Gods & Monsters

by Saffron A Kent

He doesn’t stop to answer me. Buck naked, he pads over to the bathroom and then, I hear the tap running. I sit up and gather my clothes, feeling bereft.

  What just happened?

  One second we were talking and everything was fine but now something feels off. Putting my dress back on, I go after him and find him emerging out of the bathroom, holding a wet cloth.

  “I was going to clean you up,” he says, frowning.

  “I don’t want you to clean me up. What’s —”

  “It’s my job to take care of you.” There’s a wealth of irritation in his tone as he cuts me off, and that gets my back up.

  “No. It’s not. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” I march over to him and try to snatch the cloth out of his hand, but he doesn’t let me have it. “Let go.”

  He grits his teeth. “No.”

  I tug the fabric but it’s useless. Irritated, I look up at his stony face. “What’s happening? Why are you being a jerk all of a sudden?”

  “I’m trying to take care of you but you won’t let me,” he repeats.

  “This is so stupid. Why are we…” I study his hard expression, his angry eyes, and I realize how insensitive I’m being. Well, he’s being insensitive too, but we’ll get to that later.

  It’s important for him to be able to take care of me. Isn’t that why he wanted to hold off having sex with me the other night? Because he wasn’t sure if he’d have a job or if he’d be able to provide for me. Maybe it’s one of those things men get really broken up about.

  I let go of the cloth and step even closer to him. “Are you okay? Is it… Is it about the job? You know, it doesn’t matter to me if you didn’t like it or if you, you know, didn’t get it. Maybe it just wasn’t right for you. For us. I wouldn’t—”

  His jaw clenches. “Job’s mine if I want it.”

  It takes me a second to understand his meaning, and then a smile is breaking out on my lips. “Really?”

  Abel jerks out a nod. “Yeah.”

  “Oh my God. That’s great news. See? I told you. I told you you’d have a job.” I hug him but he doesn’t hug me back. “Abel, what is it? What’s wrong? Do you not like it?”

  There’s a defiance in his tone when he replies, “I like it. I think it’s perfect for me.”

  “Okay. So what’s the problem?”

  He’s silent for a beat and my uneasiness grows.

  “Well, what is it? What’s wrong? What’s going on?” I ask in a squeaky voice.

  “You might not like it,” he says, finally.

  I grow rigid, my heart slamming in my chest. “W-Why?”

  Abel can sense my anxiety and he sighs, losing his hard expression. “I’m being an ass, aren’t I?”

  “Yes.” I sniff.

  “Fuck, c’mere.” He wraps his warm around me, hugging me tightly. “It’s just a lot of hours. A lot of work. So, I might be gone a little too much.”

  I grab hold of his cross, still not completely convinced. “Are you sure that’s it? That’s what’s wrong?”

  He kisses my forehead. “Yeah. I don’t want anything to come between us, Pixie. Least of all my job. After being apart from you for so long, I don’t want to spend another minute away from you, if I don’t have to.”

  I cup his cheek. “Nothing can come between us, Abel. Nothing at all. Besides, we have to work, don’t we? And I got a job of my own.”

  “You did?” He frowns down at me and I know an argument is coming. I can feel it but I’m not in the mood to fight.

  “Uh-huh. It’s just a waitressing thing a few blocks over. Totally safe. So no need to freak out. I figured that I’d work during the day, make some money, help you out so we can find a new place sooner, and write during the night. So, see? Things are working out, already.”

  He smiles. “They are.”

  I go on my tip-toes and kiss his rapidly beating pulse. “We’re going to be so happy.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. Because we deserve it. And because our love’s greater than anything else in the world.”

  His arms go around my waist and he hauls me up. I bury my hands in his hair, laughing.

  “Is it?” he asks with twinkling eyes.

  I nod and place a tiny kiss on his nose. “Our love is the stuff of legend.”

  His face turns somber again, but this time it’s saturated with intensity. So much intensity and passion and ownership. My core flutters.

  “Now stop being an idiot and love me,” I order.

  Abel splays a big palm on the back of my head and plants a hard kiss on my mouth. “I’m going to make you happy, Pixie. So fucking happy you’ll forget how to be sad anymore. You’ll forget everything else but me and my love. I’ll make it my goddamn mission.”

  It looks like he wants to say something more, but he settles for kissing me, hard and fast and deep, and carrying me to our room. He lays me down on the mattress, gets the wash cloth from the hallway where he dropped it before, and comes back. He kneels before me and cleans my pussy, gently, reverently. The warm, coarse cloth is such a soothing balm. I squirm and moan under his careful ministrations.

  Once I’m all clean, he takes off my dress and bends down and showers my face, and my shoulders with kisses. Small, tiny, fluttering kisses like butterflies.

  “I’m sorry, Pixie. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry, baby. Don’t hate me,” he murmurs.

  “I don’t...” I moan.

  With every kiss he tells me that he loves me, making me melt under him. With every kiss he tells me that he’s an asshole for being so brutal with my pussy before.

  “Gonna be nice now,” he says and travels down.

  Then he eats me out, every lick of his hot tongue an apology. Every gentle tug of his lips says I’m his everything. Before long, I orgasm and as he wraps me in his strong arms, I press a fist on his chest, where his heart lies. It’s slamming, beating like a train-wreck.

  Even though, I’m lax, I can’t help but feel like his heart is trying to tell me something. Something that his lips can’t say.

  “Abel?”

  “What?”

  “A-Are you sure that’s it? Are you sure there’s nothing else?”

  He tenses for a beat before relaxing. “I can never lie to you, Pixie.”

  I swallow; my throat is parched. “I trust you.”

  Something flashes on his face for a microsecond before it’s gone and he kisses me like only he can.

  Rough and painful and loving.

  Over the next few days, Abel shows me all of New York City. Anything and everything you can think of, you can find it here. The tall, spiking buildings that touch the clouds; chaotic Times Square with enough lights to brighten up the whole world; shiny, expensive Fifth Avenue; funky, eclectic Union Square that’s made of dreamers.

  New York is so big and yet so small. You stand on one end of the street and you can see the string of yellow cabs and traffic lights, all the way down to the other end. The weight of the people has cracked the sidewalks and sagged the dirty leaf-ridden streets in places. And there are so many people.

  I learn all the signs, the roads, the avenues. Turns out, no one really gets lost in New York. There’s a neat little system called the grid. Logically numbered avenues and streets. So basically, navigating New York City has to be the easiest thing ever, even for someone as geographically challenged as me. Who knew?

  We ride the ferry and see The Statue of Liberty from up close. Abel holds my hand the entire time because he thinks I’m going to fall off the railing even though I’m being careful.

  “Well, wouldn’t you jump after me and save me?” I grin up at him, wind in my face and Abel in my eyes.

  “No.” He shakes his head, his fingers flexing against mine.

  “What? You have to save me. A fiancé is supposed to take care of his would-be bride.” I lift my chin to appear miffed.

  “No, a fiancé is supposed to not let his would-be bride fall in the first place.”

  I kiss him, th
en. Because how can I not?

  The more I see this city, the more I realize that Abel couldn’t have been born anywhere else. He couldn’t have come from any other place. He was destined to be born here, in a place that’s larger than any dream or imagination. He’s so much more than a golden-haired boy who grew into a man. He’s a god.

  A god with a camera.

  When I tell him I bought him a new camera with the money I stole from my parents, he gets mad, furious, livid. He doesn’t want anything to do with my parents.

  “My dad broke your camera, it’s only fair that he pays for it.”

  “I don’t fucking want it, Pixie. I can pay for my own goddamn camera.”

  We fight, and then I strip my clothes off and demand that he take my picture with the exact camera that my parents’ money had bought. That gets his attention. I can sense a thrum of excitement in him. It gets me excited too and grinning, I submit to him. He takes snap after snap of me, until his lust becomes the most powerful thing in the room and he has to abandon the impromptu photoshoot to slake it in my body.

  He never uses condoms, though. The big idiot. Says he doesn’t want anything between us.

  “You’re crazy. You’re literally crazy. Pulling out method doesn’t always work, you know that, right? You wanna populate the Earth with little Abels?”

  “Nah, I wanna populate the earth with little Pixies.”

  I roll my eyes at him. We’re so young. We can’t have kids. But damn it, it sounds so amazing. If he gets me pregnant, then there’s another bond between us that no one can dare break. But of course, that shouldn’t be the reason to bring a child into this world.

  No, a child should be brought into this world for the right reasons. On this, I will never budge.

  Although, I will admit that I love the entire process of baby-making. In fact, that’s all I ever want to do. I’m ashamed to admit but there are times when I don’t even want Abel to get out of my body. I wish I could sleep like this, with him buried inside me. I’m not alone in my desires; Abel feels the same way. In fact, even our arguments end up in sex. Especially, when I scream at him to pick up his clothes because he’s a slob, or demand that he close the door while taking a piss, as he calls it.

  “Boundaries, Abel!”

  He laughs, finishes up his business in the bathroom and fucks me against the wall of the hallway.

  “Don’t you get it, Pixie? There’s no place for a boundary between us. I won’t allow it.”

  Why does he have to be so insane? Why does it have to turn me on so much? Why don’t I mind drowning in him, in his dark lust and unconventional desires?

  Because trust me, they are unconventional.

  There’s no consideration of place and time for him. Even if we’re out or riding the subway or walking down the street, he’ll touch me in less than appropriate places. I blush and get mad at him and tell him to cut it out, like I used to back in school corridors, but he doesn’t listen, and that makes me smile.

  “Come on, Pixie. What’s the fun in hiding when I can just pick you up, throw you over my shoulder and fuck you against that brick wall right now?”

  The brick wall in question is the one in the alley behind a Chinese place we just finished having dinner at.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispers, tugging at my clothes, pressing me into the wall. “I think you would, Pixie. I think you’d love that.”

  “N-no.” Even though I say it, I know I’m excited. I know I’m deliberately teasing him.

  “You can’t lie for shit, Pixie.” He pulls me toward him and my legs have no choice but to go around him, my spine has no choice but to arch, grinding my core on his hard dick.

  “B-but people will see us. We can’t,” I whisper, kissing him, contradicting my words, getting him hotter.

  “Let them.” He bites at my lower lip, adjusting my legs around him for a firmer grip, and then puts his hands under my dress and plays with my clit. “Let them see, Pixie. Let them point fingers, curse at us, talk about us. Let them think we’ve got no morals. Because trust me, baby, they are liars. They’ll pretend to be disgusted but when they’re alone, they’ll jerk themselves off. They’ll think we wanna love like them. We wanna be legends like them.”

  I’m delirious with lust. My desire is leaching out of my core and drenching his fingers, making wet, sucking sounds. All I know is that I want him inside me. Fuck the streets. Fuck the people. I don’t have it in me to even put up a mock protest.

  “Abel…” I whimper.

  “But they can’t be, right, Pixie?” He rolls his hips, his hands moving away from my pussy and kneading my butt. “They can’t be legends because there’s only one Abel and Evie, right? Only one Abel and his Pixie. And no one loves like us.”

  Yes. No one. Not a single person can love the way we do. Not a single person can understand our desire to flaunt our love.

  I’m so turned on, it aches. It literally aches.

  “Fuck me now, okay? Just fuck me.”

  Chuckling like the devil, he does. He gets his dick out and in me in a flash, and closing my eyes, I smile. This is it. This is our love. Shameless, reckless, a little painful, and a lot glorious.

  It’s perfect.

  Or rather it would be, if not for this teeny-tiny doubt in my mind.

  I don’t know why but I still think that Abel is hiding something from me. I can’t be sure but I have this feeling that just won’t go away. Every time I ask him about his job, he freezes up. Sometimes he avoids talking about it. Sometimes he grows irritated with my questions. He stays up late at night working on his computer but if I catch him, he snaps the lid shut.

  Or at least, I think he snaps it shut. I don’t know.

  I don’t know if it’s in my head or what. Because my head is not a great place to be. Sometimes I see my dad on the streets. I don’t get spooked the way I did the first time, but still my heart jolts. I hear his voice in my dreams or nightmares, rather. His prophecy about how Abel will be my downfall. And I end up hugging Abel tighter. I can’t make this insecurity go away.

  My dad planted a seed of doubt inside me and I hate him for that. I hate myself for tainting the trust I have in my Abel.

  I hate that one day the doubt gets so bad that I go behind Abel’s back and open his computer, which is lying on the kitchen counter. I want to see what he works on. But as soon as I open it, a video starts up. A sexy video. A couple is making out, naked. Oh gosh. My cheeks burn even though I’ve seen such things with Abel a few times after we moved here.

  The girl is dark haired, her face bunched up in ecstasy and with a slamming heart, I realize I know her. I’ve seen her somewhere, which is ridiculous because where would I have seen her? But for the life of me, I can’t deny that she somewhat looks familiar.

  I’m trying to place her and hoping that soon she’ll unclench her facial features or hopefully, the guy’s muscular back won’t block her face as much, when Ethan walks in and my embarrassment gets through the roof.

  I hit pause and sit up. He looks at me and then, at the computer. “What are you doing with it?”

  “Uh, nothing.” I fidget in my seat.

  “That’s mine,” he tells me before snatching the laptop away, making me jerk and flush hotter than ever.

  “Oh, I’m-I’m sorry. I was just… I thought it was Abel’s.”

  “It’s not.” Ethan presses the computer to his chest, frowning, and then asks in a suspicious tone, “Why were you looking at it when he’s not here?”

  “I, uh… Because…” I swallow, my heart hammering. “W-Well, can’t I? I mean, he’s my fiancé. I’m sure I can look at his computer.”

  My tone is defensive. Ethan knows it. I know it and I’ve never felt more ashamed of myself. I don’t know if he can tell what my intentions were or if something is wrong but I can’t stand his scrutiny.

  What would Abel think if he knew I was spying on him?

  I excuse myself and lock myself in our room. Damn it. I can�
�t believe I did that. I can’t believe I let my dad get to me.

  I hate myself. I hate my dad.

  Even so, I can’t help but wonder about that woman I saw.

  I hate that every evening when Abel comes from work all horny and charged up, my very first thought before I lose myself in lust is why. Why is he so desperate to fuck me? Why’s he so flushed with arousal? Is there a new shine in his eyes? I wonder why he can’t keep his hands off me.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” I hate that I ask him this one night when he won’t let me sleep. He just came on my butt and I was drifting off when he turned me on my back, and slid inside me in one go.

  He stops, his eyes bright and grip tight. “You’ve never called me that.”

  “What?”

  “Honey. You’ve never called me that before.”

  “Never?”

  “No.” He begins rocking, picking up his pace. “I like it. My mom used to call me that.”

  “Then I’ll keep calling you that,” I moan, my heart full and my throat choked up.

  His thrusts are brutal and even though my pussy is sore and hurting, I don’t want him to stop. I arch my back to let him in even deeper, as deep as he can get. I want him to obliterate all my doubts and suspicions. I want him to purify me with his lust.

  Moaning, I rake my nails down his back. He murmurs that I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and all of a sudden, dread makes a home inside my chest. Despite myself, I begin sweating, shaking so hard that Abel has to stop.

  “Pixie?”

  Oh my God, it’s obvious. It’s so fucking obvious.

  “Hey, Pixie? What’s wrong?” he asks, again.

  “Are you sure?” I pull on his hair, unable to stop myself.

  “About what?”

  “That I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?” He’s confused; I can tell. But I need to know. Is that why his behavior has changed?

  “Are you sure that you haven’t seen a more beautiful girl than me? At your job, I mean.”

  That’s when he gets it.

  He’s silent for a second. I see disbelief and hurt flash through his face, and my heart squeezes. I’m an idiot. How can I even think that? Our love is bigger than that. So much bigger. Affairs, cheating… those things are child’s play. Our bond is beyond that kind of crap. I open my mouth to apologize but he barks out a laugh. It’s harsh and sharp-edged. He picks up the pace; in fact, he jackhammers inside me. The room echoes with his pounding and all I can do is clench that silver cross between my teeth to keep myself from screaming too loud.