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Meg is lying on Zagreus’ bed, hands laced over her stomach, head hanging off the edge to watch him as he sharpens and oils his sword. He's focused, his tongue teasing the corner of his mouth. The whetstone sparks slightly with each blade against the blade, his eyes glimmering in the light. She is not a poet, but moments like this, he could draw it out of her.
He must notice her attention, because he glances up at her with a lopsided grin. “You're beautiful,” he says, as if it's the easiest thing to admit.
She rolls her eyes. “Flattery won't get you anywhere.”
“Oh, I don't know, Meg. Flattery's gotten me here, hasn't it?” he retorts, grin wider now.
“Focus on your work,” she replies, turning around to glare at him properly, flicking her ponytail back over her shoulder with a jerk of her chin.
“How am I meant to focus with such distracting company?” He gently tests the edge of his blade before setting it down beside him. He waggles his eyebrows at her. “I can think of several other things I'd rather be doing with my time.”
She snorts inelegantly, grinning. “Is that so? Do enlighten me, Zag.”
“I'd love to, Meg, but you're sat so far away.”
“Maybe you could move a little closer. I'm comfortable.” She unclips her hairpiece, letting her hair fall free about her shoulders with a coy smile. Zagreus is by her side so quickly he's left char marks in the carpet. He kneels on the floor by the bed, grinning hopefully up at her, and she rewards him with a kiss.
Meg will never tire of the way Zagreus melts into her kisses, the way he becomes soft and pliant in her hands. She strokes her fingers through his coarse, spiky hair, rubbing behind his ears, down his jaw. He hums against her lips, sweet and content.
He whines when she pulls away, not that she can blame him. “Up,” she orders, pulling him by the collar until he's spilled onto the bed beside her. She shoves him over and mounts him in a smooth movement, crouched over him like a predator. In a low voice, more growled breath than sound, she says, “better.”
Zagreus whimpers.
It's all the prompting Meg needs to descend on him, kissing him hard and hot and heavy. He whines, trying to keep up, his hands coming up to rest on her hips. She grabs them, forcing them down over his head, pressing them into the mattress, a wordless order to keep them there. He keens, high and needy, back arching, craving more contact even with her all over him. She takes a fistful of his head, twisting his head into the mattress.
“Stay,” she growls, soft and dangerous. His hips writhe in desperation, but he keeps his upper half as still as possible. She grins, haloed by the green lights overhead, looking every inch the harbinger of justice that she is. She leans back, grinding purposefully against his cock as she sits up in a long stretch, her arms raised above her, emphasizing every long and beautiful curve of her body, from her arms to her breasts to her waist. She strips quickly, not bothering with putting on a show and Zagreus realizes she's just as desperate as he is.
And if her haste hadn't given her away, the wetness of her cunt as she lifts it above his face definitely does. He sighs happily, relaxing his jaw as he lifts his face to her, licking an eager stripe against her folds. He feels her thighs shudder as he does, and she lowers onto his face properly, rutting against his face as he eagerly eats her out.
Her hands quickly move to take hold of his hair, pulling roughly at the roots as her moans pick up in pitch. “Just like that, Zag,” she groans, her voice rough with arousal, “good boy.”
He fails to repress a shudder, the praise going straight to his cock. She hisses, pinning his head back and pulling off of him. “No,” she huffs. “Not yet. I want to break you first.”
Zagreus can't quite bite back his eager grin at that. Meg rolls her eyes, climbing off his lap.
“Strip,” she orders, sitting comfortably on the bed. Zagreus scrambles to obey, rushing to his feet and tearing off his clothes as quickly as possible, tripping over his feet as he does. She hides a laugh behind her hand as she watches him, lounging back on the bed, one hand dipping casually off the edge to retrieve something from the chest at the foot of his bed. He eagerly crawls back onto the mattress once he’s shaken his leggings off, wiggling his ass as temptingly as he can. Meg smacks him, shoving him until he turns over onto his back and she can climb over him once more.
She grabs his wrists, pinning them back over his head, and rubs the head of her strap-on against him. “Are you ready?”
He nods, eager. “Please, Meg,” he whines, breathy. “I’ve been good, right?”
She laughs, stroking his face. “You have been, little man. Very good. Which means you deserve a reward, don’t you?”
He nods desperately, spreading his legs as far as possible. Meg slides between his thighs, lifting them over her shoulders as she lines her strap up with his cunt. She gently presses it against him, pushing into him. He whines, arching up against her as she begins fucking into him. He grabs the sheets over his head, trying to stop himself from grabbing her as she continues to fuck into him.
He can feel himself getting closer and closer, his dick pulsing with each stroke of her cock in him. He knows she’s desperate too, can feel it in the way her hips twitch at the end of each roll. If he could just touch his cock, or rub against her clit–
Zagreus moves his hand down to his crotch, his hand movements desperate and rough, he’s so close, he can feel his orgasm cresting–
Meg grabs his hand, pinning it back over his head, and growls down at him, biting down at his throat, hard. He comes with a shout, squirting over her cock, his hips twitching involuntarily with the force of his orgasm as his vision whites out.
When he comes to, Meg is curled up next to him. Her strap-on has been put away, both of them wiped down and tidied up. She’s half-asleep, the green light softening the lines of her face. She’s so beautiful like this, Zagreus wishes he’d learnt poetry when he had the chance.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, earnest and sweet. Meg’s cheeks blush dark blue, but she rolls her eyes, avoiding his gaze.
“Shut up,” she growls, grabbing him and pulling him close, burying her face in his chest. He laughs, holding her gently, burying his face in her soft blue hair, falling asleep to the feeling of her breaths against his heart.