“Please…" she whimpers desperately. “Don't make me wait. I don't know that I have time to wait. We have to take what we can here, now, while we have a here and a now.”
I pull my cock free of her tight cunt and deprive us both of what we crave. I have some kind of sadistic streak that clearly now transcends sadism and is traversing the wild territory of masochism. I will torture myself in order to torture her. This thing between us has enough power to transcend death. We can hold off a few seconds. I look down at her with deep satisfaction and even more desire. Every instant my throbbing cock remains outside her is one in which I feel myself torn with need. She is in the same state. She spreads her legs wider and tries to wriggle herself onto my rod, but I don’t allow that. I want her to know that I am still master of her desires, and mine. I want the dynamic we had before, the one that had just begun to nourish us both, to be reestablished.
“Please, Thor. Let me have it. Let me have you.”
She asked so nicely. So prettily. How can I refuse? I snatch her wrists up above her head and look down at her sweat slaked body. A fresh form given to her in the depths of Hades now arches for me, generous breasts and the soft swell of hip and thigh framing her wet cunt. I need her like I need air.
“FUCK!”
She curses as I drive inside her, splitting her open, giving her my cock, and taking pleasure from her tightness. I pound into her, letting my lust and my need and my joy and my sadness and the stubborn lingering shreds of guilt and grief melt away in the inferno of our mutual orgasm.
Anita
We are steaming gently in the aftermath of our love. The room is cold due to the windows all being wide open, and we are warm. Our breath curls and coils into the atmosphere.
"Tell me again how it happened,” Thor prompts me.
“I fell into a lake of fire, and eventually, it felt like a lot longer than it was, Crichton came for me. I don't think I would ever have freed myself on my own. They said I owed them three hundred years. I don’t know that they’ll actually notice me missing, but if they do keep track, I am probably in trouble.”
“I don't think there is any doubt you would be in trouble. Being in trouble is your natural state.”
“True," I agree.
There is a light tap at the door.
"Come in!" Thor calls out. I cuddle naked next to him, wondering who has the nerve to interrupt our copulatory marathon.
“If the two of you have enjoyed your carnal reunion, Father Bryn requests the pleasure of your presence,” Crichton says. “Actually, he wishes to speak to Anita alone, but I doubted you would allow that, sir. Given what happened at the funeral.”
“Given he tried to kill me at my own funeral, which I think we can all agree is just gauche.”
“Indeed.”
“I doubt he wants to make an apology, but we do need to come to some kind of terms with each other,” Thor says. “We should go and talk to him. The fog has receded. He will be something closer to sane by now.”
Bryn and Nina are in the dining room. It looks as though they have been enjoying a mutual dessert in the middle of the day. Bryn is sitting at the head of the table, with Nina to his right. She gives me a big smile. I smile back at her, but not Bryn. I’m really not sure how this complete plonker makes her happy, but he does seem to.
“There is only one kind of demon tolerated in this house,” Bryn says, launching into his little speech without so much as a greeting. Does it not occur to him that he is unspeakably rude? Here I am back from the dead and I can't get so much as a happy you're alive. He’s never liked me, but he doesn’t need to make it so obvious. “And that is a service demon. If you want to dwell here, Anita, you must learn to serve. Is that understood? And is it agreeable?”
It is not agreeable.
“What would you do if it wasn’t? Slay me? Send me back to Hell? You know everybody in this household wants me here. Thor would literally kill you if you tried to hurt me. I don’t have to serve anyone. If you want to call me a service demon to make yourself feel better, knock yourself out. But I’d be back here in a matter of days even if you did slay me.”
Bryn looks at Thor as if expecting some kind of backup, but Thor is still absolutely drenched in guilt from letting me die in the Nordic dark, and he is not going to tell me to mind Bryn.