Chapter 20 #2
The view sets his pupils alight. Her clit projects from a small patch of hair, the crest pink and swollen, and her core leaks glistening fluid.
Envy mouths something she can’t pick up. The words end on a serpentine hiss, as if he plans on taking a bite out of her.
Looping his arm beneath Sorrow’s thigh, the god hitches her leg over his shoulder. Then he cranes his head toward Sorrow. “In case my intentions aren’t clear, I’m going to swallow this pussy whole.”
Holy. Shit.
And the hits keep coming. Envy lowers his gaze, shackles Sorrow’s ass, and veers her hips toward his waiting mouth. Then his hot lips seal around the small root of flesh.
Almighty hell breaks loose. The cry that launches out of Sorrow could blast a hole in the stratosphere.
His tongue flits around the crest, then sucks it between his lips. Embers shoot from where he siphons her, cinders flitting through the sopping crease of her body.
No, he hasn’t done this to Sorrow in the past. No, she wouldn’t have let him.
And yes, she fucking regrets it.
At the taste of her, a famished sound chops Envy’s voice to pieces. He feeds on her clit with the devotion of a zealot, as though he’s never licked a goddess in his life. Yet the noise aside, his mouth lays siege to the kernel like a god who’s had thousands of years of practice.
To prepare for this. To destroy her.
Inarticulate moans peel from Sorrow’s throat, each one in cadence to Envy’s mouth.
His lips purse, exerting the right pressure, an inebriating balance of firmness and softness.
Strapped around the peg, he executes a sequence of gentle but insistent tugs, a gravitational pull that threatens to buckle her stance.
Her fingers dive into his mane, yanking so hard she’s likely to leave a bald spot if she’s not careful.
The damage this does to Envy’s hair accomplishes the opposite of what she’d expected.
Instead of wincing, the god groans around her clit, the stimulation cleaving her apart, the sting of her grasp invigorating him.
So he sucks harder. Clasping her ass and cinching his mouth, Envy drags her clit toward him, bobbing his head. And Sorrow loses all sense of reality.
“Oh, fuck!” she shouts.
Envy rumbles, the vibration rustling across her raw flesh. His audible reaction throws another gust of warmth toward her pussy, which escalates the volume of her cries. Never had she thought, imagined, anticipated…
Yet he’s not done surprising the hell out of her. Next, Envy flicks the edge of his tongue, swatting the tip of her clit.
Sorrow’s mouth falls open on a devastated sob. Her thighs collapse, and her eyes fly to the back of her head. Heat and compression radiate from her cunt, his mouth encasing her, fitting so well to the apex of tender skin.
More. Less. She doesn’t know which will serve her, spare her, save her.
As if he’s got all the time in the world—technically, this is true—Envy luxuriates in her pussy. His tongue flexes, toggling over her clit, the clutch of his mouth increasing.
Claiming her. Possessing her.
Catering to her. Pleasing her.
Unfathomable heat washes down Sorrow’s limbs, the novelty rinsing centuries of discord from her mind, dissolving it like blood in water. Fates, he’s eviscerating her, drenching her.
The assault isn’t one-sided. With another fractured moan, Sorrow glimpses Envy through fluttering eyelashes.
She watches his bent head take what he wants, all that dark hair showering around his face.
The god’s eyes shut as he swabs her with a mixture of skilled concentration and flagrant need, his lips clinging to her pussy like a delicacy.
A word splinters out of Sorrow. An elemental impulse.
Lots of things have tumbled from her during sex with this male. His name. Demands for more. A flurry of curses.
Envy. Harder. Faster. Make me come. Fuck.
But this word is new, shoveled from the pit of her stomach like an illicit thing.
“Yes,” she weeps.
Yes. When so much of their interactions have insisted, No.
The second those three letters edge from Sorrow’s tongue, the god hisses in triumph. To her disgruntlement, Envy releases her swollen clit. Then everything happens in quick succession.
First, he smirks like an asshole, enjoying Sorrow’s aggravation. Next, the hubris vanishes as he savors the view of Sorrow’s clit, the flesh glistening, distended, and flushed a dark pink shade. Finally, the deity growls like a well-dressed monster.
Tacking her ass to his face, Envy hauls her pussy to his lips, and slopes his tongue between her crease.
The sleek penetration is the final nail in her coffin.
Sorrow hollers, the shape and length of his tongue spreading her open as he launches in and out.
To enhance the sensations, the god hefts her back and forth, every forward motion lodging him deeper.
As it had been in the enclave pool, she can’t, she just can’t, she can’t take it. Yet she does. Because he makes her take it.
Slowly but insistently, he fucks Sorrow with his mouth. And now she knows what the hell this feels like.
Brittle moans thrash from her lungs. Over and over, Envy pumps his tongue, spearing into her pussy, catching every droplet of arousal. Wetter than she’s ever been, Sorrow saturates his palate, her right thigh still slumped over his shoulder.
Mouth, mind, and body unhinging, Sorrow palms the back of his scalp and cranes her pussy into his face. Every long, hot slide soaks her more. It stirs her interior muscles, fiber by fiber. Dammit, he knows where to search, how to seek out the hidden places no one else has breached.
Even then, this god plies Sorrow’s cunt deeper, the silken pump of his tongue elevating her to another dimension. Each molecule sparks to life. With abandon, she keens to the sky and pours onto his tongue.
Envy swallows, drinks from her, and probes higher. He thrusts his mouth against her pussy until she’s reeling from head to toe, the rapture mounting, firing to a breaking point.
“Yes,” she shrieks, flinging her pussy at him. “Fates, yes!”
Envy rasps, his tongue vaulting, lancing fully. Trenching into her slit, he hits a compressed spot, a slender place that has Sorrow spiraling. Broadening his lips, the god charges, wedging into that space, the stimulation pinching her with rapture.
He slams his tongue, pushing Sorrow’s limits, pushing into her so hard. And then she’s coming, her screams launching into the heavens like missiles. Her pussy convulses, rupturing around Envy’s mouth and tongue, the muscles pulsating, the climax gushing down his throat.
The parched god hums, swallowing her cum, devouring her pussy to the last drop. The orgasm prolongs itself in the manner of immortals, stretching to an indecipherable length. Until finally, Sorrow goes limp, hunching over him.
But like every Dark God, they’ve barely begun. Eating her had merely been an overture.
Envy lets go of her cunt, then snaps his head toward Sorrow. His irises have disappeared behind two wells of black, their surfaces gleaming with ambition.
Spent but hardly depleted, the first orgasm was a warm up. Conditioned to last, they glower hungrily, helplessly. Then they lunge.
Chaining Sorrow in his grip, Envy latches onto her thighs and gives a mighty pull. The movement boosts her off the floor, the world tilts on its axis, and then she’s falling. Her spine rams into the deck, the vessel jostling, sea water sloshing over the rim.
To be clear, deities have the strength to handle this. While a mortal would have fractured their vertebrae, the equivalent for Sorrow is akin to crashing on a springy mattress.
Scrambling to a comfortable position, she tosses Envy a Try-Your-Best sneer. Then she splays herself wide and wet.
The god tapers his features, part sportive scowl, part salacious grin. It’s a look that promises extensive retribution. Shaking his head with an If-You-Insist expression, he crawls between her thighs, the width of his body sprawling her farther apart.
Sorrow’s stomach lurches. So many whipcord muscles. So much to sample.
Not giving a solid fuck about his injury, he spans himself over her, bracketing his weight on both palms. Sorrow grapples for his shoulders while he hitches one of her limbs over his hips, the thick ledge of his cock flush against her naked pussy, nothing but the fancy layer of his pants separating them.
Although they’ve never kissed, Sorrow isn’t sure if she wants that. However, this god has other things in mind, his pupils pinning her with a dangerous light. Holding Sorrow’s gaze, he trails an index down the line of her body, teasing her nipples into firm disks, then scrolling along her pelvis.
At length, his touch skims through the dark curls shrouding her cunt, outlining every throbbing groove. Sorrow’s mouth parts, whimpers fleeing off her tongue while he draws out the sensations.
Finally, Envy scissors her lips apart, flaring them around his fingers.
His features stretch into a predatory mask as he sketches her walls, another flux of arousal coating his knuckles.
Those smooth hands collect the slickness and locate that tiny nub once more, lathering the top of her clit.
Rhythmically, Envy swirls his thumb over a million nerve endings, lightly scraping, patiently dabbing at the ridge.
Overhead, The Stars pierce the firmament. Out here, there’s so much open space in which to yell.
So she does. Sorrow digs into his shoulders and tosses an entreaty into the welkin.
“Well done, my nymph,” Envy urges. “Swell for me.”
Then two of his fingers slip between her crease. Heat and hardness fill Sorrow, rousing her muscles for a second time.
Envy grates out a primitive noise, which overlaps with Sorrow’s cry, both sounds coming out harshly. She has no clue who’s louder, and she doesn’t give a shit. All she cares about is the steady pump of his digits opening her pussy wider, deeper, longer.
The tempo steals another turbulent moan from her, and another, and another. She’s lost to the measured thrusts of his hand. Yet it’s the most lucid type of pleasure and pain in existence.
Envy’s features twist. Watching her, watching her, watching her. Below his waistband, she glimpses the solid width of his cock, the outline of his crown heavy.
She wants it. So badly does she want him lashing that cock into her. But she can’t speak, can barely think.
The hours flash by, with no end in sight. At one point, Envy’s free hand fumbles with a closure in the deck and withdraws a makeshift dick.
While bobbing across the boat, Sorrow moans, “You have a fucking sex toy compartment here?”
A corner of his insolent mouth curls. “I stash my toys everywhere.”
“I thought… I thought you never… oh,” she whines as he skates the tool around her clit. “I thought you never… bring anyone here.”
Shadows sink into the perfect crevices of his face. “I don’t.”
Before she can parse through that statement, Envy angles the apparatus to her clit, using pressure and rolling the flesh like a marble.
Sorrow’s lungs empty, the contents of her vocal cords shooting into the ether.
While his fingers fuck deftly into her, the god traces every contour of her pussy, a disastrous amount of fluid trailing in his wake.
The dildo quests from her clit to the oval of her cunt. For a while, it accompanies his fingers, driving inside her while oscillating, the surface etched with small beads for added stimulation.
And when Envy has tormented Sorrow to within an inch of her eternal life, and she’s muttering and threatening to slay him, he glides the instrument from her cleft and returns to the peg of flesh rising from her body.
The multitude extracts a frenzy of howls from Sorrow, the brunt of his fingers and the toy slogging her across the deck.
Swaying her hips, she lands on both. As her spine bows off the floor, his arm sprints between her spread thighs, which fall farther apart as he accelerates the pace, her body jutting from the impact.
You intimidate me.
Say it again. Tell me to stop. Come on.
Right there. His finger works her right there, slipping, retreating, and again, and again, and again. All the while, the crown of that incredible torture device burrows down on her clit.
Sorrow’s about to pass out. The Stars burst, fragments raining from the canopy and crashing into the lagoon.
She locks up, then tumbles over a precipice. The orgasm rips her into filaments, cum leaking from her pussy, the muscles clenching Envy’s fingers. Her body vaults into his bare torso, bellows rocketing from her lips.
The god’s mouth splits, his eyes exploding like black celestials. “Fuck, yes.”
Yes.
It’s hot, and it’s wet, and it’s impossible, and it’s confusing, and it’s exquisite. Sorrow convulses around the lunging tips of his fingers, her frame wracking against Envy. And just as her screams of ecstasy calm down, she begins to cry.