DISCLAIMER: I OWN ONLY THE PLOT AND MY OC!

Note: Like I promised - the second part :3 / As previously - anything that seems completely wrong - my doing!

* WARNING: This chapter contains a sex scene! You have been warned!

Read, Enjoy and feel free to tell me what you think!

~Nikkitosa

The moment I get home I know I need to start doing something or I'll lose my shit from worry. I'm aware that killing a god is pretty hard to do, let alone four of them, and the Trackers didn't seem that much in my vision, but I have a bad feeling in my gut that things are a lot bigger than we thought. Yet there's nothing I can do and that drives me nuts.

"It'll be pointless to just sit around and look at the clock. Better get my mind busy." with that last hope I set a small list in my head and start checking it out.

After a hot shower, a quick tidying of my room and some throwing of junk out of the living room, I sit down on my bed and look at the window. 'Okay, fine, not much to do. Now what?' I'm getting restless and worried by the minute so I stand up and start pacing around the room, feeling like a caged animal. Soon different scenarios start forming in my head, the next worse than the previous, and I know that with this pace of falling apart I'll get a panic attack and faint.

"Keep you shit together, Nicolleta! They'll be just fine! Don't worry! Do something or you'll go mad!" talking with myself always helped, and now it didn't fail me either.

Looking around my room I notice my laptop laying forgotten on my desk. Out of the blue I feel all artistic and use that at my advantage. Opening the old machine and giving it some time to start working properly, I go to the kitchen and fill myself a cup of warm coffee. Since I'm not going to sleep until I know everything's okay, I must be prepared to stay up and work. A few cups of freshly brewed coffee will do just the trick.

Once I get into my plot, with my inspiration in its apogee, there's nothing stopping me. Not even bathroom breaks or food. This time I make an exception and make sure there's enough coffee to last me the whole night and a sandwich in case I grow hungry.

Hours later I have over 50 pages written and ready to edit, a halfway eaten sandwich and a half full cup of now cold coffee. Satisfied with the result I decide to call it a day, or a night for that matter, and save all the changes. After making sure all my hard work is safely saved and my laptop has shut down I go take another shower. 'Whoever said writing is not one hell of a workout has never written in order to keep himself sane.' I muse while I rinse my hair from the shampoo.

Somewhere right after I was ready to get out, an idea struck me. 'How about a nice bath with some music? It will ease my nerves!'

Said and done. In no time I fill the bathtub, throw in some bath bombs so that there are many bubbles and it smells like heaven, and play some nice background music. In the movies there's a glass of fine wine and strawberries, but since I had a long night and a lot of wine, I decide to pass.

Comfortably emerged into the pleasantly hot water, with my hair still wet and pinned at the top of my head, I gradually feel my muscles relaxing and my strained nerves untying their knots. Under the sound of violins and piano I let my lids close and my barriers drop. For a first time tonight I feel at ease with myself, calm and basically not thinking of anything. But since this is me, the one who thinks too much, a second later there's a certain blue-eyed god plaguing my mind, making my body react as if he's there. 'I am so fucking screwed. Falling for a god! How cliché is that? He is so out of my league!' yet that self-persuasion doesn't help much and soon I can't stop myself from imagining what it would be like to have him close to me, touching me, kissing me with passion and even making love to me.

Somewhere at the back of my mind I know all this is ridiculous, yet admit that I have been having a major crush on him ever since I laid eyes on him over two years ago. Then there is his temper – an awful mixture of pride, coldness, curiosity, rare sparks of genuine cheerfulness, and lots of raw passion; not the type that we usually connect with hot and intense fucking in a back alley, but the kind of passion that mostly means devotion – to what you believe in, to who you care about, to what you fight for and so on. And Zeus has so much raw passion, that it certainly scares him. He's a god after all, he must have a clear head and an objective view of stuff. I, a mere human, find it difficult to keep my game going when I'm being overwhelmed by emotions that should not be shown in front of everybody. So I give him that – he keeps a nice poker face, yet his eyes give it all away. Then again only someone insane would dare look the god of thunder right in the eyes. And me. Yeah, it used to unnerve him and he got all irritated and stone-faced, but soon grew used to it. I prefer looking people straight in the eyes when we talk – that way they know they have my attention, and I – theirs. Also it's easier to notice when someone hides something that way. And with Zeus it just became a game; he found the whole idea of spotting the lie in the eye amusing and wanted to test it out. Since I told him he always does it – while talking he slips in a lie and watches for my reaction. Almost every single time I catch it and usually he gives me one of those rear proud smiles he mostly keeps for Athena. But hey, she's his daughter after all.

With my head tipped back and my lids close, I try to chase the image of Zeus away. I can't deny the obvious – he's smoking hot and damn perfect, his voice makes me skin prickle from excitement and goosebumps run up and down my spine; I won't even emerge wholly in the topic of his eyes, just say they're gorgeous and he can sure make anyone do anything just by giving them the right look.

Yet, what's also obvious is that there's no way we can be together – apart from the whole god-mortal thing, I'm also his oracle, and the whole purity thing seems a little bit smudged around here. Does having sex with a god count? I asked myself that question a number of times and since there's no way in hell I can ask Zeus or any male for that matter, I turned to Athena. She was kind enough to share that god or no god, if it's not mutual passion and affection, it'll be considered tainting and the oracle will lose its powers. So, yeah, quite the blooper. 'He's not showing any signs of affection towards me, so better drop it, dream girl. Not his type, obviously.' And it hurts to admit that. My heart clenches painfully and I almost feel tears watering my eyes. I can't help it – I feel as if I'm being defined by my gift rather than who I really am. Furthermore, weren't I an oracle, I'd have never been noticed by anyone, let alone the gods.

As usual, lowering my own self-esteem so harshly has me on the suicide road, so I chase these thoughts away. After all life is not a wish factory – we don't always get what we want.

I get out of the bathtub only when the water has grown uncomfortably cold. Washing away the bubbles and drying my skin with a fluffy towel, I step in front of my full-length mirror. With my hair out of the twist I put it in, it now falls freely down my shoulders, reaching and successfully hiding my breasts. I notice it already starting to curl but I shrug it off. My skin, as usual, has that whole-year-round tan, which can be noticed only when you see me naked. Most of the time I don't stay naked in front of my mirror and observe my body due to the same year-long scruples I have towards it. Like the fact that I'm not slim and tall, but rather average and on the short side. I used to be quite plumb when I was younger but lost quite some weight and got myself into working out and then some sports, but as expected I ended up with quite a few stretch-marks mostly on my legs. Of course I'm still far away from the body I'd want to have, but let's face it, you either choose to become a vegan or you will live with what you get. So I went ahead and tried to accept my round hips and my not so flat stomach. All the workouts and diets were useful, but sometimes I slip and go all Godzilla on the fridge.

Now, when once again I look at myself I see the same things – same wide ankles, same sexy calves, same round tights, same nicely shaped bum /God praise my bike/, the same not-so-flat stomach, same fine amount of breasts and the same tanned skin with a few white patches left from my bathing suit. The only new things on the block are the length of my hair and the marks that left after the wounds from the bullets healed. On my right shoulder I have two round patches that show where the bullet entered my body, and on the back – from where it left. Oh, and a piece of jewellery I never part with. It's the necklace that symbolizes I'm Zeus' oracle – a little gold thunderbolt hanging from a nice thin golden chain.

Fetching my fluffy dressing gown from one of the hangers and putting it on, I tie the belt loosely and walk out of the bathroom. Only to stop dead in my track not even three steps later, with mouth gaping open and eyes widen almost dangerously. There, leaning casually on my desk, with his hands crossed over his muscular chest, is Zeus, in all his shining godly glory. Unlike all the times we met where he's in casual clothes, now is the first time I see him in his battle armour. The gold glows even in the dim light of my room, creating a halo around him. It takes me a second to notice the blotches of dried blood all over him, his uncontrollable hair, even messier than usual, and his bruised biceps.

"Are you ok?" is the first thing that I manage to mutter, still firmly planted near the bathroom door.

He just nods, scanning me up and down for some time, before averting his eyes, instead eyeing the halfway eaten sandwich on my desk. An amused smirk tugs at the corners of his lips and he shakes his head. Just then, while I gawk at him, and muse just how freaking sexy, perfect and all the adjectives my obviously mixed up brain can pick up and stamp to his image, he is, a realisation strikes me. I'm almost naked in front of him; my dressing gown is barely hanging on my body, let alone hiding my breasts. With a low squeak I turn my back to him and fasten the belt, almost knocking all the air out of my lungs. When sure I have covered as much as possible, probably red in the face, I again turn around, only to be met with Zeus' laughter. At first I want to frown and get angry, but it's hard to want to throw something at a man, who just came back from a battle, and is freely laughing in his battle armour while surrounded by a halo.

"Yeah, yeah. Mock the frail mortal. Good for you." I jokingly grumble before going to my dresser and pulling out some underwear and something comfortable to wear.

He is still smiling by the time I emerge from the bathroom, dressed in my fluffy old tracksuit bottoms and a loose T-shirt.

"I'd offer you to take a sit, but with that thing you'll ruin my duvet. So how about a shower and a nice pair of soft pants?"

Zeus raises an eyebrow my way, a smirk playing on his lips, before he effortlessly pushes himself away from my desk, which gives a meek creak, and takes two long steps, melting away the distance between us. No more than a step away, I can smell the awful stench of Trackers' blood; but even that can hardly overpower his own personal odour. The eye battle between us is quick, as I'm the first to look away, feeling heat wash over me and a strange tingling sensation forming in my tummy.

"It sounds nice." his half-whisper has the desired effect and my body's reaction is immediate.

I can just hope it skips his keen eyes the way my cheeks flush, how I fiddle with my fingers, the way my tights brush against one another. Breathing a sigh of relief after he enters my bathroom and closes the door, I quickly roam through my cabinets, fetching a pair of tracksuit bottoms and then going on a hunt for a T-shirt that will be large enough to fit him. It turns out that, indeed, I own one, which may even turn out to be too big for the muscular god. 'It'll hide his muscles and nice body and will prevent me from ogling and distracting myself.' as much as I'd like to think this is a good thing, deep in me I'm the slightest bit of disappointed.

"You know, not leaving me a towel before offering me a shower makes me question your motifs." and just like that his voice is in my head, making me drop the T-shirt.

My head snaps towards the bathroom door where the water is still running.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." I curse under my breath. "I'm sorry!" a last shout before I emerge into the closet.

There, on a special rack, I have all my clean towels nicely folded. Grabbing the biggest one I can find, I return to my room. Knocking on the door, I wait for a reply, but there is none. 'He's still under the shower. I'll just leave it there and get out.'

Calming my beating heart I open the door and peek inside. Indeed, I can see Zeus' silhouette behind the frosted glass, separating the bathing area from the rest of the room. Quickly tip-toeing to the rack where the towels usually stay, I nicely loop his towel and turn to leave. And then the water stops. Frozen to my place, I don't know what to do or what to say. Awkwardly enough, I hear Zeus chuckling, and his feet padding towards me. Due to some strangely occurring sequence of dumbness and my brain's temporarily refusal to work, I stay glued to the spot rather than run out of the room.

Since I'm facing the door, yes, the same one which has a full-length mirror, I see when he's about to get out, and quickly avert my eyes. My toilet just became so much more interesting to look at.

"I'm glad you were so fast. For a second there I thought you'll make me walk around naked." his care-free tone almost makes me miss the amusement in his voice.

'Is he messing with me?' I wonder and take a step away, finally!

"Sorry. I didn't mean to walk on you…" I leave the sentence like that before I say something inappropriate.

"Naked? I'm sure you are familiar with the anatomy of the male body, Nicolleta."

'Yup, definitely messing with me.' I think before gulping and taking another step forward, finally looking straight ahead. Only to catch our reflexion in the mirror. He is looking at me in a strange, different manner, but when our eyes lock in the mirror, I feel bound to my place yet once again. There's warmth and ease in his eyes, but also worry and insecurity. I feel as if he wants something, but fears my reaction. 'Biscuits and thunders! He's a god, goddamit! He gets what he wants, whenever he wants it!'

"Can I help you?" somehow the question comes out sounding so not as casual as I had imagined it to be.

The dangerous flash in his eyes pretty much answers for him, but soon that raw emotion is gone and he gives me his usual poker face. Unknowingly how, that angers me more than it should have. 'God, the wine.' yet quickly after I realise what is the cause of my mood swings, I'm already facing him, my insecurity out of the window.

"Stop doing that, dammit!" I don't shout, but my voice is thick with emotion…. which highly contrasts his deprived of everything face.

His question is in the form of a raised eyebrow. A fucking cocky raised eyebrow!

"Don't give me that look!" this time it's a low hiss.

"I don't see the reason for your rage." he even deprives his voice of any emotion… anything human. 'Is he doing it on purpose?!'

"Stop acting as if you don't give a shit about what's going on! Stop whipping all emotions away as if I'm your worst enemy and will use them against you! It drives me nuts! This is not Olympus where the other gods are watching and expect you to lead them! This is my apartment and me, and I don't give a square shit what someone will make out of what I do! And you shouldn't as well!" I shout, my hands now clenched in fists and my eyes narrowed at him.

I must have probably looked like a hissing angry kitten that someone threw into a puddle. And I admire Zeus for the fact that he doesn't start laughing; but he doesn't react either. He just stands there, with the towel wrapped around his waist, and his dazzling eyes looking at me and through me at the same time. Gritting my teeth, I feel my control slipping dangerously away. And yet somehow I don't seem to care.

"And you are not even listening." I mutter, my rage coming dangerously close to the point where I'll start cursing and throwing things at him.

"I am." his voice is hoarse, as if he hasn't used it for centuries.

I look him in the eyes, determined to actually realise what he's feeling. I know it's like entering someone's personal space, but I can't help myself. I feel as if he's pushing me away, locking himself in, and not letting the outer world see who he truly is.

Yet he looks away, obviously not wanting to be understood. And it hurts me. It hurts me so freaking much that soon the rage has melted into sorrow. Deeply rooted inside me, it resembles a cancer – it stays below the radar for a long time, until one day it decides it has had enough and comes out, ruining your life; my sadness has always been in me, now it's just getting too much to handle. Everything is too much – my complex life, my loneliness. And my love. My most probably unrequited love. And it's killing me from the inside out, just like the cancer.

"You know I can never be the man you deserve, Nicolleta. I'm immortal, and your lifespan is just a small speck of dust in the universe. I don't want to cause you pain and suffering; you deserve better…"

His words leave me speechless. They shake me deeply and utterly, and for some time I just stand there and listen. I'm too afraid to admit I may know what he's implying. I'm too shocked to ask him how he knows what I'm thinking. And I'm no longer angry enough to provide a good argument, anything, just to get that sadness, so much deeper than mine, away from his features. I once again feel hopeless.

"But?"

"But I don't want anyone else to lay hands on you. I don't want another man to touch you, to love you, to make you laugh. To make all those things I can't. I hate them for being able to provide you with what you seek." he looks and sound completely devastated, lost and for a first time – completely hopeless.

"And what is that I seek?" somehow my mind wins the battle against my emotions, and my mouth keeps on delivering questions, even when my heart is clenching and tugging painfully in my chest.

"Someone who can devote himself to you utterly and unconditionally. Who you can grow old with, have a family and be happy. Someone who will always be by your side and will protect you. Someone who doesn't need to wear a mask every single time he sees you, just to make sure no one will notice the way he looks at you, how he adores you and cares for you. You deserve to be with someone who will not put your life in danger. " with every single word I feel at the verge of tears.

Zeus, the mighty god of thunder, the strongest of the gods and the wisest, now looks like a man who has lost everything he ever cherished in life.

"Have you even once asked yourself not what I deserve, but what I want?" I whisper.

He seems to be about to answer so I speak first.

"You haven't. I'm not a saint. I don't deserve anything! I don't want a man who will plague me with his constant desire of my presence; who will always expect things from me; who would want to change me because I'm too messed up and self-absorbed to devote myself completely to someone else. I don't need someone to devote himself to me unconditionally either. I want him to love me despite my flaws. To be up for a quarrel and know that when I'm writing he should stay away and not nag me to go out. I want a man who will stand his ground no matter what, who will love me no matter how furious I am, or what awful things I say, or how damaged I tend to be. I want a man who knows me good enough to understand I can live my life without him, but I chose to share it because he brings out the best in me. That's what I want, Zeus. And as far as I know and have seen, such a man doesn't walk the earth nowadays." By the time I finish I'm breathless and with watery eyes, but at least I said what I have always wanted to tell him – ever since he walked past my door and into my life with his magical world and shining eyes.

The silence stretches between us, but none wants to break it – we think through what we said to one another. Somewhere deep in me, by the look in his eyes, I know he still doesn't believe my words. So I decide to give it one last try.

"I don't need you in my life, Zeus. I need none of this for that matter."

The moment I said it, I regret it. He looks as if I just slapped him hard across the face. Knowing he's about to shut his emotions away and leave, probably never coming back, I quickly add:

"But I want you to be in it. I want you as a friend who will torment me when he's bored out of his mind. As a god who will come to save my sorry ass when I get messed up in yet another close-to-death drama. And as a man who knows who I am and accepts it without wanting to change me. I want you to be by my side because of who you are, because of all those little things you so desperately try to hide from the others. I want to share my life with you, knowing that I won't be here for long. I know that, believe me, and it's eating me from the inside out, but I accept it. I don't have a forever to live. I only have now. That's all I can offer you – my now, with the best and the worst in it."

The time seems to slow down between two heartbeats. One second Zeus is about to leave and the next I'm in his arms, his warm lips on my cheek. Startled, at first I don't know what's happening, but soon embrace him despite the droplets running down his still wet body, and I pull him even closer to me.

"I want your now more than anything I have ever wanted." he whispers against my skin, his hot breath stoking flames all around my body. "But all I can offer is a world that's a constant fight."

"Then it's a good thing you thought me how to fight." I smile and burry my fingers in his still damp hair, admiring its softness.

I can hear him breathing a sigh of relief, and happiness swirls in me, both mine and his. We part only for a second, before our lips meet in a slow, testing kiss. It lasts a few seconds, but by the time he pulls away, I know I want more. And by the look in his eyes, so intense and at the same time bright, so does he. Our lips meet once again and this time the lip-lock is more heated, filled with more passion.

"So does that mean you'll at least think about it?" I hush against his lips, our breaths mixing, seconds after we parted to take a few gulps of needed air.

Zeus just smiles, one of those rear genuine smiles, and kisses me once again, this time slow and sweet, a chaste kiss.

"Mmm." I purr when his lips travel down my jaw on stop on my collarbone before going up and kissing my neck.

Running my hands down his neck and shoulders than back up in his hair, I feel heat and moisture forming between my legs.

I can't remember the correct sequence of events in the next 5 minutes after that. Did he took off my T-shirt, or firstly I tugged at his hair, biting his bottom lip? Did he push me against the chilly tile wall before or after I moaned when he nipped at my neck? Who was the first to lose all their clothing? I can't seem to remember even that.

One minute we are in the bathroom, his body pressed against mine, not in a hurry, but filled with passion, and the next I'm sprawled on my bed, the only thing to cover my naked body being my still damp hair. And he is there, in the shadows as much as his always present halo allows him to be, and watches me. No lust or desire to concur as if I'm a mountain's peek. No, he admires me, memorises my body's curves with his eyes before his hands could trace it. Somewhere around here I should have been washed by shame and shyness, but I wasn't. I'm lying there the way I arrived in this world, blushing like a virgin Mary, yet still not wanting to crawl under my bed and spend the rest of my life hiding. I know I can do this, I know I can fight my primal instincts to shy away and preferably keep every inch of my body covered. Well, that's for the first two minutes at least. Then his intense and traveling gaze becomes too much and my hands move on their own, hiding my nakedness. If the self-destructive thoughts are supposed to arrive around here, all that 'I'm not pretty enough' and so on, I miss it. Because Zeus is next to me in a flash, his hands gently gripping my wrist and keeping them away from my body. I don't expect the proclamation of great love to follow, and thankfully they don't. He just tells me I'm beautiful. No obnoxious epithets, just the plain simple truth, which from his lips sounds so natural.

"This is who you are. Those are you battle scars." he whispers against my shoulder, where the marks from the bullets lay.

Instead of a reply, a low moan skips past my lips and I tell myself to stop worrying, to stop overthinking. Just enjoy. Be happy. And it works – the pressure leaves me either due to my self-calming words or the magical work Zeus' lips do on my skin.

He's generous and patient with me, as expected with a man who has great experience in the field of sex, and my body seems to be enjoying all the attention, reacting as it should. Making me moan simply by touching the right places, I'm soon at the god's mercy.

His hot breath fans over my skin, making it prickle and become oh-so-sensitive to the touch; his fingers roam up and down my curves, not leaving a place untouched. Soon I'm moaning and wriggling underneath him, the experience barely balancing between extreme pleasure and torture. I want to touch him, to let my hands travel up and down his body, but how exactly am I supposed to push him on his back and take the initiative? 'Like I always do!'

And just like that, with a nice push and a carefully calculated rotation, Zeus is on his back, amazed and shocked at the same time, and I'm straddling him without actually touching him. The pressure in my tights and calves appears but I ignore it. 'It will be a nice workout!'

"I hope you don't mind?" my voice is husky and thick with emotion, mostly arousal.

He doesn't answer, just looks at me with eyes filled with mirroring pleasure and desire. Bending down, I place a soft kiss on his cheek, then another in the corner of his mouth. When he tries to take the reins, I grab his wrists and pin them over his head. He gets the message after I gently sink my teeth in the side on his neck. The groan that follows has me shaking with desire, primal lust, but I know I'm stronger than my emotions. Kissing and exploring his body, I take my time, gentle and testing, yet with some strange courage and inspiration. My hands follow the pattern of his body, from his neck, around his shoulders, down his chest, over his hard abs, and right below his navel. He hisses when my cold fingers stop there, only my tips still touching his skin, making small lazy circles. Gritting his teeth and panting as if he's about to lose it, I peak at his hands and notice they are sprawled to the side, gripping my duvet quite vigorously, and that makes my grin victoriously against his chest, right over his hearth. My torture continues down until I reach the place where my fingers stopped and I pause. My hot breath is fanning right over his lower stomach. I lick my lips, but before something crazy comes to mind, his hands grab me by the waist and we spin once again, him on top, his lips crashing against mine in a heated, passionate kiss. His hands once again make a quick course up and down my body, and when his digits touch that sensitive and now throbbing from desire place between my legs I suck in air sharply, arch my back, and give a meow-ish moan.

"Zeus." his name leaves my lips both as a plea and a prayer.

This time it's his turn to smirk victoriously against my neck before pressing his hard body against mine. It's like the collision of hot and cold – there's steam and sparks. My curves seem to fit perfectly against his muscles. And I feel him all hard and ready against my inner tight. I moan and arch my body, pressing it even harder into his. Our lips meet once again, his hot and soft, mine icy and shaking. I feel on the edge, barely holding myself together – I don't know if it's the lust, the need, the joy, or the fear and insecurity that just started creeping in.

"Do you want me to stop?" his whisper makes the hairs on my neck stand up.

Yet my voice seems to have hidden in a hole, so I just shake my head.

"Hey, look at me." cupping my face with one of his hands and balancing his body right on top of mine with the other, Zeus gently strokes my cheek.

Blinking my eyes open, I see his face only a few centimetres away, studying my features in search of what probably makes me look worried. His fingers stroke my cheek and I battle the need to once again close my eyes and let his tenderness sooth me.

"Are you sure about this?" despite wanting this just as much as I want it, Zeus is still patient and understanding.

Looking deep into his blue lagoons, those pools leading to his soul, I notice his sincerity. If now I tell him to stop, to get off of me and leave, he'll do it without arguments. And a part of me wants to tell him to go. That cowardly bitch!

Smiling and pushing away the paralyzing fear that runs through my system, I raise my hands and cup his face, marvelling at how easily he relaxes under my touch and leans into it. Pushing my upper body up, from which my back protests, I kiss him. Not eagerly or hungrily, but with just as much trust, devotion, love and need as I can muster in this very moment.

No words are needed anymore. I nod at him and lay back down, not actually knowing what to do with my body from this point forward. Something that all the books I have read left unclear. Thankfully, Zeus knows what he's doing. With a minute or so of some kissing and making sure all my muscles are relaxed he checks if I'm moist enough.

With a last glance he asks me if I'm still into it and after I nod, he enters me. Slow and carefully. Under different circumstances I'd have been amazed by the amount of tenderness he is showing me tonight, but the intense feeling deep inside of me suddenly resurfaces, and my skin goes on fire. My always icy fingers are warm now and I burry then in his thick black locks. With a soft tug I encourage him to do it, to enter my body even further. I know I need it, I can feel myself yearning it. And he complies with my needs – slowly he enters me almost completely. My back is arched so sharply that if one of his hands wasn't around my waist, holding my body pressed against his, I'd have collapsed down in extreme back pains. With my teeth digging deep into my lower lip, I manage to sustain the pained howl that threatens to escape me any moment now. I don't want to show pain, don't want it to spoil the moment.

"You alright?" his hoarse whisper in my ear elicits a moan from me and I grip his shoulders even harder.

"Yes." it's a low hiss against his cheek, my face at the point of literally burring itself in the crook of his neck.

He puffs a sigh against my hair and I can literally hear him fighting his instincts to concur me like a caveman would have. Moreover, his touch stays gentle and his movements – slow and careful.

"I'm no cheap china, Zeus. I won't break under your touch." a minute or two later after I finally adjust, I manage to gather my voice and whisper against his neck before nipping at the skin.

Surely enough the effect is immediate – the primal growl that vibrates from within his chest has my muscles clenching even tighter around his shaft, making him hiss and burry his face in my neck. Still his hips move at a rather slow and agonising pace, for both of us. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that if I make him move harder and faster, tomorrow I'll be tied to the bed, probably the days after that as well. But right now, I want nothing else as desperately as to feel him even deeper in me, to the hilt, making me his in every way possible.

"Don't make me hurt you, I beg of you." the fact that his voice rings in my head tells me he's barely holding himself together.

"You can never hurt me. Don't torture us." my purred reply makes him grit his teeth so hard I can hear it clearly.

His persistence for control makes me become adventurous once again and out of the blue I move my hips, breaking his pace, and setting a new one. In a flash the hand that he was leaning on for support grasps me around the right tight and I swear I hear him howl lowly against my skin.

"Do it, Zeus, please." my voice in his head, so pleading and thick with desire, is the last drop in his cup.

I'm suddenly pressed down against the soft mattress with him completely out of me and at a hand's distance. I swear I yelped and then whined from the loss.

"Heavens and hells, you'll end me." his growls and in a flash bends down, kissing me with ferocity, and once again enters me, stretching my inner muscles to the brim.

The shout that passed through my sealed lips, surely reached the heavens and dropped to the hells. Zeus freezes and by the sudden tension on his muscles I know he's thinking the worst.

"I swear, if you stop I'll kill you." I hiss though gritted teeth.

His head is bend over my shoulder, and his shallow breathing makes me groan and rotate my hips once again. He inhales sharply, not expecting this again, and I bite my lip on order to stop myself from both moaning and chuckling. 'God, he's so deep in me.' the though passes so spontaneously that I almost miss it.

Zeus' next movement is unexpected, but in a good way. He pulls away and enters me fast and all at once. I moan loudly and my nails dig into his shoulders, making him moan against my neck. Soon we find our own paces – he's still reluctant to move faster, but at least is deeper and with me able to meet his thrust and rotate my hips every once in a while.

By the time I feel like I'm about to burst he stops, and the animal growl that erupts from within me would have sure made a normal man pale like a ghost. Zeus just kisses me deeply and spins us. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm straddling him, shock freezing my blood.

"Now it's up to you to determine the pace." he's smiling as he kisses my throat, sensing my nervousness.

"I… I don't… I don't know…" I stammer, seriously having no clue what to do.

"Do what you desire. I'm yours for the taking." Looking me straight in the eyes, I see the sincerity in his words and gulp.

To show me what do to after my obvious shutdown, he places his hands on my waist and lowers my body so that the tip of his shaft is at my entrance. His lips keep on doing there magic for a second more before Zeus lies down, with his hands resting on my hips, more to balance me rather than determine further pace and action. So I decide to let my natural copulation instincts do their work. Not really keen to hurt myself, I undertake the slow, testing approach first. And, sweet heavens, it's like a whole new level of deepness. I literally feel his cock filling me the brim. Droplets of sweat run down my back when I pull myself up and from an old habit flip my hair over one shoulder. And suddenly an idea spins like a small smirch in my head. 'To hell with it!' I'm either brave or am heading head first the nympho way. Either way I peek at him under half-lidded eyes and order myself not to close them. Our eyes meet a fraction of the second before I quickly push my hips down. The reaction from both of us is immediate. Zeus throws his head back, arching his back slightly, his hands gripping my hips, and moans-groans. I somehow manage to marvel for a second at the way his Adam apple moves up and down and how nicely his jet black hair is sprawled all over my white pillow, before my own moan engulfs his and I throw my head back, also arching my back. Again, due to his fast reaction and his hands' support, he catches me from falling back. Now sitting upright, with his face resting in the valley of my breasts, I can only feel his ragged breathing over the erratic banging of my hearth all over my skin; in my ears and even through my hair. I vaguely hear Zeus murmuring some words to me, probably asking I'm still alive, and I nod, before my head lulls back forward and our foreheads touch. We are both panting, our eyes glossy and blazing, and we both know what we want. And since I showed him I'm a tough little ex-virgin, he smirks and tips his head so that we kiss, our tongues battling for dominance. Soon enough I start moving and his hips meet mine halfway. The friction and the constant touching of his hands have me at the verge, yet he doesn't let me come. Whenever he feels me contacting around him, he stops and starts doing something else.

By the third or fourth time I'm at the verge of tears from all the pressure that needs to go; the hand that's still buried on his locks grabs a fistful of hair and pulls, so that we meet for another kiss. He shows his disapproval of my harshness by grabbing me by the ass and slamming me hard against his cock. That way his hiss and my moan mix and I'm one step closer to explosion.

"Zeus…" my lips mutter his name as a plea.

Yet he doesn't quicken the pace, nor does he show any sign of allowing me my release. My whimper is what catches his attention, making him look up from his current obsession with my neck.

"Patience is a virtue, dear. " even his thoughts sound thick with emotion and panting, as if he has been running a marathon. "This is your little punishment." with that and a cocky smirk he suddenly moves, changing the position.

I'm lifted, and my ankles lock behind his back, my hands grip his shoulders for support and my chest firmly presses against his.

"What..!?" I meekly whisper when I realise my weight alongside with his is solely balanced on his legs.

He is in a squatting position on my bed, basically about to fall over, but I'm relieved when one of his hands ends up against the wall for support. Now he is holding me up with one hand and I'm about to argue against this dangerous and unconventional position when our eyes meet. And I'm both breathless and speechless – for a first time I see the blue in them so intense and consistent, so sparkling and a real whirlpool of emotions, primal which is desire.

"Ready?" his hoarse voice makes me clench around him tighter and he growl with pleasure.

And then I'm delivered what I ordered. He's fast, by the human standards at least, and deep into me with a single trust and I only manage to moan before he's out and in again. The cycle repeats and with every single trust I moan louder, grip his shoulders stronger and feel some sort of connection form between us. By the time I'm nearing my release, images flash in front of my closed eyelids, not my memories, but his. He's pounding hard and I'm screaming from pleasure, my nails leaving red marks down his back; his face is buried in my neck, yet I feel his hot breath burning through my skin. The end is like I imagine an atomic explosion – out of nowhere, without a warning, and undermines your foundations, leaving you to fall apart. That's what happens – my release hits me like a tidal wave, and if it wasn't for Zeus I'd have fallen off of my own bed, probably breaking something. Yet he keeps me pressed against his chest, his own release not as noisy as mine, which is probably heard all around the city, but just as powerful. We are holding onto one another for support, the other being the only thing real enough to keep us at one-piece.

When I can finally breathe, I'm lying on my back. For a fraction of the second I think I imagined the whole thing, yet the strange feeling between my tights and the just as ragged breathing next to me prove me wrong. Turning my head to the side, and a second later my whole body, I look at Zeus. He is lying on his stomach, his face calm and at ease with no stress present. Somehow I'm not impressed when he just peeks at me and after making sure I'm fine closes his eyes and dozes off. 'So it is true that men fall asleep right after sex! And I thought it a fable.' Chuckling to myself I use the occasion to admire his body. Yet my expedition is cut short when I notice the red marks on his back. In a flash I'm up, my own pain forgotten and buried away, my whole existence focused on Zeus. His muscular back is now covered in long claw-like marks. The skin is mostly irritated, but there are places where it is bleeding.

"Holy fucking…" I whisper and manage to crawl out of the bed before limping to the bathroom where I grab a towel and wet it under the running water.

On the way back I throw on my T-shirt before stopping by the god's sleeping form. With the wet towel I brush away the blood. In his sleep he hisses but doesn't wake up. To my amazement a minute later the wounds are closing and the red marks are gone. I have to admit that upon completely disappearing, a feat of disappointment strikes me. Secretly I wished he'll have a mark from me. Just like I probably have from him. Shaking the silliness away and finding my way back to the bathroom I opt for a quick shower.

The warm water does miracles to my suddenly sore muscles, yet I know tomorrow I'll probably need a caretaker and a wheelchair if I want food or water or pretty much anything for that matter. However, that doesn't bother me even the slightest bit. Right now I just want to get the sweat off of me and go cuddle near Zeus.

"Mind if I join?" the sudden voice startles me and I almost slip.

Quick with the reflexes, the god of thunder catches me and steadies me on the two jelly sticks that are currently playing the role of my legs.

"Suit yourself." I smirk and go for my bath sponge but, again, he is faster and grabs hold of it before me.

"Since you are so generous to offer, I shall." he gives me his coy smirk, making me chuckle.

His movements prove to be gentle and caring once again as he washes my body.

"You know, it's quite unfair that your marks healed in the span of 5 minutes while I'll have to wear a scarf if I don't want people to think I have an abusive boyfriend." I muse while he gently cleans my legs, his concentration unbreakable.

"I'm sorry for your marks." he says, and despite not looking at me, I feel he means it.

"I'm not. Just sorry yours faded. I'd have stroked my ego to know that I left you a little bit less perfect for an hour or two. Not 5 minutes."

His response is laughter and a shake of his head, making his slightly damp hair bounce.

"God, I love that hair." I whisper.

"Ah, glad to hear." he responds and I roll my eyes.

After we are both showered and dried, and after a quick argument whether I should put at least a T-shit on, we go to bed and lay down, naked. I'm a snuggler by nature, so when I near him cautiously, he glances at me with the corner of his eye.

"Not the cuddle type?" I whisper, too tired to even raise my voice.

Instead of a response, I feel his hands embrace me and pull me closer to his chest. After comfortably nested near him and conveniently stealing his warmth, I remember I had to ask him a question.

"Do gods ever sweat?"

The rumble in his chest can be nothing else but a silent laugh.

"I'll take that as a 'no'. "

Feeling secure in his embrace, I let my lids close, and my mind shut down.