Chapter 13 Envy
Envy
“Was it now?” His flat voice stalks across her mouth. “You’re quite right. Exile from any other choices was the only motivation for sticking my cock where it never wanted to go.”
The insult would repel any other deity. But not this one.
Sorrow leans further into him, her reply driving a chainsaw through his ego. “Same. I never would have had the stomach to open my thighs for you if it hadn’t been for our banishment.”
“Really?” Envy flings back. “Except you’re used to being a loner, so that incentive doesn’t track.”
“You don’t know what I’m used to.”
“On the contrary, I know some things of note. Like the snide looks everyone used to throw your way, despite being a member of the elite crew. And the way you pretended it never mattered.”
In fact, Sorrow did that so well, no one but Envy noticed. Because no one was smart enough to pay her as much attention as they did to rare Love, commanding Anger, friendly Wonder, or gorgeous Envy. By comparison, Sorrow was reduced to an afterthought among their people.
The goddess expels a harsh breath. “Not that I’d expect a more illuminating reply, but it’s still a paltry example. And it’s not the extent of my familiarities.”
“So educate this god,” Envy appeals, more eager than he cares to admit, a challenge hissing from his tongue. “And don’t forget to include your actual excuse for hate-fucking me.”
Feigning an apologetic tone, the goddess shakes her head. “I’m afraid that’s personal.”
Damn this nuisance of a goddess. Those oversized pajamas are becoming more appealing by the fucking second because he knows what’s underneath them.
Soft tits, firm little nipples, a freckle on her right hip, and an arrowhead scar on her outer thigh.
Straight hips that know how to slant high.
A ticklish waist, which he only discerned from accidentally brushing his fingers there once.
And a deep, dark, drenched pussy that grabbed his dick until he lost the ability to pronounce his own name.
They stare, oxygen shearing from their lungs, her breasts pumping like a lever against his torso. All this time, they’ve been muttering in low, tight, conversational tones. Every jibe clamors for dominance, the animosity stifling, irritation gripping his cock and stroking it like a fist.
Abruptly, Envy lets her go. “As we were. Back to the…”
What the fuck were they talking about?
Sorrow also recovers from the contentious trance, her pupils dimming as they fumble to recall the subject at hand. “The meaning behind us and humans.”
Right. For shit’s sake.
“To answer your earlier question, I like humans,” he imparts.
“I favor them even more after being a voyeur for this long. Their unapologetic passions and how they feel a multitude of indulgent things simultaneously, despite their short lifespan. The concept of families and how much they cherish that custom.”
“It would be nice to have a family.” Sorrow scoots atop a neighboring boulder, her limbs hanging over the side. “At least, it appears that way from the outside.”
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Envy inquires, propping one hip against the same rock and twisting toward her.
“To be linked to someone through blood? To thread your life with theirs, in spite of your differences? Not every human dedicates themself to that, and sometimes I don’t blame them.
But for many, the bond is strong in a way I can’t fathom.
So much compromise. Such emotional turmoil paired with emotional bliss. All that pain and joy.”
“The word for it is love,” Sorrow says quietly.
Another inexplicable itch crawls across his skin. Envy forces a laugh while rubbing the back of his neck. “Only Love herself can confirm that.”
“Or she and Andrew. Or Anger and Merry. Or Malice and Wonder.”
Point taken. The reason Envy and Sorrow are the exception in their crew is the same reason they’re no longer lust partners.
This, despite that legend claiming if they commit to something beyond a collaborative stress-fuck, something deeper and supposedly profound, then they’ll have better odds of winning this war.
Not a chance. Plus, as his stinging conscience reminds him on a consistent basis, he’s got no right to expect anything. That door is shut for more reasons than just their mutual animosity. And that’s his fucking fault.
Anyway. Love and Andrew fell hard over the span of two weeks. Anger and Merry in the same amount of time. Wonder and Malice in thirty days.
For a deity? That’s nothing. In fact, that much can also be said for humans.
Their peers are phenomenal in that respect.
But otherwise, no deity would lose their hearts in only a few days, assuming this was possible for two divine rivals.
Even if he hadn’t made a grave mistake—and still hasn’t fucking told her about it—there’s no way Envy and Sorrow can make this work.
Not in a thousand years, much less in less time than it takes to host a decent orgy retreat.
The enclave of pools percolate around them. A school of dragonflies flits past on organza wings.
Envy straightens a crease in his low-slung pants. “On second thought, we may not know what it’s like to be smitten, but we’ve witnessed it enough to detect the warning signs.”
“We’d recognize them,” she asserts.
“We’d see them coming,” he agrees.
They watch each other, trailing off into the sort of blasted silence that contradicts everything they’ve just claimed.
In any event, Envy and Sorrow at least understand enough about that complex emotion to stop it from happening.
When all is said and done, a sinner and a saint would make a more promising match than them.
For a gritty round of hate-sex, they’re compatible. However, that’s the extent of their prospects, especially in the long term. And for deities, it’s quite a long fucking term.
Envy tapers his eyes in the thought. “If you were a human—”
Sorrow snorts. “Are we playing this game? It’s something Merry or Malice would think up.”
Bravo to them. But Envy’s not in the mood to bring up other people. As usual, only one figure has his undivided attention.
It’s a cheeky move, one that requires consent. Even so, Envy sidles nearer. Slowly, the span of his waist nudges between Sorrow’s thighs, flaring them apart as he flattens his hands on the rock, his arms bulging on either side of her hips.
The goddess sucks in a gale of air. At the same time, those glacial eyes slit, refusing to quail.
There now. If she had objected, he’d already be nursing a black eye.
His gaze rakes across her face, his voice growing coarser by the second. “If you were human, what—”
“—sort of family would I have?” Feigning nonchalance, Sorrow scoots farther up the boulder.
“I admire the human parents who strive to feed, clothe, and house their offspring despite severely limited means. That’s the most inspirational level of endurance and dedication.
And maybe a little brother would be nice. ”
“An intimate life,” Envy husks. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d care for that much intimacy. The smaller the household, the harder it is for you to disappear in it.”
Shadows dig into the crevices of her face. “What makes you think I want to disappear?”
Shit. Despite their push and pull minutes ago, that exchange had been on equal levels. Whereas this question wrings Sorrow out like a towel.
Envy hesitates. “What I meant—”
“Just because I don’t care what people think of me, and just because I keep to myself, that doesn’t mean I don’t want any connection at all.”
“That isn’t what—”
“It doesn’t mean I’m incapable of having connections.”
“I never said that.”
Sorrow throws her arms toward the misty ambience. “You’re the one who spent your life retreating here, not me. You’re the one who stashed yourself away, every chance you got. Your words, remember?”
“Sorrow.” Envy cups her knees. “I’m sorry.”
Defensively, she jerks her legs away. Regardless, her features constrict, that glower bordering on fragile. For such a melancholic goddess, she’s unaccustomed to hearing apologies directed her way, especially from him.
And to say the least, Envy’s not used to giving them. Although their earlier antagonist exchange had been business as usual, he doesn’t want things to end on a malicious note. Not on this front.
“I’d want a big family, a house full to the brim,” he mitigates, hoping to erase the past sixty seconds. “The more, the merrier. My parents would be partners who respect each other, and I’d have sisters. Lots of them.”
Sorrow is still bristling, so it takes her a while to reply. “Let me guess,” she mutters. “To play dress-up with.”
A smirk pulls across his mouth. “Is there any other reason?”
They chuckle mildly. It’s a simple sound yet not simple at all, which makes it the loudest one he’s ever heard.
It’s also a pleasant noise. Indeed, Envy can count on one hand the number of nuanced discussions he’s had with others, none of them this unpredictable.
Around them, waterfalls range from vigorous downpours, to modest surges that wash down mantels of rock, to rivulets splitting over the tiered slabs. Tranquilized by the effusion, they withdraw into their own separate thoughts.
After that spell, Envy perks up. “I forgot a crucial pleasure on my list. The sound of a long, drawn-out orgasm.”
Sorrow wraps both arms around her upturned legs. “Which sexual orientation?”
“Don’t make me choose. They’re all delectable.”
“That’s true.”
Which gives him pause. Although her tastes are as varied as Envy’s, this female has never revealed the extent of her experience. In particular, the head count, the undisclosed tally of which causes his molars to grind.
“How many have you been with?” Envy grates out, his timbre honed like a murder weapon.
Sorrow balks, her eyebrows cinching. “You’ve had three millennia to ask that. And you definitely could’ve gotten it out of me when we were screwing.”
“That’s not what I wanted to get out of you.”