The first round was five minutes. That’s as much as Daisy could handle, so they took a small break, watched the rest of the movie, started its sequel, and after two hours of it, or roughly one-third of the movie, she was ready to go again. The second last for thirty minutes, or until Mel hit his limit. On-and-off, break after round after break; they finally called it by the end of the third movie, twelve hours later.
They laid there together, basking in the swamp they had made with their sweat. The blankets were slowly catching up as they cleaned themselves, the lazy gits. It wasn’t that much volume; if Mel had built up a cumehameha, that’d be a different story, but he was only packing wide barrel today. If those layers could weep, if the blankets could speak, they would be calling the pair of them demons for defiling them so. But they did not for they were bloody blankets –which, about a few hours before, was quite literal. His legs were still healing, and, after a few of the more... rigorous rounds, needed to completely mend before they could continue. Thankfully, though, his most needed part stayed in one piece the entire time.
Mel could feel Daisy panting, her heard through her chest, but all hearing was gone, lost to her wails of ecstasy and his roars of triumphant bliss –sounds that no doubt Saliim heard. He wondered what her reaction was: A) Hit the bottle, B) Cry while she pleasured herself to it, C) Take notes, D) Realize that he will never be that into her, E) None of the above, or F, the one nobody chooses unless they are completely lacking any and all sense) All of the above. Mel, of course, had sense, and knew it couldn’t be all of the above; there’s no way D would ever be correct. Nobody ever realizes that... nobody. She didn’t come in with alcohol, so it couldn’t be A. Saliim was too proud to learn, so C was out, which left her a quivering heap on the chair she commandeered at the start. Logic: it really is that simple.
Daisy held up her right hand, and the red display appeared once more. She turned off the movie, just entering its credit reel, and opened the curtains. It turned out he was wrong; the answer was actually E. None of the above. She wasn’t even there. The angel wasn’t even present. It was only him, her, and the cloud of stank they gave birth to, wafting out towards the platform. It seemed to hiss as it passed through its curtains, eating, bleaching the fabric a bit as it continued its skyward voyage, rising into heavens promised by the voices that conceived it.
Mel found it rather strange, though. There was no such odor when he did it with Brin or even Saliim. He had heard from TV that the Stank was real, but his first two first impressions were that everything smelled like fresh lilac and honey after a rousing bout... That being said, that’s a small... small price to pay. Even compared to Brin, the pleasure was immeasurably higher.
That fact made him feel a touch guilty, but it was the truth. He’s not saying she was bad. Hell, the more partners he has, the more true it is: sex is like pizza. When it’s good, it’s really good. When it’s bad, it’s really bad... then you have Mama Rosa’s. How he had hoped that Daisy wouldn’t be his Mama Rosa, but, as of now, there wasn’t a single one that was. For his sake, he hoped he would never meet someone who was.
And, speaking of pizza.
Mel said something, but his ears were still rebooting. He could feel the pressure of the words press against them, could feel their vibrations, but it might as well have been like trying to listen through water. Daisy arched her head back, still panting, her face flushed scarlet, and pouted. He saw her lips move, felt the words hit him, but couldn’t make them out whatsoever. Mel raised a finger, stopping her before pointing to his left ear, then opened his hand fully, giving it a hard smack. It was as if a valve was opened when he did, the soft mumbling replaced by sharp ringing, dimming down into clarity.
“Okay. Let’s try this again,” he said, at least able to hear himself in the one. His other arm was still imprisoned, so his right ear will simply have to deal with the warbling pressure. “When are you going to make that pizza?”
“Pizza? What pizza?” She said, her voice coy, teasing him. “I don’t remember that being a part of the deal.”
“Like hell you don’t!”
“Can’t say I do... I remember that, if you won, you could ravage me as you saw fit-”
“And then I added the pizza! Which you agreed to!!!”
She hummed, tapping at her chin, lips continuing to curl as if she was a green fellow with only a scrawny dog up in a mountain looking over a happy little city filled with incorrigible, unyielding zealots. Shame, too, that their fanaticism got the fellow in the end and gave him a heart condition, but at least he paid for it with each attempted retelling after. That was his price to pay for giving into the false prophets and worshiping the almighty dollar. You can try to spin it as the spirit of Christmas all you want, but those bastards knew what they were doing! They were casting an unholy chant because they knew he took their possessions and knew he would return them.
“No!” She blurted, patting his chest as she tittered. “Nope. I don’t remember anything about a giant pizza-”
“Ah-hah! I never said giant.”
“Oh! So you just want a personal pan?”
“What? No! We agreed on a giant pizza, but I never said it in context tod-”
“I mean, if you want a pizza so bad I can easily go make you one now.”
“No. You see, we agreed on a giant pi-”
“So you don’t want a pizza?”
“I want a pizza. A g-”
“Then I’ll go make you one. I’m hungry, too.”
“It was supposed to be a giant- Goddammit!” He slammed his head back into the pillows, groaning as her tittering reached him from the kitchen. Though he tried to act agitated, he still wore the biggest, dopiest grin... He heard a weird hissing, and it was only getting louder. He looked around, wondering if they had busted a water or perhaps a gas line, but it was only the angel. She was back in her painting, looking straight at him, waving at him. “Yes?”
“Is it safe?” She said.
“We’re done fucking for the moment if that’s what you mean.”
“Thank you!” The angel split, and through the opened doorway Saliim returned and, with her, Mel was reminded that logic doesn’t exist here. She was stumbling and reeking of alcohol and lust, her face flushed and streaked with tears. Her runes pulsed black and pink, but it was the object in her left hand, a notebook, that made him realize that, for once, the answer could possibly be F- no. Still no real way; there’s no way she would ever fulfill D. “She was bugging the hell outta me for the last four hours. ‘Are they done yet? Are they done yet?’ Bitch, if they were done I’d let you in just so I could have you outta my fucking hair... Solid eight out of ten performance by the way, cracka.”
“Eh. I’ll take it. Was only my third person and I’m used to being dominated than being the one putting in the work. Can only go up from here.”
“Don’t remind me!” Saliim shrieked, falling into her chair again, sniffling. She laid her head on the table, crossing her arms over it, and started to chuckle. “That whole month, and she gets you to do... that in under an hour.”
“That’s because making love is a two-way street, girl,” the angel said. “You may love him, but he sure as shit doesn’t like you anywhere near as much as Daisy.”
Saliim scoffed. “‘Love’? ‘Making love’? Welcome to the twenty-first century. People simply copulate, no strings attached, all the time. The whole idea that love somehow makes sex better is completely asinine. Humans are creatures of desire, of need; they don’t need love to consummate.”
“So how is your sex life... Well?”
“You talk a lot for a figure on some canvas.”
“And, at the end of the day, I have more a chance to please him with giving neck than you do if you work his disco stick like your life depended on it.”
“The moment you try is the moment I burn you down.”
“Did I strike a nerve in the cold, callous succubus?”
“If you know what’s good for you, you will cease and be silent.”
“Ooh... That almost sounded threatening after the hours of sniffling and asking what they were doing and writing down what seemed to work.”
“I said be silent!”
“And then you ran off. I thought you were finally done, but then you come back reeking of whiskey.”
“And then you resume your inquiring assault. Then you get pissed at me for not answering them! ‘Is he putting his weight on his elbows?’ ‘Is he being careful with his legs?’ How the hell would I know? The curtains were shut!”
“There we go! Now she drops the airs, though they were gone the moment you came back reeking of liquor. Heard that it’s supposed to be beer and liquor, but I must say I couldn’t be any sicker after smelling you.”
“Alcohol plus feminine need is not a good mix.”
“Not for you, but it drives men wild. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? You’re a lawful stupid, goody-goody two-shoes virgin, and always will be! The furthest you can go with Mel would be giving head –head, not neck, you insufferable painting. OR, here’s a fun word: Fellatio. The proper term, unless that’s beyond you.”
“You want to go, bitch? Come over here and say it to my face- Oh. Wait. You can’t. You’ll fall over before you even reach me in all of two steps.”
Saliim slammed her hands down on the table, both booming like cracks of thunder through the room. She stood... a challenge in its own right for her, and made the first step, turning as she did. That set her back a touch, making her stumble four steps to the left, but she pointed her tail to the right, holding it firm until it balanced her out. This time she was a bit more careful re-positioning, slowly facing the painting, and took a step towards it. Then another. She was but one step away, black fire frothing from her hands, when she jumped in place and fell over, disturbed by Daisy’s sudden declaration as she entered.
“Breakfast is ready!” Daisy had said, carrying two personal pizzas. The first was laden with so much meat that grease lazed on the top, slowly draining into the baking dish underneath, while the second was a touch more modest. It had just as much meat, but also a thick, bubbling layer of cheese, coated in hot sauce. She sauntered over to the table, exaggerating her hip movements the entire time, pulling Mel’s gaze away from those succulent pans to her bodacious bountiful beautiful booty, so much so that he seemed to float out of the bed after. Normally, it was food in cartoons that made somebody float as he did, but how could he resist that treasure or the chest in front? Alas, she sat as he caught up, and he simply lazed and plopped into the seat across, accepting his consolation pr- she slapped his hand, giving him the one without the extra cheese. “Mine!”
“B-b-” He spluttered, watching as she waggled her finger over both pizzas. A thin, black blade cut through them, separating them into eight, perfect slices. “Not only have you denied me my giant pizza, but also the better one?”
“I have altered the deal. Hope I don’t alter it further.” She giggled as she took a slice from her pizza, giving Mel a wink. “I’ll be working on your giant pizza this weekend. It’s just that we’re sort of short on time this morning. I am due in Professor Stone’s class in an hour.”
“And I have Professor Torrid-”
“You have Professor Torrid, too? I have them every other Wednesday. It sucks; they’re so cool!”
“Ha hah! I have them every Tuesday.”
She whined, pawing the air in his general direction.
“You meanie! I’m so jelly... Which one’s your favorite? I like Raven.”
“I’m torn between her and Luke. Not saying Veronica isn’t nice, but I was always a sucker for the quiet type and Luke is... fuck yeah.”
“Hells yeah! But I feel like I should be a bit offended. I’m like Veronica, you know.”
“Yes, but you aren’t a giantess with a literal split personality. When you’re the bright and cheery one between the emo, silent type, and Luke, you would sort of fade into obscurity. Again, nothing against her, but it’s always those two that pull my attention... Besides, your voice gives me instant boners when, you know, we haven’t been going at it for hours.”
“Really? Then I’m doubly offended. You should have a raging boner right now.” She looked under the table, and laughed as it thudded and rose a few inches off the ground. The platters on top made such a clangor; she righted... and looked down to see her pizza was gone, instead replaced with M- “Hey!”
“I regret nothing!” He boomed, and buried his face into the hot, scalding, bubbling, grease-soaked pie and its still-hot pan. He simply munched away for a few minutes before pulling out, thick boils and sizzling skin covering his face. “Okay. I may have a regret or two.”
“Serves you right,” she said, giggling, and sighed as she dug into his pizza, taking her sweet... sweet time. “There is something that is bothering me, though?”
“Me, too... I think some of the cheese got into my right ear. All I can hear in it is popping... and pain... I can hear pain; that’s not good, is it?”
“No. It’s not. We’ll get you to Professor Klan after I finish eating... As I was saying... you didn’t think it strange I called you ‘hubby’, right? I... I was swept up in the moment... I know it’s too soon to be thinking of marriage, but I... I really... really do love you, Mel.”
“... I’m sorry. I think cheese got into my other ear too. Did you say you love me?”
“I did, silly... I really do... Those other guys; the dates weren’t only lame because they were dull and had zero personality... but because they weren’t you. I feel... happiest around you... I love you, Mel.”
“I love you, too. So does the cheese. And the hot sauce... ow...”
“Then it’s settled. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend now... Though, won’t lie, don’t really like the idea of you continuing to give it to Saliim. However, I know that she is a succubus that has marked you, and, from the argument I heard while cooking, she’s no real threat.”
“I hate everything!” Saliim wailed, crying.
“See? So I have no problem- oh wow... yeah... L...let’s get you to the infirmary.”
Mel could no longer speak, his face too swollen to manage more than a muffled acknowledgment. He felt that he was taken to the infirmary more than went to it. He couldn’t really see... nor breathe, but breathing isn’t that important, right? After the evening he had, his breath was taken, anyway, and, best part, he was still getting his giant pizza. Life was good... which meant something was going to fuck it up.