felt a warmth all the way down to her toes. She wasn’t quite expecting…so much kissing. It was sweet in an odd way, as though Prometheus desired to be as close to her as he could possibly be, and she returned the sentiment in full, even when he added a third finger.
Her fingers closed in on his large biceps so hard Melinoë thought her nails might have broken skin. It was uncomfortable, very uncomfortable, her opening stretching so far that she was worried for the first time that she might tear.
“Princess,” Prometheus rasped in her ear. “You must relax.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she retorted shakily, and she felt the rumble of laughter from his broad chest, flat against hers. “Why don’t you try sliding three fingers the size of a Titan-sized cock into you—“ Melinoë gasped as said three fingers drew out then back into her slowly.
“I do not yet see a possibility where you penetrate me with a…Titan-sized cock,” Prometheus said in what she could have sworn was a playful tone. He pressed against her sensitive area and she saw stars. “But it could yet happen.”
“This is when you decide to develop a sense of humor?” she groaned. “And I’ll hold you to that, just so you know.” Prometheus was smiling as they kissed again, his fingers pulsing in and out of her slowly.
It grew more comfortable, though Melinoë still felt almost too full. Not to the point though where desire couldn’t take root—pleasure began to grow again in her sex, and Melinoë wrapped both arms around Prometheus’s neck as her gasps increased pace.
Just when she was close, the Titan withdrew his fingers, propping himself up with one arm. His unbound hair hung loose in his face, and she thought it softened his features. Melinoë tucked some blue strands behind his ear as Prometheus gazed at her under heavy lidded eyes.
She felt him at her entrance, his tip slick with his desire and inhaled deeply.
He slid in slowly, the thick heat of him dragging like a flame, and she choked. These were not mere fingers. He was too big, the sheer size of him stretching her insides painfully. Melinoë pushed at his pelvis weakly, dimly registering just how big his cock looked at her entrance.
“No, no no—it’s too much, no, Prometheus, wait—“
“You can take it,” he panted, pinning her hands beside her head. He laced their fingers together and kissed her, his tongue reaching deep inside her mouth. She moaned, even as hot tears escaped her when he edged in further. “One day, far from now, you will tell me how I ruined you. How you only feel such pleasure with me.”
A muffled sob escaped her, her lips still pressed against his. He licked away the saliva that leaked from her, then lapped at the tears running freely down her cheeks.
“Melinoë,” he murmured. He was shaking, restraining himself from moving. “Melinoë.” He moved down to the sensitive area on her neck, nipping at it, and she thought she might go mad. Her hips tilted up unwittingly, and they both gasped in unison as she took more of him.
She felt as though she was breaking. Foolish, she was absolutely foolish for thinking she could take a Titan in this way. It would be how he finally killed her, cleaved in two by his ridiculously sized cock. Melinoë imagined briefly what her teacher would say when they discovered her body; death by this manner would surely see her name blotted from memory if Hecate had any say.
“Your mind wanders again,” Prometheus whispered, placing one hand on her cheek. She gave a mix between a laugh and another sob, even as she felt the burn lessening into a dull ache. He kissed her again, a soft press of his lips, chaste as though he wasn’t buried to the hilt in her.
His gentle treatment unfurled warmth in her chest. It was almost too much to bear.
“Just thinking about what everyone would say if this is how I finally die,” she managed. He chuckled and she felt him twitching within her. He filled her completely now, hitting her very end, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at how much of him was left out in the night air.
“Flattering, but it will not be my sexual prowess that fells you,” he said, one corner of his mouth turning up. He slid out, then back in slowly and she saw stars as he groaned.
“Ungh!” It didn’t feel shattering as it did initially, but her body still fluttered around him, trying to accommodate his size. Her free hand scrabbled at his chest uselessly, moving to his lips; he took her fingers into his mouth readily, sucking them.
Her mouth sagged. Everything he did set off a fire in her, a delicious heat that made his thrusts easier to take, as Melinoë began to feel pleasure forming once more in her sex. His thickness filled every part of her, stroking her sensitive area easily with each stroke.
He grunted as he continued undulating against her, and she felt sweat forming on his skin, mingling with her own. There was a lewd noise filling the room, of their skin slapping against each other, and of the wet pull and push.
Melinoë couldn’t control her sounds, high-pitched breathy pants and moans escaping her, that if she were of reasonable mind, she would have cringed at. But Prometheus undid her with his diligent touch, with every powerful thrust, and she found herself yielding at last to the pressure building within her.
What Melinoë took comfort in was that he was also compromised. Even with her mind blank, she found herself watching him, taking in his fiery eyes, hazy and relaxed as she had never seen them; of his mouth, open slightly with heavy exhales pushing through; and of his neck muscles straining, betraying the pleasure he truly felt.
His grip loosened, and she snaked both hands, one still coated with his saliva, into his hair. He moaned, motion stuttering as she pulled on his strands, bringing him back to her lips. They crashed together, teeth clacking and tongues melding, and she keened into his mouth as her climax built.
The sound set him off. The Titan’s careful motions slipped and Melinoë almost screamed as he drove into her with a particularly hard thrust. Almost immediately, he slowed, breathing still heavy.
“M-m-elinoë, I—“
She hated the apologetic note in his voice, though some small part of her enjoyed his concern for her. The other part couldn’t stop to consider what it meant. She wrapped her fingers around his throat, annoyed that it barely spanned the mid-section, and squeezed.
His eyes rolled to her satisfaction as he exhaled in a gust.
“Don’t stop,” she panted. “Prometheus, don’t stop.” She gasped as he slid back in, his head meeting her end. Her wet thighs shook around him, and he groaned, hooking her legs up higher with his elbows. He was stretching her muscles, but the angle hit deeper and Melinoë arched her back with the sensation.
She was close now, so close.
“Faster,” she begged, distantly aware she was fulfilling the very thing he said she would do. “Harder.”
He growled, surging into her and she felt white hot heat. The pressure built in her sex, and Prometheus peppered kisses and bites in equal turn along her neck and chest, as he pounded into her. The sheer force with which he entered her slid her up with each thrust; and she felt one large hand come on top of her head to hold her in place.
It didn’t matter if he broke her. It didn’t matter if she yielded to him. All that mattered was how she felt now—intense pleasure that was driving her out of her wits.
Her hips began driving up to meet his, pliable at last to his commanding size. She raked her fingernails down his back, pulling a desperate noise from him she had never heard before.
Melinoë could feel her moans descending into mewls.
“Melinoë,” Prometheus said dazedly. “You—“
Melinoë came with a force hard enough to throw her head back. She cried out, one hand gripping his back tightly, the other clamping like a vice around his throat.
He choked, his hips still moving as she clenched around him. A thick band of saliva escaped him; mindlessly, her tongue lolled out to capture it, moving her head to lick the corner of his mouth.
To her horror, she felt him grow larger within her at the action. He hadn’t come with her.
“Heh heh…” Prometheus huffed laughter against her. “Not yet, Agent of Change.” He met her lips once more, his kiss tender even as his thrusts continued. She gasped around his mouth, the friction blinding in the wave of her aftershocks.
“No,” she whimpered. “I can’t, Prometheus, please—“
“You can.” He picked up pace, using one large hand to hold her waist flush against his. Still she bucked under his grip, her sensitive body unable to take it. “You can and you will, many times over, on this night and the nights to come.”
The obscene wet noise was louder now as he continued pounding into her, her cries intermingling with his groans. Melinoë no longer cared what she sounded like, tears and saliva running down her face altogether.
She came again quickly, and truly screamed this time, her back arching as she covered her face with weak arms. Prometheus’s hips faltered, and he fastened his teeth on her neck, biting firmly—
Awareness slammed into her and Melinoë wrenched his face to hers, her fingers tangled in his hair. It was his turn to whimper. His eyes were unfocused, but wide at the sudden action, white teeth visible.
“Look at me,” she commanded, her voice hoarse. “Look at me.” She needed to see it, the face that he would make when he unraveled within her.
He made a wild noise, burning eyes fixed on hers. Melinoë loved the effect that she had on him, that she could undo this Titan in the way that the gods themselves could not.
She held him in place, grip in his hair tightening as he met his climax, a rasping moan leaving him that she felt in the press of their bare chests. Melinoë gasped as warmth spurted into her, far more than she was used to. Prometheus continued moving as he came, his spend filling her wholly, and leaking down her thighs.
His head dropped into the crook of her neck as he finished, his large limbs shaking. Melinoë could feel his shuddering gasps against her as the full weight of his body sagged into her. She welcomed it, despite the constriction, her fingers scratching lightly against the back of his neck.
“Oh,” she sighed. Her limbs were spent and she enjoyed floating on the cloud of her release, more worrisome thoughts at bay. Prometheus was beginning to plant light kisses on her neck and along her jaw, and her eyelids drooped.
Tired. She was so tired. Countless nights of lackluster sleep was finally catching up with her and her mind drifted. Melinoë could feel Prometheus still hard inside of her, and he was saying something softly that she couldn’t catch.
Just a moment. All she needed was a moment of rest.
*****
Melinoë woke with a start, softer ground at her back. She felt good. Better than good, she realized as consciousness seeped in, all of her aches were gone. She blinked at her surroundings, realizing that she was in the fountain chamber, the surrounding air colder and the night sky darker.
Her skin was damp, as was her hair, and her wounds had healed over. Melinoë nervously wiggled her hips, and to her relief, only a mild soreness presented itself.
There was heat radiating closely and she looked at Prometheus beside her. His eyes were closed, and he was bare as she was, though his hip wraps covered her in a makeshift blanket.
Melinoë was half resting on his chest, one muscular arm holding her close. She admired his profile for a moment, eyes trailing down his strong nose and jaw to the curve of his throat.
“You stare, princess.” He didn’t open his eyes, but his fingers flexed on her damp skin.
“How long was I out?” She could still feel his seed inside her, but the mess on the outside had been cleaned off. Prometheus had bathed her meticulously, and Melinoë felt warmth in her chest again.
He was surprisingly tender in his touch and actions. Then again, a Titan with an overflowing well of emotions as he had would, of course, be a devoted lover.
Lover. Just as quickly as Melinoë thought it, she banished it from her mind. It was a slippery slope that, to assign more meaning to their…vigorous activities than there was. Even if he spoke of future instances, of coming things—
“There is time yet for your ascent. Worry not.” He opened his eyes, drawing her closer so she lay across his chest. Her cover slipped, and she felt her bare skin pressing into his. Despite the faint soreness, she felt a familiar tug again and suppressed a groan.
Insanity. After all that, and her body still craved him, still reacted in this way.
She extended transparent fingers, gently tracing his features, marking a path to his earrings. He watched her do so, his features more relaxed than she had ever seen them. Melinoë felt the heft of one earring, wooden in her hand. It was bright in color, fitting well with his loose hair; though she had always thought the accessories were unusual for the serious Titan.
“One of my many offerings from mortals,” he said. “Hand-carved. Your swift-footed herald brought it to me.”
Melinoë blinked, propping herself up on his chest further. “Lord Hermes? Brought your offerings?” She knew the god had seen the Titan in his reconnaissance, but never imagined he would have aided Prometheus. It would have been considered a betrayal of the highest order.
The worrisome thoughts she suppressed earlier were edging back to the forefront now. If delivering earrings would be considered treacherous, what would the gods think of what she had done?
Prometheus’s hand found her cheek, shaking her from her reverie. “Not quite,” he said softly. “The little god sought to turn me from my path.” He chuckled and the familiar tug in her navel reared its head once more. “He was a fool to think it would be so easy.”
“Hm.” Melinoë had more questions as she moved to comb her fingers through the Titan’s hair, damp as hers was. His fiery eyes softened at the touch, and she felt a content rumble in his chest.
What path was the Titan treading? How did it include her? Melinoë could have understood a need to satisfy bodily desires; a physical act, and nothing more than that. But this…she thought that this was different.
Even now, Prometheus held her in gentle lover’s embrace, softly running his fingers down her spine. She shivered at the touch and his gaze darkened. Melinoë felt a twitch by her foot, an unmistakable awakening of the Titan’s desire.
“I must be on my way,” she whispered. She leaned closer, brushing her lips against his. He returned the kiss in full, tongue melding against hers and she gasped. The Titan slowly raised himself while kissing her, holding Melinoë against his chest.
“Yes, you must,” Prometheus murmured. “Allow me a farewell.” Placing one large hand on the small of her back, he had her wrap her legs around him; she felt his smirk against her lips at her wetness that rubbed against his muscles.
“You are not ready to depart quite yet,” he remarked, standing in one fluid motion and holding her in place. He continued kissing her as he submerged their bottom halves in the fountain, and Melinoë sighed at the warm, tingling sensation of the restorative waters.
He was right. She wasn’t ready to leave him, her body warming in anticipation to meet his. It was incomprehensible to think how much further she was changed by this simple encounter; her simple questions before meeting the Titan had evolved into an aching want of a traitor.
Though if Melinoë was being truly honest with herself, she was not sure if she even considered him that, not anymore.
“Little goddess,” he hummed into her ear, and she arched into him at the reverberation. “You think too much.”
She huffed a laugh, despite her turmoil. “That’s rich coming from you.” He moved down to her breasts, taking one nipple to tongue and she closed her eyes. “You have the thoughts of countless possibilities at any given point.”
He shook his head and Melinoë placed her nose in his hair, breathing deep. Earth and the scent of firewood were present, and she committed it to memory.
“Prometheus,” she whispered, drawing his face back to hers. “Quickly.” She pushed back from his chest and he followed her lead, supporting her weight as she lay her hands on the stone edge of the the fountain. She turned, her back to him, and felt kisses down her spine.
“I enjoy seeing your expressions,” he breathed into her ear. “But as you wish, princess.”
She couldn’t face him, not when she had these questions on her mind and not when he could read her so easily. Melinoë felt him lifting her out of the water, one large hand splayed on her belly and the other on her neck, supporting her full weight. She kept her hands on the fountain edge and moaned as he entered her from behind in one motion.
She took him easily this time, her body hungry for him. But it felt different, the heavy weight of him pressing against her most sensitive area, and she gasped at his first thrust. He groaned, sliding out then back in with even more force.
“Oh, oh—“
Prometheus needed no further instruction. He drove into her even faster than the first time and Melinoë fell to pieces quickly, pliant in his touch. Her eyes rolled and she could not keep herself from clenching around him over and over.
He exhaled sharply and she felt his grip tighten on her, increasing pressure on the side of her throat. Melinoë enjoyed it, the feeling of his hands on an area she usually protected from him in battle.
How ironic that she had evaded his touch night after night, only to desire it now all over the heated surface of her skin.
She could hear his grunts as he increased pace.
“Yes, yes—Prometheus, yes—more, more, more, more, more—“ Her moans were devolving into babbles as she came, her climax seizing her even harder than the first time. She tried to keep some sanity to hear his noises as well, relishing in his beautifully weak sounds as he came with her, his spend filling her anew.
Melinoë was shaking again, her limbs weak. He had wrung the strength from her, and she went limp in his grip.
“Melinoë…” his rich voice was soft, softer than she had ever heard it. Water surrounded her once more as Prometheus lowered them both into the fountain, still twitching in her.
She felt his chest against her back as he held her, softly nibbling at her earlobe. Her eyelids threatened to close again, hazy from sex, and she struggled to keep the sleepiness at bay.
This would not do. Typhon awaited and the rest of the dark night. Melinoë had her duty to fulfill, no matter what questions she had.
Planting her feet at the bottom of the fountain, Melinoë stood, inhaling sharply as the Titan slid out of her. He groaned in turn, dragging his nails down her skin.
She already felt hollow without him, and chose not to think about how these memories would linger at the crossroads.
Melinoë turned to him, her gaze meeting his as he sat. His eyes were clear, but soft. He looked renewed and alive as she had never seen him, the persistent wrinkle in his brow eased. Cupping his jaw, she pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead.
His fingers flexed on her hips, still underwater. “We will meet again, Agent of Change.”
“Our nightly routine,” she said, a playful note finally finding its way back into her voice. Oddly, she felt more at ease now than she did before encountering the Titan, even with the persistent doubts on her mind.
Her teacher was right. Acting on her desires did do her well.
Prometheus’s expression was indecipherable but Melinoë felt his touch reaching after her as she exited the fountain. She quickly slipped on her dress and bracers, determinedly avoiding looking at the Titan still in the waters, knowing that she would be pulled back if she did.
“Goodbye,” she said quietly, hefting Descura in one hand. She exited the space to find her familiar, not looking back. Melinoë thought she heard the Titan say something softly, but she did not stop.
Melinoë would ask Prometheus what it was on the next night.