Chapter 15 Sorrow #2
Sorrow sprawls before him, visible from the collarbones up. Although the water conceals every explicit detail he’s seen multiple times, the god’s presence provokes an infestation of goosebumps.
The falls plunge from the inclines. Motes glow like fireflies, highlighting his broad face and the mahogany spill of his mane.
She would invite Envy for a swim, since physical activity will keep them busy. But she doesn’t have to, for he’s capable of disrobing on his own.
Like he’s doing now.
Holding her gaze, Envy unwinds the cloth protecting his wound. Twin hipbones vanish into the low-slung pants, and as his fingers pinch the waistband,
Sorrow staples her eyes to his.
The pants puddle to the grass. Even so, she doesn’t need to peek to know the size and shape of his cock. Heavy sac. Thick shaft. Wide, ruddy head. A line cutting through his crown.
And yet. While this male has always given the impression of being perpetually erect, routinely treating his dick like the Eighth Wonder of the Ancient World, there’s no sign of arousal at the moment. For all she knows, her near-death experience has deflated his dick.
So. His libido has limits, after all.
Sinking into the pool, Envy hums, the water bathing his injury. Settling across from Sorrow, the pride god lounges against the second tree like a spoiled king who’s got the world at his feet.
After a beat, he grins that obscene Envy Grin. “Warning. Now that the excitement is over, my naughty side might be getting a second wind.”
He’s trying to make her laugh. And it’s working. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Once you’ve recovered from this latest episode, I can think of a few smutty things.
Though, I’d better be careful what I say, or you’re liable to smack me again.
” His humor drops like a mask. “I’m sorry, for the second and third time tonight.
I shouldn’t have said what I did, and I shouldn’t have fucking brought you here to begin with.
If I hadn’t…” Hissing, he shakes his head. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
“No,” Sorrow presses. “My fall wasn’t your fault.”
Envy tears his gaze away, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Many other things are.”
Her insides twist into knots. “You’re not the only one.”
They falter, listening to the cascades. Although water separates them, the distance is insufficient. They sit near enough for Sorrow’s toes to graze his. Moreover, for their limbs to tangle, if they so wish.
Once upon a regrettable time, they found themselves in such a predicament.
Isolated in a similar setting, they’d been too fed up to ignore one another any longer.
That’s how they got into a nasty, lusty mess in the first place.
The dalliance began a year and a half ago, shocking them to the core.
But in the end, taking leave of their senses hadn’t panned out well. And it won’t now.
That doesn’t mean they must remain at each other’s throats. What good has it done? Their cat fights have been exhausting and confounding, and Sorrow doesn’t want to analyze why he’s the only one who, with a mere flick of that gilded tongue, succeeds in getting under her skin like a splinter.
Sorrow’s gaze stumbles across his. Those eyes blaze from her wet mouth, to her dripping throat, to the tops of her breasts. Damn him and that look, which reaches other places he can’t currently see.
In hindsight, he idled behind while Sorrow indulged in this pool, giving her some essential alone time before approaching. And it might just be the most considerate thing he’s ever done for her, even if the list is short.
“How long were you watching me?” she wonders.
Those vivid irises meet hers. “I’m not sure.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, I’m not sure.”
Why does his reply sound almost three-thousand years old?
The enigma sends a reinvigorating rush of blood through her veins.
Yet just as quickly, shame and remorse cut through Sorrow.
Despite this impending war, she and this god have failed to get over each other’s shit, which is the weakest link in the crew.
If Envy and Sorrow must spend these days in isolation, and if they must spend who knows how long fighting side by side, kinship will improve their battle skills, the reconciliation strengthening their alliance.
Envy’s finger taps the side of his head. “What’s going on in there? Can I have a look?”
“It’s forbidden territory,” she cautions softly.
“Oh, my nymph. You don’t know the God of Envy well, if you think the word forbidden will discourage him.”
“Please don’t talk about yourself in the third person. It sets a low bar.”
“But the first person POV is cliché. As to the third, it’s the height of pretension. Hence, I’m the ideal candidate.”
“Have you ever been humble? For one day in your existence?”
He leans forward, his strong fingers encircling her ankles. “Perhaps I need someone to teach me.” He presses his thumbs into her arch, massaging the pressure points. “I’ve been trained in many things, so my portfolio speaks for itself. I’m an apt pupil who learns fast.”
Tension melts from Sorrow’s joints, relaxing her to the point where her pussy reacts, a faint throb building in the crease. Her voice liquifies along with her limbs. “I hate to break this to you, but you couldn’t be humble to save your wardrobe.”
“Mmm. I’m hoping you’ll be there to save me instead. I could pass out in your arms like a damsel and everything.”
“I’ll rephrase. You couldn’t be humble or platonic to save your wardrobe.”
“And my offer still stands,” he husks, that resonant baritone stroking flesh with as much finesse as his fingers, which skim up her calves. “You could teach me to be serious. To be the wounded, brooding hero like Anger.”
Sorrow emits a sigh of contentment. “For that metamorphosis to occur, you’d need to face off with your pain.
And to do that, you would have to endure sadness.
And to do that, you’d have to know humility and sacrifice.
” She extends her legs, granting him permission to knead higher.
“You’d have to lose something precious to you.
” Despite the budding pulsation in her cunt, she whispers sweetly, “And baby? Your closet doesn’t count. ”
The whisper ends on a gasp as her body fires into motion. Snaring her knees, Envy yanks Sorrow across the pool. Her breasts slam into his torso, his grip splitting her thighs around his waist.
Shock robs her of speech. Embers crackle across her flesh, emulating heat in that singular way only Envy has ever achieved with her. Despite the number of times he’s taken Sorrow roughly, this former lover has never gotten dominant.
The lips of her pussy abrade a broad ledge of flesh that’s now fully erect. Beneath the surface, his cock stands high, the water emphasizing every smooth, turgid inch. Shackling her legs apart, Envy produces an aggravating type of friction, the bud of her clit rubbing his frenulum.
Envy’s eyelids hood, a rumbling sound grits from his throat. At the reaction, a whimper pushes against Sorrow’s teeth. Her breath skates across his mouth, which parts a fraction, exposing that sly tongue.
Fuck. If she scoots her pussy any closer to Envy’s dick, her vision will blur, and she won’t be able to see anything clearly.
By some miracle, Sorrow has the presence of mind to gather her wits, rationalizing past everything that’s occurring underwater. Maybe it’s the boundary he just decimated, but she takes a second to reflect before choosing how to respond.
This pride god is unreserved, decisive, and doesn’t allow others to use him. When he wants something, he says so. When he wants something even more, he gets it. And when someone like Sorrow looks him in the eye, someone like Envy looks back.
Ultimately, he’s a good person. No matter how much they’ve fucked each other over, and although he’s morally grey when it comes to ridiculing lesser deities and casting off lovers who inevitably bore him, this swaggering one-man parade is an otherwise decent soul.
She’s not too hardheaded to deny this. In the midst of forthcoming bloodshed, the God of Envy savors life and lives to his fullest capacity.
What’s that like?
“What’s what like?” Envy murmurs, his voice as smooth as velvet.
Droplets fall from her lashes. “Did I just say that aloud?”
“I’m afraid so. Do it again.” His hands slide to her ass, cupping the swells and nudging her cunt further into him, the effect turning his voice to gravel. “Express something without thinking.”
Fates almighty. Arousal drips from the slit between her thighs, the water’s gentle lap magnifying the effect.
Apparently, her waist has a mind of its own, slowly jutting forward, grinding at a languid pace against his cock. “I’ll only say this once,” she pants. “I’m not a toy.”
“No, you’re a planet,” Envy hums, his own hips jutting upward, the point of his dick striking her clit. “You’re uncharted territory, an unexplored land mass that would take years to reach.”
Oh, fuck. He has said filthy, graphic things to Sorrow while pounding inside her, but his words have never held this seductive lilt, the reverence in his baritone throwing her off balance.
Wetness pours from her cunt, drenching her more than this pool.
Even if her nipples weren’t pitting, Envy scents her desire, his nostrils broadening.
Flattening her palms on the tree behind his head, Sorrow uses the leverage to burrow down, chafing their flesh together. “Thank you for the compliment.”
Envy’s chuckle comes out guttural, infusing her veins like a cocktail. “You’re welcome.”
“You know, we suck at this, right? At being friends?”
“Is that what we are?”
She sinks into him, her lips grazing his own. “That’s what we should be.”
Allies, they’ve managed. Albeit with a grudge.
Friends has always been an impossibility.
Over the ages, perpetual hostility was the culprit.
These days, the defect has just as much to do with bodily cravings, impulses that don’t seem to give a shit whether either of them is mentally on board.
Deny it all they want, but bickering and turning the other way has done nothing to resolve the problem.
To make matters worse, they’re currently in the wrong place at the wrong time. They’ve been spoiling for a hot release since their estrangement in The Celestial City, and the dormancy is wearing thin, to the point where she could fuck just about anyone right now. Doubtless, it’s the same for him.
Truth. This will only end badly, as it already has once. The origins of their hate-lust are untrustworthy, not to mention unstable.
Sorrow’s drenched skin flanks the hard planes of his waist. She drips all over him, liquid raining down his torso. Another inch, and his sac will skim her opening, and they’ll fall victim to sexual mutiny.
He seethes across her mouth, trapping her thighs and jabbing his thick cock in shallow, teasing motions. “But you still hate me.”
“Yeah,” she whines, so low it’s barely audible. “I hate you so much.”
Envy nods in agreement. “So fuck it.”
Then he grits out a violent noise, shackles her ass, and hauls her forward.