"The Seduction of Hades"
By Lady Parsley
Chapter Two – Stealth and Speed
The breezes were sweetened with the scent of Persephone's hair as Hermes returned to the earth. Branches of nearby olive trees bent beneath the weight of the ripe fruit they bore and a carpet of small, white flowers covered the ground beneath his feet. He could hear the giggling of the nymphs in the wind and knew that his prize for dealing with Aphrodite was very close by.
He soon found her, hard at work, kneeling in front of a flowering bush, paint brush in one hand and a palette in the other. He watched as she grabbed a wayward tress from in front of her emerald eyes and tucked it neatly behind one ear. Deep in thought, she studied the empty air in front of her before making any decisions. Her tongue glided across her lower lip then came to rest in the corner of her mouth as she dabbed the brush across the palette. She painted each fragile petal a most elegant flush of the darkest shade of blue Hermes had ever seen. She nodded approvingly at her handiwork, before a look of disapproval crossed her face. With a snap of her fingers, the wind turned the blossom to dust and flecks of blue light danced in the breeze and were gone as if they'd never existed. She began again, choosing a more purple hue.
"Enjoying the view, Hermes?" She said as she continued her artistry. Never once did her hand falter from their task. Sheepishly, he walked out from behind the shelter of the hedge.
"How did you know I was there?" He inquired.
"Swiftest of the gods," She laughed, "not the most stealthy." Still her attention did not stray from her painting. Hermes smiled as he walked closer to the kneeling goddess. He slid his hand through her auburn curls and grabbed the soft loops firmly, pulling until her face tilted towards his. Lowering his head he brushed a teasing kiss across her soft lips, and then stared deeply into her eyes.
"Is there something you wish to profess, sweetest of goddesses?" he let his hand sweep down from her hair, along her neck and down her shoulder to the clasp of her drape, and unfastened it. His lips trailed her chin and found her rapid pulse at her pale throat.
"Nothing, Lord Hermes." She whispered through impassioned gasps. Her hands were busy occupying themselves with the task of running themselves over his form, seeming to memorize every expanse of his skin. He smiled; even goddesses deny their hearts in the face of pride. He trailed his fingertips over the swell of her ample breasts and was delighted to hear her sigh in ecstasy.
"Nothing, Persephone?" his right hand removed the rest of her drape as his left began the arduous task of removing his own. His gentle coaxing would soon pry what he wanted from her lips, then, and only then would he take her. "Nothing at all?"
"I fear that naught comes to mind, Gentle messenger," A growing lustful smile on her lips as she gripped the back of his thighs and, more aggressively than he though possible of her, dug the nails of her long fingers into his flesh. It was then his turn to gasp. She took his entire length slowly in her mouth, pressing against him. Then, as she pulled away, unbearably slow, sucking gently, her tongue swathing his underside, she moaned. Shivers made their journey up his spine and were followed rapidly by the goddess's nails. He marveled at her mastery of pain mixed with pleasure to linger both. She repeated her movements several times, until he nearly lost his reasoning.
"Is there something that you wish to profess, my lord?" she asked coquettishly when she had relinquished her hold upon him. Lust had replaced so much of his godly blood that he could barely see, much less think.
"Uh, no." Was all that made it's way out of his mouth. "By Zeus! It does escape my mind how anyone could mistake you for a virgin!" He managed to say. Everything he was screamed out for her to continue. Everything but his pride.
"Many thanks to you," She said in a voice so collected and calm, one would think he had just complimented her new sandals. "My cousin has taught me many things at her knee and out of my mother's earshot. I am thusly made an honorary disciple of desire. High priestess of lust unabated. Aphrodite's favored cousin."
Hermes shivered as the name of the Goddess was spoken. Blood and the purpose for his visit here returned to his brain. He lowered himself down upon the lush grass, and took in the full view of the goddess's eyes.
"Persephone," His serious tone seemed only to amuse her, and she began to giggle. The sound of laughter in the wind chimed in with her own. "Nay, laugh not. I beg of you, speak solemn truth."
"Oh, very well." She rolled her eyes, and finding her discarded drape, began to dress. "What truth shall I reveal unto thee?"
"You state truly that there is naught, you wish to profess."
"There is nothing."
"On your honor…"
"What's left of it?" She giggled, again.
"Persephone."
"Hermes, I tire of this. I profess, upon my honor, in all seriousness, with the very solemnity of Thanatos and Celeste, I have nothing to profess."
"Nothing aching within you soul?"
"Do you wish to anger me, Hermes?"
"No, no foolish farmer's son am I."
"Good." Her arms entwined around him, and nimble fingers traced the contours of his backside. Lust began it quest, anew, to conquer the god's body. He allowed himself this pleasure before his pride and disappointment made a firm stand in his mind. He rose to his feet and gently disengaged himself from the goddess.
"A moment, I beg of you." And before she could protest, he was gone.
Eros could see the frustrated, half dressed, Persephone screaming to the clouds and beating her fists on the ground. He smiled in amusement, but also with concern. His task was set before him. She would be Hermes' within moments. Hephaestus had crafted the sharpest of golden arrows and Eros himself had loaded it with more of Love's poison than he thought possible. He had to. The wound was meant to be deep, unhealable, and irreversible. He was to inflict the pains and trials of love upon Persephone, and she had done nothing to deserve it.
"You disobedient wretch!" came the voice of a furious Hermes from behind the love god. The smile still lingered with Eros as he lowered and shook his head.
"'Wretch', I will admit to, cousin. But, 'disobedient,' is no word that shall ever pertain to me." He gave a low mocking bow to the God of the Crossroads and laughed quietly as he rose.
"Your jesting wears thin, and I find no amusement in it!" Hermes hissed at him through clenched teeth. "Your Mother promised that Persephone would be mine next I saw her!"
"And so she shall." Eros took up his bow and pulled the arrow from his quiver. "You forget your speed, childhood playfellow. I long since have given up trying to best you in any race, for any reason. My mother puts far too much faith in my speed. I, unlike you, cannot find myself anywhere in an instant." He pretended to prepare his bowstring and check the straightness of the arrow. (Although it was not in necessity, Hephaestus, would never made an arrow less than perfect) Hermes lowered his head in contemplation. Eros nearly let out a laugh as he watched the expressions Hermes face change from one of annoyance, then thoughtfulness, confusion, regret, back to confusion, and then back to annoyance.
"You took your own time, didn't you?"
Eros's own annoyance was not entirely feigned. "You may find this a shock, Hermes, but your desires alone do not shape the way of other's duties. Though you may traverse all worlds in an instant, they are large places, with many others, than you, within them."
"She will be mine?"
"Most definitely." Eros drew his bow and aimed it. He made no move, but waited. "Are you going to go to her? Or shall I simply fire now and have you miss the first looks of love?" Hermes darted in a flash and soon was near the goddess again.
Eros knew his timing must be exact. He waited as Persephone rose to meet him, her hands on her ample hips. A pleading Hermes in front of her, charming his way back into her good graces. The familiar smile of lustful thoughts spread on her mouth, and a kiss planted upon Hermes'. Eros waited. Waited until she had enticed Hermes into a sensual frenzy, until the Harvest Goddess and the Messenger of the Gods merged in a lovers' embrace. Persephone's naked back to him, Eros Took aim and shot.
The arrow, sharp, true, and packed with enough of the venom of love to take two hearts, plunged through her back, her heart and out the front of her chest, plunging into Hermes' chest and into his heart.
The arrow had found its true mark. Eros nodded with the satisfaction of a job well done.