WHO: Peitho and Hercules WHEN: Thursday early afternoon, November 26th, 2010 WHERE: Peitho's apartment WHAT: Peitho really likes the epic heroes WARNINGS: Sex, or at least references to.
Peitho had always had a bit of a thing for the heroic types. Her husband was the trickster of Olympus, the smart-ass who knew he was cleverer than most people around him, but still Peitho couldn't deny her attraction to the big guys who didn't care about brains. She'd blame it on something primal if she had to think about it too deeply. It was that caveman-thing the mortal women would talk about. Peitho just liked a pair of strong, rough hands to take her by surprise on occasion.
And Hercules? Well, if he wasn't the biggest and strongest of them all. Peitho was practically giddy at the thought of being bedded by him. (With the big heroes she liked it that way - being the one seduced and bedded, not the one with the control. Or at least pretending it was that way.)
When the knock came to her apartment door Peitho almost bounced over to open it, schooling her expression into one of quiet desire as soon as it opened. "Welcome to my home," Peitho told him.
Hercules walked in with curious eyes. He hadn't seen either of his wives for centuries, there was no telling if they even existed. The big guy just considered himself single until the day came and declared otherwise. He was always a devoted husband, but there wasn't exactly a wedding band on his finger at the moment, despite Hera's backlash that he was betraying her daughter's memory.
"Hello," he said simply. Peitho would find out that he wasn't much the talker the longer he stuck around. He should have felt indifferent to being with the wife of another (and it hadn't been the first time), as if it were his own he'd become wild with jealousy, but as it stood Hermes didn't mind and what was an old warrior to pass up such an offer when he was alone?
The door shut behind him and the big guy found himself at a loss for anything to say.
Peitho openly admired Hercules' body, biting down on her lip as she already thought of all the things she'd like to do with it. She approached and took one of his hands in hers, turning it over and running her fingers across it. "I love a man with strong hands," she purred.
He had always had an intimidating look, intriguing to the fairer sex because of who he was. There was some unwritten rule in those days that just made heroes attractive whether they were handsome or not.
To most he may seem stoic and emotionless, but there was some passion running around under all those muscles. His hand against hers was so much bigger in comparison, almost engulfing her tiny fingers.
It wasn't that he was unsure what to do, it had just been a little while since he'd enjoyed the pleasures of another. The steps were different depending on the girl, and a few before had reminded him heavily of his last wife---shy and unsure. It made a big guy like him be in control, as most girls were taken aback at what to do with him. He had a hunch Peitho had a few tricks up her sleeve, and that was okay.
Without saying a word he took his hand from hers and pressed her firmly against him, a little smirk creeping out from the corner of his mouth.
Pressed against him Peitho made a small sound of pleasure and then reached up to run her fingers softly across the magnificent scars on the side of his face.
"Just don't you dare be delicate with me," Peitho told him with a smirk and then kissed Hercules roughly, curling her fingers into his clothes to yank him closer.
The roughness was enough to get him started. He often held back his strength these days for thought of breaking girls. Immortal ones were different, especially this one. His shirt was the first thing to go, eager to get off what he could, hands picking her up, pressing her against the wall while he explored her mouth.
Peitho wrapped her legs around the great hero's waist and let his strength be all that kept her up against the wall as her dress rode up around her hips. She moaned against his mouth, arching into him as her hands ran over his naked torso.
They probably weren't going to make it to the bedroom but that was alright with her. Walls worked, as did floors and counters and couches. Peitho had to admit that she was interested to see which one of them would tire first. Hercules may have been unstoppable out there, but in the bedroom Peitho liked to think she was unmatched.
His mouth lingered down her neck with a necessary softness, he wasn't just all strength and muscles. While he tasted her skin, one hand undid his belt, pulling it out from the hoops that held it before meeting her lips hungrily again.
"Soft skin," he said against her lips, hands riding against her thighs. He hoped she could keep up, some became intimidated once his clothes were off.
Hercules didn't need to worry about intimidation on Peitho's part. She was a goddess who had slept with half the immortal pantheons and collected quite the number of mortals to go along with it. She hadn't, however, had a Hercules before, but since they were already up against a wall and getting rid of clothes less than three minutes after he'd entered the apartment, Peitho was suspecting that all her hopes for this encounter were correct.
With the belt gone Peitho let one of her hands snake down find the top of his trousers, and from there she slipped her way between hot skin and cloth, refusing to break the kiss as she did so.
There was a shudder of breath, a grunt of approval when he felt dainty fingers climbing down to play. His own hands started that runway up her sides, tugging at the straps of her dress down her shoulders so he could feel her skin pressed up against him.
He could feel her heartbeat against his, taking that handful of her breast between his fingers, rough against soft, just like the their heated kisses.
Hercules was likely keep this up more than once, so he hoped she didn't have any other plans the rest of the evening.
Peitho loved that she could bring those noises out of men with such simple things. There was a power in that, the bringing of pleasure and the denying of it as well. It was the kind of power that Peitho wielded effortlessly.
His hand against her breast made her breath quicken and she kissed his throat, teeth gently scraping against him.
"Wait, wait," she whispered, untangling herself from Hercules and slipping down from the wall. She turned them, kissing him again, and pushed Hercules against the wall as she went down onto her knees and tauntingly slowly undid his trousers, her eyes on his.
Hercules tilted his head to the side, confused for a moment on the pause. He was about to protest when she slipped down. The question died in his throat when pressed him against the wall with her own wielding vigor.
The kiss seemed as if it had ended too soon before she broke away, only to find his eyes glued to hers, fingers tangling in her hair as she slipped him out of those jeans.
With the jeans drawn down Peitho admired his flesh with wandering eyes and then she pressed her lips against his hip bone, trailing lingering kisses slowly towards his shaft.
Looking up at him again, Peitho flicked out her tongue to run it along the length, so gentle and light as to be considered teasing, before taking him into her mouth.
It wasn't where he expected this to start, but he wasn't going to complain. His breath hitched in his throat once her lips wrapped around him. Teasing, soft, and....
His eyes rolled back, hands pressed against the top of her head. She already knew what she was doing, he was just the special guest for the night.
Peitho was well aware that she had a talented mouth - she'd been complimented enough times on her skills and even without that her ego was big enough to assume it anyway. Her hands held onto his thighs as she did some of her finest work but she stopped far sooner than the warrior would have wanted her too.
Instead she stood up and backed away from him with a smirk, slipping her underwear off from beneath the (only half-covering her now) dress. With her finger she beckoned for him.
She stopped just too soon, causing the hero to open his eyes, mouth slightly ajar. He didn't speak but his expression said volumes. It felt good, that's all that the big brute could think about, if he was thinking at all.
With the tilt of his head and downward cast of his eyes he watched and followed her, though he was libel to break a few standing pieces of furniture when this got more rowdy.