And though he’s stopped pinching my clit, the horseman’s hand still hasn’t left it. I just about cry from the sensation, which was wonderful a second ago, but now is way too much.
I’m pretty sure Thanatos wants to see just how many back-to-back orgasms he can wring from me.
I guess he doesn’t realize that I can play him like an instrument too.
My hand slips down, between his legs, and I cup his balls.
Death groans, his legs trembling just a little.
“Oh, did you think you were the only one with keys to the kingdom?” I say, my voice raspy. As I speak, I let my nails scrape over his sensitive skin.
The horseman’s eyes widen. “Lazarus,” he pants.
“Yes,” I agree. “Say my name like that.” I throw his earlier words back at him. “Better yet—beg.” As I speak, I continue to play with his balls, ignoring how his own touch is brutalizing me in the most exquisite way.
Death’s thrusts become erratic. “You—are—merciless …” he bites out. Then, with a shout, he comes, hammering into me again and again.
I sigh as finally his hand leaves my clit. His cock strokes me several more times before he slips out. And then he simply holds me close.
I wrap my arms tightly around his neck, my spent body plastered against his.
“You are a bastard,” I whisper
I feel him grin against my cheek. “I’m your bastard.”
I swallow.
“Yes,” I agree. “You’re mine.”
The two of us lay out on the beach, still completely naked. The ocean air is chilly, but Death’s wings are warm, and I’ve managed to sneak myself under one.
Above us, I can see the Milky Way stretching out across the night sky. The stars gleam like jewels.
“What do you feel when you look up at the stars?” I ask.
Thanatos turns his head, and I can feel his gaze on me. “I’m supposed to feel something?”
A laugh slips out at that. “I’m trying to be deep here, and you’re ruining it.”
He’s still looking at me, and when I tilt my head to face him, I can see the want in his eyes, like he craves my entire essence.
“Do you feel anywhere what I do?” he asks.
A bead of saltwater clings to a wet lock of his hair. I focus on it as I swallow.
“Yes,” I answer seriously, my gaze meeting his.
His starry eyes deepen at my admission.
After a moment, I tear my gaze away to stare back up at the sky.
“Every time I look up there,” I say. “I feel like I remember who I am.”
“And who is that?” he asks quietly.
I swear he’s bracing himself for my answer.
“That’s the funny thing,” I say. “I don’t even feel like a who when I look at those stars—more like a what. Like I’m something that doesn’t have worries or fears. I just am.”
Death is still staring at me, and I can feel the weight of that gaze.
Eventually, he turns his face towards the sky. “I have lived for a very, very long time. I have watched people die over and over again. I have caught so many glimpses of life, and I have learned much about the world here.
“And yet, so much of this is a mystery. Being what I am—death—makes experiencing life so very strange and foreign. The only thing that seems to ground me is being with you, kismet.
“This feeling I get when I’m with you is … there aren’t human words for it. It’s incomparable. All I can truly tell you is that when I hold you close to me, I am sure no one has ever felt as happy as I do.
“So, to answer your question, I don’t remember myself when I look at the sky.” He takes my hand and tilts his head to face me once more. “I remember myself when I look at you.”
My heart pounds madly as I lose myself in those eyes of his. There’s nothing I can say to match his words, so instead I lean forward and kiss my horseman.
Death wraps an arm around my waist and rolls us. As he does so, he hikes up one of my legs and slides himself into me. And then the two of us are lost in each other once more.
Chapter 65
Los Angeles, California
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
The sun is setting the next day when I coax Death into the home’s grand kitchen. Not that it took much effort. We’ve been playing the let’s-christen-each-room-of-this-house game, so Thanatos probably thinks this is me trying to add a food kink to our sex, which—good idea, but that’s not where my head’s at.
All around me are half a dozen skeletons, each one busy chopping or baking or stirring something.