Chapter Text
The mansion had gone completely dark, with the only source of light being the full moon outside, filtering in through what seemed like hundreds of floor to ceiling windows lining the hall. Outside, the barely illuminated gardens were visible further down the hill, with fairy lights that winked cheerfully through the gloom. From the sound of it the party was still in full swing, with music and revelry echoing down the long corridor.
Thinking about the party guests, Persephone was suddenly incredibly aware of her bare breasts, the dress twisted up around her waist, her missing underwear; there’d be no mistaking what they were up to if someone came up the hallway, and nowhere to hide, either.
“Hey, wait! Ares, I’m practically naked. You are naked, what if someone— ah!” While she wriggled in his arms, Ares gave her ass a short smack, grinning that cock-sure grin at her, and her heart fluttered.
“No one’s gonna see us,” Ares said, almost confidently enough to convince her that it was true. Almost. “But if they did, they’ll probably just think I’m the luckiest man at this damn party, and they’d be 100% right.’”
“Oh, you so-and-so!” Persephone giggled, swatting him across the arm. “You’re incorrigible!”
“So you’ve said!” Ares rounded a corner and stopped at a door to their left, somehow managing to finagle it open with one hand and stumble inside, kicking the door shut behind them. “See? I told you no one would see us.”
The room they’d entered was utilitarian, warm but bare. A simple four post bed with cotton sheets, a desk with a lamp and a couple of small pictures on it, a small trinket shelf with very little on it. No books, no clutter, no dirty clothes on the floor. Not much to suggest it was particularly living in, which made sense being that Ares had only just gotten home.
“Is this your room?” Persephone asked. Ares set her down on the edge of the bed.
“Obviously,” Ares replied as he kneeled down between her legs. First he took off her right heel, then her left, his tousled curls brushing against her skin when he leaned down. He left a feather-light kiss on each of her knees as he tossed her shoes aside. Persephone giggled.
“That tickles!”
Ares rolled his eyes at her, but his grin was playful when he reached up to unbuckle her garters first one, then the other, rolling down each stocking carefully, with both hands, brushing against her skin and tossing them carelessly over his shoulder and onto the floor. Persephone watched him, breathless and fascinated.
“Lift up,” he demanded with a tap on her hip. Persephone lifted her hips and he pulled the belt down and off her legs with the garters attached, then her dress; the dress bunched up and got caught on her hips on the way down, and Ares made a grumpy noise in his throat before finally managing to wrangle it off of her, thankfully without ripping it. It was thrown abandoned on the floor with the rest of her clothes.
Completely naked. No hiding all of that flushed, bitten-at, bruised skin. There was a different sort of exhilaration to being laid bare on a bed, something different than half-clothed sex on an office desk. But she wasn’t scared of it.
As tall as he was, it was easy even from his knees to capture her mouth in a kiss. Ares braced himself with one hand on each of her legs easing her mouth open with his, the taste of expensive champagne lingering on their tongues.
Ares broke the kiss, leaning back to look at her, and his hands started to wander, cupping each of her breasts, brushing a thumb over each nipple, running down each of her arms. She shivered with each barely-there whisper of those big, calloused hands. Surprisingly soft in his handling of her.
Persephone reached forward to touch him, and he grabbed her wrist lightly, putting her hand back down on the bed, still looking at her with a great deal of intensity.
“What are you—“
“Worshiping you,” He said simply, cutting off the question, and leaning forward again he dragged his mouth over her jaw, tasting her, nipping at the soft already-bruised skin below her ear. “Just sit back, enjoy it.”
“But what about you—” Persephone huffed as Ares bit at her already swollen lower lip. “What about the party?”
“I’m enjoying myself. Fuck the party.”
“Hynngh.” Persephone could only manage a strangled noise as he explored her, pressing lips and teeth and tongue, blazing a wet trail from her neck to her belly. Ares bit at the soft curve of her hip, making her squirm and her thoughts started to go foggy, but then abruptly stood up, crawling past her onto the bed.
Dazed, Persephone sat there for a moment trying to figure out why she was suddenly not being kissed.
Turning around didn’t do a thing to clear her head of the impending brain-fog. Ares sat in the middle of the four-poster, propped up on his hands in a casual lounging position, legs spread with the kind of confidence that only came from being, frankly, a bit of a smug bastard.
Indulging herself for a moment, she continued to stare, eyes skating over the broad plane of his chest, the rippling stomach muscles, down to where his already-erect cock jutted up towards his belly from two strong, thick thighs. His cock was swollen, leaking, and flushed a deep rosy color at the tip. That same pretty flush was spread over his cheeks, his ears, his neck.
‘For all that hot air,’ she thought, ‘He actually is gorgeous.’
“You coming, or you just gonna sit there and stare?” That smirk would be the death of her. Persephone moved to straddle his legs, and did her best to kiss the smug from his face, slipping one hand up into his hair, running her hands through his luxurious curls, enjoying the feel of them.
Her other hand drifted down to take hold of his straining cock, squeezing it, and slowly, carefully, she began to jerk her hand up the length of it. Confident, more confident than she maybe had the right to be, but with no particular urgency as she let herself feel him, feel his reactions to her.
“Fuck,” Ares groaned into her mouth, holding onto her shoulders.
Persephone smiled and squeezed, evoking a shudder, before continuing her slow caress, up and down. Ares had stopped kissing her, and while he watched her hand, she watched his face, fascinated, watching every minute change and reaction. Before long he was shifting his hips up minutely, meeting her movements, thrusting into her tightly clasped fist and moaning. Strong legs shaking under the weight of her pinning them down.
Ares grabbed her face with both hands and pulled her into a rough kiss, their teeth clacking together awkwardly before he recovered enough to force open her mouth with his tongue, licking into it, melting into the kiss. When he came up for air he looked at her, a man single-minded and possessed with want, and tugged her wrist away from his twitching cock.
“Wait, there’s something I want to do for you,” Ares said breathlessly.
“W-what?”
“I’m going to lay down. I want you to come up here and put your legs on either side of my face.”
Persephone’s brain stuttered, and she was still trying to process the information while Ares lay back, shoving a pillow under his head, and motioned at her to come forward. Persephone hesitated, and then moved up, stopping bent over Ares chest, trying her best to keep her weight off of him.
“I don’t know how, Ares. Are you sure about this?” Persphone bit her lip, her eyes meeting him, and suddenly are you sure seemed a stupid question, the way he was looking at her. Ares looked her dead in the eye, all lust and need, as he reached between her legs and started rubbing slow, soft circles on her clit, teasing at the hard nub underneath the soft skin.
“Sure as hell. I want to taste you again, I just need you to trust me for a minute.” Persephone jerked her hips, moaning, and he steadied her with his other hand when she almost fell forward. “If you don’t like it we can stop, but I think you will.”
After a moment’s hesitation Persephone moved up again, kneeling with her legs on either side of Ares head, dripping wet and hovering just a few inches above Ares’ face. His eyes were locked on hers and she shivered, legs buckling slightly with the effort of keeping her lower half elevated.
Ares put his hands on her hips and pulled her down onto his face.
With a long wail, Persephone let her head fall back when her sensitive clit made contact with his waiting tongue. Ares guided her hips, coaxing her to move in small circles, meeting his tongue as he licked gently, and then more insistently, pressing in short sure strokes with that clever mouth. Without warning he made a filthy wet sound, closing his mouth over her, massaging her clit with gentle suction.
Persephone gasped, jumping slightly. Looking down at him, past the tight pink curls of her pubic hair she could only see his closed eyes, the top of his nose, as the rest of his face was buried between her thighs. He looked blissful, ecstatic, rubbing his face into her as he reached further back and began fucking her with his tongue, his nose rubbing her clit and it was weird but also so good, so good.
It didn’t take long before Persephone was sobbing, crying out, and Ares gripped her hips with his nails digging into her skin, grinding her down onto him. She was bucking, writhing, riding his face with reckless abandon when the first orgasm took her, and she fell forward to brace herself on her hands as he continued to meet her frenzied rocking with his mouth.
Persephone couldn’t see his face from this position, and that was a shame, but somewhere in her hazy consciousness it occurred to her that she could still hear obscene slurping noises he was making, and she realized that he was groaning, too, a whining sound deep in his throat, as she rode his face.
Ares held her hips, bouncing her on him, the flat of his tongue pressed against her clit. Rocking against him, his flattened tongue kept a constant gentle rubbing pressure, and her second orgasm took her with a broken cry. Her arms began to quiver, and a litany of his name spilled from her mouth.
“Ares, Ares, Ares, Ares, Aressss,” Persephone whimpered, her hips jerking of their own volition, and somewhere in the back of her mind she was worried she’d suffocate him as she squeezed his head tight between her thighs, but he continued to moan under her.
Nothing could have prepared her for when Ares unceremoniously pushed her off his face. She landing on her ass on the soft comforter next to him on the bed, confused, while he scrambled to reach into his bedside table, pull out a condom, unwrap it, and roll it down on his throbbing cock with a groan.
Sitting down against the headboard, Ares reached out for her with frantic hands, and she scrambled into his lap and sunk down on his cock with a wild howl of pleasure. Being filled was an exquisite feeling, sating a need she didn’t even knew she had, as she savored the sharp almost-pain when he finally bottomed out inside of her, rammed in as far he could go, so deep at this angle he was almost pressing against her cervix.
Persephone squeezed her muscles together, and Ares’ head fell back against the headboard, snapping his hips back and thrusting up into her. He leaned in to kiss her, hands steadied on her hips, guiding her into a gentle slow rocking motion that stimulated her, his cock only making short, shallow movements in her quivering cunt.
It was a sharp contrast to the urgency with which he’d shown just moments before. His face was slick, a wet trail from his nose to his chin, and her skin slid across with their sloppy kisses. This was for her, she realized, to make her feel good. Ares’ body was quivering beneath her, the hands clawing into her hips as if to hold himself back from something.
The third orgasm took her by surprise, washing over her warm and heavy, like slipping into a hot bath. Ares held her through it, stilling for a moment as she trembled, kissing her forehead, her temple, before continuing to rock her.
Persephone pulled back to look at him, swaying with that gentle motion, undulating her hips. Ares’ eyes were closed, his head tilted back slightly, mouth parted with pleasure. A pleasant flush across his cheeks. He looked like the dawn, like a new day breaking, with all those sunset colors playing across the hard planes of his body. She took his face in her hands.
“Ares. Ares, open your eyes,” Persephone whispered. “Ares, I want to see you.”
When he opened them, Ares’ eyes were that beautiful, ethereal red, half lidded and unfocused with pleasure. He gasped when she came into focus, her eyes that same fiery red, tiny vines blooming again in her hair.
All at once Persephone began picking up the pace, eyes still locked on him, his precious face in her outstretched hands. She showered them with tiny flowers as her hair began slowly inching its way down her back, all control hopelessly lost. This was real, and raw, and hers, and she was astounded by the weight of it, the importance.
“Persephone…” Ares said her name like a prayer. Worshipping her indeed, like a supplicant come to gift her with something priceless. His hands moved to her face, too, like her reflection and he said her name again in that husky, lust-sodden voice of his. “Persephone.”
Hearing him say her name imbued her with a sense of urgency, that feeling of being powerful once again washing over her. She set a pace that was ruinous, snapping her hips, a deep resounding smack of flesh on flesh each time she slammed down on his cock, a sharp pain deep inside blurring with a resounding sort of pleasurable ache.
“I want to see you, Ares. Want to see you come. Please, please, please…”
Ares let go of her face, grabbing at any and every available bit of flesh with bruising force, speaking gibberish in ancient tongues against her chest, biting at her clavicle. When he came, he leaned up and bit long and hard at Persephone’s neck with a deep, long moan, and she was keening with the force of it, as with several last staccato thrusts he came long and deep inside of her, and she could feel the heat of it filling the condom.
Shaking in every part of his body he slipped out of her, and Persephone moved to the side of him so that he could remove the condom. He tied it off and tossed it carelessly wrapped in tissues to the floor somewhere, before laying flat on his back next to her. Trembling, wordless, panting. Persephone pressed her body alongside him, her front to his side, her hand on his chest, resting her forehead against his shoulder and listening to their twin erratic breathing.
There was a chance that she had drifted for a few moments in that blissful afterglow, but when she became aware again of her surroundings, she found that she was shivering, sweat drying on her skin, going cold. All of the places where Ares was still touching her stayed pleasantly warm, if slightly sticky. She couldn’t see his face, with her own face pillowed against his shoulder, but she felt at peace just laying next to him, hearing his breath slow.
Neither of them said a word. Nothing needed saying in that moment. But after what felt like ages of panting through tiny tremors like earthquake aftershocks, Ares propped himself up on his elbows, leaning toward the edge of the bed and moving away from her. Persephone’s stomach lurched, anxiety creeping up in her chest, and she reached out one hand to grasp at his arm before he could leave the bed.
“Stay,” she asked, and it was more firm than she thought herself capable of being, but she couldn’t stop the tiny wobble of her lower lip when she spoke. “Please stay. Just for a little while.”
Ares stared at her, not saying anything. A fiery haze drifted in around the edges of his eyes, rolling in like a bloody mist; something sharp, something lurking with hard edges and bared teeth. Persephone drew her hand away as if she’d been burned, her brave face starting to rip at the seams, but instead of getting out of bed Ares reached out to brush away the tiny pink curls sticking to the side of her face
“I’m not that kind of asshole,” Ares said gruffly. He turned away from her and after a bit of searching around under the bed, Ares pulled up a dark, fluffy blanket and threw it over them both, settling in with his front to hers and covering her in a cocoon of blanket. It was warm and dark with her head covered, and as he snaked his arms around her she heard him say quietly from somewhere above the blankets, “You were shivering.”
Persephone wriggled up to free her trapped head, looking up to find Ares looking unbelievably grumpy and pensive, thick eyebrows drawn down tight over those reddish eyes, mouth pressed into a grimace. His height was staggering in this position; her head was at his chest level and her feet couldn’t even reach his. Persephone’s mouth twitched, and she cleared her throat, catching his eye. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for asking for things when you want them,” Ares grumbled, his hands trailing down to grab her by the rear, and he scooted her up so that they were nose to nose. Hesitating, he spoke again. “Someone really did you wrong.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah. Yeah, they did.” When silence swelled between them, it was a comfortable sort of silence, the lived-in kind where you can just take comfort in another person’s breath, their heartbeat. Ares threw one leg over her, wrapping her in his arms, and the effect was like a weighted blanket; she felt safe, she realized, secure, all of the tension leaking out of her with each small touch of his fingers on his skin.
With a touch of regret Persephone’s thoughts wandered to the party goers on the other side of the house, drinking champagne and enjoying a night out, with all of their politics, all of their double speak and their problems. There was something honest about being tucked away in Ares’ bedroom. Peaceful, is what it was. Healing.
So much of the hurt she’d been carrying, burned out of her. An open wound, cauterized by the heat of them.
“We’ll have to get back to the party soon. I’m sure they’ll be looking for their guest of honor,” Persephone said lightly, but not making any effort to move.
“No one would dare,” Ares deadpanned.
“Hera would dare.”
“You have a point.”
“…You’re very good to her.”
“Hrmph. Someone’s gotta be,” Ares replied darkly, tightening his grip around her.
Persephone felt suddenly bolstered, confident. She put her hands on his chest, pushing him over and moving astride him, her flowing locks of pink hair dusted with blooms and curtaining their faces as she leaned in to press a kiss to his slack, surprised mouth. Persephone pulled away just enough to speak.
“You were very good to me, too,” Persephone whispered, voice brimming with warmth. “I don’t know how to say tha—“
“Don’t.” Ares said firmly, softening the sharpness of his interjection with another kiss. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You did.”
“All I did was respect you. The actual bare minimum. I’m only sorry that you think you need to thank me for it.” Ares made a frustrated noise. “I hope you made this guy pay, Persephone. I hope he regrets what he did. I hope if he’s the same guy who came here with someone else, you don’t give him the time of day, because he doesn’t fucking deserve you.”
The God of War was a complicated man. The lingering kiss she pressed to his mouth was blissfully uncomplicated, and neither of them mentioned the delicate fall of red petals around them when it started up again, or the desperate press of her hands to his face, or the way he surged up to meet her with the whole of himself. They came out on the other side of the kiss panting, breathless. Ares looked at her hungrily, red eyes looking into red eyes.
“We better get out of here, little Spitfire, or we’ll never get back to that party,” Ares said, voice husky. Persephone nodded, dazed, and they disentangled themselves to get dressed.
Ares’ clothes were still in Zeus’ office, as were Persephone’s ripped underwear and her bra, but when she mentioned as much he gave her a mischievous smile, selecting another suit from his closet. “I’ll get them later.”
“People will notice.”
“Do you care?”
Pulling her dress down over her hips, she looked at herself in the mirror inside of Ares’ closet door, adjusting her dress over her breasts, looking at the way the fabric clung to them without a bra, pleasing and round and soft. Ares had sucked deep bruises just below her ear, and peeking out from the slit up her thigh were small fingerprint shaped bruises.
Fertility goddess, indeed.
“…No,” Persephone responded thoughtfully, as a now fully dressed Ares looked at her over her shoulder through the reflection, one hand on each of her shoulders. She matched that mischievous grin with one of her own. “No, I actually think I don’t.”
When they walked back into the party it was separately. Ares first, slipping in through the door they’d walked out of and taking his place back at the head of the room, waiting for his mother to summon him to thank everyone for coming.
Persephone came through the same door several minutes later, making her way towards the bar to get a glass of water and blend with the crowd. Hades and Minthe, as Hera would later mention, had had some kind of argument in the garden and left together about an hour before.
As she sipped at some water and waded into the crowd, Persephone caught the eyes of Eros, who glanced up from where he was leaning against the wall, texting frantically on his phone. The bug-eyed surprised look that he gave her was comical.
“Persephone, where have you been? I got caught up talking to an old friend after I took that phone call, and then I came back in and no one had any idea where you’d went! I asked everyone, and no one had se—OH MY GODS!”
Eros tossed his phone with surprise, reaching out to lift up her hair, looking wide-eyed at her neck where she knew there was a giant, mouth-shaped bruise. Suddenly he was looking her over with a considerable amount of scrutiny, no doubt realizing that she was now braless and tousled.
Persephone flashed what she hoped was her most innocent smile. It didn’t work. Eros grinned, a cat with a canary. “Tell me everything!”
Persephone sipped primly at her glass of water. “I don’t think I will just yet.”
Ignoring Eros’ cries of protest, Persephone looked out on the crowd, the endless bodies milling through the ball room. Over all of it her eyes met Ares’, who was looking at her intently across the sea of people. He gave her a cheeky wink, and she grinned in return. Eros was too busy fussing over her to notice.
Some time later, after Eros had giving up and wandered off for a bit, Hera came over to “introduce” Persephone to Ares. If his mouth lingered a little too long on her knuckles, if the way he looked at her was a little too familiar, no one said a thing about it one way or another. Not even Hera, who was distracted with watching her husband flirt with a nymph serving canapés.
That evening as she arrived back at Artemis’ house, Persephone’s phone buzzed. A simple two word text message from an unknown number.
Later, Spitfire.
Persephone’s heart fluttered.