Hades Week Event

***

Dinner had gone smoothly enough—Melinoe expected to see the apprehension in Daedalus’ expression when his son first introduced his new girlfriend, who possesses a sleeve of tattoos from shoulder to fingertips, green stiletto nails, and jade green lipstick to match.

But he had warmed up to her eventually, she thinks, and not just because she is his boss’ daughter. Still, when the topic of former boyfriends came up, both she and Icarus neglected to tell him that even now she has a number of partners—boyfriends and girlfriends—whom she shares between her and her older brother, Zagreus.

“A harem of siblings,” as Icarus puts it. And then there is him, “Another addition to your collection,” also as he puts it, always accompanied by a fond laugh. But Melinoe could never think of him that way. He is special to her, even beyond the fact that he’s the first person she has dated who isn’t related to anyone else she has also dated.

Icarus’ childhood room looks exactly how Melinoe expects it to look—shelves full of dusty old books and toys; ribbons and certificates celebrating academic excellence—there is a collection of medals from his engineering club at school, hanging from a framed photo of father and son posing together while the latter is adorned in his awards. The medals tinkle softly against one another when Melinoë picks up the photo for a closer look.

“You look so proud of yourself here,” she chuckles, admiring his wide, youthful grin that contrasts conspicuously with his father’s solemn expression, his hand resting stiffly against Icarus’ shoulder.

“That was my very first competition,” Icarus says. “It was the first time I got to meet other kids with the same interests as me… I was pretty sheltered up until then. Didn’t have many friends my age, so I didn’t get out much.”

He takes the photo from Melinoe to contemplate for himself. He stares at it for quite a while, his mouth slowly stretching into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m not sure how I feel about coming home again, after finally leaving,” he murmurs quietly. “Whenever I’m here, it’s like I’m back to being that same sheltered boy I once was. I always feel so small and powerless in front of my father. I almost forget that I’ve since flown away and tasted real freedom for myself.”

“You think your father still has issues with trusting you?” Melinoe asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I think there is a part of him who’s still disappointed in me, after what happened. It’s not like I’ve done much else in my life so far to make him proud.”

Melinoe plucks the photo out of Icarus’ hands, gently replacing it on the shelf before she moves in, wrapping her arms around his neck. She presses her lips to his—she only meant it as a sweet gesture at first, but she allows it when Icarus deepens the kiss, giggling around his tongue swiping at hers, and his boyish eagerness. When they break apart, she gazes at him for a long time… him, with his tousled brown hair that is probably due for a cut, falling all around his gentle eyes. Still, she doesn’t think anyone but him has ever looked at her with as much utter adoration and devotion.

“Well, I’m proud of you,” she says.

They retire to bed—the one Icarus slept in as a child. They had fantasized about it together before they even arrived, so as they settle in, she reaches into her travel bag to reveal an item she had brought from home: his favorite, pink and curved and able to fill him up so nicely. She loves the feeling of buckling the harness to her naked flesh, cinching the straps; the heavy length of the toy suspended from her hips.

She makes a show of it for him… it is so easy to imagine this shaft is a part of her own body; the weight of it feels so good and heavy in her hand. Her hips even jerk, her soft moan authentic when she circles the tip with a teasing finger. She looks to Icarus—even in the dim lamplight she can see the flush on his cheeks, and the spot on his bottom lip that has whitened where he bites it, his eyes focused squarely on her pretty pink cock. She can tell he wants it in his mouth—she loves watching him moan and drool on it, swallowing it as far down his throat as it will go, like a good boy. But tonight she is eager to have him spread open for her over these faded galaxy bedsheets, fucking him into this old, twin-sized mattress.

“Did you always touch yourself here, Icarus? Just like this?” She makes a series of long, graceful strokes as she spreads lubricant over it. She sighs with pleasure, just as he might have, and juts her hips forward, making sure he is watching. “Did you imagine yourself making love to a girl while lying in this bed?”

Icarus’ eyes dart toward Melinoe’s gaze, then back down again to the movement of her hand, as if shy to maintain direct eye contact with her. Or more likely, he is just too mesmerized by the way it looks when she touches herself.

“I couldn’t have possibly imagined being with a girl as beautiful as you at the time,” he murmurs.

Melinoe loves him like this—his thighs and belly are so soft and round, and pressing his hips against her own as she sinks into him, it’s intoxicating how it affects him so, watching the pleasure bloom on his face, far removed from the movements down below which causes it. He’s tight, she can tell—the drag of the shaft is heavy and slow inside of him, but if it is painful, he gives no indication that he isn’t enjoying himself. He presses his lips together tightly, trying and failing to suppress his moans that come out as a stuttering series of Mmm~s. Melinoe presses her palm over his mouth to muffle his whimpers.

“Hush, Icarus,” Melinoe hisses softly. “Or do you want your father to know how much you moan like a slut when you’re getting fucked?”

Icarus squeezes his eyes shut. A small, rasping whine can be heard from his throat, but after this his cries are voiceless. Such a good boy. There is something especially intimate in listening to nothing but his breaths—he sounds so alive as the air passes in and out of his lungs. Resting her head on his warm chest, she hears the flutter of his heartbeat.

He starts panting as he gets close, and by now Melinoe is panting too—the sweat pooling at her temples as she maintains the quick snaps of her hips. Icarus’ legs are spread open wide, like wings, his whole upper body hunched over as he jerks himself to climax. His eyelids squeeze even tighter, and his mouth widens into a silent scream while his orgasm erupts. Melinoe slows to a stop while he trembles, admiring the unguarded beauty of his bliss.