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Unlike many of the disguises Hercules had sported, particularly in recent months, wearing Superboy’s face felt right. It was compatible with his own self-image: a handsome hero, big and strong, durable and enduring and half-God. Two men of myth overcoming infinite challenges and returning triumphant in the end, no matter how long it took or how much they suffered.
He held no ill-will towards the boy. If he bothered to have an opinion, it was probably more like a professional respect. Hercules was borrowing his face for reasons entirely unrelated to revenge. Reasons that had nothing to do with Superboy at all.
Cassandra is warm and relaxed in his arms, sighing into his chest. He’s had his fun dominating women, but it feels just as good, maybe better, to protect them like this. It’s similar to the feeling of holding Megara all those centuries ago, when he shielded her from danger with his hands, before he took her life with them.
He’s adopted enough names that it doesn’t even aggravate him, how Cassie’s calling him Kon at the moment, and she’s saying it with so much relief and love it’s like the nickname was always meant for Hercules, anyway.
He kisses her because he wants to, first and foremost, but also strategically, to avoid conversation. The longer they interact, the more likely she is to pick up on discrepancies and become suspicious of him. Superboy’s resurrection is fresh enough to explain away any lingering awkwardness or abnormalities for now, but his window of opportunity is small, and Cassie won’t stay in this fog of emotional vulnerability forever. She’s a strong girl, still growing.
He’d hoped she was a virgin. As the kiss deepens and clothes come off, it becomes apparent she’s not, though only barely. Her actions are still clumsy and inexpert. Following her lead, Hercules handles her gently, despite the opposite being more of a concern. He pretends it isn’t; her power is admirable, but it’s simply unnatural for a woman to possess more strength than her man.
She declares her love for him as the foreplay progresses, so Hercules parrots the sentiment back, though he’s not sure if he loves her like a wife or a sister or both. Regardless, he dreams of loving her as the mother of his children, as the progenitor of a new Olympus, and if all goes according to plan, that dream would become a stunning reality.
It’s been a long, long time since a girl’s looked at Hercules like Cassie does, with adoration instead of disgust or fear--and come to think of it, the last time was in similar circumstances, back when Diana believed he was Harold Champion. It’s a shame she never recovered from that whole affair; he would’ve treated her right, made up for the betrayal tenfold. He supposed it was impossible for her to keep an unbiased perspective on the situation, her mother being Hippolyta and all. That woman could certainly hold a grudge.
Cassie was different from Diana, though, less hardened and more naive. Softer. Diana didn’t share blood with Hercules like Cassie did, couldn’t understand the innate bond of two warriors with Zeus running through their veins, two kindred souls in the pantheon of his bastard children. Cassie would understand, eventually, just like the first time he had to deceive her. She probably even knew it was him deep down, and was just too embarrassed to admit it. Teenage girls could be like that, sometimes.
She places a hand on his chest, breaking the kiss. “Wait, I -- we need a condom.”
“I’ll pull out,” he says, and it’s as much of a promise as it is a lie.
She nods, clearly hesitant, but eyes bursting with trust, and, oh--she’s beautiful. His little sister is so beautiful, on par with Aphrodite or Helen. He knows, with steel certainty, their children will be just as gorgeous as she is.