Titans Rising – Vows

She pouts at me, and if she were standing, she would likely have stomped her foot. “T-that’s not fair!” “When has Love ever been fair?”

CW: Sexual descriptions, BDSM

Requests? She has requests?! It’s taking every ounce of my not exactly legendary control not to rip her clothes from her. 

Raising a brow, I press a knee next to her on the bed, leaning closer to her face, my voice a husky growl, “What are they?”

Her hands grip the sheets beneath her, and she worries her bottom lip, her eyes locking with mine, the iridescent colors flashing brightly as they do. “Do you promise to love me in sickness and in health?”

Fuck me, how could I have never realized it was her? She’s fucking perfect. 

“I do,” I whisper roughly, voice laden with heavy emotion. 

She leans forward, kissing one of my cheeks, her lips a whisper of softness against my skin, “Do you promise to be my faithful, honest, and loving husband?” 

She kisses my other cheek, and my voice cracks a little as I answer, “I do.” 

She pauses next to my ear, her whisper turning seductive, “Then I promise to obey your every command.”

Then she seals her lips to mine, saving me the need to answer. 

She pulls back a little too soon from me, and her eyes sparkle devilishly. “Oh, and I want to be choked.”

I’m sure you’re thinking, that doesn’t sound like the Clio I know, but here’s the part you must remember, appearances are deceiving. And you didn’t really think that my wife would be meek, I mean did you forget who she married? They got soulmates from us, you know. 

My hand reaches up to collar her throat lightly, growling, “What my wife wants, my wife gets.”

Her chin comes up, and I feel her pulse racing against my palm. “Thank you, sir.”

Fuck, how am I going to be able to tease her to a fever pitch, with her being so fucking obedient like that? 

With one hand collaring her, my other hand drifts down to her shirt, unbuttoning each of the tiny buttons carefully, my eyes locked on hers the entire time. “Do you know how long it’s been?”

Her eyes remain on mine, but her breathing accelerates the slower I go, and her fingers are tightening on the sheet beneath her. 

“How long?” she breathes, her voice hitching with desire. 

Leaning closer, I drag my mouth along her cheek, nipping her earlobe. “Two thousand years without you, I never touched another…how could they ever compare?”

She scoots closer to me on the bed, pressing her lower body against mine. I doubt she even realizes she’s rocking her hips against me. “Y-you must be aching to touch me.”

Of course, I fucking am. But I don’t say that. I need her desperate for me, till she begs for it, till she begs for me.

The last button of her shirt comes free, and her stomach quivers as I push her shirt and cardigan off her shoulders, throwing them to the side, not touching her skin the entire time. 

“Must I be?” 

Of course I am, Ive gone two thousand years without fucking someone and I’m the god of fucking! 

“Yes, you must.”

My hand ghosts along her neck, and the other hand palms one of my shortened arrows from my thigh holster, spinning it. Slipping the cold metal under one bra strap, the sensible white splits the second it touches the edge of one arrow. 

“Just because you are?”

She nods, her stomach muscles quivering, tilting her head to the side. “Y-yes.”

Dragging my arrow along her collarbone, the cold metal making her flush more, even as I use it to slice her other bra strap. “Two thousand years without you, I intend to savor every single moment with you.”

Her hands move from the sheets to my arms, trailing up and down them repeatedly, her legs spreading slightly. “I assume that means you’ll be teasing me all night, Sir.”

Fuck, I’m about to explode from her touch on my arms, how am I going to last all night? 

Because she deserves it. 

My arrow catches between her breasts, slicing down the middle, allowing the cut remnants to slide off her, holstering the arrow. “That is likely true.”

She pouts at me, and if she were standing, she would likely have stomped her foot. “T-that’s not fair!”

“When has Love ever been fair?”

 Releasing her, I step back, removing my bow and quiver, unstrapping the thigh holster of my shortened arrows, carefully laying them off to the side. I never, ever removed them, doing so now was a symbol of trust, that I’m sure was not lost on my wife.

She sits up, biting her lip, and the way her fingers are twitching, I can tell that she’s just resisting from reaching for me. 

“You have a point.”

Gripping the back of my t-shirt, I yank it over my head, ruffling my hair. “I usually do.” 

Dropping the shirt to the floor, I catch sight of Clio’s face, which has become even more flushed and her gaze locked on my chest.

“Forget what I look like?” I growl. 

Her face burns brighter. “Well it’s been two thousand years.” 

I unbutton my jeans, but I don’t pull them off, leaving them hanging loosely around my waist. Stepping forward, I trail the back of my fingers down her chest. “Seems like just yesterday…”

Her back arches in the air, and her eyes turn even more cloudy with lust, before my fingers catch on her slack button, taking them and her panties off in one smooth move.

God of Sex, remember? 

She leans back on her elbows, pouting. “Lykossssss….”

Gods, I hadn’t heard that nickname in millennia, how could I have not realized that my calling her lamb was as significant as her calling me a wolf?

“Yes, Aren?” I murmur, pressing my knee back on the bed to ghost my hand over her heated skin, not making contact. 

“P-please,” she whimpers.

“Please what?” I growl, my hands tracing down her curves again, her next words practically inaudible but have the definite ton of curse words. 

I smirk wickedly at her, standing back, slipping out of my jeans, I never wore underwear – far too constricting. “So impatient…”

“Can you blame me?” 

Not really, I’m torturing myself by torturing her. 

Leaning forward, I kiss her slowly, pressing her back in the bed as I do. 

“I had planned to torture you for hours, but I can seem to keep myself from you for long…”

But I can’t resist being inside her any longer, lining myself, I thrust inside her, hearing her sharp intake of breath when I do.

She moans loudly a moment later, and I pull out, only to press back inside. She gasps, “D-Don’t stop.”

My hand goes back to her delicate throat, tightening around it, my eyes locked on hers. “Never.” 

She gasps, “Fuck, Lykos.”

I smirk to myself, Clio never cursed, and the fact that she did for the first time with me inside her, made me inordinately pleased with myself. 

My delight turns to focus, moving my hand from her throat, grabbing her leg to hook on my shoulder, spreading her wider for me, as I pick up the pace. Her hands grip the sheets tighter beneath her, helpless beneath me. 

Her moans are becoming louder as I switch positions again, grasping her hips hard, spinning with her, leaving her straddling my lap. She rolls on me, keeping up the frantic pace, as lost for me as I am for her. “I. Love. You.”

My voice is caught in my throat at the love in her eyes, and my hands continue along her hips. “And I will always love you.” 

She shakes slightly, and I have to bite my inner cheek from finishing, she bites her lower lip. “Can I come?”

I groan out. “Already?”

Not that I’m not close behind; it’s been two thousand years, give me a break. I intend to make it up to her the next round, and the third and fourth…all the way into somewhere in the low hundreds.

“You may,” I groan out.

She tosses her head back as she comes, her grip on me making me follow, her entire body shaking with release.

She collapses on top of me, depleted of energy, both of our breaths raggedly punching through the veil of silence.


I’m not sure when I fall asleep, somewhere around round five or six, but I know I do. Because that’s when the nightmare that always haunts me begins.

Eros (Jeanette Rose)

Eros (Jeanette Rose)

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Jeanette Rose is the author of the paranormal romance series called Fated Loves. She became interested in the antics of the Pantheon when she majored in Classical Civilization with a minor in Latin from Tulane University. She then went on to get her Law Degree and obviously couldn’t function in the real world, so she got a third degree. At night, she continues working on the third installment for her series, and blog the exploits of the Greek God, Eros, for #ThePantheon #WritingCommunity Never Seen Die Hard!
Eros (Jeanette Rose)

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