He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the bed. The red lingerie whispered against his fingers as he laid her down among the dark sheets, her single eye watching him with a mixture of longing and disbelief.
"You are really here," she murmured, as if afraid he would vanish.
"I am really here." He stretched out beside her, propped on one elbow, letting his gaze travel slowly down her body. "And I intend to stay."
His fingers traced the edge of the lace at her collarbone, following the delicate line of the strap down to the sheer cup that barely contained her breast. She shivered under his touch, her breath catching.
"You are staring."
"I am admiring." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then another to the curve of her neck. "There is a difference."
Her hand came up to touch his face, her fingers mapping his jaw, his cheek, the line of his lips. "I have watched you for so long. From afar. Through Tsubaki's stories. Through the rumors that spread through the city like wildfire." She smiled, soft and vulnerable. "I never imagined you would be here. Like this."
"Where else would I be?" He kissed her palm. "One of The most beautiful goddess in Orario finally invites me to her chambers, and you think I would say no?"
She laughed, a genuine sound that seemed to surprise even her. "You are terrible."
"I am honest." His hand slid down her side, feeling the curve of her waist, the flare of her hip. "Your body is a work of art, Hephaestus. Every inch of it."
She blushed...actually blushed, the color rising from her chest to her cheeks. "You do not have to say such things."
"I say them because they are true." He hooked a finger under the strap of her lingerie and slowly pulled it down her shoulder. "May I?"
She nodded, her throat working as she swallowed.
He took his time.
The red lace parted under his careful hands, revealing her inch by inch. Her breasts were full and firm, the nipples already peaked from his touch. He lowered his head and took one into his mouth, circling the tip with his tongue while his hand cupped the other.
She gasped, her back arching off the bed.
"Damien...."
He hummed against her skin, sending vibrations through her chest. She clutched at his hair, her fingers tangling in the dark strands, holding him to her as if afraid he might stop.
He had no intention of stopping.
He kissed his way down her stomach, following the trail of lace that still covered her hips. Her body trembled beneath him, every muscle taut with anticipation. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled.
The red lingerie joined the rest of their clothes on the floor.
He sat back and looked at her.
She lay before him, bare and beautiful, her scarred eye watching him with an intensity that bordered on desperation. Her body was everything he had imagined....soft curves and strong lines, the body of a woman who had spent centuries at the forge, yet retained a feminine softness that made his mouth water.
"Now you are staring," she whispered.
"Now I am worshipping."
He lowered himself between her legs, his shoulders pushing her thighs apart. She gasped when she realized his intent, her hands flying to his head.
"You do not have to...."
"I want to."
He kissed the inside of her thigh. Then higher. Then higher still.
Her protests dissolved into moans.
She was already wet, her body responding to him in ways she clearly had not expected. He tasted her slowly, learning her rhythms, her reactions, the places that made her cry out and the places that made her tremble. She was vocal in a way he had not anticipated—each moan, each gasp, each broken version of his name escaping her lips like a prayer.
When she came, it was with a sob, her body clenching around nothing as he held her through it.
He crawled up her body and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips.
"That was only the beginning," he murmured against her mouth.
She pulled him closer, her legs wrapping around his waist. "Then do not stop."
He entered her slowly.
She was tight—impossibly tight—her body resisting him even as she pulled him deeper. He paused, letting her adjust, pressing kisses to her face, her jaw, the scarred skin around her eye.
"Look at me," he said.
She opened her eye.
"I love you," he said. "Not despite the scar. Not because of it. I love you."
Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she was smiling.
"Show me," she whispered.
He did.
They moved together like forged steel and striking hammer....rhythmic, powerful, perfectly matched. Her nails raked down his back. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her onto him with each thrust. She wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper.
"More," she gasped. "Please....more...."
He flipped them over, settling her on top of him. She braced her hands on his chest, her hair falling around them like a curtain.
"Like this," he said. "Show me what you want."
She rode him with a intensity that surprised them both.
Her hips rolled, grinded, rose and fell in a rhythm that built and built until neither of them could speak. She was beautiful like this—hair wild, eye blazing, her scarred face a mask of pure, unfiltered pleasure. He watched her chase her release, watched her take what she needed from him without shame or hesitation.
When she came again, it triggered his own.
He pulled her down and buried himself deep, spilling inside her as she cried out against his neck.
They lay tangled together afterward, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped around her.
"I understand now," she said quietly.
"Understand what?"
"Why they all stay." She traced a finger along his collarbone. "Why Hestia never stops talking about you. Why Loki schemes to keep you close. Why Freya surrendered." She looked up at him. "You are not just powerful. You are not just kind. You are... present. Fully. Completely. When you are with someone, you are truly with them."
He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Is that so strange?"
"For a god?" She laughed softly. "Yes. We are always thinking of something else. Our next move. Our next conquest. Our next distraction." She placed her hand over his heart. "But you... you are here."
"I am here," he agreed. "And I will be here tomorrow. And the day after."
She closed her eye and smiled.
"I believe you."
He kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket over them both.
Outside, the city of Orario glittered in the darkness.
Inside, the Goddess of the Forge slept peacefully in the arms of her mortal king.
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