by M J Marstens
When he’s done, he looks down at me with a soft smile that quickly morphs into a horrified expression. “Fuck. I came inside you.”
I rub his arm. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. It’s not the right time of the month or anything. I just lose my immortality if I’m not a virgin.”
Dev slides back, his dick popping out of me. Color drains from his face. “What?” His hand scrubs over his beard. “So, now Ra can now kill you? Because of me?”
I lean forward and trace up his chest, tweaking a nipple. “Dev, shut up. I was jok—”
But he’s shaking his head and turning to Tupac, who’s sliding his own limp dick back into his yellow undies with a hand covered in cum. His popcorn bowl sits on the floor beside him.
“Can you help protect her?” Dev asks harshly.
“I can wear a condom, but I’m not a huge fan—”
“Not like that, you dick! Her life! Can you protect her life?”
The demigod nods. “It’s what cellmates do.”
I only focus on Dev’s relief for a second as he turns back and kisses me tenderly, running a hand down the side of my neck like I’m the most precious thing in the world to him.
But then my brain catches up with my ears. I turn to ask Tupac, “Did you say cell mates? Or soulmates?”
But the voyeuristic demigod has disappeared.
I turn back to Dev with worried eyes.
But all I see is gentle acceptance. Dev uses his hand to trace over my lip. “No matter what he said, you need him, Val.” He leans forward and places a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose. “You need the other guys, too.”
“But …” Is he saying what I think he might be saying? No. He can’t be. Humans are monogamous. They are one and done. They aren’t like gods …
I must have spoken aloud because Dev leans over so his face is aligned with mine. “You’re not fully human Val. I get it. And you have different needs.”
“But you …”
His face turns sober. “I need you to stay alive. That’s it. End of story.”
“But …” I still can’t believe he’s okay with this.
Dev grins and gives me a light tap on the ass. “Maybe next time, I’ll bring the popcorn.”
14
Khepri
The scent of Val’s orgasms fills the apartment with delicious temptation, like waffles covered in butter and maple syrup. I inhale and sigh. One day, I want to taste one of those orgasms.
Raiden gazes up at me from the floor (because I kicked him off the couch) with a puppy-like expression in his eyes. “Do we get to go next?” he asks.
“Duat, I hope so,” I tell him.
He babbles happily after that and plays with a little bit of lightning between his fingertips. I almost feel sorry for the prick. Almost. I wouldn’t want to be caught and concussedly stupid around my worst enemies.
When Raiden starts to use his own lighting on his tongue and giggle, that’s when I can’t stand it anymore. I call down the hall, “You done in there? Or accepting visitors?”
Devin comes out into the hall, still buttoning up the top button of his collared shirt. I don’t think I’ve seen an expression on his face other than sheepish since the moment I met him.
Behind him stumbles Val, who takes his hand, looking giggly and edible. Her cheeks are flushed and even with her bra on, her nipples are still pebbled. “We better go check on the goats or they might start gnawing on your neighbors satellite dishes,” she tells Devin before glancing up at me.
Her cheeks grow red when she sees the look in my eyes and remembers my keen sense of smell.
I follow the two of them to the door and Raiden bumps into my shoulder just as we’re about to leave. “Me too!” he exclaims.
I turn to push him behind me, where he belongs, only to see Tupac strolling out of Devin’s bedroom with a popcorn dish in hand and dried cum on the side of his yellow underpants. (I know it’s cum because I can smell it.)
My jaw drops and fury heats me more than the sun on my shoulders ever did. “You were in there!” Was he participating?! I might officially hate someone else in the universe as much as Ra. Devin and Val, well anyone could see that writing on the wall, but him?
Tupac sets down his popcorn bowl on the dining table and strides to the door. He tries to squeeze past me but I block him in. I lean forward into his face. “What the hell?”
“Relax. I was just watching. This time.” He winks before he squeezes past me. He sprints down the hallway to catch up with Val and Dev, calling out, “Wait! Let me escort you, beautiful lady.”
“We could have watched?” Raiden says from my side.
I smack him across the side of the head. But it’s not really him that I’m mad at. I stomp down the hall after everyone else. I could have fucking watched. And I hadn’t even known it.
Godsdamned motherfucking honor.
We reach the roof and my bitterness is shattered when an ear-piercing shriek fills the air. Soon, dozens of the same shrill cry sound in the distance. The sounds are faint to me but I see Dev clap both hands over his head and fall to his knees. The goats bleat angrily behind them.
Raiden, Tupac and I look to the sky where dark clouds obscure our view, but Val rushes over to her human lover, throwing her body over his.
“Quick! Tupac, get him to protection!” Val yells.
“What’s going on?” I demand.
“Valkyries are coming,” she announces, her lips thinning.
The Incan solar deity doesn’t need to be told twice. He rushes forward as Val steps back. Then he uses his bulging arms to yank Dev up and run swiftly in the opposite direction of the racket.
“Valkyries, you say?” I ask almost conversationally, although all my muscles are tensed for impending attack.
“I mean, technically, my sisters.”
“Hmm, maybe they are just coming to chat?” Raiden suggests.
Oh, humans, I can’t wait for his brain to get better. Idiot Raiden is worse than regular Raiden.
“They hate my guts,” Val admits ruefully.
“I bet holidays are interesting,” I joke, trying to break the tension, though my eyes still scan the sky.
Val laughs.“Try our weekly family dinners. . . in fact, I’m pretty sure that’s why my big sissies are paying me a call.”
“Does this have anything to do with why you were imprisoned?” I wonder. We typically don’t see charges until months after lock up. Ra doesn’t feel any need to be efficient since there is no such thing as a true appeals process.
“It has everything to do with why I was put in the Back Hole!” she announces cheerfully.
“Black Hole,” Raiden corrects. “It has an L.” He starts to say “la la la” as if he’s trying to teach Val to say the letter ‘L’ and I roll my eyes before glancing back at the sky.
The shrieks, which were faint, have doubled in volume and I now see a couple of shadows circling in the clouds above like vultures.
An ominous feeling creeps over me, even though I’m immortal. Something primal even affects gods when they feel like they are hunted. “Who cares!” I interject, gesturing above us. “Why are the “Angels of Death” descending upon us?!”
Val winces at my accurate description of her and her sisters.
“BecauseIgaveeveryonetheshits,” she says in a rush.
“What?” Raiden and I both exclaim, and I nearly forget about the looming airstrike.
Did she just say shits?
As in, my power?
As in, the most gloriously underlooked regenerative power in all creation?
My dick pulses.
“Can we talk about this later?” she huffs just as the sky is filled with golden-haired maidens with glorious wings.
Leading the Valkyries, though, are two women that are definitely not the same as the others. They are riding in a horse-drawn chariot. Clouds disintegrate as they burst through them so that they become backlit by a weak sun. Their battle-gear gleams.
“Who the
hell are they?” I ask.
“Sif and Járnsaxa, my father’s wife and consort,” she answers casually. “Really, after all the years of spiteful bickering between the two of them, you would think my father would rejoice that I gave them a reason to unite.”
“And what are their powers?” I demand.
“Aside from being petty cuntcushions? Well, Sif can make wheat grow like crazy and blow up her boobs to the size of watermelons. Járnsaxa ... doesn’t really do much.”
“Petty cuntcushions?” I arch a brow. “Creative.”
Val shrugs.
“I read it in a book once. Venus—or Aphrodite—was way cooler in that book than in real life, let me tell you.”
I snort, staring at the women in the sky who have paused their advance.
“What are they waiting for?” I wonder.
“I dunno. Maybe an invitation to engage?” Val offers. “They are super stupid and super into protocol. Since I’ve never battled before and I never really listened to Dad’s old war stories, I have no idea.”
“They’re planning their attack,” Raiden announces.
He can’t be right. Those women cannot literally be paused in the sky like some Macy’s Day Parade blimp waiting for horse shit to be cleaned off the road in front of them. No. It has to be the concussion talking. He has to be wrong, but Val’s stepmoms and sisters keep pointing.
“Don’t you plan this shit beforehand?” I point out.
Val retorts, “I just said they were dumb. And slutty. They’re more likely to engage you in sex acts than acts of war. Actually, that pisses me off more—they better fucking not!” she snaps angrily.
I throw a startled glance at Raiden, but he’s struggling to pull his guard-issued sword out of his scabbard. His fingers keep slipping.
“My hands don’t work. My hands don’t work,” he mutters in mild panic.
“Trust me—I’m not going to fuck your slutty, dumb family members,” I reassure Val distractedly.
“Nor I,” Raiden concurs, though his statement is punctuated by a clatter when he drops his sword, which makes me want to face palm on his behalf.
“Good. Because I’m pretty sure they have godly chlamydia or something,” Val says with a grimace, making me chuckle.
“Should I just electrocute them?” Raiden offers, fingers crackling.
Out of everything, his lightning power seems to be the only thing still functioning properly.
“Nah, don’t waste your time. My sisters are immune to it and are protecting my stepmoms, no doubt. The worst it will do to them is give them a bad hair day—although, that would piss them off. Their blonde hair is their pride and joy,” Val says with an animosity that I pick up on.
The Japanese god rests a hand briefly on her shoulder.
“I’ve always liked the brune—brune—brune... brown hairs,” he tells her solemnly, putting a fist to his chest.
“I like ‘em when the carpet matches the drapes,” I throw in with an eyebrow waggle as I put my own fist to my chest and mock him. Raiden scowls at me and Val giggles and rolls her eyes.
“This is serious,” Raiden the Cumstain scowls at me.
“I know,” I agree mockingly, about to laugh because he looks like an angry two-year-old. “Can you imagine if the Valkyries’ pubes match their hair? We can get our braid on.”
“Oh, gods, that’s so disturbing. And can you please focus?” Val’s temper flares. “Tupac’s shielding Dev, but I really don’t want to have to strangle one of my sisters because something happened to him. Dad would be pretty pissed at me—he loves all his kids, no matter how stupid or skanky.”
I glance up at the hovering chariot, where the two women are now yelling at one another so obnoxiously that even the Valkyries who surround them look annoyed and have crossed their arms as they hover in the dark clouds, awaiting orders.
“Want me to turn into a monkey and throw chunks of shit at them?” I propose.
“You can do that?” Val asks at the same time Raiden growls, “No.”
“Well, what do you suggest, O Honorable One?” I parry back to the unhelpful Japanese dick.
At least Val seemed impressed with my crappy idea.
“Maybe I can drown them a little? You know, make a mini-monsoon or something.” Raiden holds up a finger and a tiny disappointing jet of water squirts from it, like his finger is one of those Dollar Store squirt guns that are painted so bright and enticingly but do not smite your enemies the way their coloring promises. (I have quite horrific memories of last year’s Egyptian pantheon reunion, where I was in charge of the games for the afternoon.)
“Dammit,” Raiden growls and blows a raspberry at his own finger.
Suddenly, one of the figures in the chariot holds up something that glows.
“Whoa. Wait! What is Bitchmom Two holding?”
Val squints up at the sky.
“You mean Járnsaxa? She looks like she’s got. . . a lightning bolt? Dad doesn’t make those.”
“No,” I frown. “Zeus does.” Well, fuck—I guess they came with back-up after all.
“Uh-oh. That’s strong shit.” Raiden’s hand flops over his mouth with a pop. “The good news is they can’t hurt me.”
My nostrils flare and my lips thin, though I’m not certain if Raiden’s being a dick on purpose right now or if he’s still affected by the hammer.
When he adds, “But you better watch out. Better not shout. They can hurt you and that panty-wearing prisoner,” Raiden says, pointing over at Tupac, A.K.A Sunny, A.K.A Lover, where the Aztec demi is trying to convince Dev to go into the door that leads to the apartments—but Dev’s fighting him and doing a pretty decent job of it.
“Tupac,” Val says absently, nibbling her lip in worry as she stares overhead. “His name isn’t prisoner. What are we going to do?! I have never been in a battle. The closest thing I’ve been in is a cardio kickboxing class.”
“Well, both the Valkyries and the lightning bolts can kill Dev, so he probably needs to go inside.” I scold loudly, so that the human will stop fighting against Tupac’s hold.
From across the roof, Tupac calls out in a stage whisper, “Valkyries who aren’t virgins are also mortal, hint hint.”
Fuck. That means these idiots could kill Val. I pull her in closer and wrap my arm around her as I glare up at the sky.
“Well, none of my sisters are virgins either,” she adds. “So those bitches are just as mortal as I am.”
I look at Raiden. It seems like I have no choice but to work with him. “Since they really can’t hurt you, we’ll try to get Járnsaxa and Sif to throw all those bolts at you.”
“Yeah, ok. Get struck by lightning. Good plan,” Raiden agrees, not an ounce of sarcasm in his tone.
“The stingy bastard won’t have given them many bolts,” I pat his back. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. I’ll just stay out of the way until then, I guess, but I’m prepared for when shit hits the fan—poop pun intended.”
Raiden stomps forward and starts waving his arms.
“Magnificent sky pretties,” he yells, addressing the two women leading the pack, “to what do we owe the honor of your presence?”
He biffed that big time. Both Val and I choke at his words but, instantly, the two women seem mollified. They really are idiots.
“We want the abomination standing behind you,” Sif demands imperiously.
“Please, take him. He’s a real pain in the ass,” Raiden deadpans and I realize the fucker is referring to me even though it was obvious that Sif meant Val. My eyes narrow and I glare at him, wondering just how stupid he still is.
Járnsaxa looks confused—but she seems like the type that struggles to breathe and walk at the same time. I mutter this under my breath, making Val’s tinkling laugh ring out. Sif’s face darkens with anger at the sound of Val’s chuckle and I instinctively try to shove her behind me but Val isn’t having any of it.
“Don’t be stupid,” she hisses. “I can take a Zeus bolt to the heart, but it
might incapacitate you—permanently.”
“Firstly,” I hiss right back, “that’s highly unlikely. I’m very hard to kill—more so than the majority of the gods. Secondly, you should say ‘don’t be Járnsaxa.’ It has a better ring to it than ‘don’t be stupid.’ Actually, I’ve been calling her Bitchmom Two in my head,” I confess, earning me another coveted grin from my Nordic brunette beauty.
“I like it. Now, stand back,” she commands before stepping next to Raiden. “I am not an abomination,” she yells to the Heavens. “I’m a person—just like all of you—and just as worthy. All my life, you’ve treated me as a second-rate family member and I’m sick of it. Go away and grow up. What my father sees in all of you, I’ll never know. He clearly inherited grandfather’s blind eye1 where you all are concerned.”
All the women above us gasp—I assume they’re gasping about the slur on the great Odin, but who knows how these spineless and brainless twats think—and, finally, the attack begins.
Why they waited so long, is beyond me, but they aren’t the brightest lightning bolts in the sky.
At least their aim is better. Bitchmom One and Two throw four of Zeus’ bolts directly at Val. Each one zaps down faster than I can blink, hitting their mark and lighting Val up like a Tesla coil.
Although they don’t do any permanent damage, I can see by Val’s wince that they are still uncomfortable and fury fills my being. Raiden’s face goes positively livid at the sight of Val’s pain and he steps in front of her and unleashes his thunderous wrath.
The empty look in his eyes fades a little as the ground trembles beneath his rage, the winds pick up, and rain begins to pelt everything and everyone.
“Leave her alone,” he intones in a voice so deep and rumbling that even I quell a little at the sound, “or else.”
“Or else what?” Val asks, sounding genuinely curious and I almost laugh when Raiden rubs two fingers to his temple in exasperation.
“Will you just let me handle this?” he demands, only to be struck by three of Zeus’ thunderbolts next.
Like Val, his face is etched with agony but, unlike Val, he drops to his knees. I raise a brow at my Nordic demi-goddess. This girl is tough. Though he’s a full god and she’s only half, the worship levels for Thor and Zeus are much higher. It makes me wonder if Val’s honestly more powerful than Raiden. Which is not good for us. Not good at all. Because she doesn’t have any manifest powers. She can’t attack. If Raiden’s weaker than these thunderbolts, we might be in trouble.
