Persephone looks away. No questions, no answers, she chants in her mind. She will not acknowledge Hades today. She watches the snow fall. Lowering her eyes she watches the gray melt spread out at her feet, watches her fingers curl around each other anxiously. Ignoring her kidnapper is fear's invitation to come in and dwell. He craves her attention with a jittery mania and she does fear, does fear what he might do with or without provocation.
His cold hands slip around her waist from behind. She freezes. Her spring mind grimly regards the Winter and embraces its nature, adopts its hard-packed, icy and pale characteristics. Hades bows his forehead down on her shoulder. He wants to ask forgiveness, but what a stigma has grown around asking anything, most of all that.
No questions, no answers. So the King and Queen do not speak. Hades lifts her by the waist, bending her over his arms like a doll. He lowers her limp body to her knees. Her face is in the snow, her legs are loosely parted. Hades takes Persephone, silently, icily. With the realm of the grave behind them already, the only thing before them is this. Hades takes Persephone; this has always been their story, this is what their entire story consists of.
Persephone tastes snow. Hades enters and releases, rocking her back and forth, driving her face into the cushion of cold, wet slush. She sinks her teeth into the ground, the ground, hard as marble, frozen stiff. It yields to her teeth. The mouth of spring is dribbling some green into this patch of December. Persephone tastes flowers, flowers, flowers watered by her saliva. There is some fire in hell she thinks calmly, mildly surprised, for her lower regions are warming up. Hades fucks her smoothly. He drapes across her back, slipping his hands around her sides to grasp her breasts, the flow of his rhythmic pumping uninterrupted. He kisses her with fluttery, soft kisses below her shoulder blades. Persephone breaks her promise to herself. She speaks, though it be only small sounds of pleasure, not words. No questions.
To Hades' surprise, she presses hard into his thrust, and she lets out a cry of pleasure. Persephone tears the grass she is gripping in white-knuckled fists. She pushes back into his lap so hard that he sits down with her sitting, full of him, on his thighs. She rises slightly so that his tip is still inside her, pivots on it, swinging her leg over his head, and facing him she pushes him onto his back as she sinks down over his full length.
She lays herself down on his chest, growling or purring with ignited lust, and grinds her hips up and down. Hades' eyes widen, a happy gleam sweeping through their deep blackness. He gently runs his hands over her back from the base of her spine up to her shoulders and the nape of her neck under her hair. As she devours his mouth with hot kisses, he grips her hair in trembling fists. Closing his eyes, he loses himself and can feel only her: her body moving him, her mouth -tongue and teeth- warming and wetting his face, and her long, curling, flower-scented hair falling around them both like concealing curtains.
Feeling her pleasure mount, Persephone grinds herself down harder on his member, desperate to build up to the orgasm she feels approaching, desperate to bring him in deeper, deeper. Hades gasps and bucks, grabbing her buttocks to lift them and guide them down. His hips' movements mirror hers, rising to meet her. Hades feels waves of pressure building in his own body. Persephone is crying out loudly now, and bites down on the flesh of his neck to gag herself. The feeling of her teeth sinking into soft skin sends her over the edge. A ragged scream heralds her orgasm. Waves of warm wind swirl her hair up and fly out around their entwined bodies. A surrounding ten-acre field of gold and red flowers bloom so suddenly their petals release into the air like fireworks, and millions of Monarch butterflies ascend and descend in suggestive undulating flight patterns all across the cobalt blue sky.
Senses overwhelmed by his lover's beautiful climax and the fact that he was responsible for it, the pleasure ballooning in Hades' body builds to unbearable pressure, so he can not even think or breathe. Hades throws his arms out, grabbing the ground, finally finds release and climaxes with a roar. The columns of the underworld are shaken and earthquakes ripple across planet Earth. Persephone holds on, squeezing her eyes shut as she feels his hot, thick fluids coursing into her.
Persephone's whole body relaxes and she sprawls on top of her husband, smiling and resting her cheek on his rising and falling chest. Her hands are draped over his shoulders, and she slowly moves them down his arms, caressing fondly, patting his elbows and gliding over his smooth forearms to rest her small hands in the palms of his powerful hands. She curls them there like two cats on two hearths, and he cradles them gently. Hades, breathing hard, cranes his neck a bit to kiss the top of her head resting under his chin. She nuzzles her cheek comfortably and smacks her lips. Bliss and drowse spreads through her, and she nearly falls asleep.
Hades gazes up at the graying sky. He embraces his wife, holding her to him like treasure. She is the one he loves and can never truly please. The cold is seeping into their bones. The dream of spring is over, and it is time to retreat, retreat from the blizzard that is coming, retreat to the underworld where she is despondent and inconsolable, where she is silent. No questions, no answers.