Aphrodite’s Choice - Chapter 62

Chapter 62 – What You Mean to Me

“Your grandfather?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, “He was heartless and evil. He tried to kill Hera and all her siblings, the Olympians. He confined his children because of his greed and his desire for power, in the fear that they would take his throne. In the end, his fears came true as Zeus ousted him and took the throne for himself. Lady Hera couldn’t stand her child looking like her tyrannical father.”

None of the other children, even those that were sired by Zeus with other women, ever resembled Kronos even remotely. Hera had felt shame and anger towards herself for birthing a child who resembled her evil father, so she poured all her hatred on poor young Hephaestus.

“That’s the only reason?” asked Aphrodite, incredulously.

“It seems to be a very strong one for her,” he said, “I don’t think she would have wanted to blame herself. Doesn’t fit with her personality. So I became her punching bag.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard,” she said, “It is hardly your fault, isn’t it? You can’t change your appearance any more than she can use her power to make her look like you. Why doesn’t she swing her magical wand and make you look like herself then, like Ares?” Aphrodite was seething in rage. “But if you looked like her or like Ares, I would never have liked you in the first place.”

“Is that so?” he said, with a smirk.

“Absolutely,” she said, “Can you imagine that whenever I looked at you, I would see Hera, or worse, Ares. You would be her darling boy, and would have been as spoilt and arrogant as Ares.”

Hephaestus smiled gently. He had accepted his fate so long ago that he held no resentment towards anybody. Aphrodite frowned. She felt upset by the way he was treated. And yet, he smiled. She would pay them back for it, every single one of them. She had all eternity at her disposal.

“But I would still have preferred a striking appearance,” he said, “if it meant I could catch your eyes at once.”

“Now why would you say that?” she said, confused.

“I feel embarrassed,” he said, looking at her, “I have never overcome my insecurities regarding my appearance. And you, you are so beautiful.” Aphrodite felt touched. She felt angry, too, at all the people who had ever shamed him. She would make them sorry.

“I was so insecure,” he continued, “That I went to Lord Zeus, as soon as there was talk of your marriage.”

“What?” she asked.

“I asked him to appoint me as your husband,” he said guiltily.

“You asked Zeus?” she said, eyebrows raised.

“I couldn’t tell if he had already found someone much better for you,” he said cautiously, knowing that she had the right to be angry at him. “I offered him a proposal in exchange for something that he wanted.”

She turned her head up to look at him. Everything fell into place like puzzle pieces. “So, on the wedding day…?” He avoided her gaze, ashamed.

“Yes,” he said, still not looking at her.

“You should have said something,” she said, and recalled him saying that he would respect her wishes if she wanted to break the marriage. “Well, you did say something, but not the whole truth.”

“I am so sorry,” he said, feeling guilty. “I won’t justify my actions. I was scared to lose you, but I shouldn’t have turned this into a bargain. I am telling you now, and I will abide by your wishes, whatever they may be.”

“Did you think I would just pack my bags and leave if you had told me?” she asked.

He remained silent, unable to meet her eyes. “Oh, come on,” she urged, “I, at the least, deserve an answer.”

“Yes,” he said, “Although it’s no justification, I was terrified at the thought of losing you again.”

“Well, now you know I am here, and I will never leave,” she said, “So don’t you lie to me again about anything, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, relieved. She pushed him down and sat atop him. She pressed her knee to his crotch.

“No matter how many times I say it, you won’t believe me,” she said, “Although I am partly to blame as well, for my own attitude towards you.”

He shook his dead. “None of it is your fault in the slightest.”

She was going to make up for the hurt that she, unknowingly, caused him because of not being able to recognize him. “You know, Hephaestus,” she implored.

“Yes?” he said, ever so obediently.

“Even if you have more to say,” she said seductively, “Can we pause for a while? I am not in a mood to talk anymore.” She trailed her hands through his chest, to his belly, to his manhood. Slightest touch from her fingers made him quiver, the formidable man reduced to a trembling mess at her hands.

“I think I need to show you more firmly,” she said sternly, “It’s the only way you will understand.”

“Understand what?” he said hoarsely, his voice low and rough.

She smirked. She rose a little, spread her legs and lowered herself slowly on his hard manhood, taking him in. She was on top of him now, rocking gently. He gasped. “What you mean to me,” she mumbled, “How satisfied I am with you, of course.”