Dear Diary,

I had a dream last night…but it looked unlike a dream…

The galaxy was exploding.

Or rather, it was folding down, down, infinitely smaller and smaller, like a scrap of paper in the hands of a meticulous man.

I saw a wheel of stars circling a black hole, spinning round and round before being sucked into the abyss.

“But, why?” I sobbed, watching worlds disappear, eaten by an entirety of nothing.

“That is not the right question,” he answered gently, pulling me away from the brink, as we stood together on another world, far from the core of the chaos.

I looked away from Heimdall’s telescope, unable to witness any more destruction.

“It is always that way, that there must be death for rebirth to occur,” he explained, softly, and pulled me close.

“Take me home,” I whispered, pushing back against his breastplate. I do not know the exact number of enemies whose last drop of blood spattered across the shiny surface of this metal plating, or how many final breaths his worn hands have enabled.

Frankly, I do not care; he has ever been the bulwark between life and death, for me and so many others, in faithful service to Odin.

But neither do I want to be pressed against his armor, as if it held the souls of all those forcibly sent into the afterlife.


Our rooms are the last off the Great Hall, far from the rowdy crash and clank of the Warriors Three and Odin’s golden-haired heir to the throne.

I like the quiet; he likes that the Craft Hall is close by, where he tinkers with small priceless treasures and, most importantly, time.


That is how he found me, literally out of time, dying on a small backwater planet that had not yet discovered a simple vaccine for influenza. While creating Heimdall’s telescope, he peered through the portal into another system too closely. In making adjustments, he saw me, breathing my last in my father’s richly appointed house that even so could not afford a cure.

I always wondered if my family thought that an angel had arrived to take me away to Heaven, when he burst into the room and did just that.

Sometimes I tease him that he fell in love with me at first sight; he will always, and possibly forever, firmly tell me no, that he simply had to take action, duty-bound to protect the innocent and provide succor if possible.

Yet here we are, and I turn to unbuckle the chest straps, tilting my head up for a kiss.

He catches my wrists, breathes, “There is no time for that.”

“There is always enough time,” I counter, nuzzling under his neck, his beard prickly against my skin.

“You will have to wait,” he states, as implacable as the river. Seeing my lower lip trembling, he softens enough to add, “I will return, soon. But there is work to be done first.”

There is always work to be done first. One would think the Nine Realms could spare one man now and then. Or more often than that, even.

I drift to the windows to watch the last light fading from the sky…

…then blink, startled, in bed in the deep watches of the night. Lover lies on his side, turned away, sleeping. Tentatively I reach out to touch him, then scoot closer, breathing in the musky scent of his skin. Stroking the long muscles of his thigh, I drag my hand back up the plane of his belly, lightly tracing around his nipples.

Groaning, he shifts on to his back, drowsily toying with my long hair as I lean forward, kissing his torso, making my way down between his legs.

It is easy, in these grey shadows, to imagine we are still on some far off world, that he has finally returned home to me.

I find his shaft, lengthening as I nibble along his hip, as I lick a wet line along his lower belly. Hovering just above his cock, I breathe gently onto the head and flick out my tongue, feeling his whole being vibrate as I take him first into my hand and then my mouth. I can feel him swelling even more as I run my tongue around the circumference of his cock, little by little taking more and more of him into my mouth, finally pumping up and down as he groans, sinks his fingers into my hair, tightening into a fist as his body involuntarily arches upward.

Up and slowly down I go, fingers reaching beyond his balls for that little spot that ratchets bliss up to the halls of Valhalla. He is engorged enough now that his full length touches my tonsils; I fight the gag reflex to take him in, all of him, deeper and deeper, his cock like iron ramming in and out, slick with saliva.

I want him, so much I cannot wait another moment. I release his cock onto his belly, hear him sigh, feel his hands pulling me up to him, sliding over my hips, grasping my ass, spreading me wider even as I straddle him at last.

I want to wait, to feel him enter me inch by inch, but it has been so long that I am wild with need. I impale myself onto his full length and half scream, his strong arms pulling me closer for a kiss, tongues probing and teeth clicking as I raise my hips and once again drive him deep inside of me.

Bliss ignites along every nerve ending; I raise my head and arch my back, grinding into him, and then sit up and begin to rock back and forth. I can feel him like a steel pillar, teasing my swollen clit with every stroke while his hands tweak my breasts, pinching the nipples. Leaning forward I grab the headboard, pushing back with my hips for an angle that creates greater friction, feeling the explosion building within me like the death of a star.

I peek down at his face, so close below; his eyes are closed, his mouth whispering my name as his restless hands hold my hips, keeping the rhythm as I slam back down onto his pulsing cock, faster and faster.

“Oh gods, I need you, I want you,” I cry, so close now, sweat running like a river between my breasts. With every stroke I’m closer to that tantalizing ecstsasy, almost there, feeling him rigid and pulsing within me.

“Now?” he pants, but I am beyond words, lost in the throes of this final push that shoves me over the brink into an anesthetized buzz that floods through my body like brandy, heavy and numb.

Moments later I feel him come, too, a ferocious current that sends shockwaves to every crevice within me, triggering a secondary orgasm that catches me by surprise and leaves me breathless, collapsed on top of him.

Whether in this life or the next, some times dreams do come true.





Butthole Surfers: