Dog Days

Chapter 93

A/N: Possibly trigger warning. Just putting it out there, this chapter talks about multiple traumatic events, including sexual assault. As well as mental illness, such as PTSD or anxiety. There's also a bit of smut.

The second he takes the first hit, he looks almost content. I furrow my brow and ask "When was the first time you smoked weed?"

A soft smile plays on his lips, and he states "I was seventeen. It was short after Slyvie died, and I was on a mission in Amsterdam." He furrows his brow as he explains "I was supposed to seduce this fifty-something year old engineer who had recently been working with the Mexican cartel in Arizona. He had created a pipeline to smuggle drugs into the country, and we needed to know where it was." He gives me a soft smile "He was a sweet dutch man with absolutely no tolerance for alcohol and a habit of running his mouth. We met at a bar, and we smoked from the same hookah. By the end of the night, I had all the information I needed and he went to bed with a smile on his face." He gives me a found look "I felt amazing, and I was relaxed and happy. I occasionally smoked, after that, but when my back crapped out, I settled into being a pothead."

I furrow my brow and ask "The pot felt amazing or the sex?"

He takes a long drag, before remarking "Both. The weed relaxed me and it made me feel everything so much more. Doesn't help that we were going for over an hour." He looks out the window, fondly "That was the first time I actually enjoyed sex."

I give him a soft smile as he passes the joint over "It sounds like a good experience."

As I take a drag, he smiles at me "It was. It was the first time I ever felt confident in my sexuality. Before then, most of the people I slept with wanted me afraid. It was a nice change to be treated with respect. He was a good man."

I take a deep breath, before I state "You deserved better, from the beginning. You should have never felt like you were supposed to be scared during sex."

He shrug as I take another drag "I'm used to it, by now. It's second nature." I hand the joint back and he sighs "I'm a whore. The world's oldest profession."

I take a deep breath and declare "You're a little bit of a whore, yeah." He furrows his brow at me and I smirk at him "Im a bit of a whore, myself."

I give him a sincere smile, before I state "The things that they did to you, that makes you a victim. You're not the one who instigated it, even if you did things to get through it."

I give him a proud smile as he looks at me with a bright look in his eyes and a meek smile on his face. I insist "You did what it took to survive, that makes you a survivor."

His lip quivers as he listens to me. I can't help but smile at him with all the pride I have towards him "The only thing that makes you a whore is the way you move your body when you're riding my cock. That's the man I'm so deeply in love with, and I love you, unconditionally."

He sits there for a few seconds, just trying to absorb what I've said. He bites his lips and hands the joint back to me "What makes you a whore?"

I take a drag, only to remember the feeling of the way it felt to be had by him, not to mention the silicone dildo back at home. And then I remember Heimdall. I exhale as I remind "I am a whore. I fucked someone just because I was a little lonely."

He gives me an exhausted look as I take a puff "Thor, I told you that it's alright. If it's just a bit of fun, then have it. It's not like I was there."

I furrow my brow and declare "I'm still sorry."

He rolls his eyes as he takes the joint from me "Don't be. I'm going to give you a thorough fucking when I can. You'll be my little whore, all night."