Chapter 40 #2
I stared at her, still struggling to comprehend that this same torturous longing could have been echoing inside her all this time.
“How long?” I breathed.
Penelope’s eyes softened. “Always, Melantho.”
I kissed her again, slower this time, deeper. I felt her lips parting for me, the warmth of her tongue tentatively brushing against my own. I wondered faintly if this were another dream that morning would soon rip away from me.
“Is this real?” The question was a dizzy chuckle.
“I pray it is,” Penelope replied, though I sensed a hesitancy in her voice.
I pulled back to look at her. “What is it?”
“I just…” She glanced away. “I am not well versed in any of this.”
Of course. Penelope had only ever lain with Odysseus, and that had been ten summers ago now.
“I’ve never been with someone…like this before,” I admitted, hoping my inexperience might ease her own.
“With a woman, you mean?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Does it feel…different?”
“It was always going to be different with you.”
Though “different” scarcely covered it, for this was nothing like those times before. With men, intimacy had always been a performance, a hollow role I disappeared into where I ceased to exist. But here, with Penelope, it was real, all of it, and the thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.
“We can stop if this is too much,” I added as gently as I could. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not…comfortable with.”
Penelope shook her head. Then she drew in a breath, holding it tightly in her chest. As her hands reached for the fastenings at her shoulder, I felt my anticipation slice through me like the keen edge of a blade.
Carefully, Penelope undid each one, letting her gown ripple to the floor, pooling around her feet.
I stared at her, bared before me, my mind scarcely able to comprehend such perfection. I thought she had unraveled me before, but this was truly my undoing—seeing her like this, dressed in nothing but silvery moonlight.
With trembling hands, I unfastened my own gown, letting it crumple beside hers. Penelope’s eyes widened slightly as her gaze dipped over me. For a while, we stood like that, not touching or speaking, just letting our eyes soak in the view they had been starved of for far too long.
My hand slipped into hers, but as I turned to lead her toward the bed, Penelope froze. Panic sparked through me. Had her doubts taken hold of her? Had I gone too far?
I kept staring straight ahead, too afraid to turn and risk seeing the regret stain Penelope’s eyes. Then I felt her fingers on my back, and I realized what had given her pause. My scars. Penelope had never seen them before, not up close like this. I had always been so careful to hide them from her.
She traced the length of each one in turn, fingers trembling.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered thickly.
I was about to reply, but then I felt her mouth following where her fingers had just traced, and everything inside me went quiet. It felt almost holy, the way she kissed each scar with such reverence, and I found my eyes closing as her lips soothed those old wounds, allowing them to heal anew.
“We were so young,” she whispered mournfully.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw her gaze had grown distant.
“We let the past take so much from us,” I murmured. “Don’t let it take this moment.”
She nodded, her eyes focusing on mine once more. Taking her hand again, I pulled her down to the bed, shifting us so we were lying side by side, the heat of our bare bodies melting together.
I took a moment to simply look at her. She was like a work of art, all those elegant curves and angles. A statue etched with exquisite, painstaking detail.
“You are so beautiful,” she said, stealing the words from my own lips.
I kissed her in reply, feeling her heartbeat flutter against my chest, harmonizing with my own.
“Can I touch you?” I whispered, and she smiled, nodding.
I started at her lips, tracing my fingers down and revisiting all those maddening places I had spoken of just before, then venturing farther still.
I felt her flesh pebble beneath my touch, her breath catching when I brushed particularly sensitive places—the underside of her breasts, the dip where her waist met her hips, the stretch of skin beneath her navel.
I was propped up on my elbow now, and I bowed my head so I could kiss her again.
This kiss was slower, deeper. I did not want to rush this.
I wanted to savor every moment for as long as I could, stretching out each sacred second.
I would’ve traded my very soul with the God of Time if it meant I could make this night last a lifetime.
As my hand moved farther down, I lifted my gaze to Penelope’s, looking for any sign of reluctance. But there was only an intense longing in those eyes, a need so intoxicatingly potent I felt a little dazed at the mere sight of it.
I traced my fingers up to the apex of her thighs, feeling the heat of her desire radiating between them. A silent question filled my gaze, and Penelope nodded as I carefully sank into the sweet warmth of her.
A gasp burst from her chest as her neck tipped backward, hands gripping me tighter.
“Is this all right?” I whispered against her lips.
“Yes.” The word was a breathless gulp.
I pushed a little deeper, and gods, she felt divine.
Like touching the heavens themselves. She let out a whimper, one that shivered through my very core, and I chased it with a kiss, wanting to taste the sound, to absorb every inch of it.
Her lips became frantic, hands clutching at my body as if she were amid a raging storm and I the sole raft keeping her afloat.
At some point, Penelope closed her eyes, and I studied her face, moving to the rhythm of her pleasure. Her body was like an exquisitely rare instrument, and I was learning all the ways to make it sing for me.
Penelope was breathing heavily now, and I sensed her cresting that wave, soaring upward, higher and higher.
Her hips arched against me, muscles coiling impossibly tight, making her entire body tremble.
She let out another cry, and I whispered her name into her hot, open mouth, repeating it like a prayer.
“Penelope, Penelope, Penelope.”
I felt the moment it hit her, that rush of release crashing into her body, shattering it completely. The sound that escaped her was like the music of the gods, so pure and divine it felt as though it should not be heard by mere mortal ears.
Her forehead was pressed into my neck, and she shuddered against me as the pleasure pulsed through her.
Then she melted into the pillows, and I watched her float back down to reality, savoring every detail.
She had never looked more beautiful to me than in this moment—body limp, hair fanned out around her like a wild, twisted crown, skin flushed and dusted with sweat.
To know I could do this, could bring her such satisfaction, filled me with unimaginable joy.
I could spend my entire life finding all the ways to make her look just like that.
Smiling, I stroked her hair. Such a simple action made wondrous by all the times I had denied myself this very urge.
“How did you do that?” The awe in her voice was enough to make me laugh.
“You speak as if that’s the first time you’ve—” I stopped myself, noticing the look in her eyes. “Oh. You mean, you’ve never…”
Penelope shook her head, a sudden shyness creeping over her.
“Not even by yourself?”
“I was always…afraid of letting my desires run free like that, even in my own mind.” She was watching me intently now, limpid eyes bright with curiosity. “Have you done that before…by yourself?”
I thought of all those sleepless nights I had lain awake, my mind crawling its way back to Penelope, no matter how many times I tried to distract myself.
“Yes,” I admitted before adding with a smile, “I never had your willpower.”
“I’m beginning to regret that willpower,” she muttered, her gaze gleaming with that mischief I so desperately adored. “Now I know what I have been denying myself.”
I took her hand in mine, kissing her fingertips. “I suppose we’ll just have to make up for lost time.”
Penelope mirrored my grin. “I suppose we will.”
***
I woke to warm sheets.
Dawn spilled through the windows, painting the morning in a drowsy, rosy hue.
I blinked, noticing the empty space beside me.
Penelope.
For a moment, I wondered if it had all been a dream, a beautiful, cruel dream. But then I saw her, sitting by the window. Outside, the flushed, erubescent sky softly wept, raindrops whispering like stolen secrets.
Penelope looked pensive, thoughts tightening across her face, furrowing her brow.
“Good morning,” I said a touch hesitantly.
She turned to me, and the sight of her smile was like that first flare of sunrise, chasing away the darkness.
“Good morning,” she replied.
We stared at each other, giddily shy in the face of everything we had shared the night before. I could hardly comprehend it and all that it meant. A part of me was afraid to, as if trying to make sense of this moment would risk shattering it completely.
“You snore when you sleep,” Penelope said, breaking the tension.
“I do not.”
“It’s a sweet snore. You had the same one when we were children.”
“Then why did you never mention it back then?” I challenged, folding my arms.
“Because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to sleep in my chamber if I told you.”
The admission made my heart swell.
“I still would have,” I murmured.
Her smile widened at that, but then I saw the corners of it catch on the edges of a thought. She turned to the window again, a quietness settling around her as she watched dawn continue to kiss the skies awake.
“What is it?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It is still early. You should get more rest.”
Wrapping myself in the pelts strewn over her bed, I padded across to where she sat. Carefully, I took her hand in mine, tracing the shredded skin around her nail beds.
“What is it?” I asked, gentler this time. When she did not immediately reply, I whispered, “Do you…regret it?”
“No.” She held my gaze. “Never.”
“But you feel guilty?”
She said nothing, though I could see the answer weighing in her eyes. I brought her fingers to my lips, planting a kiss against them.
“You know what men are like at war,” I murmured into her palm. “He will have taken concubines, captive women to warm his bed. Why does he deserve your loyalty when he would not give it in return?”
“Because the same rules do not govern husbands as they do wives.” She turned her face to the drizzling skies. “And I am still his wife.”
“And he is still the husband who left you alone for ten summers,” I countered, trying to ignore the sting of her words.
“It was not his choice to go.”
“But it was his choice to stay, to continue fighting in a futile war to feed another man’s ego.” My tone was harsher than I intended, so I kissed her hand again to soften my delivery. “He does not deserve your guilt.”
“It is not guilt.”
“Then what is it?”
Her hand fell away. “There are risks in what we are doing.”
“I know.”
“If anyone saw us—”
“Nobody saw us, Penelope.”
“You know Eurycleia patrols this palace like a hawk. What if she walked in now and saw you?”
“Eurycleia would never enter your bedchamber without permission, and besides, I am your handmaid. There are a hundred different reasons why I could be in here.”
She arched a brow, staring at the furs barely covering my body. “Dressed like that?”
I shrugged. “I could improvise a lie.”
Despite herself, Penelope smiled, though it vanished almost immediately. “If anything were to happen to you—”
“It won’t. We’ll be careful.”
“Melantho—”
I kissed her then, soft and slow, silencing her doubts. Warmth pooled in my core as Penelope’s hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer.
A knock came from Penelope’s door, and we recoiled from each other instantly, as if the sound had forcibly thrown us apart.
“It is all right,” Penelope said as panic gulped inside me. “Melantho? Listen to me. It is all right.”
Our eyes met, and I found comfort in the steadiness of her gaze.
“Who would be knocking at this time?”
“I do not know,” she admitted.
I moved to the corner of the room, hiding in the shadows as Penelope disappeared through the door, closing it quickly behind her. Muffled voices came from outside, too low to make out.
A few minutes passed before Penelope returned.
“Is everything all right?”
“An urgent council meeting has been called,” she said.
“Why?”
She shook her head. “I assume to do with the war. Perhaps there has been more news.”
“Are you worried?”
“Not until I am given reason to be.”
As I helped her dress, I began to feel the harsh edges of reality creeping in around us.
“What is it?” she asked, studying my face.
“When we step out that door, we step back into the real world.”
Penelope took my hands in hers, squeezing gently. “We never left it, Melantho. This is real, all of it.” She brushed a kiss against my lips. “I will return soon. Wait for me?”
“Always.”