#so many times. so many times. what is it abt hades thats finally gotten me to break free from embarrassment and write rated m. (i know what)

[junietuesday]

working on a hades wip, angsting zagreus and his canonical lack of door KDHDKDHSJD. was supposed to be maybe 4-5k words but everytime i think that it ends up blowing up far past that :/ this is already 7k and i still have a scene and a half to finish off. anyways this happened to coincide w a massive megzag kick im on so take a few hundred words from my wip <3 rated m just be warned bc hadesgame always does this to me

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“I thought I told you to be quiet,” Megaera scolds, pulling away, and Zagreus gasps for breath. “You don’t have a damn door, Zagreus. The louder you are, the higher the risk of getting caught. As you pointed out, we’re not meant to be doing this.”

“You pointed it out first,” says Zagreus, glad that his voice comes out more-or-less steady. And then, coyly: “And doesn’t it reflect well on your talent if I can’t help but—”

“Zagreus, I will leave you here.”

“It’s not like it’s my fault I don’t have a door,” Zagreus says, and it comes out sharper than intended. But it’s difficult to keep up a flirty, positive attitude, faced with Megaera’s…Megaera-ness. “If you really were worried about it, we could’ve gone to your chambers instead. Since you’re so much more trustworthy and deserving of a door.”

“You think I’d let you in my personal chambers?” Megaera scoffs. “Don’t kid yourself. Now, enough of this—I don’t want any of your childish gripes.”

Childish. Kid. Senselessly, the words grate on his nerves. And so does being so carelessly dismissed.

“Look, I can take a little degradation, if that’s your thing—” it seems like it must be Megaera’s thing, if not really Zagreus’ “—but I really don’t appreciate all this talking down at me. You know, I technically outrank you.”

“So you’re pulling rank now, is that it,” Megaera says, low and scathing. “Well, Prince Zagreus, if you wanted me to treat you like an adult, you should’ve acted like one first.”

His title feels like a mockery in her mouth. Zagreus glares. His blood still burns, but in a heavier way, now. “I was under the impression that it was your job to make me grow up,” he snaps. “Any immaturity of mine is only a reflection on your poor performance.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me about my work performance,” Megaera snarls. “I’m Overseer for a reason. I earned that position through my own hard work. And what are you? A willful layabout, ungrateful for his coveted place in this House, granted it only through his parentage and nothing more.”

Silence. Zagreus’ feet flare with a flash of light, white-hot as his anger; praise the gods for fireproof bedding. Megaera would never let him hear the end of it otherwise. And isn’t it lovely that this is where his mind roams, fleeing the words that strike too close to home.

When Zagreus doesn’t respond, Megaera’s mouth twitches in an almost-smirk. “Nothing to say to that, huh,” she says, back to almost cordial now that she’s won. “Told you I’d shut you up, one way or another. Now.” With one hand, she reaches back down, and traces a line down his hip with her fingernail. With the other, she picks up her whip. “Unlike you, little man, I don’t leave a job unfinished. Let’s see how long you last.”

The answer to that, as it turns out, is not long at all. Zagreus trembles under her hands, and her mouth, and her whip. They’ve done this a number of times now, but he’s still not used to how intense it feels, compared to his own touch. Nonetheless, he tries to hold himself together, wanting to draw this out just a little longer—and, though he would never admit it aloud, wanting to save some scrap of face before Megaera.

“You’re being obstinate,” Megaera murmurs. “Always so damned stubborn. Just come already, Zagreus.”

And, with a moan, he does.

His feet burst into flames that lick up to his calves. His back arches against the bed, mind going deliciously blank. His awareness narrows to where Megaera’s skin meets his own; to where he and Megaera are the only two people in the world.

When he comes back to, Zagreus realizes that Megaera’s hand is pressed over his mouth. Firmly, but not painfully.

“Meg,” Zagreus pants, once he’s recovered his breath enough to speak. Her calloused palms are rough against his lips. “Let go.”

It takes a moment for Megaera to comply. When she removes her hand, she lets it drop to Zagreus’ waist.

“You were nearly shouting,” Megaera says softly, by way of explanation.

“Can’t help it.” Zagreus lets himself sink back into his mattress, feeling pleasantly loose-limbed and aching. “Not with you.”

“Tsch. I don’t want your flattery.” Regardless, Megaera starts moving against him, and the too-soon stimulation makes Zagreus hiss a breath through his teeth. “How about something more pleasurable for the both of us instead.”

She leans down closer to him, until their lips are brushing. Her periwinkle hair falls like a curtain around Zagreus’ face; he can hardly breathe.

“Stay like this,” she orders, the words pressing straight into his throat. He can almost taste her hot pink lipstick. “This way I’ll just swallow all the sounds you make, door or no door.”

Zagreus shivers. How can he refuse?