3. Where A Plan Is Laid Out （And Received Skeptically Thus Making The Empress Even More Tired…）
WHERE A PLAN IS LAID OUT (AND RECEIVED SKEPTICALLY THUS MAKING THE EMPRESS EVEN MORE TIRED…)
Hera took in the seductive, almost panther-like swagger as Nemesis made her presence known in the bar.
There was a lot to admire about a woman who wore knee-high boots, tight trousers, and suspenders.
Pair that with luxurious red hair flowing down her back, and you got yourself a steel dagger sheathed in velvet.
Hera liked her tools pretty. And this one was as pretty as they got. Hera reached for her drink and then reconsidered. She’d need cold water and a clear head before more vodka. The bartender deposited a tall glass dripping with condensation and clinking with ice near her elbow as if by magic.
Nemesis smirked and nodded in the general direction of the bears, who gingerly waved to her and got to their feet, heavy boots sounding muted on the wooden floor. When she winked, the shortest one fainted.
Hera thought that while the smirk and wink were dangerous, she didn’t need cold water just yet.
“It seems you have summoned me, Your Majesty?”
Well, the voice was an entirely different matter, wasn’t it? Water alone would not help her. Deadly was not strong enough to describe the low, deep tone that was completed by something akin to a purr.
The bears, to the tune of “Too sexy”, were disassembling what looked like a fire hydrant in the corner of the bar.
Nemesis helped herself to Hera’s water. Hera decided not to bristle, and certainly not to smite the Goddess of Vengeance just yet.
A tool. She needed a tool. This was the one.
“There’s no “seems” about it. I have summoned you, Revenge.”
Nemesis cocked an eyebrow, and Hera signaled the mesmerized bartender for more water. The bears were now dousing themselves from the firehose. Hera was beginning to understand the inclination.
A few months ago, Hera had had a moment of weakness. She chose to call it that. She also chose to remember it as that. And to her own immense chagrin, she had remembered it often.
It had started innocuously enough. Perhaps too innocuous. Hera should’ve known that a drinking and gambling match with the Goddess of Vengeance would lead nowhere good. Except it did. It led to Hera feeling so fucking good. And well, all due to the fact that said fucking was exceptionally good.
It was a party. Hermes threw it for some occasion or another, and Hera chose to attend despite knowing she would likely cause a stir simply by being there.
She was right. In the aftermath of Athena and Aphrodite’s romance, she had once again been declared persona non grata among the gods. None of them even considered the possibility that the two goddesses only got together because of her.
Well, Hera was not going to mention it. After all, she had never once claimed credit for any of her machinations. She always managed to claim the fault. Time is everlasting for fault and guilt.
She had felt maudlin at the damn party, surrounded by the gossiping Olympians, and was about to leave when a voice that was all velvet over dagger sounded low near her ear. So near, in fact, she could feel the lips almost caressing its shell.
“Do you really want to give them the satisfaction of watching you hightail it out of here?”
Nemesis was tall. Nemesis was gorgeous. And Nemesis was dangerous. Which meant she was always the most frightening and the most desirable guest at any event. She rarely attended, which made her stock rise even higher. Hera hadn’t seen her in ages.
“What would you have me do, Revenge?”
“Give them a show instead.”
Hera narrowed her eyes at the chiseled features and then decided she had enough caution to throw to the wind for eternities.
And so she did. They danced. Which caused the entire party to watch and whisper. Then they did shots, boisterously, competing with one another for the whole world to see. When Hera winked, Nemesis smiled, and the door of the bathroom loudly banged shut as Hera’s back was shoved roughly against it.
The kiss was violent, and Hera reveled in it, the scent of gunpowder mingling with tequila and lime on her tongue. She allowed her fingers to delve into the mahogany locks and pull. Nemesis’s answer was a bite to her lower lip, which in turn made Hera moan.
A stray—perhaps too stray to actually be such—thought intruded even as callused hands pulled up her skirt by inches and a palm dragged high up her thigh.
Why had she not done this eons ago? Where had this mouth and these hands been for ages?
Better late, as they said, and Hera was one to listen to popular wisdom. On occasion. Particularly on this occasion, as Nemesis had her pinned to the bathroom door, with the entire crowd of deities partying outside. She did not demand that Hera be quiet. Which in turn made Hera swallow her whimper.
“No, don’t hide. Don’t let them have the upper hand.
” Nemesis leaned in, her mouth again near Hera’s ear.
The hot tongue—so hot it felt almost unnatural when everything about this goddess was ice and patience—licked up from her neck to bite gently on her earlobe.
Hera allowed herself to exhale. And then, as fingers unceremoniously ripped her silky underwear, she forgot why the hell—fuck you, Hades—she thought keeping her silence was even an option.
Nemesis’s fingertips worked their way through her trimmed curls and down her wet slit, and Hera felt the bathroom tilt, just a little, just a touch.
She held her breath again, and Nemesis lifted her face to look at her.
To this day, Hera wondered what Nemesis had seen there, in her eyes, that stayed those fingers.
She had expected rough and fast. She had expected three fingers knuckle deep, stretching her, pulling her apart, making her gasp and scream; she had expected thrust after thrust, all hard enough to lift the door off its hinges.
She did not expect a gentle circling of her clit. She did not expect little kisses that peppered her jaw, her chin, her cheekbones. She did not expect, oh titans, Nemesis to fall to her knees in front of her and inhale.
It was, perhaps, the most erotic sight she had ever witnessed and one she never thought would involve her at all.
The Goddess of Revenge, all pale skin, sharp features, and hungry eyes leaning closer to smell her arousal before the look turned impossibly hungrier still, and the full lips descended on her.
That wicked mouth took her apart. She came fast, embarrassingly so, just like a woman who had not had anyone else make her come in… Well, too long. So long, Hera felt embarrassment was an insufficient emotion to cover the length of time since anyone had looked at her in awe, in desperation.
And Nemesis seemed desperate, desperate enough for her that after Hera came once, she was simply held up, hard hands against her hips, as the red, slick mouth kept going.
Lips sucked her clit in, the tongue worked its very tip, and Hera could have sworn the lights dimmed in the bathroom, her pulse hammering so hard, it was louder than the music outside.
And then… Well, then was when the real weakness came, Nemesis stood up, hands cradling Hera’s face, and kissed her, with none of the violence of their first. And tasting herself, Hera thought that she perhaps had never truly realized how actually dangerous this goddess was.
And so she pushed her away. Called her chorus of bears and allowed them to whisk her off, leaving without saying goodbye.
As one does after being so thoroughly fucked in the bathroom during Hermes’s party.
So yes, that moment of weakness was… nothing.
It was nothing. No matter how hot Nemesis’ eyes burned.
Hera chose to ignore the fire. Hera also chose to school her features.
No time for those memories. No time for those weaknesses.
Her plan was slowly but surely coming to fruition, and nothing would stand in her way.
“Let’s pretend I came because of the summons, Your Majesty.”
Nemesis drew out the title and extended a hand, palm up, gesturing for Hera to speak. Hera almost slapped the offending appendage. Nobody ordered her around.
Tool. Tool. Need her…
Hera gave the bears a sideways glance, and they made themselves scarce. Some conversations no ears needed to be privy to.
“You and I have a deal. And you’ve promised me a favor. I’m calling it in.”
Nemesis’s eyes went sharp as steel. Hera bit her lip, then let it go as Vengeance followed the movement with something akin to avid hunger.
Taking a deep breath, Hera continued. “I need you to destroy Zeus’ life. Completely ruin it.”
Nemesis let out a low whistle. Hera sat up straighter.
“If you say you cannot do it—”
“I didn’t. The bartender?” Nemesis motioned with her chin towards the scruffy man polishing glasses with a less-than-pristine rag.
“He can’t hear us from over there.”
Nemesis shrugged, then motioned the man closer.
“Whiskey. Neat. Whatever swill you call your best in this establishment.”
He complied almost instantly before retreating again to the furthest corner. When she was sure he was out of earshot, Nemesis finally looked Hera in the eyes.
“I have promised you a favor, and we’ve settled on the recompense.
” Hera shivered slightly. They had not technically “settled” on anything.
She had been fast and loose that night with her promises.
And really, when all was said and done, she would have nothing left to keep anyway. Nemesis could take it all.
A long-fingered hand lay on top of hers, stopping her own from tapping the bar.
She hadn’t been aware she was doing it. The touch was cold, like the eyes watching her.
“I’m not going to ask why you’re doing this.
Out of all the deities and mortals, you’d be the one with the biggest claim to Zeus’ ruin.
I’m just going to ask you if you’re certain. ”
Hera pushed the whiskey tumbler closer to Nemesis, her fingers pulling from under the cold ones and restlessly drawing circles in the condensation left behind.