Chapter 43 #2
And feeding her own needs. Because if he wants Sorrow to oblige her desires, this roguish male should have included himself on the menu. For this is how she takes her fill, by partaking in mutual intimacy.
Like lovers. Like equals.
The volume of Envy’s response tingles Sorrow’s flesh. Her pussy drips, her nipples ache, and her blood races.
Making up for lost time, she puckers her lips and gives a tender suck, exerting pressure up and down his girth. Envy’s rapt octave shreds through the chamber, his muscled arms straining against the ice arrow. Mindless, he swivels his waist, lunging his crown, meeting the lowered pump of her lips.
Envy flings back his head, her name cutting from his lungs. Lost, he siphons into her mouth, hurling his waist against Sorrow’s flat tongue.
Moaning around his cock, Sorrow swipes his tip, tasting salt. Doubtless, they’ve had a penetrating influence on each other, because she’s in the mood to play, her teeth coming out to scrape the ledge of his dick.
Fates have mercy. The hunger is too much, her canines slipping and breaking skin. Envy hisses with jubilant enthusiasm, because of course he would.
Grinning around his erection, Sorrow licks a mixture semen and blood. Spurred by this, she rams the arrow shaft into his wrists and tightens her mouth, tugging on his dick, working him into a stupor.
All the while, the weight of Envy’s voracious eyes prickles her scalp, riveting on her bent head. He whips his waist, hauling into her. Matching the pace of her lips, his growls escalate, and his body flexes, straining like a cord. Then he snaps.
A bellow cracks from his chest, the sound combusting through the cave.
His cock jerks, streams of hot fluid washing down Sorrow’s throat.
The potent mixture of tart currants and dark wine soaks into her palate, an awed hum pulling from the back of her throat.
Fates save her, but she tastes their combined essences.
Her vocal cords vibrate around Envy’s dick, plying his body with aftershocks.
Shackled by the ice arrow, the object of every deity’s desire twists, writhes, and grunts from the pit of his chest. Each muscle stretches taut, each joint locks, and each feverish inch of him pulsates between her tight lips.
Tipsy from his loss of control, and with this god at her disposal, Sorrow sucks him dry.
She’d always thought of oral pleasure as a one-sided exchange.
But screw that, because it’s more. It’s communal, her pussy leaking onto his calves where she straddles him, his cock releasing for her like the mark of a dedicated deity.
This is what happens when two beings are in love, the ebb and flow intrinsic, reciprocation balancing like the tide.
What one of them feels, both of them feels.
So she feeds on this god, and he comes hard and long, their groans filling this cavernous place. Simultaneously, her weapon digs into his pulse, red lines forming on his skin.
However, the ice doesn’t chill or numb his flesh. Cold is still a mystery, whereas heat kindles in his pupils, the sensation remarkable.
With his mouth ajar, Envy watches Sorrow drink him to the last drop. Then on a jagged hiss, his arms blast free, and he’s on her. Careening forward, he snatches the arrow and launches in her direction, the bridge of his cock popping from her mouth.
Snarling, the god slams into Sorrow. She flips onto her back, an exultant moan shooting from her lips, her heart jackhammering. Envy’s massive physique crashes against hers, his body splaying her limbs apart, thighs steepling over his ribs, heels on his naked ass.
The plates of his torso rub her breasts, nipples poking him. And it’s wondrous, to be stripped with someone, withholding nothing. That’s the look he gives her while towering like an animated Greek statue.
All. Fucking. Hers.
“Yours,” Envy rumbles, as if reading her mind. Then he slants his hips, tucking into Sorrow, that strong cock rowing along her slit like a cruel tease. And as she whines, his pupils glint, his voice rougher than a pumice stone. “Mine.”
To accentuate the words, he flicks his waist slowly, jabbing his tip. “All. Fucking. Mine.”
The shallow probe of his crown throws fire up Sorrow’s limbs. Her cunt spills onto him, the flesh achy and hurting so well.
While fixating on Sorrow, the god uses one palm to bracket her wrists overhead, the same way she’d done to him. With his opposite hand, he exhibits the arrow, remorse cutting through his features. Despite the closure they’ve reached, regret covers him like a second skin.
Although his remorse eases her soul, enough mistakes have existed between them. Enough spite and grudges and offenses.
She leans up, brushing his lips with hers. “No more.”
No more fighting. No more resisting. No more repenting.
They’d done plenty of that. It’s finally time to heal, to survive, and to celebrate.
A gust of air rustles from his mouth, like a ghost being released from its confines, a latch breaking open, liberating them. With a baritone sigh, he burrows in, seizing her mouth, fitting them together.
Curling over her, Envy sinks his lips into Sorrows, their tongues dragging over another. Then he veers back with a husky grin. Ah, there’s the wicked god she knows and adores.
Gazing at her, Envy turns their memory into something better, replacing it with this.
He spins her arrow across his knuckles like a baton.
She gasps, exhilarated when he etches the arrowhead along her jaw, descending to her neck before scaling to the crook of her mouth.
The stimulation goes to her head, a buzz racing through Sorrow.
Angling the weapon, he tilts her lips open. “May I?”
“Fuck, yes,” she insists.
The god quirks an eyebrow, savoring this playful side of her, which no one else will ever see. With gentle force, he nudges the arrow shaft against her mouth until she clamps her teeth around the slender weapon.
Palpitations beat in her throat. The expression on Envy’s face makes it clear. She’ll need something to bite on.
“Watch me,” he murmurs. “Only me.”
She nods. They have a lifetime of experimentation to account for, but as long as she anchors her gaze to him, Sorrow will always be safe.
Secured. Loved.
The knowledge fills her soul until there’s no room left. The impact is greater because she’s endured its opposite for eons.
Balmy air coasts through the chamber. Linking herself around him, Sorrow rests her head on the mattress and tenderly bumps her pussy into his cock.
Make love with me. Fuck me.
That’s what she communicates. Envy absorbs the silent request, his irises glinting, showering her in light.
Casting his head sideways, he swings his waist, probing her soaked cunt with the broad tip of his cock. “Like this?”
She sighs around the arrow and heaves into him. Yes, like that.
Another agonizing jab, and another, and another. “Does this hurt?”
Decadence glides up her spine like the edge of a plume. She nods again, her nails burrowing into his hand because, yes, it hurts. Yes, it hurts so good.
Yes, it’s pain. Yes, it’s pleasure.
And no, don’t fucking stop.
Hissing, Envy obliges. Braced on his palms, he suspends himself, his abdomen flexing with tension.
The V of his hips leads to a prominent sight, his dick standing firm and ready at her slit.
The vision of her thighs sprawled around his naked waist, and his cock primed, steals the last of her oxygen.
But it’s his face that unravels her.
No artifice. No veneer. No ruse.
In this secret place of their making, Envy gazes at Sorrow with an immeasurable emotion, one that has baffled her for ages. But not anymore.
Whimpering, she agitates her lower body, her slick cunt coating his flesh from base to crown. Envy’s eyelids flutter, a curse sputtering from his tongue.
She gyrates a second time, then a third.
And his restraint snaps. And so do his hips.
In a single whipcord motion, Envy lashes his cock into her. A cry snaps from her lips, the brunt jostling her over the bed. Her pussy clutches him to the seat, the hot length of flesh expanding her, the prow tapping her favorite narrow spot.
Growling, Envy charges forth, rocking his ass. Their bodies thrash over the sheets, moisture laminating every flexing muscle. The delirious pace of his cock punts Sorrow upward, her sobs and his grunts inundating the chamber, the noises accelerating.
As he spears his dick, Sorrow spreads wider, encouraging him to go deeper, then even deeper, and deeper still. Her walls seize Envy’s dick, and her clit sketches his pelvis, the friction terrible and wonderful. She reels beneath him, his body hunches over her, and they drive against one another.
Envy curses, punching his cock in tune to her shouts. With each pivot, her molars grind into the arrow, a riot of noise escaping her.
She watches him, watches him, watches him. And he marvels at her, reverence flashing in his eyes, harsh gales of oxygen shoving his mouth. Their gazes fuse, and her features twist, and his mouth slackens as they race after that peak.
Envy’s all toned muscle, tireless momentum, and vigorous tempo. He sprints his cock, locating a spot that nearly blinds Sorrow. Matter of fact, he hollers as if he hadn’t known that place existed.
Thank Fates for that. She can’t be the only one who's either going to pass out or detonate into shards.
“Yes, my nymph,” Envy rasps, pistoning his waist. “Show my cock where to make your cunt spill.”
Oh, she’ll do more than show him. On the precipice, Sorrow spits out the arrow, and catapults off the mattress. With this god still primed inside her, they veer upright, Envy landing on his toned ass while she clambers onto his lap.
Astride his cock, she grasps his hair and hoists into him, her pussy swatting his cock. Seething, Envy reciprocates. With the might of a deity, he powers into her, fucks into her.