Fill, Herc/Meg, 6/7
anonymous
August 8 2011, 00:07:17 UTC
Ty anon!
She loves him. She loves him, she loves him, she loves him. She doesn’t want to admit it, but something like that is awfully hard to contain. The sheer gravity of it terrifies her. She knows how the scene plays out, and she wants no part in it. Meg has been through all of this before. Or, at least she thinks she has. She’s had pale imitations of love; she’s gone through the motions. But she’s never had what they have now. And she’s certainly never met someone quite like Hercules. She ends up sighing like a school girl, clutching a pure white flower to her breast. She’s hopeless. She wants him every bit as much as he wants her, and there’s not a damn thing she can do about it.
“I don’t want this!” she screams. “I don’t want this, I don’t want this!”
He can barely form words, so great is the pleasure he’s experiencing. He can’t control himself as he moves inside of her again and again. The more grounded part of him, the part that has been noticeably absent during all of this, reminds him to be gentle. She isn’t built like him, and a hero would never do anything to hurt his beloved.
“You’re hurting me!” she chokes out. “Please...please!”
And he is. She’s not a virgin by any means, but he can feel her blood on him. ‘She’s not a virgin, but you still made her bleed. Think about what you are doing’, he reminds himself.
“It’s okay, Megara. I’m not like the guys who’ve hurt you. I really do love you,” he whispers, kissing away one of her tears. For some reason, that only makes her cry harder.
He really did love her. And she betrayed him. She played her part perfectly, and he’s left with the knowledge that he singlehandedly doomed Greece. Well, not singlehandedly per se. It takes two to tango. And as he’s being pummelled by a one eyed monster that should have posed him no threat, he can still think of nothing but Meg. And the worst part, the most difficult part to swallow, is that even as the Titans crush their way to Mount Olympus, to his father, he knows that she is worth it.
He’s close. He’s so very close. He’s thrusting faster and faster, and all intentions of being gentle or tender are out the window. He just needs her so bad, needs her to see him for who he really is. He knows who he is inside, but it doesn’t mean anything unless she does. Without that, this has all been for naught. He grabs her just beneath her shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
“Say it," he begs. “Say my name!” It isn’t so much a demand as a plea.
“Say my name, Megara!”
“Hercules!” his unlikely saviour screams as she shoves him out of harm’s way. And there it is. There is his undeniable proof that Meg really does love him. There is no act more pure than sacrificing yourself for the person you love. It’s the mark of a true hero, a field he’s beginning to think Meg surpasses him in. But he didn’t sign away his heroic integrity to Hades just so this woman could die for him. And he’ll be damned if their legend ends like this.
She loves him. She loves him, she loves him, she loves him. She doesn’t want to admit it, but something like that is awfully hard to contain. The sheer gravity of it terrifies her. She knows how the scene plays out, and she wants no part in it. Meg has been through all of this before. Or, at least she thinks she has. She’s had pale imitations of love; she’s gone through the motions. But she’s never had what they have now. And she’s certainly never met someone quite like Hercules. She ends up sighing like a school girl, clutching a pure white flower to her breast. She’s hopeless. She wants him every bit as much as he wants her, and there’s not a damn thing she can do about it.
“I don’t want this!” she screams. “I don’t want this, I don’t want this!”
He can barely form words, so great is the pleasure he’s experiencing. He can’t control himself as he moves inside of her again and again. The more grounded part of him, the part that has been noticeably absent during all of this, reminds him to be gentle. She isn’t built like him, and a hero would never do anything to hurt his beloved.
“You’re hurting me!” she chokes out. “Please...please!”
And he is. She’s not a virgin by any means, but he can feel her blood on him. ‘She’s not a virgin, but you still made her bleed. Think about what you are doing’, he reminds himself.
“It’s okay, Megara. I’m not like the guys who’ve hurt you. I really do love you,” he whispers, kissing away one of her tears. For some reason, that only makes her cry harder.
He really did love her. And she betrayed him. She played her part perfectly, and he’s left with the knowledge that he singlehandedly doomed Greece. Well, not singlehandedly per se. It takes two to tango. And as he’s being pummelled by a one eyed monster that should have posed him no threat, he can still think of nothing but Meg. And the worst part, the most difficult part to swallow, is that even as the Titans crush their way to Mount Olympus, to his father, he knows that she is worth it.
He’s close. He’s so very close. He’s thrusting faster and faster, and all intentions of being gentle or tender are out the window. He just needs her so bad, needs her to see him for who he really is. He knows who he is inside, but it doesn’t mean anything unless she does. Without that, this has all been for naught. He grabs her just beneath her shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
“Say it," he begs. “Say my name!” It isn’t so much a demand as a plea.
“Say my name, Megara!”
“Hercules!” his unlikely saviour screams as she shoves him out of harm’s way. And there it is. There is his undeniable proof that Meg really does love him. There is no act more pure than sacrificing yourself for the person you love. It’s the mark of a true hero, a field he’s beginning to think Meg surpasses him in. But he didn’t sign away his heroic integrity to Hades just so this woman could die for him. And he’ll be damned if their legend ends like this.
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