Page 34

34

Merry

Thunder claps, an explosion of light slashing the sky in half. For a second, it rips the hemisphere apart, creating a schism.

At that same instant, Anger crushes Merry into a kiss. The bruising impact of his mouth—that ferocious, violent, raging mouth—tears a victorious growl from the pit of her chest. Passion and rage spur her fingers through his hair, yanking his lips harder against hers. She clamps her mouth to his, angles her head beneath the tempest, and reciprocates his kiss with abandon.

This should be dreamy, idealistic, and romantic. Instead, it’s harsh and punishing.

At least, on her part. As for Anger, a broken sound cuts from his lungs, his mouth clinging to hers like he can’t breathe, as if she’s the only source of air that exists.

Either way, it’s a wretched kiss on both of their parts. A kiss that hurts, full of pain and want. A kiss that surrenders everything, takes everything, gives everything.

A kiss that’s real.

No lies or secrets separating them. No worlds dividing them. No one standing between them.

Tears spring to her eyes while Anger shudders like a crumbling fortress. He falls to pieces against Merry, his white-knuckled grip hoisting her into him, the snare of his mouth capturing her. The ground quakes beneath them, the foundation skewing with every crack of lightning.

The force of her mouth wrenches a desperate groan from Anger. He sucks air through his nostrils, their lips prying one another open, his tongue spearing past the seam. And oh, Stars.

That familiar taste of fire permeates Merry’s senses. His lips snatch her own, clutching hard and hot, and his ravenous tongue swipes at hers. Despite their matched heights, the strong motions of his jaw edge her head backward, allowing him to penetrate deeper.

Yet he’s the helpless one, a prisoner drawn to her kiss, fighting to reach as far into her as he can get. And Merry likes that. She relishes feeling him work for this kiss, toiling for her moans, struggling to redeem himself.

She takes him roughly, clasping their lips together, rocking her tongue with his. On a growl, he rakes his digits through her wet locks. She drops her hands to his nape, holding on, holding on, lest the errant wind should blow Merry off her feet.

That is, if Anger doesn’t do so first. This god kisses the same way he does everything. With a temper. With precision. His grasp is powerful, his mouth turbulent, and his need possessive.

The sky floods them, rivulets drip from their bodies, and their doused clothes grind together. Her nipples peak, taut against his pecs. Tremors ricochet down her tailbone, inciting a warm rush of fluid between her thighs. Up inside that tight, slick place, her pussy throbs, a discordant pressure beating inside her.

His tongue pumps, punching out a rhythm that makes her head whirl, the pressure rending her lips wide. And wider still as he licks through her.

She’s wet, not merely from the rain. The cotton shift is an agitation, and she wants it shredded from her flesh, but she wants him naked even more.

Anger’s hands quake downward and grope her ass, hauling her against him. His solid torso and her soft curves mold against one another. With their bodies packed tightly together, the flame tattoos sizzle through Merry’s shift, the temperature matching the heat of her cunt.

As Anger pulls away, his abs hammer for oxygen. His gaze runs along her mouth, then rakes down her body, the drenched fabric adhering to her breasts and hips. Those black pupils expand, witnessing her nipples darken, the tips rising through the garment. Its translucent state leaves nothing to the imagination, although he’s seen her nude more than once. However, nothing compares to the feral glitter in Anger’s irises as he lands on the swatch of hair covering her pussy, the small bud of her clit visible.

His cock lifts, its thick outline skimming her delicate flesh. Welded against him, Merry’s eyelashes flutter, and molten heat pours from her walls. Stars, how she wants that cock to ease the ache, to labor for her pleasure.

How she wants to mark him, claim him.

Mine.

Anger’s features contort with the same wild need.

Yours.

Even their respirations slamming together feels primal, an elemental force. He belongs to her. She belongs to him. And they’re about to make sure the other knows it.

Gods can last for as long as they wish. They can prolong the pleasure for days. But when it’s over, it’s over.

Yet Merry wants this to last even after their bodies have been spent. She wants this night written in The Stars. She wants him to remember every touch and sound as he’s never remembered anything.

Arousal floods her pores, making her thighs and fingers quiver. She leans in and nips his lower lip. “Fuck me,” she pants. “Here and now.”

Show me how sorry you are. Convince me to forgive you. Prove how you feel.

Cursing, Anger grabs her ass and seizes her mouth again. His tongue thrusts, striking between her lips, its velocity wracking her to the core. Somehow, the tempo reaches the soaked center of her body, causing her pussy to buck against his rigid cock, enlarging the column further.

Muttering something uncivil, Anger palms the backs of her thighs and hoists her off the floor. Merry groans her approval while strapping her legs around his waist, still kissing him, still kissing, still this . He charges down the gravel path, through a narrow passage canopied in light strands, then locates a gap and deposits her atop the railing ledge. It’s low enough for them to face each other as Anger hooks onto Merry’s knees and wrenches her forward, her thighs pitching around his hips.

His fingers rush up her limbs and glide beneath the shift, which has bunched around her hips. Searing his gaze with hers, he finds the band of her panties and gives a sharp tug. The flimsy material slumps down her body, what’s left of the lace shivering across her skin. The tattered undergarment lands someplace on the ground, forgotten for the rest of her life.

And then Merry’s spreading herself, parting her knees wide enough for him to step through. She cradles his waist in the cove of her splayed thighs, urging him nearer still. His upright cock broadens, pressing against the swell of her clit, drawing a whimper from her.

Her response sets Anger into motion. Divesting himself of the gloves and then cranking his arms behind his head, he tears off the shirt, peeling his chest free. Waterlogged and vulnerable to the storm, every inch of his olive skin glistens. Her fingers itch to climb those joints and muscles, to watch them flex against her touch.

With her body strapped around him, Merry races her palms over his sculpted physique. Like a ticking bomb, Anger tenses under her fingers. Yet he waits for as long as she wishes, his eyes sealing shut as if to better experience each demanding pass across his abdomen.

Descending, Merry reaches for his jeans. She fumbles with the zipper, and he burrows his head into the crook of her neck to suck hard, so that she cries out and throws her head backward into the abyss. She arches over the building’s edge, suspended above the city while his arms lock around her, securing her there.

At first, Merry’s too impatient to manage the closure, but she wants to do this on her own. She wants to strip him, dismantle him until there’s no place left to hide.

And he lets her. Stars almighty, he lets her take control while he tastes. His hot tongue swabs her clavicles, then draws on the cove under her jaw while his nails bite into her ass.

Finally, the waistband loosens, and she’s shoving the jeans down. Then her heels continue the job, wrenching the material to his knees. And then he’s stomping them into the path and punting them aside.

And there he is.

There he is, standing before her with nothing left. Screens of water pour over those cliffside shoulders, the grooves of his abdomen, the defined V of his pelvis, and that magnificent cock.

The column is thick and long, the flesh smooth and stretching. The naked head of his erection flares, the tip dark and beading with cum through a thin line running across the crown.

Merry’s lungs compress, the view draining her of oxygen. She had expected him to be gorgeous. But to see him this way, bared from all remaining barriers, offering his body in the midst of a storm, exposing himself to his greatest fear. He makes for a stunning picture.

That feverish cock strains for her. Just for her.

Anger awaits her verdict. And so, Merry responds.

Swiping her digit across the speck of cum makes him gasp. Sinking that digit between her lips and sampling the briny flavor renders him savage.

A primitive sound cleaves from Anger as he watches Merry suck on his arousal, salt and heat imbuing her palate. The taste of his desire, that destructive look on his countenance, and the inflation of his cock fortify her.

So when another droplet pushes to the crown of his erection, she runs her digit over the seam, collecting that one too. Only this time, she doesn’t swallow. Instead, the opposite hand plants on his chest, urging him to step back.

While he complies, Merry extends her limbs farther apart. Giving him an ample view, she opens herself beneath the shift, spitting her thighs to reveal the glistening cleft of her pussy. And that’s when her finger dives, rubbing the bead of his cum over her entrance, mixing their arousal together.

Anger’s irises turn into black fire. His gaze alights with the intensity of a blaze.

Then. He. Snaps.

Or rather, one part of him snaps. Iron wings rip from his back, the plumes fanning outward with a loud thwack. He stands there, a dripping god who has fallen from grace, belts of lightning illuminating the wingspan. His plumes span the deck, the tips splaying proudly like he’s showing off, trying to impress her.

It works. Merry’s insides turn to jelly. How long has she fantasized about seeing him like this?

All the same, his stance isn’t as impervious as it once was. There’s no self-control, superiority, or arrogance as there once was. He has been humbled, and his heart has been unveiled, and he doesn’t know everything.

He’s been rebuffed. He’s been wrong.

That’s why he’s glorious. That’s why this is gloriously imperfect.

Who sees you?

In all his years, no one else has beheld his wings. They’ve only ever come out for Merry.

This vision of Anger is more profound than when she thought him flawless. In the beginning, she had been mistaken about that, just as he’d been mistaken about her. Disenchanted, Merry sees Anger fully now, the same way he sees her completely, with their defenses down.

They watch one another, their attributes on display. Merry’s attention traces his muscles and the broad span of his cock, all the splendors at her disposal. Anger discerns the effect he’s having, those fuming eyes capturing hers, his gaze scorching her flesh.

“You are the most beautiful creature in existence,” he seethes.

Merry shivers. Although he’s not one for speeches, the word beautiful carries a thousand implications. From his gravelly voice, it also means precious, worshipful, indestructible, enduring, timeless, and more endearments than she can invoke.

And that hiss. It sounds like a decadent warning. Because if the God of Anger fucks the same way he kisses, she won’t be leaving this roof without shrieking to the heavens. To say nothing of how he’ll fuck with those wings, the leverage they’ll give him.

Merry is more than okay with this. She intends to have an equal impact, to consume every inch of him. She’s prepared to vent her frustration, to fuck the rejection and fury out of them both until all that’s left is honesty.

She flattens her hands on the railing and shakes the rain from her hair. Speaking over the downpour, Merry commands, “Keep the wings out.”

That’s all it takes. His pupils thrash with light, like a pair of stars. With a growl, Anger surges back to her.

Snaring her knees, he flings Merry’s thighs even farther apart and strikes between them. Cinching her hips, he lunges her into him. Their bodies slam against one another, his cock shoving against her folds.

“I will do more than keep them out,” he swears. “I’ll fucking use them.”

He swoops in, and she welcomes the onslaught of his mouth, the pace of his tongue as it lances between her lips. Battered by the tempest, they tear each other inside out, their mouths battling for dominance. He tugs brutally on her lips, pulling her into a ruthless kiss.

Not once have they been naked at the same time, and tonight is no exception, because she’s covered while he’s not. Yet it doesn’t matter. There’s no hesitation, only desire as their panting bodies wrestle to align. Hurling her toward him, the god supports both hips while she tucks his waist into her spread thighs. Her knees bend high, and her eager hands clasp his wet ass, sketching the firm shape, the muscled divots.

As they crush themselves together, each movement drives his erection over her pussy lips, creating the most exquisite friction. But as much as she needs him inside her, Merry longs for something else first.

Unable to help herself, she sprints her fingers up his spine and combs them through the iron feathers. She had anticipated they would be solid. Yet to her surprise, they’re also pliant, flexing around her fingers like the real thing. This type of iron is malleable, defying expectations like his tattoos, which kindle against her skin.

Awed, Merry traces every plume. At the contact, Anger’s eyelids lower to half mast, and the wings vibrate in pleasure.

I’ll fucking use them.

When this god makes a decision, he commits. She’s going to hold him to that.

He’ll fuck her powerfully. She’ll fuck him back fiercely.

The promise of what’s to come soaks her cunt. Anger must scent her desire because he mutters a gruff noise and notches his cock, pressing against the oval of her pussy.

Gasping, Merry clutches the place where his wings sink into his flesh, using it to brace her. The instant her fingers latch there, Anger’s eyes flip open, the pupils glowing like planets. An agonized, beastly noise tears from his throat.

One hand grabs her ass. The other traps the back of her scalp.

And then he swings his waist.

And Merry loses her mind. The hot roof of his cock plies her walls apart, spreading her pussy wide. His muscles stiffen, his irises glitter, and he rolls his ass backward once more.

Then he slings forward again. With a swift jut of his hips, Anger’s full cock pitches into her.

A hard cry lurches from Merry’s tongue. Her back snaps, arching over the ledge, the pose sending that noise into the heavens.

Her cunt grips his cock to the sac, every inch bottoming out. And it feels nothing like she had imagined. Heat radiates from his flesh, its length stretching her beyond comprehension, the wide crown seated so far it hits a tight place makes her tremble.

Anger’s groan surpasses the thunder. His body ripples, rain sliding down his shoulders. This lasts for a mere second before he’s charging at her.

With his gaze fastened to Merry, Anger fires into motion. In a burst of movement, his waist casts backward, withdrawing to the tip. Then his buttocks shoot forth, reeling back inside to the hilt.

With short jabs, each firm ridge of his cock punches in and out. This god fucks with his entire frame, the brunt of his thrusts hurling Merry along the ledge. But she won’t fall because he’s got her pinned, and because she trusts him, and because it feels too good to care.

Every relentless strike is punctuated by Merry’s cries and his growls. His cock flings back and forth, prodding her open with the round head until she’s gushing down his flesh.

While exerting his hips, Anger fists her hair, leveling Merry’s gaze to his own. “Never look away,” he clamors. “Let me see your face while I fuck you. Let me watch as you come. Let me see your happiness. Let me please you.”

With her body aflame, Merry whines in tempo to his cock. “Wings.”

Enough said. Anger’s wings flare, then give a vigorous flap just as his waist pivots. The combined momentum deepens his cock, jolting Merry toward the sky, her sobs amplifying into screams.

Satisfied, he does this again. Then again. And again.

With sinuous beats of his wings and ass, Anger lashes his cock. This enables him to penetrate farther, higher, harder. Moans rush from Merry’s lips, the noises joining the storm.

Their wet hips writhe, riding one another in perfect symmetry, her spine curling. If she were a human, the vertebrae would have snapped by now. But she’s not human, so she can take this, she can take every slam of his cock.

Anger drops his head, his mouth cinching around one breast, sucking the nipple through her shift. All the while, he never lets up, never slows down. Rather, he listens to each of her shouts, sensing every need before it reaches her tongue.

Merry’s moans drown out the turbulence as he switches to the opposite breast, laving her peaked nipple, rendering the garment obsolete. She can’t think, can’t bother to pace herself. Blood courses through her veins like a jet stream, the heat wondrous.

Angry sex. That’s what this is. Yet it’s dazzling, endearing in all its rawness.

He releases her nipple and drags his lips to her ears. “Where?”

“There.” She clutches his wings and sways her hips. “Right there.”

Right there , Anger’s cock snaps. His wings slap the air with a vengeance, which throws his body into hers, his cock pistoning into the damp clench of her folds. Groans echo from their lips with each frantic collision.

His teeth graze her neck, slanting her head even farther back. Her consciousness dissolves to one point, a bright star at the crux of her body, a succinct yet everlasting sensation. Her thighs ride his waist as he stands upright, as her pussy constricts around his cock, as the tumult thrashes above them.

Anger fucks Merry with long, candid strokes. It’s frenzied, and it’s right, and it can’t happen any other way. This is how they want it. This is their choice. And no matter how long it lasts, she’s not there yet, and neither is he. They chase a summit that’s continuously out of reach.

Not there yet. Not there yet. Not there yet.

Yet instead of giving up, they speed up. That’s the thing about deities. As she had thought before, they can keep going as long as they wish.

Merry would yell her triumph, curse their enemies for trying to steal this from them, gloat because they failed. She would if she weren’t chanting in pleasure.

The God of Anger had sunk to his knees for her. Now he’s making love so ferociously, so truthfully, so good.

And now she knows what that feels like.

Unrecognizable noises spiral out of Merry, and his groans chafe into her ear. Anger clamps his mouth over hers, the kiss matching their tireless movements. Her heels have been linked across his back, but now they fall apart, dangling and sprawling her even more for him.

It goes on and on. He fucks her devotedly, endlessly. He’s inside her, and inside her, and inside her.

She can’t stand it. Yet she does stand it.

“I’m so mad at you,” she moans. “So fucking mad!”

“You should be,” he rasps against her lips. “I fucked up, and I’m furious with myself, because you are everything. You’re heat and light. You’re every rise of the sun, every dawning sky. You’re out of my league and all that I cherish. You are my weakness and my downfall. You are my strength and my rapture. You are my idol and my equal. You are a brilliant star.”

With every enraged confession, he drives into Merry rougher, whipping his hips faster. He seeks her forgiveness so hard, her heart is going to explode. “Anger!”

“I would torch this world to embers for you,” he vents. “I would forsake myself. I’d do anything.”

“Then come for me. Come for your goddess!”

And this banished god obeys. As they stare at each other, his cock tenses, and her pussy contracts, squeezing him from base to crown, their muscles about to spring apart.

She clings to him, and he wraps himself in her, and they hold fast while he pounds his cock. And the sky detonates, radiant light blazing through her veins, turning her into a shooting star. They seize up, then convulse, shouting into infinity.

Anger’s groan ruptures. He comes for her with a roar, his features breaking, his cock spasming. He bucks into Merry, a hot stream coursing through her.

She screams, her cry shattering into a million particles. The orgasm surges like a tidal wave, her cunt grabbing him, walls contracting, taking every droplet.

But she’s not done with him, not done taking from this god like a selfish myth.

The first climax is still quaking through her when she orders, “Again!”

Anger has barely come down from the crescendo before his features gleam once more. If this deity is one thing, it’s ambitious. He obliges, flapping his wings and using the momentum to hammer his waist, fucking into her, drilling his cock again, and again, and again.

Until Merry comes for a second time, bellows ripping from her mouth. Her gaze flies to the clouds, and that’s when she realizes.

The storm is over.