Megaera wasn't like anyone else. No mortal, nor wretch could compare to the Fury. The way she handled fear and agony, without guilt or hesitation; as seamlessly as one might walk or breath. After all, It was in the titan blood she sprung from. The most potent and abled as the first-born.

But the mortal met her wrath willingly, despite the terror dancing in his gaze, death reflected in his piercing blue eyes. It was impressive, arousing. No matter how foolish he was to sneak close and bite down on her lip with his weak jaw and blunt teeth. "Hah—" Megaera sharply exhaled at the pinching throb, the stinging pain.

She dug her fingers into his back, nails piercing fragile skin, scraping down the expanse of his back, while rolling her hips into him. The gratifying friction as she slid up his cock, inciting the Fury's burning passion. Her other hand sliding up his chest over fabric—gliding over lithe muscle, ridges of his ribs. Her thumb brushed over his nipple. And she drew circles over it. How much stimulation could she subject him too until he could no longer bear it.