Odysseus had been holding her for… Gods know how long. It was almost hilarious how ironic the situation was; Odysseus had ruthlessly slaughtered all 108 suitors, showing no mercy as he drew his bow again and again. But now? Here he was, curled up with his wife on the floor, shedding silent tears as he held her. Though, no one could blame the man; he obviously loved his wife more than the stars and heavens above, and after not seeing her for 20 excruciatingly long years, they had some serious closeness and affection to make up for.

They had since moved to their wedding bed, though they didn’t let go of each other for even a moment. Odysseus was holding and stroking Penelope’s face, Gods almighty, she was beautiful. Even with the age that had crept onto her face in his 20 years of absence, Odysseus still thought she was the most gorgeous thing to ever walk the earth. Though with each moment that passed, a thick cloud of tension was setting over the room. The longing in their eyes as they gazed at each other turned heavier — deeper. Now, needless to say, Odysseus was dead tired after his voyage and battle with Poseidon. But, for his wife? He would do anything. Anything.

Penelope’s lips parted softly, and she whispered an order in Odysseus’s ear. At her command, he immediately sat up without an ounce of hesitation. Penelope rose to her knees, hovering over him as she took his face in her hands. Odysseus’s breathing became heavier, his pupils blown as he started up at her with an expression that can only be described as infatuation and a burning cacoethes.

He felt weak — he looked weak. But he couldn’t bring himself to care, all that mattered in that moment was his wife. His beautiful wife. And he would let her do whatever she wanted.