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[styx_dot_com]

She closed her eyes when his thumb grazed her mouth. Phobos, she thought to herself. Phobos....His words burned holes into her chest and turned her heart to something painful. She knew it tore him up to offer her up to Moros, she knew it did, and the fact that he did it anyway... Those things that were twisted inside her, tightened even further.

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[phobos_dot_com]

He wound his arms about her, pressed a kiss softly to her hair. She would stay. For tonight, at least, she would stay whole and here and with him completely. And if that had to be enough, then he could accept that

[styx_dot_com]

She looked up in surprise. She had wanted to ask, and could not bring herself to do it. She didn't feel like she had the right, she didn't feel like she was truly welcomed, though Phobos' actions made it clear that she wasAnd then he urged her silent and still. She acquiesced, though she slid off his body and against his side, draping an arm and leg over his chest and thighs. Pillowing her head on his shoulder, she stayed quiet beside him. Her fingers slid down the opening of his shirt and slipped a couple of buttons free, to allow her to touch the smooth plane of his stomach

[phobos_dot_com]

Her touch reminded him gently, of other benefits to being alive. Her scent filled his nose, cool and resinous and rich, and Phobos wanted.

"You don't mind...?" he asked as he dismissed his clothes, giving a shiver of interest at the warmth of her through the slithery silk of her gown, "Bit tired of being dressed," he grinned at her quirked eyebrow, though his godhood was making its interest known. She'd seen him naked before, after all. And what Goddess would feel the least bit obligated by a bit of nudity?

[styx_dot_com]

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. He wasn't making it easy to behave. Her fingers moved of their own accord, dragging lengthwise down his stomach.

"Phobos," she warned, her voice all smoke and pulse and velvet, "Tease not this goddess. She will hold you to your silent promises."

[phobos_dot_com]

Oh good...

He released a smile into the gloom, and stretched like a cat. Like a large, golden haired cat with a purr in his throat.

"Tease? Tease implies an unwillingness to follow through," he responded, "I'm merely making an invitation... one I'd rather hoped you might be interested in taking?" He curled his hand around her waist, feeling how the muscle slid into curl of rib and swell of hip.

[styx_dot_com]

Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she fought momentarily against her reaction to him. But then his hand descended on that singular spot on her side, and she couldn't help but sigh.

There was something about his touch, something that made her light and fluttery...

She whispered hoarsely, "Accepted."

And there were a pair of balanced knives, razor sharp, delicate, elegant, waiting in leather sheathes beside Hate. She made no mention of them. Not yet. Not until she knew if he could use them... oh, she wanted him to.

[phobos_dot_com]

Oh, very very good indeed.

Gathering a handful of Styx' gown, Phobos reached across to take up a silken fistful on her other side, holding her eyes with an intent stare as he pulled the fabric tight, then ripped it from shoulder to hem in one low hum of destruction. Tiny threads wafted, spider-delicate across both their skins, and Phobos grinned as he rolled them over, and away from the sundered gown.

Her skin made him think of moonlight, and so the roof of his bedroom chambers flickered away, letting the elegant crescent to lightly silver the curves of her form. He followed the moonlight's path with his tongue.

[styx_dot_com]

She felt pinned by his gaze, as surely as if he had tied her still. She dare not move. And when he shredded her out of the silk that wound about her, her eyes went dark and hot. The violence in that one long tear pierced her with desire, and when he rolled her flat on her back, she was mewling.

But it got much worse, much worse, when she felt the heat of his mouth against her skin, trailing across her stomach, against her hip...

She begged him wordlessly, with the arching of her back, and the lifting of her hips, with her fingers at his back and her face turned to the side and buried in his lavender pillows.

She wanted more. She wanted darker things.

[phobos_dot_com]

He smiled against the softness of her belly, pressed her hips flat to the bed.

"Patience..." he said, "we'll get there. In the meantime, it's good to want things..." he paused to kiss her navel, "builds character."

He sat back, lifted one of her legs and stroked deeply with a thumb at the sensitive spot behind her knee. "Tell me, Goddess;" he rumbled, "when was the last time you begged?"

[styx_dot_com]

He stopped.

He stopped.

Oh, no, don't stop. No, no, don't stop...

His hands were strong and dominating and tolerated no movement from her, despite how much she tried, how much she wanted.

She spoke his name on a breath. And then... "Never... never..."

He had stopped. Trembling, she bit her lip, hard, drawing blood and not caring. Inwardly, she was already begging him, but she was still too possessed of pride to allow herself to verbalize it.

But she would do anything, anything to get him to bring out his vicious side. Let there be pain. It cleansed, in ways that nothing else could... and she wanted it, wanted it at the same time she wanted him. But she couldn't speak this.

Instead, she said his name again...

[phobos_dot_com]

And there it was, that glitter-shiver he knew so well. Under his hands she practically thrummed, and he smiled as he kenned the current's drift.

"Yes," he promised her, leaning over her to take up one of the sheathed knives. He ran the rounded end of the pommel along the tendon of her knee, and smiled at the sound she made. "we'll get there. And you'll beg me before we do."

And then he began in earnest.