He groaned, his fingers twitching by his sides, as though fighting the urge to grab her, to pull her into him and claim what he wanted. Penelope could see it in the way his body flexed, the tension coiling tighter in his muscles. But she held him there, just out of reach, watching his struggle, savoring it.
"You will beg," she said, a slight smile curving on her lips. "Just not yet."
Penelope slid her hand down the front of his tunic, pushing it aside slowly, trailing her fingers over the muscle of his chest, feeling the firm heat of him. He sucked in a breath at the touch, eyes flickering down to her fingers as if mesmerized.
Her smile widened as she unknotted the tie that held his tunic together. She was in complete control now.
"Stand up," she ordered, her voice low and commanding.
Odysseus hesitated for a beat… just a beat, but he obeyed, standing up and giving her the space she wanted. His eyes were glued to her, unwavering.
Penelope stood, taking in the sight of him, standing there, desperate, waiting for her. And she let the moment stretch, savoring the absolute silence between them.
"Sit," she commanded, her voice cutting through the stillness.
Without another word, Odysseus obeyed, his body moving with a fluid grace to sink down onto the bed. His breathing was heavier now, his desire painfully evident.
She moved slowly, straddling him, the tension in her movements unmistakable. The weight of the moment pressed in on them, every inch a test, every breath a challenge. She leaned forward, just enough to brush her lips against his… just enough to make him burn, but never enough to satisfy him.
"You’ll have to do better than that," she teased, her voice breathless with mock sweetness.
Odysseus gritted his teeth, the desperation in his eyes almost palpable. He reached for her, but Penelope stopped him, her hand coming up to his chest, holding him back just enough to feel the power she still commanded.
“Tell me, husband,” she moved her mouth to his ear, nipping at the lobe gently. “Tell me what you’re going to do once I let you touch me.”
She felt his hips rock gently, heard him inhale sharply. “Can I-” His hands hovered over her hips, trembling with desire withheld. “Can I touch you?”
“No,” she pressed a kiss to his pulse, running her tongue along the length of his throat. “Answer my question, husband.”
Odysseus groaned, low and guttural, his head falling back as if he were barely holding himself together. “Anything,” he ground out, voice rough with restraint. “I’ll do anything.”
Penelope hummed, amused, dragging her nails lightly over his shoulders, pushing his tunic down his arms, watching his muscles jump beneath her touch. “That’s not an answer,” she murmured.
His fingers clenched into fists at his sides. “I’ll worship you,” he rasped, voice raw, head tilting back toward her. “I’ll kiss every inch of your skin until you can’t remember your own name.” His breath was shallow, desperate. “I’ll make you tremble, make you cry out, make you begme-”
She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him, and his whole body shook. “Begyou?” she echoed, an amused lilt in her voice. “I don’t think so, my love.”
Odysseus let out a frustrated moan, his hands hovering by her thighs, aching for connection, but knowing better than to disobey. His restraint was breaking, cracking apart at the edges, and she could see it.
She could feel it.
“I’ve waited twenty years for you,” he murmured, voice thick with reverence. “And now you sit before me like a goddess demanding tribute.” His hands clenched. “Tell me, wife, what must I offer to earn my place at your feet?”
Penelope exhaled slowly, savoring his words. He was hers.
Finally.
Fully.
She cupped his jaw, tilting his face up to hers, thumb brushing over his bottom lip. “You’ve already given me everything,” she whispered. “But I want you to feel it, husband. To know that you belong to me as much as I belong to you.”
Odysseus swallowed hard, his entire body thrumming, about to snap.
“So,” she continued, voice silk and steel, “lie back.”
His eyes snapped to hers, dark with something primal. He hesitated for only a moment before obeying, lowering himself backwards onto the bed, his breathing ragged.
Penelope let the silence stretch, drinking him in, letting him feel every second of this moment. Then, finally, she moved, hovering over him, hands bracketing either side of his face as she looked down at him. “Good,” she whispered, her lips curving. “Now, you beg.”
