Goddess

Alan stood at the other end of the door, grinning a deceptive grin.

"Now with that call out of the way, may I come in?" he asked. Tom moved to the side, and Alan made himself comfortable on one of the chairs in the small main room.

"You smoke Tom?" he asked.

"No, I quit a couple years ago. Besides, there's no smoking in the dor-".

Alan pulled out a cigar.

"Rules only apply to those who don't enforce 'em, Tom."

He lit the cigar and blowed smoke out into the air. "Have a seat man, c'mon."

Tom took a seat in the small chair across from the R.A. Alan nonchalantly blew some smoke in Tom's face.

"So, point of curiosity - does my sister make good grilled cheese sandwiches?"

Tom looked at him in confusion.

"Why would I know that?".

"Because you're doin' her? What, she doesn't make you a sandwich afterwards? I thought all you white knights were in it for that."

Tom looked at Alan completely dumbfounded.

"There is... so much wrong with that I don't even know where to start."

Alan blew more smoke.

"Could you not?" Tom said, waving the smoke away from his face. "The ventilation in here's crap."

Alan exhaled and sighed, then pulled out a small piece of tin from his pocket, which he used to extinguish the cigar.

"Dick." he said.

"Eh, pot meet kettle." said Tom "So what're you here for? Sydney made it pretty clear she'd start talking about the dinner party if you harassed me."

Alan's eyebrows shot upward.

"Why, has she said anything?"

"Was it the story with the reindeer? And the dijon mu-"

Alan began frantically shushing him.

"OK OK so she's told you, fuck!"

Tom laughed.

"I don't see why you're all that nervous. Plenty of guys are guilty of that."

Alan's face turned bright red with anger.

"You say that, but then the part with the bicycle happened."

The two men looked at each other in silence.

"She... didn't tell you about the bicycle did she?". Tom looked at him stunned.

"No... but that makes a lot of sense. That's... that's kind of fucked up, actually."

Alan cleared his throat.

"Whatever. I really just wanted to see what you were all about. Since talking to you, mother's been on about some limey named Corbain, and father's been talking about leaving the board of trustees and handing over large amounts of stock to his employees. So I'd like to sit down and to talk to the dirty red himself."

Tom's eyes twitched.

"Good God, I thought the rest of Sydney's family was bad. This man is the epitome of the bourgeoisie." he thought "What do you wanna know?".

"What's it like to hate America?"

"It sure is a thing."

"Why do you socialists wanna expand government?"

"I don't, I want to do away with it."

"Why do you hate the rich?"

"Because they hate me."

"Why do you hate free speech?"

"I don't, I hate Nazis."

"Why don't you move to China?"

"I don't have the money and I don't speak Chinese."

"Am I triggering you?"

"Not at all, I'm lucky enough to not have PTSD. Is this going anywhere?"

Tom smiled, while Alan continued getting frustrated.

"Man, I thought the alt-left were easy to make angry." he thought.

Tom got up and fetched some air freshner, which he applied charitably to the room.

"Real cheap cigars you got, Alan. I figured the rich had access to better things."

Alan crossed his legs and rested his chin on his hand, still trying to figure a way to make Tom upset. He'd broken all the rest of his sister's would-be partners, there's no way he'd fail on this one.

"You mind if I ask you something, Alan?" Tom said "Why do you hate your sister so?"

"Why, I have no such hostility!" Alan insisted "But in your particular case, I take issue! My stunning, immaculate sister, much like any women of the Brednar line, is simply too good for most people, but most especially a horrific, lower class man like yourself!"

Tom looked at Alan stunned, his mouth hanging open a bit trying to process all that. Tom regained his composure and cleared his throat.

"Alan," he said "A little earlier you asked "Why do I hate the rich?". A better question is "Why do I have hostility towards them?". And the answer to that, Alan, is that I am a man with union in my blood. The entirety of my family has always been members of organized labor, and faced all the reprecussions of that. I've got family in the IWW, UFCW, UAW, CWA, IBEW, and USW, to name only a few. And if my working class blood offends your economic Aryanism to such a degree, if the love Sydney and I have disgusts you to such an extent, then you oughta carry a barf bag, because I intend to continue to offend you!"

Alan's face turned as red as his hair. He rose out of the chair and got in Tom's face.

"Now you listen here, you dirty communist! My sister is too good for you! A poor stooge like you could never make here happy!"

"That's not what she said when I was fucking her."

Alan turned white as cocaine, and let out a muted, disjointed screech.

"H-h-how dare you defile her! How... how dare you sully her innocence!"

"I was not the one to do that, but it's honestly funny you think it."

"M-m-m-my sister is practically American royalty! H-how dare you!"

"Royalty doesn't mean shit to me, Alan."

"Call it whatever you want! You are unfit to look at my sister let alone defile her!"

"Am I unfit to defile myself watching her defile herself? Because if so I have bad news for you."

Tom grinned, loving the look on Alan's face. That last part was a bold-faced lie, Tom could never get into the idea of mutual masturbation. Of course the look on this hyper-rich snob's face was worth it. Alan stomped on the ground and walked off.

"Hold on!" called Tom, gunning it towards the door. "I just have something I need to tell you. I don't like leaving conversations on a bad note, so I figured I'd give you something nice. It's an old Spanish phrase I picked up during my time in Mexico."

"Oh. Oh well that sounds lovely," Alan said "Well, let's hear it."

"Mierda tú y tu bandera imperialista. Ahora haz la mierda fuera de mi dormitorio. Y para que sepas, si siempre hablas de mi diosa de tal manera misógino otra vez, estoy poniendo en un agujero."

Tom said, grinning through his teeth.

"Oh. Oh ho! That sounded quite lovely! Nothing better than a little ethnicky pep talk!" Alan said "What's uh, what's all that mean there, Tom?"

"Oh it's a general combo of phrases. It basically means good luck."

(It was a death threat).

"Well, thank you! I suppose you plebs aren't so bad after all!" Alan said, smiling back at Tom. "I'll see you around, then!"

"And make no mistake, you will be single when I'm done with you." he thought as he walked off.

Tom shut the door and shuttered. What an unpleasant little shit of a brother the love of his life had. He snuck into Casey's room, which at the moment was empty, and snatched up some of the gin they had stashed underneath a couple volumes of Marx. Part of him wondered which Casey would take more exception to, the use of their body wash or the use of their booze. Then Tom shook it off and threw back a couple ounces of the gin. He wiped the excess from his lips and then screwed the cap back on the bottle.

"Not nearly enough to be drunk," he thought "But just enough to wipe that unpleasantness from my head."

He walked back out into the small living room of the dorm and took a seat, then he heard the familiar voice of Casey come through from beyond the door.

"-and I'm just saying, that's a legitimate point about strawberries", they said as the entered the dorm, with Sydney right behind them.

"Oh, heya Tom!" Casey said, their runner's high not yet gone "Cliff and I were out with your girlfriend at the arcade. We figured we'd be good comrades to her an' all that good stuff."

They jolted towards Tom and leaned in.

"By the by," they whispered "You should get her to read Marx".

Tom turned to his roommate.

"Casey, you think everyone should read Marx."

Casey shrugged and made their way back to their room.

"I'll be in here reading Luxemburg. Oh boy howdy, I can feel the runner's high finally wearing offffff."

The door shut slowly. Sydney looked to Tom.

"So how was your day?"

Tom slumped back into his chair and groaned.

"God awful. I had your creep of a brother come by earlier. Going on about how I don't deserve you and just spewing the most despicable shit I've heard in my life."

Sydney walked over and gave Tom a kiss.

"Poor thing. Why don't you go take a shower, get the feeling of Alan's evil off you, huh?".

Tom got out of his chair and stretched a bit before making his way to the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes and started running the water.

He relaxed and let the water flow over him for a few minutes, letting the steam and warmth rush over his being. Then, he heard the door open.

"Hello?" he called out. The shower door came open, and their stood Sydney, naked as he.

"S-Sydney, I-"

She placed her index finger over his mouth.

"Your Goddess is going to relieve you of your discomfort," she said, climbing in behind him "Now hush or I'll punish you."

She stood behind Tom and embraced him, running her right hand on his cock. Tom's neck went back as he took in the feeling of her soft hand. She ran her tongue up his back as she stroked him, loving the taste of his skin and the hot water. It added a wonderful new spin on the taste of her boyfriend's body. He started to moan, and she paused.

"No sound, mortal," she said before resuming her consumption "You may breathe heavier if you must."

She gave a trail of kisses up his back, before reaching his shoulder, where her bite mark from before was still slightly visible. She chuckled.

"Hm. Still bearing the mark of your Goddess, I see."

She stroked him even more rapidly now, and lightly bit into the mark, leaving just enough room for her to lick the area. Tom's breathing grew heavier and more rapid. God, she loved making this man squirm. She moved closer, pressing her body against his back, and gently wrapped her other arm around him.

"Such a well-sculpted pervert." she said. Her stroking continued, becoming even more rapid. Every centimeter of her hand was dedicated to the task of making her boyfriend squirm with pleasure. Finally, Tom could take no more, and he came, trembling against her figure.

"F-fuck" he gasped lightly. She gently let go of him, turned him around, and gave him a deep, loving kiss. "I'm going to get out now and make you something, alright?".

Suddenly, a knock came at the door.

"Hey," came Casey's voice, now back to it's usual dreary demeanor "I don't care that you two are fucking in there, but the last time you screwed at the dorm, you used my body wash. Don't touch that this time."

"On second thought, I think I'll wait 'till they're back in their room." she said.