Chapter 18
Envy
They travel in silence from the heron cove. Sorrow picks around the hedges, blades of hair sticking out of her unruly bun like straw. Such a mortal updo. Grungy isn’t his forte, yet it’s inexplicably endearing on this female.
By contrast, her perky goddess-ass looks downright edible in those pants, the oversized fit offering only a teasing hint of the swells. For fuck’s sake, it’s more alluring than a peep show. This goddess has a talent for turning subtle into salacious.
While trekking through the enclave, Sorrow walks ahead of Envy, granting him an unhampered view.
Despite how things stand between them, he can still look.
It would be a scandal not to appreciate the tantalizing details, to recall how those ovals contracted every time he bent her over a furnishing.
To say nothing of an hour ago when he dry-fucked the anxiety out of them both.
Or more to the point, wet-fucked.
From the moment Envy heard Sorrow’s frantic call tearing a hole in his head, to the fear that dug its talons into his lungs, to the terrifying sight of her dangling like a sacrifice over a well loaded with sizzling vapors, to the blast of relief when he extracted her, to a view of this goddess at ease in the pool, to the hot-as-fuck vision of her coming on his lap.
Putting it mildly, Envy’s head, blood, pulse, and cock have been operating on cosmic overdrive.
The memories thicken his appendage until it’s as hard as a spear.
Her in the water, the tops of her naked tits glistening.
Better still, the creases in her face softening, relaxing after that near-plunge to who the fuck knows where.
Dampness curling the ends of her hair. The star flecks gleaming beneath her eyelashes. Her complexion flushing.
Then her thighs clasping his jutting waist, her open mouth unleashing chaos, her breath skidding across his lips like a supernatural hallucinogenic, her soaked pussy rushing up and down the taut line of his dick. The sublime visual of her bouncing, crying, coming like a fucking—
“Cut that out,” Sorrow rebuffs. “I know what you’re doing.”
“As do I,” Envy replies, admiring how the tension locks her ass even tighter than it was in the pool when she rode the edge of his cock.
Muttering an oath, the goddess wheels around and snatches his chin between her thumb and forefinger. “We can start with your introduction to pain right now. Just say the word.”
“What a dominant-submissive implication,” he exaggerates with wide eyes. “In which case, your wish is my command.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But we already set a promising precedent back when you slapped me. Not to mention everything else that happened under the drenched surface.” Yet when Sorrow merely blushes through her scowl, Envy flaunts his grin like a portrait. This nymph is just too adorably sexy when she’s pissed off.
“Suit yourself,” he sighs. “To compensate, I’ll take what I can get.”
“I should be so lucky,” she retorts.
Mist permeates the air, dampening their flesh. One would think they’ve spent the night sweating together, which would have been the next sexual step after their recent bout of water aerobics.
That aside, these hours have been full of revelations, including the knowledge that she enjoys sensual fucking. Matter of fact, she’d gotten downright rogue about it, rolling her cunt into him with the patience of… well, of an immortal.
But the most ravishing discovery is this: His surly goddess knows how to crack a smile. Behold, it’s now been scientifically proven. In the heron cove, any signs of cynicism or mockery had vanished. Fates eternal, he’d never seen anything so enigmatic.
Another word for it is attractive. A more accurate term is mesmerizing.
On the flip side, that which is denied increases in value. Give a cracker to a starving person, and it will taste like a brownie. Hence, Sorrow’s galactic smile might be profound merely because it’s rare.
Envy shakes off the confusion. With his brain currently short-circuiting, he’s in no condition to evaluate this mess. Doing so will only result in frown lines. He’s determined to look his best, especially while ailing from shattered bones.
According to the dawning blue tint in the sky, they’ve been reveling all night. Apart from the fuckery, he replays other highlights. Not least of all, that jovial expression in the heron cove as the raptor perched beside her. Those eyes fixed on Envy as she agreed to his proposition.
These marvels trigger a puncturing sensation, the onslaught taking root in certain vital organs of his body. But when he can’t conceive why, The Stars twinkle as though asking, How many guesses do you need, Envy?
Oh, fuck them.
Though, maybe because the answer resides in their history. She doesn’t know it, but Sorrow had shown Envy pain long before he requested it.
His fingers scrape through his mane. If friendship with this goddess leaves him perplexed and inconsistent, he can’t predict the mayhem love would cause.
Yes, he’s seen what it does to his crewmates.
Instead of rendering the couples absurd, they’re happy, empowered, and sexually fulfilled.
Their bonds are passionate, born of desire and respect.
Each pair fluctuates between arguing, laughing, and eye-fucking one another, to say little of how often he’s overheard them actually fucking.
Perhaps all that emotional fuss is an aphrodisiac, which enhances the smut like a perk.
Considering how often they each go at it, those enterprising couples would put a warren of rabbits to shame.
In addition, Envy has witnessed plenty of intimate gestures between the lovers.
Despite having fucked countless deities, he struggles to comprehend the brush of Love’s hand through Andrew’s hair, nor the unconditional flash of the human’s eyes whenever he looks at the goddess.
The way Anger and Merry entwine while sleeping, with the god strapping his mate to his chest as if she’ll disappear.
The raunchy tenderness between Malice and Wonder no matter what the fuck they’re doing.
Every touch and gaze between these pairings are instinctive. Some would say elemental.
Regardless, it must eventually grow tiresome. To be with the same partner forever, shagging only one person for eternity?
Envy and Sorrow make a swift journey to the cavern, the lagoon emitting a veil of steam. Their picnic sits there, abandoned. Envy waves a hand, the dishes and platters disappearing.
Inside, candles pulse from the recesses. The interior stream winds through the moss-carpeted ground.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Envy rocks on his heels. “We might have to draft terms. For example, I should be permitted to request my pain like an appetizer from a menu. What options do you have in mind? I’ll choose.”
Sorrow leans against a wall and crosses her arms. “What’s your most embarrassing moment?”
His offended brows slam together. “Either I’m giving you too much credit, or this is the most you think I can take.”
Her irises flash. “If we’re going to do this, I have one condition.
Don’t bullshit me. You’d be surprised the lengths people will go to avoid humiliation, the pain they’ll endure.
” Her regal transformation is nothing short of astounding, her voice radiating with authority, confidence, and experience.
“You’re the God of Envy. Like it or not, our root emotions are more synonymous than we want.
You know to what lengths humans and immortals will go, just to spare themselves of disgrace.
So again, what was your most embarrassing moment?
And if you answer like a smart ass, or if you concoct a lie as high maintenance as your face, I’ll know.
That’s my job, pretty god.” She taps his lips. “Sadness never lies.”
Her prompt spurs agitation, a sudden urge to either flee like an imposter or make a naughty pun. But like the goddess already said, she’ll see through his shit.
It wouldn’t be the first time. Or the second. Or the fucking third.
At any rate, who the devil asks to be educated in the mechanics of pain, unless it’s for bondage purposes? And unless that person’s name is Malice?
Who dares to risk this? Evidently, someone who wants to be conditioned, to be prepared for this war.
Someone who wants to learn how not to break.
Someone who aspires to be more like a certain trauma goddess.
Of every crew member, Sorrow will recover from torment the quickest, because that’s how she was trained.
What was his most embarrassing moment?
Envy opens his mouth. But Sorrow’s finger presses firmer on his lips.
“Don’t say it aloud,” she instructs. “The point is to think about it first. Tell me later, if you want to. Until then, pain is a private thing.”
Her touch launches a thunderbolt through his abdomen. “A private thing,” he echoes against her soft digit. “Pleasure is the same, unless we’re keen to share it.” Then he bites her finger, his teeth nipping the flesh.
It’s a gentle graze. And it’s only fair.
With a gasp, Sorrow yanks her finger away. Envy grins as she wipes that slender, trembling appendage on her pajamas, jostling the patterned clouds.
This goddess doesn’t know the half of it. For he scarcely needs time to identify that legendary embarrassing moment, circa adolescence. The instant she had propositioned him, the answer had infested his consciousness.
An ugly god is easy to spot.
Beneath the banners of cloth looping from the ceiling, Envy hesitates. Outwardly, he remains calm, debonair as his hand swings toward the hearth. “Care to sit?”
***
Dawn breaks, the hours bleeding from one to the next. For a start, Sorrow redresses his wound while explaining the various ways to nurse injuries. Fixing what’s broken and watching it mend provides her with solace.
Envy says nothing, because he can’t say anything. All he can do is examine her bent head as she ministers to him.