really quick one Hermes x male reader
The wind whipped through the narrow Athens alleyway like it had somewhere better to be. You leaned against the cool stone wall, catching your breath after the chase, the stolen envelope tucked securely inside your jacket. Just a simple retrieval job. In and out. Nothing you hadn’t done a hundred times for clients who paid well and asked few questions.
A shimmer of gold caught the corner of your eye.
“You’re faster than most mortals,” a voice said, smooth as olive oil and twice as tempting. “But not faster than me.”
You turned, hand instinctively going to the knife at your belt, only to find a man leaning against the opposite wall with casual grace. Tall, lean, sun-kissed skin, and a mess of dark curls that looked like they’d been artfully tousled by the gods themselves. His eyes—bright, mischievous, the color of quicksilver—locked onto yours with open interest. A winged caduceus pin glinted on the lapel of his modern black jacket.
You’d heard the stories. Everyone in your line of work had. The patron of thieves, travelers, and anyone who liked to bend the rules. You hadn’t expected him to look quite so… edible.
“Most people don’t catch me mid-job,” you said, keeping your voice steady.
“Most people aren’t me.” He pushed off the wall and closed the distance in two lazy strides that somehow covered more ground than physics should allow. “Hermes. And you are…?”
You gave him your name. He tasted it on his tongue like fine wine, repeating it softly, then grinned.
“Pretty name for a pretty thief. What’s in the envelope, if I might ask?”
“None of your business, god or not.”
His laugh was bright and sudden, like bells in the marketplace. “I like you already.” He circled you slowly, wings on his ankles flickering into visibility for a moment—gleaming white and gold—before vanishing again. “Most mortals fall to their knees or run screaming. You’re glaring at me like I owe you money.”
“Maybe you do. You just cost me my getaway time.”
Hermes stopped in front of you, close enough that you could smell sun-warmed stone and something electric, like ozone before a storm. “Then let me make it up to you.”
Before you could answer, the world blurred.
One heartbeat you were in the alley. The next, you stood on a wide marble balcony overlooking a city that shimmered between ancient columns and neon lights—Athens as it had been, as it was now, layered like translucent parchment. The night air was warm, scented with jasmine and sea salt. Below, the lights of the modern city twinkled while distant torchlight flickered in memory.
Hermes leaned on the balustrade beside you, watching your reaction with open delight.
You swallowed, heart hammering. “Show-off.”
“Guilty.” He turned fully toward you, the playful mask slipping just enough to reveal something sharper, hungrier. “I’ve been watching you for weeks, you know. The way you move through crowds like smoke. The way you smile right before you break the rules. It’s… refreshing.”
You met his gaze. “And what does a god want with a mortal thief?”
“The same thing any god wants when something catches his eye.” Hermes reached out, slow enough that you could pull away. His fingers brushed your jaw, thumb tracing your lower lip. “To steal a little time. To be stolen in return, maybe.”
The touch sent heat racing down your spine. You caught his wrist, not pushing him away, but not letting him closer either. “I don’t do worship.”
“Good. I don’t want worship.” His voice dropped, playful tone edged with something darker, sweeter. “I want the man who outruns the consequences. The one who looks at divinity and sees a challenge.”
You pulled him in by the front of his jacket and kissed him.
He tasted like lightning and stolen honey. Hermes made a soft, surprised sound against your mouth—then melted into it, hands sliding into your hair as he pressed you back against the marble column. The kiss was fast and clever, just like him: teasing nips, deep strokes, laughter vibrating between your lips when you nipped back. His body was warm and solid against yours, deceptively strong.
When you broke apart for air, his eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown wide.
“Bold,” he murmured approvingly. “I like bold.”
You slid your hands under his jacket, mapping the lean muscle beneath. “Then keep up, god.”
This time you landed on soft sheets in a room that felt suspended between realms—starlight drifting through open arches, the distant sound of lyres and modern music layered together. Hermes’ hands were everywhere at once, efficient and reverent as he stripped your jacket, then your shirt. You returned the favor, pushing his clothes aside to reveal smooth skin and the faint shimmer of divine power just beneath the surface.
He was beautiful in a way that felt dangerous. Every line of him invited touch.
You mapped him with hands and mouth—collarbone, the dip of his hips, the sensitive spot just below his ribs that made him laugh breathlessly when you licked it. Hermes retaliated by flipping you beneath him with effortless strength, wings flickering into existence as he hovered over you.
“Beautiful mortal,” he whispered against your throat, teeth grazing skin. “Let me take you somewhere you’ve never been.”
The night stretched and contracted around you both. Hermes was playful even here—teasing you with slow touches until you growled his name, then giving you everything with sudden, overwhelming intensity. He moved like wind and mischief made flesh, hips rolling with a rhythm that felt both ancient and brand new. Every gasp, every moan he drew from you seemed to delight him. He whispered praise against your skin in languages long dead and languages yet to be born.
You gave as good as you got—rolling him over, pinning those quick hands above his head, watching silver eyes widen with surprised pleasure as you took control. Hermes arched beneath you with a broken sound that would ruin you for anyone else.
When release finally crashed over both of you, it felt like flying and falling at once.
Afterward, you lay tangled together, sweat cooling on your skin. Hermes traced idle patterns on your chest with a fingertip, wings draped loosely over the bed like silken blankets.
“Stay a while,” he said quietly. Not a command—a request. Rare, for a god.
You turned your head to look at him. The trickster’s smile was softer now, almost uncertain.
“Yeah,” you answered, brushing a curl from his forehead. “I think I will.”
Hermes’ grin returned, bright and wicked. “Good. Because I have so many more places to show you… and so many more rules to break together.”
Outside, the wind picked up again—playful, restless, carrying the promise of endless roads and stolen moments.
You smiled into the curve of his neck.
You couldn’t wait to run them with him.
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