Zeus was not a man worth her love. He proved it time and time again with his wandering eyes, his wandering body. Every woman and immortal creature that he’d taken into his arms was a slap in the face to the Queen of Olympus. And yet, she found herself chasing after him like a hound on a scent. She was relentless in her pursuits, snapping her teeth at anyone who was too close to her prey.

She hummed thoughtfully under her breath, dragged just off the ground and up against his chest. She was always surprised by his strength, and whether god or mortal it never seemed to leave him. Her feet dangled just a hair from the floor, but she didn’t mind at all. She cursed herself for the desires of her heart, taking some measure of pleasure at being held so familiarly. She had never had another lover besides Zeus, even while living out her days in the mortal realm. She always took the role of unmarried or pious women, coming up with some flimsy excuse as to why she could not or would not marry. Mortal men, and women for that matter, had always chased after her nonetheless but she had yet to fall into one of their beds after all of this time.

So why was it so hard for Zeus to resist doing the same?

She smiled, the creature slow and lazy across her lips. His hand found her throat, echoing the phantom fingers that had once been his own. She did not mind the choking so much. It was an easy enough death to accept if you knew that you could not truly be killed. She’d been so content, laying on her back -- dark hair splayed like a halo around her head, grinning wickedly as Zeus has pressed his all into cutting off her air. The smile had hidden the pain that danced behind her eyes, the tears leaking out just as she went under, wondering once more why she could never be enough for him. Why he always had to hurt her like this.

His lips broke her away from the memory, and she nipped him with her teeth. Her hands had traveled, one wrapped loosely around his waist while the other trailed along his side -- fingering the place between his ribs where she’d last seen her favorite knife. ”I bet that you do.” She said, humming thoughtfully. ”You owe me a new knife.” She trilled, ignoring his own little barbs as he had ignored hers. She tilted her head back, giving him access to any part of her that he wanted. Her eyes gazed up into nothing, not quite able to relax wholly into what...ever this was. She’d been so resistant to him when he’d tried courting her at first, but now with a few exceptions of when he really ticked her off -- she welcomed him. She wanted the bastard and that was the cruelest part of all.

Thunder rumbled, and her skin prickled beneath his touch. His hands explored, and Hera allowed it if only for her own pleasures but when he promised her that he was only looking at the fallout, she dug her fingers into his side. He always promised her something if he was lying, and this snapped across her conscious like an arrow released from a bow. ”As if your promises are worth more than dog shit.” She all but snarled, her lips curling in disgust. She pulled back, but she wouldn’t be able to escape unless he allowed it. ”A few days and you’re already looking for your next bitch in heat?” She asked, disguising the hurt in her voice with anger. It was easy to play the angry, jealous wife. She was the angry, jealous wife.

He asked if the heavens were not enough for her, and she could have laughed. Died laughing. That was incredibly rich coming from the likes of him, married to a goddess and yet still needing to find his comforts in other beds. But she was already snarling at him, their conversation rapidly deteriorating from cordial to nasty. If there was one thing that was consistent in her life, it was the whiplash from being hot and cold together.

His body was solid against hers, an immovable wall of strength and power but that did not keep her from trying to inflict some measure of pain on him. His form turned, the ivory fabric of her dress that had trailed behind her like some kind of ill-fated bridal veil now swinging into the nothingness just past the edge of Olympus. She sucked in a breath, holding it as she started to fall backwards -- plotting the next century of hell that she was going to raise if he let her.

His fingers twisted into the fabric of her dress, wrinkling it in his grip as it acted as the last tether keeping her from tumbling down to the mortal realm. His callous grip caused her breasts to come free, although it wasn’t all that hard to do. They’d barely been held in before, but she rolled her eyes as she leaned back into open air. She tilted her head back as she when his lips had been at her throat, but this time her eyes closed in faux bliss. Other than the fabric digging into her back, she was weightless.

”Yes.” She said, answering his first question. Perhaps not the best time, but he’d asked her a question and she owed him the answer. ”The knife was important to me. It was a tribute, gold and ivory just how I like it.” Her followers did not often offer her weapons as a means of worship, not her usual gift of choice. But it had been beautifully crafted, and wickedly sharp. She would lament its loss. Her blonde hair ruffled in the wind, and she reached to wrap her fingers around his, carefully and slowly undoing his fingers. It was dangerous, she could actually fall -- and she thought she just might, for the hell of it. She could have merely chosen to become weightless, or perhaps have spirited herself away but maybe she could do with a little distance.

You hurt me with your venomous words.

She flashed him a smile, letting him pull her back onto the ledge without a word. She hurt him? What did he call it when he endlessly told her with his actions that she was never enough for him? If words could hurt, imagine betrayal. He kissed her, trying to sweep away the disagreement. She felt disgust roll in her stomach, mostly at herself for being open to his offer of ‘shaking her anger’ away. He had been looking for other women, or so she assumed, and now he wanted her in his temple.

”Perhaps this barbed tongue will find new places to sink into.” She said, her blue gaze flashing with a hidden promise. She had never, in all of her life, been with someone other than Zeus. She had never betrayed him like he chose to do to her, never taken another person -- male or female -- into her arms. Certainly, there had been close calls, but somehow he always found her before she could convince herself to go through with it or she simply had changed her mind. Perhaps, if she were to take other lovers then she might not care as much about Zeus’ indiscretions but somehow she imagined he’d never allow it. She also had her reputation as a figure of fidelity to uphold, the good example of a faithful wife.

”Push me,” She said, not bothering to cover her breasts -- they were married, he'd seen them before. She drew a hand across his chest before lifting her chin defiantly and meeting the electric blue of his eyes. He was so achingly handsome, it made her hurt. ”I’ll take my time coming home.”

He saw right through her threats, the endless stretch of time that they lived in giving him enough experience to know when she was bluffing. Just like she could tell when he lied to her, he knew her well enough to know that she’d never actually follow through. Maybe she should surprise him sometime. It was an old thought, one that cycled through her pretty little head occasionally. She over thought it too much, horrified by the idea of it all. What would she do if she got pregnant? Gods, what a rage that would be.

His words were cast jovially, a smirk tugging on his lips. It was moments like this that she knew why he had his pick of women. He was his own sun, even in his own mind, and the world simply revolved around him. He kissed her again, and her hands found his clothes just as his found her hair. She knew what he’d do next, the familiar tug of his hand in her hair making her arch her back just for the tiniest bit of relief. It pulled their lips apart. He was still mad about the stabbing. Good. She was still made about the mortal woman he’d been chasing when she’d caught up to him.

And she’d do it again.

She would have to go back to the little city that she had found him in, scour the women for pregnancy. Zeus had an unending stream or illegitimate progeny. Mortals bred like rabbits, and sometimes rabbits needed a fox in their midst to keep the population down.

Wait here.

She blinked, and in that brief millisecond he was gone. She huffed in surprise, swinging her gaze from end to the other but she knew it was pointless. He could be anywhere. The Queen did not like to be ordered around. Hera took the time to straighten her appearance, knowing it wouldn’t do for any of the other gods to appear seeking an audience with Zeus and finding their Queen in such a state of disarray.

He was not gone very long, just long enough for her to clean up a little -- and peer down at the mortal realm. The lightning and subsequent thunder gave her warning enough so she could move back to the spot where he’d ordered her to wait. Her eyebrows crept up in surprise as a familiar knife, the handle made of ivory and ornately decorated in gold, swung in his fingers. He’d gone to the underworld to fetch it? There was something quite sensual about the way he tucked the knife back into it’s scabbard, hooked to the gold chain around her waist. A bloom of happiness rooted in her heart, traitorous and dangerous as her hopes rose.

A smile touched her lips, her fingers reaching to brush the ivory handle that she thought had been lost forever. There was no danger to his immortal form for her to have it now, only the mortal body had something to fear from a weapon like this. Her anger cooled significantly, pleased as though he’d presented the weapon as an offering himself. She liked being flattered, and that he’d stopped to fetch it for her -- it was a very smart, calculated move. Something that would keep her close to him for a while longer.

If that tongue of yours finds new places to go… Would he be jealous? Did she want that? The golden queen shivered, unable to stop the delicate quake of her shoulders as he touched her, his fingers skimming between her breasts, freshly adjusted and clothed again. Her lips parted, and she found that she was breathing more slowly. His hand was warm around her own as she stepped into his circle, her hands pressing to his chest even as he leaned in. His chest was warm beneath her fingers, his clothes thin enough that she could feel the pulse of his heart -- a thunderous thing, fitting for a god of lightning. She inhaled sharply as his mouth closed over her earlobe, arching into him and pressing her breasts into his chest.

Will you continue to refuse me?

She let her hands answer, sliding them down and out from beneath where her breasts pressed against him. They went slowly, taking their sweet time until she could tease him where it mattered. She turned her face towards his, peppering kisses along his jaw until she could claim his lips. She teased him like that for a long moment, feeling him harden beneath the material of his robes.

”Thank you.” She murmured as she pulled back. ”For fetching my pretty knife.” The smile on her lips was wicked for a whole other reason than it had been before, and she turned on her heel to saunter away towards his temple, the length of gold chain swinging from her hip. She had no doubt that he would follow her. She’d known from the moment that she’d decided to come here that there was going to be no other ending than the one they were pursuing now. She’d been wet and ready from the moment his hand had wrapped around her throat.

The sound of ruffling clothes had her turning her head, catching the flutter of fabric as it fell away from his body. Her steps did not falter at the sight of the King, but her breath did just for a second. She turned away before she could truly be distracted, golden hair sweeping down her back. She was the prey now and she knew it, the hair on her arms raising at the presence of power behind her. He probably was not going to be a very nice lover tonight, if the hair pulling had been any indication but she would take him as she could have him.

The doors of his sanctum swung open, the temple inviting them in. She let her gaze wander, the slow swagger of her hips a seduction in itself as she paused to take in the scenery. It always seemed to be changing like its master, never content to stay a certain way for very long. Her lips curled in amusement at the statue of himself, a fair depiction if she had to say so. She was about to tease him about it when he caught up to her, coming around to catch her from the front.

She laughed, letting him guide her through the azure curtains and to the bed. Her steps were slow and shuffling, her hands going back to toy with his cock in lazy strokes as he stopped them just at the edge. She took advantage while he undressed her, unpinning the shoulders of her garment. She helped, releasing him to unclip the chain from her waist, the knife -- the oh so precious knife, sliding to the floor and joining the puddle of ivory fabric. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she looked up into his eyes.

He saw her, didn’t he? A flicker of something that must have been doubt crossed her face, as the worry that he might not be seeing her crossed her mind. In the eons of time, would her body just blur with the rest of them? Her face? She looked away under the guise of unclasping her earrings, dropping them to join the knife and dress. She would fuss about the wrinkled fabric later, before fixing them to rights. Maybe Hera just liked to fuss. Gold lingered on her fingers, and around her neck but they would be fine. She could always have them disappear later if she wanted.

He pushed her, sending her sprawling back through the air and onto his bed. A promise was a promise. She smiled, much preferring this kind of fall. She stretched up, raising her hands above her head as she wiggled into the softness of the bed. She’d never admit it, but she did like his bed the best -- much more than her own, which was the exact same. It was the principle of it, what it stood for and what it meant when she spent time here. She was the Queen.

She was his offering.

He slid into bed beside her, and she took the liberty of brushing her fingers into his hair. She had missed him, and she showed it in her affections -- the anger that had burned like lava in her stomach had cooled, forming molten rock for now. She had no doubt that there would be another eruption, but it was far from her mind now. Right now, her entire focus was on her husband. She wondered how he would want her tonight, if she might test the limits of his submission as well as her own.

His words were mixed in with her kisses, as she pressed her body in as close as she could. She plucked the kisses from his mouth like ripened grapes, enjoying the taste of them in her mouth. Her free hand, the one currently not playing in his hair, down to his hands and drawing them to her body. Touch me, touch me She begged internally. She wanted his hands on her breasts, between her thighs. She wanted to be touched, licked, fucked. All of it. She needed all of it and she would give it all away for him.

”Too long.” She told him, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. She pushed herself up on one arm until she hovered just over him. Her voice was pouty, rebuking. ”I feel like I always have to chase you down to make you spend time with me.” She traced her finger along his jaw, and dipped her head to press a kiss against his chest. She nipped with her teeth to emphasize. ”You spend too much time with the mortals. I am your wife...not them. And a goddess, if I must remind you.”

Her head came to rest on his chest, so she could hear that mighty heart thundering inside. ”I have to go to such lengths to get your attention. Are you that tired of me, beloved husband?”

For a woman so proud of her own wit and skill, she was utterly blind when it came to Zeus’ machinations. He was masterful about it, making her think that every bit of her jealousy and rage came from within but he’d been carefully tending it for ages. Like a garden that he took joy in raising, or the flames of a fire that he fanned. His fingers grazed along her skin, coasting from her waist to her hip and then between her thighs. She held her breath, but he did nothing with this new territory -- merely letting his hand rest between her thighs. Claiming it, just with his hand.

Her words had been a rebuke, trying to draw some sort of apology out of him -- even if she would not believe it as it came from his lips. There were very few things that she believed when they came out of his mouth. A pit of darkness formed in her stomach, as she squeezed her thighs together around his hand. She wanted more, and she currently was hosting a battle between body and mind. Her mind craved answers, craved knowing the reasons that he’d chosen another mortal woman over her.

She’d seen that woman, watching the King of the Gods galavant around for weeks before she’d made her move. She’d been pretty, her family powerful, but ultimately the goddess had not seen anything particularly special. It had taken weeks for her to catch them in bed together, limited as her access was to the noble house but when she’d replaced a maidservant one morning -- no one had thought much of it. The house was consistently turning over its staff thanks to a string of sudden departures. New people had been arriving every day.

Something about watching her husband in a mortal skin, being worshipped by another had shoved her right off that carefully curated edge. She’d buried her knife in that woman’s back at the base of where her neck and shoulders met. She’d seen something in Zeus’ eyes as the woman’s body had shuddered and fell, but she hadn’t been sure it was a shock. She felt her inside flare with heat, blinking as her consciousness shimmered back to the present. Zeus had pulled away, cradling her head with a tenderness that made her heart ache. She stretched, feeling her muscles pull as she lay back against the bed/

His hand tilted her head back, and she obliged -- closing her eyes as his lips pressed briefly the soft skin of her neck. A different kind of heat was swirling in her belly, and she made a soft sound under her breath as his fingers dug into her hips, kneading them. She moved under his grasp, squirming and trying to generate more of the feeling rushing across her body. She reached for his shoulders, digging her nails into his back before massaging the little bites away. Her head lolled to one side as he parted her thighs, settling between them.

He hadn’t even answered her question, she thought hazily. That thought quickly disappeared when his fingers pressed against her sex, her mouth dropping open in a surprised exhale. She whimpered, such a soft and pitiful sound for someone so powerful as Hera. The God of Lightning could reduce her to nothing but a puddle of moans and sighs, and he knew it. She’d never taken another lover, even after all this time. She didn’t want anyone except for him. When he was gone, she languished until her needs were unbearable. And then she’d find him again. Such a strange game they played.
Her breathing hitched, her hand trailing down the bicep of the arm that controlled the hand currently between her thighs. ”Please.” She whispered, her head still thrown back and eyes closed. She lifted her hips, entreating him to give her more.

You talk too much just to say the same thing again and again. He murmured into her ear, and the warmth of his breath made her shiver. She licked her lips again, about to beg again when his hand covered her mouth. “Would you squander my attention with words, once you have them, my wife?”

She shook her head, the logical part of her brain now completely shut off and leaving only the part of her that wanted him. She wanted to fuck and be fucked, pratcially throbbing with need. It had been too long, that much was true. He was always running away, finding other people to fill his needs but Hera? He was her only source of release. She hated him. She loved him.

His fingers curled in her hair, pulling it slightly as his lips began a southward path. Her nipples were hard and tight, needing very little encouragement from his lips. Every sweep of his tongue caused her to shift, to wiggle or squirm a little more. Her fingers twisted first in the blankets, but once his attention had passed from her breasts to the flat expanse of her stomach -- she brought them up to touch herself. She squeezed her breasts, rolling them beneath her hands while his mouth was busy in other places. She groaned, twisting her head as she struggled against the rising tides of pleasure.

Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ as he lifted her legs, bending her knees and opening her up for his access. She lifted her head and hissed as his mouth connected with her most sensitive flesh, that wicked, lying tongue working between her clit and the folds themselves. She shuddered, her hips bucking as she slammed her head down again against the bed. Tiny moans and gasps escaped, even as she tried to hold them and hold them back. She didn’t want him to know how much he affected her.

She didn’t want to give him another ounce of power over her.

Her heart was pounding already, the tease of a man lifting his head to meet her. She swore that she saw the sparks dancing behind his eyes, as he posed his next question. “Or will you have me now and leave the arguments for later?”

Her gaze was heavy, lids half closed as she met his gaze. He knew the answer. She knew the answer. He wanted her to answer, and she didn’t want to because she knew that it meant giving up on anything except being with him. She wouldn’t be able to broach this subject again until they were both sated, and by then -- she might forget. She might decide to let it go. And she wanted to know, she wanted him to tell her what it was that she’d seen in his eyes when she’d killed his mortal lover. What that look had been when her vision had been fading as his hands crushed her throat.

”Yes.” She hissed out, unable to stop the word from rolling past her lips. She bit the inside of her cheek, curing her own desires. ”I want you right now.” She breathed, closing her eyes as she arched her back and kneaded her own breasts again. ”Please, please. Now.” She could feel the tingles of pleasure starting to slide away, so she reached out to grab hold before they could disappear. It was most un-queenly of her to beg, but she wasn't above it at the moment. "What do you want, you...you bastard." She whined. 

She felt his fingers rake against her hips, hissing at the pain he inflicted. She would heal them later, but for now they would serve as good reminders that he did in fact desire her. She twisted, almost ready to deny both of them just because of how pleased he looked with himself. Like a cat caught in the cream. He pressed her arms into the bed, keeping her from reaching out for him. Bastard, bastard. She knew that he took power from her like this. Watching as the Queen, the raging and spiteful storm became nothing more than a whisper of rain, a pleading woman at his touch -- it had to bring him some kind of sick pleasure.

I want this It was the only sentiment that she was sure held any ounce of truth. She thought he was careful about his words, picking the right string of them to make it so she hung on every word. This. It was such a vastly different choice of word than her own I want you. His choice of the word roared like a scream in the wind, ripping at her but she could not consider it now. She was too selfish, too wrapped up in her own pleasure. She’d pick at his choice of words later, find a way to hurl them back at him like hot coals.

She grunted as he opened her wider than she was meant to go, letting the bit of pain aff to her pleasure. She forced herself to look down, to watch as he pressed into her. Her breath caught as he pushed into her, the thickness always too much at first. One of the perks of their strange, immortal bodies was the way that they could heal any blemish, fix any imperfection. She just so happened to do that everytime with the tightness of her core. Every time it was as tight as the first, which meant a little discomfort but she liked it.

She brought her hand to her mouth, covering the gasp as he rocked forward -- filling her with one easy stride. She moaned beneath her fingers, her eyes falling closed of their own accord. Every thrust of his body shook hers, making her breasts sway and eliciting ever growing cries of pleasure. She twisted and writhed, trying to simultaneously free herself and move with him -- to find a rhythm that would drive her over the edge.

She hissed again when his hand covered her breasts, wishing it was his mouth instead. Something about that wicked, wicked tongue. She dug her heels into the bed, then wrapped them around his waist to urge him to go deeper, faster. She was panting, her breath coming out harshly as she cursed under her breath with the foulest mouth. When Gods came together, the world responded, so she could hear the storm outside -- the thunder rolling somewhere on the mortal realm.

She whimpered as he leaned forward, murmuring his desires for her to cry out for him into her ear. The golden rings on her fingers caught the light as she reached for him, finding the long tresses of his hair. She clung to him with everything she had, her fingers twisting in his hair as if it could give her some leverage against him. He wanted her to call out, but she could be just as cruel so she shook her head, biting her lip.

Her resolve didn’t last long, her heels digging into his back to push him further.

”Zeus!” She cried first, her spine stiffening as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm her. It had been growing, rising like a tide -- hot and rolling in her stomach. It burned through her like a race of lightning, her words incoherent as she tried to ride through the pain and pleasure that mixed. Her head kicked back, and she cursed again under her breath. ”King Zeus! M-m-my k-king.” She stammered on the last bit, her breath catching as that crackling stiffness took her again. The world seemed to stop, and there was nothing and no one but Zeus. She moaned, the sound rising in pitch as she body shuddered, that overwhelming pleasure finally cresting and crashing over her. She threw back her head, howling as she came -- her insides clenching around his cock, milking it for his own release.

Her core pulsed around the length, the echoing shockwaves of pleasure receding as she started to come down from the high. It was like being dragged up Olympus, there was no way to stop it.