I moved to the base of the bed, got between his feet, and lifted the clubbed one into my lap to massage it. Hephaestus flinched, almost like he might pull the foot away, but I knew it wasn’t from pain. His eyes narrowed like he waited for me to flinch, but I kept on, digging my thumbs into the twisted ball of his foot, and smoothing my fingers up his ankle. He grunted, and I saw some of the tension begin to leave him. I could do this. I was the best. The best. Which meant giving and taking pleasure that celebrated love, beauty, and sex in tandem. Even with a god who others called ugly and
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