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Hecate is nowhere in sight after Melinoë’s finished yet another run down to the Underworld and it means only good news to the young goddess. Especially when combined with Dora’s absence from their tent and Odysseus’ presence on his usual spot, at his trusted table with all the papers full of tactical maps and scribbles.
The victory against Chronos has filled Melinoë with energy, one she usually buzzes with after a successful run, no matter the direction. The majority of the Crossroads’ inhabitants like seeing her in high spirits – there’s only few exceptions, and even then it’s not certain whether some would prefer to see the Princess in a more dour mood or not.
But it’s not Melinoë’s concern right now. In fact, she’s more than pleased with the Crossroads being all peaceful and quiet at this hour, whatever it may be. Apart from Hecate probably off to her own duties somewhere else, Eris and her trash are gone and Nemesis is most likely doing her own run, attempting to reach Chronos and slay him. As Melinoë glances at Retribution’s favourite spot, she briefly wonders if Nemesis could ever let go the idea of getting to the Titan herself and beating him to a pulp as Melinoë does.
Nemesis can be left to her own devices now, if she so desires. It only makes it easier for Melinoë to bring her current plans into existence. If Retribution is not there, she won’t cast any accusatory and judging glances at Melinoë. And she won’t comment on anything later on, either. At least once in a blue moon, Melinoë thinks, she can have some rest from Nemesis’ thoughts and conclusions.
With lightness in her step, Melinoë approaches Odysseus and stands behind him, her hands intertwined in front of her, a bright smile plastered on her face.
“Just a second, Goddess,” Odysseus says, raising a hand and a finger to emphasise his point.
Made to wait a couple of seconds, Melinoë doesn’t reply. She only rolls her eyes and as soon as she’s done with that, Odysseus is turned towards her, that crooked smile of his contagious as always.
“What is it this time, then? Because judging by that grin, I daresay you’ve succeeded in beating the Titan once more. Congratulations.” Odysseus bows, a bit too pretentiously. As always.
“That’s the case, indeed, sir!” Melinoë beams, sparkles of mischief dancing in her eyes.
Odysseus notices them and furrows his brows as he’s figuring out what it is that Melinoë is plotting. Something nudges him to glance in the direction of Hecate’s cauldron and then he puts two and two together. He can swear that once he looks Melinoë straight in the eye, that innocent gaze of hers appears as only a façade, a veil meant to obscure her genuine wants.
He has seen it before. The alleged innocence. He knows what it’s brought before and the scattered memories flash through his mind, causing a spark to run down his spine.
Both Melinoë and Odysseus are aware of the effect that the young goddess has on the tactician. And it would be unfair to say that Odysseus doesn’t have an effect on Melinoë because he does. For a while, she’s been drawn to that particular shade like a moth to the flame. And oh, how simple it was to get burnt! If only Hecate saw them together, she’d have none of that. In fact, neither of them knows whether it would be Melinoë or Odysseus getting the worst of it. They wouldn’t like to find out, ever, but they also can’t help but risk it all whenever there’s a chance to do so.
Even now Melinoë can barely keep her hands to herself – she’s so excited because of the fight with Chronos, because of the adrenaline, because of…
“Do we have a guarantee that Lady Hecate will not return to the Crossroads when she’s needed here the least?” Odysseus wonders, careful as he is. The voice of reason in a situation like this.
“I’m quite certain about that. When she leaves, she leaves for a long while, Od. You know how it is and yet,” Melinoë sighs, “you’re still asking. Every time.”
“Goddess,” he says firmly, stepping forward. “Your great enthusiasm flatters me. Yet, we must remain careful at all times. Too much is at stake and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you had to face the consequences because of us… spending time together the way we do.”
“Oh, Od,” Melinoë whines, since anything she’s just had on her mind disappeared the moment Odysseus grabbed her chin with his hand. “You can’t expect me to…” She pauses again, melting into the rather cool hand cupping her cheek and jaw. “… Just leave you be when you do such things!”
“Is that so?” he has the nerve to ask oh-so innocently.
“Yes!”
Melinoë grasps his scarf with both of her hands and pulls him closer, so that their lips crash in a rushed kiss. It feels as if they hadn’t seen each other for ages and it’s one of Melinoë’s favourite feelings. She closes her eyes and nibbles on Odysseus’ lower lip to then playfully lick it. It earns her two huge palms grabbing her butt and traveling down onto her thighs. She’s picked up in no time, a little squeal leaving her mouth as she wraps her legs around Odysseus’ waist.
A chuckle rumbles out of the man’s lungs, sending vibrations all over Melinoë’s body. Amused, the goddess brushes her nose against Odysseus’ and then hides her face in the crook of his neck. As she peppers his skin with tiny kisses, he picks up the pace because he can’t wait to sit her on the table in her tent and shower her with proper worship.
“And I thought I was impatient,” Melinoë comments cheekily once she’s sitting on the edge of her table with Odysseus standing between her legs.
“I’ve been learning from the best, Goddess,” Odysseus purrs and leans in to catch her lower lip between his teeth and pull on it.
It elicits a whimper from Melinoë and she snakes her arms around his neck. When he lets go, she chases his lips in a dire need to kiss him again. All the while, Odysseus is holding her by her thighs, his thumbs rubbing her warm skin, his fingers digging deeper into the flesh more often than not. On Gods, Melinoë is praying that he’ll leave marks now or later, for she’d love to wander around with them on full display. The ones he leaves on her neck aren’t enough, for they’re always hidden by her gorget.
Odysseus moves to kiss the corner of Melinoë’s lips and then the line of her jaw until he reaches the underside of her ear and then the lobe. He licks it, nips on it, effectively disturbing Melinoë’s dismantling his scarf and cloak. She even stifles an ‘annoyed’ groan as he bites down on the tender flesh, sending shivers down her spine.
The two articles of Odysseus’ clothing fall to the ground as his hands on the goddess’ thighs travel higher, crumpling her dress, exposing her heated core to the chilly air of the evening. She blushes immediately and Odysseus feels the feverish red on his own cheek as he continues his assault on the shell of Melinoë’s ear. He releases a groan from the depths of his chest, squeezing her thighs between his fingers.
“Ah, blast it, Od…”
“Too much?”
The bastard.
“Never, you…” Melinoë doesn’t manage to finish when she hears a familiar voice calling out to her from the outside of the tent.
“Princess?”
“Lord Moros?” she addresses back, her voice only a tad shaky because Odysseus doesn’t stop his ministrations and is currently kissing his way down the column of Melinoë’s neck.
When did he even undo her neckpiece?
“I don’t want to disturb you, Princess, if you happen to be busy at the moment!”
“You’re very busy at the moment, Goddess,” Odysseus mutters into her neck, tickling her, his breath adding fuel to the fire burning in the pit of her stomach.
“Bold,” she comments and then comes up with a, “would you mind if Lord Moros… joined us?”
Her heart skips a beat at the sole concept and she shivers, feelings Odysseus’ canines graze her skin.
“It’s your decision to make,” he rumbles lowly in an answer and leaves a wet stripe up her throat.
“None of that. Tell me, please.”
He stands upright and their eyes meet. Melinoë’s hands cup his face.
“I don’t mind. Frankly, I’d be disappointed if he refused.”
Melinoë smiles and pecks Odysseus.
“Please, come in, my Lord!” she calls and gasps, baffled, when Odysseus resumes his caresses.
And enter Doom Incarnate does, indeed. The utter shock and embarrassment that paint on his face once he sees the scene before him is a sight to behold and Melinoë knows it was the right idea to let him in now.
The pale flush on Moros’ cheeks is adorable. His mouth hangs slightly open and his eyes are wide, his throat dry as a bone. He gulps around the dryness a couple of times but it brings no effect whatsoever. Instead, he wills himself to avert his gaze. Yet, when he hears the breathy sigh that Melinoë makes, he can’t help but look. Watch. Observe how closely Odysseus is pressed to the Princess, how firmly he’s gripping her thighs, how fixated he is on sucking a mark on Melinoë’s exposed neck.
If Moros said that he wouldn’t like to do the same thing, he’d be a blatant liar.
“I… I… I should leave, I really should’ve waited and–” he tries, all flustered, his hands clenching behind his back.
“No, no, my Lord!” Melinoë soothes, sending him a warm smile. “You can stay. We’d love you to, actually. As long as this is what you desire too. We don’t want to pressure you into anything, Lord Moros, but we’d be delighted if you stayed.”
“It could be a once-in-a-lifetime chance, Milord,” adds Odysseus, peeking at Moros over his shoulder.
There is some snark in Odysseus’ comment and it does bite Doom’s flurried ego. There are butterflies in his stomach all of a sudden and he feels dizzy for a second there but he handles it sooner than he expected. He thinks for a moment, unable to tear his eyes off of Melinoë and Odysseus together, like this.
And, in addition to that, Melinoë whines so prettily when Odysseus’ hands slip up her back and unlace her dress, so that the straps can be shoved off of her shoulders and the shade can plant kisses there.
“Don’t worry, it will all stay here in this tent. No one will know.” Melinoë reaches one of her hands out to Moros in an invitation to come closer.
Her own mouth stays open and little mewls leave it once in a while – usually when whatever it is that Odysseus is doing causes her actual pain. The way she shivers doesn’t go unnoticed by either of the men and it’s what beckons Moros to finally approach the couple and grab Melinoë’s hand. It is a bit calloused but he couldn’t care less – not when she pulls him closer to rub his cheek with her hand.
“Please, don’t do anything that you’re not comfortable with… promise?” she asks so sweetly and Moros swoons, more blush rising onto his cheeks.
“Promise, Princess,” he answers and follows the hand that guides him nearer, so that his lips brush against Melinoë’s.
She kisses him then, all tenderly, so as not to spook him. The meeting of their lips is almost chaste, for it’s so easy for Melinoë to draw a whine from Doom that she’s a bit confused by it herself. He only laughs nervously and pulls away. He catches the sight of the goddess’ bare chest and looks to the side immediately afterwards, which has Melinoë and Odysseus snigger in unison.
It may seem that Odysseus treats the situation as some kind of a challenge, so, all unceremoniously, he slides one of his hands even higher up Melinoë’s thigh until it reaches that sweet and heated finish line. Once his fingers make contact with her wet centre, Melinoë jolts and leans her forehead against Moros’. He lets out a small grunt of his own as he can’t tear his eyes off of Odysseus’ hand, working miracles between Melinoë’s legs.
The Princess whimpers and mewls, grabbing Moros’ hair tightly each time she feels a rub or circling over that sensitive bundle of nerves. She shivers and mutters Odysseus’ name as she kisses Doom again, biting his lip and making her tongue meet his. Pleasant warmth is beaming off of him and he knows that it’s not only Melinoë who is making him feel so hot and bothered.
He both wishes he was doing to the Princess what Odysseus is doing to her now and wants the shade to play with him in a similar way as well. There’s that soft spot that Moros holds for the man, which causes a sudden wave of arousal shoot down to his own groin. It then has him cup Melinoë’s cheeks, which also shortens the distance between him and Odysseus. He actually wishes he could also now give the shade a kiss.
Moros groans as he swallows the moan that leaves Melinoë’s throat when she feels Odysseus slide two of his fingers inside of her warmth. It’s not the first time he’s done that, so it doesn’t hurt, but it still takes the goddess by surprise. A very welcome one at that.
Odysseus places one last kiss against Melinoë’s shoulder and then lifts his head up to watch her shiver and let her jaw hang loose while he’s working her up. The sight of her kissing Doom Incarnate angers him to a certain degree, even though he knows that the goddess doesn’t belong to him. She’s not his property but he growls dangerously anyway, making her eyes fall upon his face showing slight discontentment.
“My Lord,” she whispers to Moros, “anything you’d like to do with us in particular?” she asks and licks his lip.
“Who am I to choose, Princess?” he murmurs back, aware of Odysseus’ heavy stare on him. “I wouldn’t dare disturb more than I already have.”
“Moros!” she whines somewhat annoyed as one more finger enters her dripping slit. It doesn’t matter that the mewl wasn’t caused by Moros’ actions.
“I’ll make do just… watching this time. If that’s alright with you, Princess.” He himself doesn’t know whether he should address Odysseus too or not.
“Perfect.” Melinoë smiles against Moros’ lips and then draws back, making eye contact with him again. “Why don’t you sit over there and take care of yourself, enjoying the views?”
Her tone makes both the shade and the god shudder.
“Of course, Princess.”
Obediently, Moros takes a seat where Melinoë can still see him and her eyes don’t miss a chance of glancing at him and observing him while she’s once more busy with kissing Odysseus. Relishing the sensation of three digits being buried inside of her, moving in and out and occasionally rubbing that sensitive spot inside, she watches Doom dropping the articles of his attire one by one. Soon, his body is revealed to her and if it weren’t for Odysseus’ handsome face in front of her, she’d have her gaze glued to Moros.
Melinoë shifts on her spot, sighing sweetly right into Odysseus’ mouth, as she reaches behind her back to undo her belt and throw it onto the ground. With a little bit of manoeuvring, her dress is off of her in a while and she’s all bare, sat on the table. Helping the shade get out of his own clothes, she steals his headband and puts it over her head, eliciting a laugh both from him and Doom Incarnate.
That particular chuckle draws her attention and she gets stuck, hypnotised by the way Moros’ large hands roam over his chest and tease his nipples. Her throat grows dry at the sight and she gasps at that and then does it once more as Odysseus’ hands grip her thighs again, dragging her butt closer to the edge of the table.
As if out of instinct or habit, Melinoë wraps her legs around Odysseus’ waist, encouraging him to do what they’ve both been craving for for a while now. That sweet relief comes as soon as he enters her with the help of his hand that he then once more lays on the flesh of her leg. The man pets the smooth skin, dragging his hips back and forth in a lazy manner.
Melinoë’s on cloud nine and she throws her head back to allow Odysseus to lick a wet stripe up the column of her neck. He groans at the action being combined with the warm and wet sensation embracing him.
The two of them look divine from Moros’ position. He can’t help but let one of his palms travel lower down his stomach, scratching his blunt fingernails against his abs and his hipbones. With his mouth agape, he wraps his long fingers around himself and begins to work his loose fist up and down the erect shaft.
On gods, how he’d love to be in Odysseus’ spot now! Marvelling at the continuous roll of the shade’s pelvis and the sounds and faces it pulls from the Princess has Moros pump himself just as rhythmically. His pre that’s leaked from the tip already makes for a great lube and maybe Doom doesn’t engage in such activities too often but he still knows the ins and outs of this, at least in the basic sense.
So he matches his pace with the couple’s, catching Melinoë’s blissed out gaze every time she looks at him. Her pretty face draws deep moans from within his chest, ones that vibrate both inside Melinoë and Odysseus. They weren’t expecting to hear such sounds leave Moros’ lungs but they’re more than pleasantly surprised. Somehow, the low echo causes their insides to flutter and at some point, it becomes so intense, that Melinoë lies down on the table.
Odysseus’ broad frame covers her whole and the new angle punches out guttural grunts and pants from him. His hands are now pinning Melinoë’s ones on either side of her head and her whole body quivers and tears well up in her eyes as the shade hits that special spot inside of her. Her little cries become breathy, making the pit of Moros’ stomach burn and tighten dangerously. Since it’s been a while, he barely manages to stop himself from finishing right then.
The choked out groan of his doesn’t just fly past Melinoë’s or Odysseus’ ears. It especially drills itself into the latter’s head and imagination and he spares a while to think how it would be to be the reason for such sounds in a more direct way. It also encourages him to add more intensity to his motion, which has Melinoë move along with it more. Her throat gets exposed to Odysseus once again and he hides his face in it, breathing in her scent, planting kisses and sucking a love mark or two on the pale skin.
The scene is almost overwhelming for Moros and his wrist strains but his moves don’t falter. He can’t let himself stop now, not when Melinoë’s falling apart under Odysseus and his own rocking becomes more and more uncoordinated and sloppy. The shade’s breathing heavily against Melinoë’s neck, while it’s covered in Odysseus’ bites and spit. The low grunts of his creep into Melinoë’s ears and she feels dizzy, gripping his hands tightly, digging her nails into the upper sides of his palms.
He bears it well – it sends more and more waves of feverish pleasure down his spine and into his loins. Sweat’s beaded on his temples and rolled down onto Melinoë to mix with hers. Despite that, his whole body is still colder in comparison to hers but maybe it’s exactly what leads her to her own blissful peak.
“Blast it, Od, I don’t think I can hold it, I–”
“Then don’t, Goddess,” Odysseus purrs, “let go.”
Once it happens, she shrieks and digs her heels into Odysseus’ lower back, burning him in the process. As he curses in Greek, she comes undone underneath him, her body quivering and her chest heaving while countless spasms attack her muscles. The heat spreads all over her, reaching her toes and the tip of her head and she mumbles Odysseus’ name in an unstoppable chain of babbling.
And if that isn’t what topples Moros over his edge; a raw moan rips itself from his throat and his back arches as he releases the tension that’s coiled deep in his gut. His eyes snap shut as pleasure floods him in white hot waves that spread all over his whole being. He covers his eyes with his forearm and mumbles Melinoë’s name, and, with little to no care about anything or anyone, lets Odysseus’ name slip past his lips in a breathy whimper too.
Upon hearing it, Odysseus swears again, louder this time, prolonging Melinoë’s climax with the vibration of his voice and the ragged snapping of his hips against her. Relentlessly, he’s chasing his own high and internally thanks Melinoë for being so vocal about her own bliss, and worships her body for tightening around him so perfectly.
“Come on, Od, do it,” Melinoë rasps out to him as softly as she can, her voice breathy and hitching on itself. “Allow yourself to feel good, let me see it. Let Lord Moros see it too.”
There’s smile in her tone and it tears a raw moan out of Odysseus. He also nearly stills inside of her then, his pelvis still jerking back and forth as he empties himself deep in his young, beautiful goddess.
“Goddess, please…” he whimpers, letting go of her hands, not exactly knowing what he’s asking for.
But Melinoë knows.
She slides her hands up his sides and embraces him, keeping him close as he’s shivering and groaning into her neck. Melinoë may have fallen apart underneath him but he crumbles there, atop her smaller body.
“Good, very good,” she soothes, revelling in the sticky warmth spreading within. Rubbing her hand against his back, she feels the muscles shifting under her fingers and she’s loving the sensation. “Oh, you always please me so, sir” she adds once he’s calmed down and released a long exhale.
“So do you, Goddess. So do you…”
While Melinoë keeps hugging Odysseus, Moros sighs at the sight and the whole scene that has just unravelled in front of him. He has to admit that the moment when Odysseus reached his peak set the after-aftershocks through Doom’s body. Or maybe was it a newly ignited spark of arousal? Moros doesn’t dwell on that – he only knows that he enjoyed it, despite the little pain that it caused his already sensitive self.
His attention is then caught by Odysseus lifting himself up together with Melinoë who’s still clinging onto him. He pulls out and she blushes and looks away oh-so sheepishly as the wet mess flows out of her. A chuckle leaves Odysseus’ mouth and he plants a kiss on the goddess’ cheek. Her eyes then meet Moros’ and he feels a bit hotter.
In a rush of courage, Doom stands up and walks over to the pair, in spite of his legs bordering on giving in. He stops right behind Odysseus and leans over to kiss Melinoë’s forehead. It doesn’t satisfy her, so she draws upwards and the two share a kiss on the lips. Odysseus watches it with his eyebrow raised and turns a bit to the side to catch Moros’ jaw in his hand and hold it there, so that he can crush his lips against Doom’s too.
Melinoë gasps at that and her eyes widen in wonder. She finds herself unable to tear her eyes off of the two men who deepen the kiss only to pull away a while later. A whine of discontentment almost flies past Melinoë’s lips but she manages to smile brightly at Odysseus and Moros as they look back at her.
“Does this mean that you’d like to join us some other time as well, Lord Moros?” she can’t help but ask.
“I won’t reject your invitation, provided that Master Odysseus here also entertains the idea.”
“I certainly won’t be opposed to it.”
The spark in Odysseus’ eye tells both Melinoë and Moros all they needed to know.
Sharing the fun Odysseus has with the Goddess of Nightmares suddenly isn’t as bad of a concept as it seemed at the beginning.