Indeed, a bath was refreshing. He did not remember much of this routine mortal act when he was in his forge, with the heat of the fire and his creations, with the fire crackling or the ice making the beaten and twisted metal squeak. Hephaestus walked unaided, but slowly. He had never looked at himself walking - it was not possible - but he had for himself that it was a funny and pitiful thing for a god to do. Irritated by the thoughts about himself as he walked with some difficulty to his room, he directed his thoughts to the goddess who was waiting for him. He didn't understand why Aphrodite was with him if he preferred his brother, their relationship was more than known. But she was with him, and that inflamed something in his chest. She hated the brother from the same mother in every way, and to have something Ares wanted was like hearing the whir of a well-made sword cutting through the air in a deadly graceful dance.
Aphrodite waited for Hephaestus eager to see his reaction when they lay together. She had never seen a god as fearful for such matters as Hephaestus who had already had mortals and tried to have a goddess. Which was not her. Gritting her teeth she stopped brushing her long hair, thinking about the rumor involving her husband and Zeus' favorite daughter made her exalted. She remembered Zeus getting too, his jealousy of Athena with any other man was evident, when she refused Poseidon and Hermes' various requests, even Apollo had asked. Ares hated her, for Zeus evidently preferred his warrior and wise daughter. She was beautiful, her hair golden like the sun's rays and gold, her skin white like the marble of Olympus' buildings, glistening and perfect, her eyes gray as storms; as physically similar to her mother but the genius of her father, but more controlled and more subtle. Athena was not a woman of easy understanding, what was going on in the goddess's head could be a thousand and one things at the same time of diverse subjects. Athena was the little fascination of Aphrodite, who was tempted - and more than willing - to make the goddess taste the fruit that she had forbidden herself.
Her thoughts returned to her husband when he burst through the bedroom door. Aphrodite stared at him through the mirror; long brown hair that reached almost halfway down his back was tangled and wet, his body still had shiny droplets of bathwater, the smell of herbs-of the Goddess's choosing-filled the room, his beard wet. She would have to work on her beard, maybe shrink it. When the god's eyes met hers he twitched, tension in his shoulders evident as his muscles tensed, Aphrodite could have sworn by the foamy ocean waves that the god's cheeks were red.
- Good. - she assessed, turning theatrically and saluting her husband with a satisfied smile.
Hephaestus didn't utter a single sound, his gaze traveling from the bed to Aphrodite, who delighted in it tenderly. Hephaestus would be a challenge, she had seen a glimmer of the fury in his eyes, of the burning, pining need. And she wanted that to be hers. But she wanted to make it more than just a night of wild madness - which would happen with Ares - she wanted something deeper, she wanted to break down the walls Hephaestus had erected around himself, thanks to his mother's rejection. She wanted to feel the warmth that the god of forges could emanate and provide for her. It would be subtle, calm, tender and ravishing. The best romances were like that.
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Tales from Olympus
RandomHistory of Olympus Aphrodite was a beautiful woman, goddess of love, beauty and sexuality. She was forced to marry Hephaestus, a god of iron and fire. After the forced marriage, the goddess Aphrodite fell in love with her husband's brother, Aries, t...