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Hermes stares at his associate, and the sparkling gift he’s being presented. It’s a pair of shoes.
Golden, glittering shoes.
“That’s a pretty swanky gift, boss.” Hermes breathes, eyes wide as he leans in closer for a better look. Fluttering around Charon’s outstretched arms, gazing at them from every angle.
They are indeed golden, though not entirely metal. The soles for instance, are butter soft leather. It’s almost superfine velvet under Hermes' fingers when he touches them. Charon is patient, though thrumming with self-satisfaction as Hermes touches and explores his present.
From the soles rise gilded filigree, twisting artfully into the air, in a perfect shape of his calf. Periodically the filigree flares into beaten shapes of leaves, or flowers, with tiny inlaid jewels for petals. They don’t exactly look very comfortable but considering who made them, it’s safe to assume they’ll fit like a well worn glove.
“When you said you had a message for Hephaestus, this was… not what I expected,” he gingerly takes them from Charon, feeling them over. He hopes that his lover can’t hear that his fluttering heart has outstripped that of his wings. “Not that reaching out to him at all was something I ever expected, I mean nobody down here has much to say to the ol’ family, not that they don’t deserve it, though Hepaestus has never hurt anybody, he needs more friends-”
He ends his tirade with a sharp intake of breath, before his train of thought can derail further. Instead his lips tug into a smile and he ducks beneath the shelter of Charon’s hat, pressing a kiss to his teeth.
“They’re beautiful,” He murmurs, not quite pulling away. “Thank you.”
The purple eyes swirl, brightened under Hermes' scrutiny. A puff of smoke floats away and Charon gives a soft groan. A soft giggle escapes Hermes' lips and he presses in again for another kiss, this time a large ringed hand combing through his hair to pull him closer.
They kiss slowly, but deeply. Basking in their adoration of one another, in these shared moments that are becoming increasingly hard to come by.
Hermes' heart is in his throat when they finally pull away, his eyes softened and sweet. A low rumble echoes through the temple, so low to almost be a purr.
“Guess I should try these on then,” Reclining in the air, Hermes reaches for his shoe-
A hand closes around his wrist, holding him fast.
“Hhhrrrrooo”
Let me.
Lips quirk into a wry grin, and Hermes reclines back, holding himself in the air. He offers Charon his foot, a go on then insinuated with a gentle prod to the boatman’s sternum.
His boots are carefully pried off, Charon ducking to to place them beside his oar. Newly bared to him, Charon works his fingers into Hermes' skin, massaging into the arch of his feet. Hermes' teeth pluck at his bottom lip and a soft sigh escapes his lips. He falls back in his recline as Charon's touch pulls the fatigue from his limbs.
"Anyone ever tell you you're rather good with your hands?" He laughs into the empty temple. There's a short huff from his associate, who ducks to place an adoring kiss to his ankle. "Not that I'm complaining, but what's brought this on?"
"Hrrrroooo?"
Do I need a reason?
Hermes laughs, again, a bright tinny of sound.
"Guess not boss, but I didn't bring you anything."
"Hooouu"
Didn't need to.
Teeth graze up the bare skin of Herme’s calf, nipping sporadically. Reverent hands travel from the heels of his feet, to an ankle, past the calf and rounding a thick thigh. Hermes hums, a shiver alighting over his already sensitive skin as he basks in the slow worship of his associate.
When the shoes are finally clasped closed around his calf, Charon continues to cradle his foot to his chest like a fragile, tiny thing. He hefts the gilded foot, a question in his tilted head..
"Krak haa…"
How they they feel?
They feel amazing of course, as would anything made by Hephaestus. Hermes illustrates this with a lazy roll of his ankle..
"You have impeccable taste, boss. Its like I was born for them."
Glee glimmers in Charin's glowing eyes. Hermes draws his foot up his broad chest to trace along a sharp jaw before finally kicking the wide brimmed hat from his head. The thing flutters to the ground without so much as a passing glance from it’s owner, so transfixed was he on the god before him.
“You know,” He rests his foot atop Charon’s shoulder. His wings slow, the weight on his body incrementally building. Clutching a gilded ankle, Charon follows the push, lowering himself to the floor, first to a kneel before falling into a sprawl on the floor. Golden wings are barely moving, barely holding the god up, and Charon almost looks overjoyed to have the full weight of Hermes standing on his chest. “I’m beginning to think this gift was more for you than me.”
He’s answered with a high hiss and a pillowy puff of smoke. Thumbs rub circles into what exposed skin they can reach.
“Graaahaaaa…”
“Yes, I know,” Hermes grins down at the all too-pleased boatman. “You’re not as clever as you think, my fine friend. Saw right through your little ruse. “
His wings finally slow to a complete stop, leaving the full weight of Hermes to converge upon Charon, drawing a wheeze. Long tongues of smoke ooze from between his teeth and he gazes adoringly up the line of Hermes’ strong legs. Golden rings catch on the jewels of the filigree as he skates fingertips up his leg, over his thigh. Beneath the hem of his chiton, Charon finds only more bare skin.
He manages a low croon of appreciation. His touch circles to the front, drawing to the juncture between Hernes' legs before strong thighs clamp shut, trapping his hand between them.
"Don't think so boss," Hermes says, voice hitched. A light brush of pink on his cheek. He's apologetic as he draws Charons hand away, his legs spreading to either side of him so that he can sit upon the robed stomach. He presses kisses into Charon's palm.
"Not today, love. You and I both know we don't have the time."
Charon doesn't want to agree, not with the beautiful body sitting warm on top of him.
"Kraaagh, kkaa"
"Next time, of course next time," Hermes promises. He indulges then, settling fully on top of his lover to press just a few more kisses to exposed teeth, a dry cheek. Savoring the grip of those hands on his hips. Tries to ignore very apparent appreciation pressing into his abdomen.
Slowly, reluctantly, he pulls away. Plucks Charon’s hat from the floor to return it to it's rightful place. They're slightly breathless as they right themselves, cooling the ichor hammering inside them, heated gazes fixed on one another.
"I need to go," He says, like its Charons fault that he lingers. His lover nods in agreement, and draws in for one last kiss. Quick and chaste, before Hermes at last flits away. Next time. There will always be a next time.