Hercules: Navel Gazing (Patreon)

Hercules seized hold of the tumbling Omphalos, the navel of the world, and the world was suddenly…

Amadeus suddenly found himself in near darkness, being guided through a near total lack of light by Artume’s hand on his arm. The darkness wasn’t empty. There was a crowd around him and Artume was leading him through them. Whenever he brushed against someone, Amadeus felt soft, smooth, feminine flesh. Never any clothes. Just bare skin.

His mind was a blur of confused thoughts. Yes, he wanted to fuck Artume, even though he recalled something about her wanting to kill him and almost killing Delphyne. There was something cold in how demandingly she pulled at him; he had to wonder where he was being taken.

Halfway down the dim corridor, Amadeus stopped.

“What’s the matter?” Artume asked sarcastically. “Afraid you won’t measure up?”

Amadeus looked at the woman—her face looked surprisingly sensual with her tattoos and piercings hidden. Only the beauty of her showed in the soft light coming from up ahead.

Her comment disconcerted him. Measure up? Measure up to who?

Artume eased herself closer to him. Her body felt soft and pliant, even with all the muscles. She slid her hands down his body, one unzipping him, the other slipping slender fingers through his open fly. Her small hand went under his jockey shorts. Immediately, it wrapped around his cockhead. She squeezed, the pressure of her grip battling the heatedly throbbing hardness of his erection, and they both felt a droplet of precum dampen her palm.

Amadeus couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Her skin burned. This close, he could see it was flushed. He moved in again, and this time Artume met him, her lips touching to his. Then he thrust his tongue into her mouth with manly assertiveness. Artume didn’t do anything but let him.

“Follow me,” Artume told him. “There’s a bed just for us.”

“What’s your hurry?” Amadeus breathed into her ear. “You don’t have another puzzle for me to solve?”

“All I need you to figure out is which hole you want to fuck first,” Artume told him, and moved toward the half-opened door that awaited.

She walked ahead of him, turning on a light, and laid herself down on a big round bed in the center of the room. She wore a robe, so thin and sheer that it looked like a strong thought would strip it from her.

She’s certainly prepared, Amadeus thought, looking at the huge mirror on the wall that reflected the entire bed. Next to it was a small liquor cabinet of various bottles surrounding a bucket of ice.

“Fix me something.” Artume smiled and stretched her sculpted thighs over the mattress while fluffing a pillow behind her head. “I’d like something to wet my tongue before we get started. I hope it will be a long time before I drink again—and that there is much to quench my thirst.”

Amadeus assembled two drinks and took them onto the bed. In a gesture that was as brazen as it was seductive, Artume opened her robe, exposing the entirety of her abundantly curving body. Amadeus swallowed hard as he handed her a glass. She cooed a little as condensation dripped from the glass onto her bare kin.

“Take your clothes off,” she purred before drinking. “I want to know how much I’ll have to suck on it to get it hard enough to fuck me.”

Artume put her hands on his belt and Amadeus stood up from the bed, allowing her to work his slacks down to his knees. He took it from there, kicking off his pants and dropping his underwear too. Sitting down on the bed again, the gravity of what he was doing and who he was doing it with finally impacted. He felt short of breath.

Artume’s nipples, stiff and almost pointed, brushed clawingly across his back. They pressed into his shoulder blades along with the plump fullness of her breasts. Her hands swept down his stomach, nestling into his light pubic hair, then her legs extended past his midsection and wrapped around his trunk, her sculpted calves tangling with his legs.

Holding him from behind, Artume ran her hot, wet sex against his hips—groaning as the inflamed sensitivity of her clit rubbed on the musculature of his small, tight ass.

“Mmmm,” Artume sighed, jerking her pelvis harder, reaching around his waist to get at his swollen erection. “Now that I have it in my hand, I want it in my pussy even more.”

Amadeus looked in the mirror and it showed him the obscene position Artume had him in. Her legs hooked around his waist like a rider, sensuously working her way to ecstasy while he had to enjoy a near-total lack of sexual pleasure.

He only had the feeling of being used to go on—that and the feel of her hands at his manhood, almost scientifically rubbing and pulling at his blood-gorged prick. Squeezing her fingers experimentally into his bloated balls.

The lewd snarl of their bodies in the reflection seemed phantasmic. He could barely believe the soft tingle on his back was the crush of her breasts or that the stroking pressure on his member was her fast pumping hand. But there was no denying the tremors of pleasure that took possession of his clenched body.

He had to get his cock into her mouth… had to claim it before he went off… had to know that his cum was down her throat, becoming part of Artume’s body, marking her as this searing delight was marking him.

He needed to see her suckling him, his cock parting her full lips… hear the noise she made as she tasted his seed. No, he didn’t want that. He wanted to save every last spurt for the silky confines of her nice warm pussy.

Amadeus shifted his weight, feeling Artume tense her body like he was an opponent she might need to counter. Instead of wrestling him, though, her tongue traveled a teasing path along his neck. Amadeus ducked his head forward and flung himself lengthwise across the bed, flopping Artume onto the mattress beside him.

“No lights, no lights!” Artume cried out as she gasped for breath. “I want to suck you off in the dark… be the only thing you can sense…”

Amadeus reached over and switched off the lamp that illuminated the room. Dropping his weight back down on the bed, he felt her lips exploring his belly, following the trail of growing hirsuteness to where the dark curls of his pubic hair surrounded his endowment.

Her mouth lit up the head of his cock with an unerring kiss; Artume knew exactly how long he was, how far his tip traveled from the base of his groin. Slowly, she drew him into her mouth, sucking his rapidly hardening erection… moaning as she swallowed saliva tinged with his precum. Amadeus found that at this point, he didn’t care how much she enjoyed the taste of cock. He was too deep in rapture to care about anything except that this feeling kept going.