Chapter 25 #2
For the life of him, no one’s appraisal has ever cut like hers. No one’s attention has been this coveted or hard-won. For this alone, he worships and loathes this female.
Seething, Envy rends the buttons of Sorrow vest and hurls the garment to the raft’s deck. Her pale tits spill into the sultry eventide air. The shadowed crescents are shaped like teardrops, the rosy nipples dark and cinched, the raw flesh perking.
Envy’s mouth waters. A preying noise grits from his lungs as if he’s about to shift from a dandified god into an alpha werewolf.
Moderation is his secret weapon. Sensuality is his super power.
Both fail Envy, his patience decomposing in the span of seconds. He’s waited long enough to break in this goddess.
Roping his arms around her, Envy sears his lips over the tips.
Sorrow bleats, the shocked cacophony peeling through the soggy atmosphere, so powerful it could rustle the shags of moss dripping from the swamp trees.
Her fingers grapple his hair, shoving his mouth fully around her nipple.
A victorious growl skids from his throat, his lips clamping down and sucking.
As the goddess grinds her cunt into his cock, Envy’s free palm trails down her skirt, crushing the layers in his grip before ducking beneath the hem.
Raking his hand up her thigh, he tracks the sweltering air radiating from her skin, its damp thickness not unlike the humidity suffocating this marshland.
It’s an indication of heat, according to speculation among their kind.
Though, Sorrow’s warmth is far less oppressive than the moonlit bog surrounding them.
Oh, but Envy’s theory had better fucking be true. Because that means Sorrow is melting as quickly as candlewax.
His fingers locate the cramped sprigs of hair. Brushing through them, the slender line of her cunt lands in his palm, the groove soaked and swollen.
“Fuck,” he rasps.
His breathing frays. Territorial hunger burns a hole in his stomach, to say little of his bloated balls. Stars have pity, her naked pussy is sitting in his hand, liquid splashing from the seam.
So tight. So slick.
Sorrow unleashes a plaintive cry. The reverberation shreds through her as if she’s made of paper. Yet he knows better. This goddess had been forged of sterner elements, the kinds that last forever.
Her moan blasts through the treetops. In a maddening reflex, her thighs part wider, opening the rift for his hand to encase that compact pussy.
With a groan, Envy murmurs, “You’re wetter than my tongue.”
“I…” She licks her lips. “I detest you.”
“Are you sure? That’s not what this pussy is telling me.”
“That’s because my body is a traitor. And your hand is an asshole.”
“But how much hostile fun they might have together.” His angry thumb circles the inflated crest of her clit. “Would you like me to stop?”
He will, if she says so. Yet the bane of his existence whines from his touch, her slim lips glazing his fingers as he dabs at the pleat. Although her expression combusts with rage, that treacherous complexion drowns in pink.
So be it. They’re both victims and orchestrators of this havoc.
Between them, a greedy coil of tension springs apart. His cock throbs and broadens, its width shoving against the front of his pants.
Eyes the color of tears narrow on him, insisting, Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you—
“Fuck me,” she hisses, gripping his collar and biting his lower lip.
With another livid growl, Envy launches Sorrow against him.
His mouth assaults the divot between her clavicles, the salt of her perspiration stinging his tongue.
Then his aching canines go for the ramps of her shoulders and down the ravine of her tits before seizing the opposite nipple.
His pursed lips suction around the bud, wracking her frame with tremors.
At the same time, his fingers do damage to her seeping pussy. His touch runs back and forth along the split, etching her labia and clit until she’s good and drenched. Presumably against her better judgement, Sorrow oozes down to his knuckles, and her cries pour out like steam.
Rather than behave like a skilled lover, doing this the civil and prolonged way, Envy makes a judgement call.
Sensuality has no place here. While it’s tempting to jam his fingers between those cramped walls and fill her to the brink, to jut his hand in and out like the obsessed closet-maniac she turned him into eons ago, that breed of anarchy isn’t going to pacify Envy’s craving.
For this female has accomplished something no other conquest has.
She’s drained him of pacing, patience, and pride.
By the Fates, someday she might kill him with a corrosive look, a flick of her tongue, or something more brutal. Something like indifference.
But before that happens, he’s going to give this goddess the earth-shattering downfall she deserves. He’ll leave his mark on Sorrow, making her come so furiously she’ll never forget it, no matter how much she tries to.
Besides, she’s just as eager to damn him. So let this be mutual.
Once Sorrow’s thoroughly flushed, and her cunt is leaking steadily, Envy’s mouth tips into a smirk. But just as fast, his grin drops. It falls off his face as Sorrow makes a countermove, one soft hand releasing his scalp and grabbing hold of his cock.
Through the trousers, her fingers strap around the heavy column, executing a chokehold worse than the one she’s had on him for millennia. Her stretched palm encircles his dick, siphoning from the sac to his flared head.
Whereas Envy’s actual head explodes. The epicenter of rational thought detonates on contact, blasting to smithereens and morphing him into a fully-fledged brute. Blood races to his erection, which enlarges further in her grasp.
Triumph wrings Sorrow’s lips into a smile. Those silver irises gleam with malicious desire. And perhaps a tinge of awe or yearning, those possibilities trembling through her pupils too swiftly to process.
As if this hurts too. As if she’s only ever used to hurting.
Envy hates the thought. It makes him want to slash his own throat for causing that look. Though, he can’t say why.
Strictly speaking, the only acceptable things she should feel are lust or fury. That will keep her strong and him satisfied.
Sorrow’s hand gropes him, her thumb sweeping over the head like a well-placed killing blow. And by the Fates, Envy’s defeated.
With a snarl, he digs his hands into her ass.
Coming to an urgent agreement, he thrusts her down in a desperate, disdainful craze of movement.
The raft and bed jolt, crickets play a jagged melody that saws through the night like a set of broken violins, and muggy water sloshes over the surrounding reeds.
His knees embed into the mattress, the agony torturous and then a relief when he tears open his pants, his cock rising high and hard. Veins pulse from the column, his sac hangs low, and a bead of cum pushes to the surface of his crown.
At the last moment, Sorrow averts her eyes. The goddess twists before viewing a single inch of his ruddy flesh, as though she can’t bear to look at Envy, to internalize who’s about to fuck her. The action is merciful and terrible, puncturing his chest for reasons unknown.
Envy’s nowhere near as repentant. When Sorrow bends on all fours like a feline in heat and flips the multiple layers of her skirt over both hips, there’s no way in the fiery pits of hell he’s going to divert his gaze.
Those smooth thighs vent open, exposing the trench of her body. The half-moon arches of her ass. The gloss of her pussy, the glistening flanks, the impertinent clit, and that small dark spot in the center. Every plush contour splays out like a banquet, parching his tongue.
Prostrating himself, Envy basks in the sight like an extremist before the altar.
This is the part where he’d dip his head and lave that pussy with his tongue, pleasuring her until she’s sated and ready to be fucked.
Almighty Stars, he would stay kneeling for the rest of his infernal days, for however long it took.
That’s what would happen if she asked, if she wanted…
With her luscious ass anchored, Sorrow glares toward the swamp. “Hurry.”
The demand tears Envy from his stupor, a sinful glower pulling down his features. Hurry, this goddess says? He couldn’t agree more.
Get it over with. Get her out of his system.
Now.
Stooping before her, Envy shackles Sorrow’s waist. He tilts his cock, angling the pome against the hollow of her cunt, sliding his cum over her opening, smearing his arousal with hers.
A strained noise cracks from Sorrow’s lungs. Then it vaults into a wild cry as Envy slings his hips back—and uses the momentum to snap forward.
His cock pitches into her pussy, spearing through her cleft, the lips spreading around his girth. Like a severed cord, Sorrow jolts in place. Her back bows, her head flying toward the canopy, the depth of her body catching him.
The groan that slices from Envy’s lips is unrecognizable to his ears.
Her walls seal around his dick, gripping tightly, the wet clamp unlike anything he’d prepared himself for.
Millennia of watching her, wanting her, warring with her flashes before his eyes like a montage.
Yet the reality leaves his prior fantasies in the dust.
This is what it feels like to be inside this goddess. To fill her with his cock, to hear her voice when he fucks her.
Envy can’t decide if this is pleasure or pain.
Sorrow’s heaving moan gets him moving. On a growl, he charges into motion, snapping his cock. Reeling out to the crown and driving in to the base, he flings his waist, the brunt vaulting Sorrow forward.
With her head craned upward, all that grey hair dashes around her face. Glimpses of Sorrow’s profile reveal her mouth hanging open, grunts toppling from those jaded lips. Her complexion reddens, the color as ripe as her cunt.
She likes this. She’s enjoying this.
Envy’s going to fucking collapse. Only by stubborn willpower does he remain upright, his knees moored into the bed, hard enough to dent the springs and possibly the raft beneath.
Panting, he staples Sorrow’s hips in a place and bolts his cock into her. The muscles of his ass clench, waist striking back and forth, rough and fast. He glues his gaze to her pussy, the goddess’s desire flooding his cock as it spears into her.
Something like heat climbs up his cock, spurring him to put his entire weight into Sorrow. With every lunge, their grunts come out strenuous, their motions hysterical.
Planting her hands on the wooden surface, Sorrow uses the leverage to buck into Envy. Her cunt meets his cock, both smashing together. With her cries shooting through the marsh, the goddess pumps backward, while Envy pistons forward.
At last, they fuck. Here and now, in this godawful place, the environment as stifling as his present mental state.
Although Envy has ambient standards, he can’t bring himself to give a shit.
Why? Because like a sorceress with hidden powers, this female makes any place in this universe decadent.
A fucking crocodile could surf toward them, and he’d just swat his arm, flinging the reptile across the swamp.
He’ll have her wherever he can get her, take whatever he’s given, offer whatever she needs.
That confession sits on his tongue. To prevent the atrocity from slipping out, Envy jams his teeth into his tongue, drawing crimson.
He rails her like this for who knows how long, his dick lancing, his balls thickening. Sorrow’s body contracts, her pussy tensing around his flesh. Her groans escalate with his own, the noise instructing him to go deeper, quicker.
Envy croons and whips his hips, plying her at a rapid pace. “How’s that, my nymph? Is this where your pussy wants my cock?”
“Oh,” she wheezes, nodding vehemently. “Fuck, right there.”
Humming, he rams his pelvis into her ass with such force it’s going to break them both. His cock pumps with short, shallow juts, hitting a spot that has Sorrow hollering.
Fuck. Nothing feels like this. Not even immortality itself.
Liquid boils through his veins, the flux converging at the roof of his cock. Sorrow rushes at him, chasing the same vertex, their groans colliding as harshly as their hips.
For a moment, everything stops, teeters over a deadly precipice. They slow, then go still. And that’s when they implode.
Sorrow’s cunt squeezes his dick, her muscles rupturing as she comes. The scream cleaves through her, loud enough to rattle their bones, the kind of wailing that’s felt rather than heard. The noise floods Envy’s eardrums, the same way her pussy floods his cock.
That’s how she destroys him. Envy stiffens, a roar clamoring from his chest. He comes at the same time, his crown spurting fluid into Sorrow, their bodies pulsating against one another.
Whether it lasts seconds or hours, it’s impossible to tell. But his voice is raw and spent when it’s over, his cock drained and lodged so deeply in her beautiful pussy he might have trouble finding the appendage later.
For now, they flop onto the mattress, the raft bobbing. Envy’s chest slumps above Sorrow, his forehead landing between her shoulder blades, their chests heaving for oxygen.
Perspiration glazes his torso and her thighs. Rumpled and sweaty, they struggle for breath, just as they struggle to look at each other.
Constellations flare overhead, as if scolding the pair of them.
There’s a myth among the Dark Gods, which declares The Stars will shine their brightest when a deity asks for the truth.
But a deity will only receive the truth if they’re ready to hear the answer.
And that immortal will only be ready to hear the answer if they’re ready to change.
No one’s ever confirmed this enigma to be true. However, stranger things have occurred.
One of them just did. But as historic as it had felt to fuck Sorrow, it also hadn’t… felt.
Perhaps Envy’s not the only one who thinks so. Without saying a word, he senses them agreeing. It won’t happen again.