The impressive part about Prometheus' was that it was simply him. Hades could make anything at all, of course... And he had no doubts about the clarity or precision of his work. Hades was so caught up in his dance that he nearly forgot that he could exploit additional senses. He flooded the air with his scent, dropped his soul's barriers, and allowed his presence to truly overwhelm. The raw density of his soul and earnestness of his desire permeated the very aether.

He pressed his hands against those feelers, biting his lip as Prometheus' hot breath ghosted over his cock. "Do you want a taste?" Hades asked, voice soft, yet confident. With a flick of his wrist and tug of his hand, he magicked the air to grip and pull at Prometheus' cock in simultaneous puppetry of his motions.