As soon as Freya had received Xolotl’s text message invitation to meet up, she knew what to expect and where the rest of her night would go. Sure: by running off with a guy, she was basically proving her friends’ point of being an eternal booty call. But what they didn’t know was that things between the Norse goddess and the Aztec god were different. There was a friendship involved-- one based on the first-hand knowledge of the feeling of loneliness, the yearning for long-lost lovers, secrets kept for centuries and a lifetime of appearances needing to be upheld in order to maintain a certain status or image. If there was someone else (other than the Roman god Pluto) that Freya cherished beyond measure, it was Xolotl.
Once she was safely nestled inside her SUV, the young woman tapped her phone screen a few times and placed a call to Xolotl.
"Before I say yes or no to your proposal: do you plan on kicking me out tomorrow morning after tossing me some McDonald’s money on the kitchen counter for breakfast like a meth head you picked up at a bus stop?" she asked him, her voice bristling as she was clearly still peeved about Odin's actions that morning. Although she knew this wouldn’t be the case, she still needed to be certain beyond belief. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of her last
meeting.
“Freya… Have I ever been the type?” Xolotl’s voice is droll, though not offended, and he arches a quizzical eyebrow even if Freya is not there to see it. Taking another sip of his wine, he watches the reflection in the glass pane before him, at his colleagues’ merrymaking. A few of them had started talking about going to a bar downtown, and he’d excused himself for the moment to take this call.
“Stay however long you’d like.” I don’t care, he nearly says.
“Where are you right now?”Atta boy! the beaming beauty couldn’t help but call out in her head. In the many times she and Xolotl had been together, he had been nothing short of a gentleman-- a trait the Norse goddess had realized was rare for the gods. It was a welcome (and much needed) change of pace considering the morning’s mishap.
“I’m at the Jade Jaguar parking lot. I just finished having some drinks with Eros and Tlaz, but they’ve got other shit to do, so I’ll be free for the rest of the night,” the brunette answered, pulling down the sun visor to carefully inspect her reflection in the mirror.
“Where do you want to meet up?”Xolotl makes a humming noise when the Jade Jaguar is mentioned. He’s been there his fair share, mostly to catch up with his sister, sometimes to entertain clients, but he’s never really been interested in its services himself. Still, the liquor was good, and he appreciated Tlaz’s ability to run a business the way she does.
“Let’s see…” He trails off for a moment, turning his wrist around to glance down at the timepiece there:
9:37 P.M. Still early, then. No need to rush things.
“How about that place downtown, the Amaranthine? It’s quiet, upscale —– I think we could use some of that, don’t you?”“Ugh, fucking tell me about it!” she whined, thinking about the negative headspace she had found herself in. Quiet, upscale and quality time in Xolo's company was
definitely something that could help boost her spirits.
"Anyway, The Amaranthine sounds perfect! I'll see you soon, okay?"At Freya’s response, Xolotl allows a faint smile to grace his lips.
“Good. I’ll see you then.”It doesn’t take long at all for Xolotl to get to the Amaranthine. The hard part was convincing his coworkers to go on celebrating without him. His car, a powerful yet understated Audi RS7, glides smoothly along the asphalt, easily maneuvering through evening traffic until finally making a right into a subterranean parking garage.
He stays in the car for a few more moments after shutting off the engine, feeling the rumble beneath the wheel, under his fingers, die down. When he finally does step out of the vehicle, the door shuts behind him with a muffled
thump, and he starts making his way to the adjoining lift lobby. The heels of his Oxfords click softly with every step he takes, the only sound in the garage apart from the distant screech of tires and buzzing fluorescent lights.
All of that is completely silenced when he steps into the elevator, the doors sliding soundlessly closed after he presses the button for the fiftieth floor. Left alone with his thoughts, it’s all Xolotl can do to not try and question the wisdom of his decisions.
Was it a good idea, meeting Freya like this? It’s been some time since their last encounter, and yet, his memories of that time have yet to fade. Not the conversations between them, soft and low. Or the electric touch of Freya’s fingers against his skin. Truth be told, he doesn’t quite know how he’d ended up tangled up in this mess in the first place, but he doesn’t have time to think about it before the elevator reaches its destination.
The Amaranthine is located at the very top of the Marriott, overlooking much of the city and offering a scenic view of the iconic Space Needle. The place is dimly lit, though not uncomfortably so, with a large, glittering chandelier hanging from the ceiling like a constellation. Everything else is equally as lavish —– plush armchairs, gilded flatware, and tables spaced far enough apart to ensure the patrons’ discussions remain private. It’s a popular haunt amongst the white-collar demographic of Seattle, catering to a variety of business meetings and other such liaisons.
Xolotl isn’t here for that, though, even if he does have a terrible habit of letting work encroach on his personal time.
No, he needed to relax, to let loose, somehow. And through some strange sequence of events, Freya had slowly become one of the only people he trusted to witness this other side of him, the side he usually kept hidden away like it’s something to be ashamed of.
Xolotl doesn’t falter, simply drawing in a bracing breath before making his way to the bar.
“What can I get you, sir?”He takes a moment to consider.
“Mezcal. On the rocks.”The bartender nods and begins to prepare his drink. Unconsciously, Xolotl smooths a hand over the countertop —
Calacatta marble, some part of his brain supplies — and his fingers start to drum a steady rhythm against its surface.
He didn’t have to wait long, though. By the time he was halfway through his drink, the long-haired brunette he’d been expecting was making her arrival to The Amaranthine.
One of the benefits of being a single woman with an active, unpredictable social life and no small children was that the spacious black Navigator Freya drove around doubled as a mobile dressing room whenever needed. The trunk and back seat held a selection of outfits for every occasion, ranging from sweats, hoodies and sneakers to evening gowns with matching Louboutines. Upon receiving Xolotl’s invitation to The Amaranthine, the young woman knew her current choice of wardrobe wouldn’t cut it, so she’d been quick in disposing of the slutty school girl outfit in favor of a
long-sleeved, form fitting white mini dress with matching beige thigh-high boots. Appropriate enough for the upscale setting, but sexy enough to showcase her best attributes.
With that flirtatious smile in place, Freya made a beeline straight to where Xolotl was waiting for her.
“Hey there, Hot Shot,” she greeted him as soon as she was within earshot, wrapping her arms around him for a brief hug and planting a soft kiss on his cheek before taking a seat on the empty booth next to him.
“Long time no see, don’t you think? I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me. Work keeping you busy?”Xolotl isn’t
quite taken aback by the kiss — after all, there’s only one person he was expecting, and such an affectionate greeting was part and parcel of sharing an acquaintance with somebody like Freya — but he still finds himself tensing up a little, almost unwittingly. It’s familiar, somehow, yet unmistakably different, dredging up old memories like driftwood on the tide.
He can’t dwell on it for long, though, knows as well as anyone that the past is dangerous territory. So instead, he wills himself to set it aside, at least for the moment, and schools his features into something resembling amusement.
“I guess you could say that.” Xolotl doesn’t offer much by way of explanation, just lifts his shoulders in a shrug. He
has been busy. Working.
Thinking. Hephaestus’ death still weighed heavily on his mind, a constant reminder of the oppressive influence of the Colossus. But he doesn’t want to talk about that right now. Not with Freya, anyway. Even if the Norse goddess already knew about what happened, this was neither the time nor place.
He clears his throat, then, motions one of the servers over to take Freya’s order, whatever it may be. Xolotl only begins to speak once the two of them are alone again, voice low and steady.
“You look good. How have you been?”That observation made the young woman snort with disbelief. It was obvious that Xolotl wasn’t in a talkative mood, but his attempt at steering the conversation to her was comical.
“Well, shit. If you still think I look good even when I’ve been poppin’ xanny bars like TicTacs all day, then I guess I really am a goddess of beauty after all,” she snorted, taking a sip of her cosmopolitan.
“Which, by the way, should be enough for you to imagine just how excellent I’ve been doing today.”“Well, excuse me for wanting a civil conversation.” Xolotl heaves out a laborious sigh, but it’s clear from the smile on his lips that any aggravation is purely for show. When Freya takes a sip of her drink, he mirrors her action after a second’s delay, bringing his own glass up to his lips. The mezcal tastes like smoke on his tongue and burns on the way down, a grounding sensation that reminds him of what they’re really here for.
Like a switch that’s been flipped, he suddenly grows serious. His gaze is steady, unwavering, though the ghost of a smile remains.
“Really, though. If there’s something wrong, I’d like to hear about it.”Instead of answering right away, Freya couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh. After knowing each other for so long, the brunette knew she could be open and honest with Xolotl about anything that bothered her-- no matter how big or small. Anything she expressed to him would be received with no judgement, and the best attempts at guidance and comfort would be made. But when you spent your life putting up the façade of a carefree party girl, it was hard to open up even to those you trusted.
“It’s more of the same, really…” she began, shifting her eyes to the city skyline visible through the nearest window so Xolotl couldn’t see the regret in them. That made it easier for the story to flow out of Freya’s mouth like the rush of a river.
“Odin texted me late last night, and instead of telling him to go fuck himself I dropped what I was doing to go over to his place, only to have him kick me out the next morning because ‘he had other things to focus on’,” she scoffed with distaste while shaking her head, feeling angry again just thinking about the incident.
“And, I mean, I get that it’s my own fault for taking the bait in the first place. And, sure: I might have overreacted when I made a little scene before I left his place. But I was just so pissed, you know? I was upset that he treated me like I was this fleeting toy thing that he could just use up and toss away whenever he felt like it. As if being the mother of his favorite fucking child didn’t mean a thing anymore.”Xolotl doesn’t say a word, but simply listens, rolling the deliciously cool glass between his fingers. The movement itself is smooth, well-practiced, an old habit he finds himself returning to every time he’s faced with a dilemma.
On the surface, Freya’s problems were vastly different from his own, but the more he thought about it, the more he understood. She spoke of resentment, of feeling unwanted, both of which he’d experienced at one point or another in his long, execrated existence.
Xolotl, god of lightning, sickness, and misfortune. He’d paid the price for his cowardice, and it still wasn’t enough to shake off the guilt that followed him everywhere he went. Always hungry. Always baring its teeth in a
snarl.
A mangy stray snapping at his heels.
He tears himself out of his introspection with a cough.
“I can see why you’d be upset.” It’s a neutral response, broad and almost
infuriating in its vagueness, but Xolotl wasn’t quite done yet. Of course, he didn’t know Odin personally — much of his business was conducted outside his sphere of influence, and he always worked to steer clear of any conflict both in and out of his pantheon — but the way Freya described his treatment of her was enough to stir up a twinge of annoyance within him, a sense of…
displeasure.
“He doesn’t have any business acting that way.” Like a spoiled child, he wants to say, but doesn’t. His disdain for the Allfather was already evident in the way he spoke, how the syllables rolled off his tongue. And when he does begin to talk again, Xolotl leans forward a little in his seat, head inclined in an inquisitive gesture.
“But if he wants to, why indulge him? You have better things to do, don’t you?”"I just felt lonely. Like, really, really lonely. I thought seeing someone would help with that-- even if it was him," Freya admitted, rolling her eyes at how pathetic she sounded. But it was true, and there was no point in trying to hide or deny it. Pouting, she turned her sad eyes to Xolotl again.
"I hate coming home to an empty house and a cold bed. It makes me feel so unwanted. So… Unloved. Like I always give out my everything when I really fall for someone, but end up getting absolutely nothing that matters in return. As pathetic as it sounds, there’s an empty space in my chest that’s starting to eat me alive, and I don't know how else to numb the pain of it."His brow furrows at Freya’s admission. In all their years of acquaintance, Xolotl has never seen the Norse goddess this vulnerable, so
achingly sincere, and to be honest, he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.
“I wish I knew what to tell you,” is all he can think of to say, but his mind continues to work, searching for something he can offer to Freya as a form of advice. To make up for the lull in conversation, he takes another sip of his drink, savouring it instead of finishing it all at once. Was this his way of stalling for time? Possibly. But Xolotl has always found it prudent to think before he speaks.
“Look, Freya. I’m no good at this, so… take it with a grain of salt.” It’s probably not a good sign, starting off with a disclaimer like this, but he powers through before doubt gets the better of him. The warm buzz steadily making its way through his system does its work lowering his inhibitions, thawing the cold, dispassionate facade he’d built his name upon.
“I just don’t think you should be this concerned with being alone. And you’re not alone. You have people you trust, people who understand you.”It’s what he tells himself, too, when the nights grow lonely and the days are long. And if Xolotl ignores the longing, the rose-tinted haze of the past, he can almost bring himself to believe it. But now, he just reaches for Freya’s hand, lacing her fingers with his own.
“You are worth something, you know? More than you believe.”Xolotl's comforting words, along with his gentle touch and his mere presence, had been a soothing balsam for Freya's aching heart. As aware as she was of her self-worth (
too aware, some might say) and the existence of people who cared for her, it was always greatly appreciated to have a verbal confirmation come from a cherished individual such as the Aztec god. When the doubts and negativity tried to drown her mercilessly, it was easy to lose sight and perspective of the things and beings who really mattered. And it was in moments like these when Freya was eternally grateful to have people like Xolotl be the lifeboat to bring her back to the safety of the shore.
"Thank you, love. And I hope you know that so are you," she answered, downing the rest of her drink before setting the empty glass atop the bar to focus her complete attention onto the man in front of her.
"You don't have to say it for me to know that, sometimes, you feel just as lonely as I do. But you're not, okay?" the girl said, gently cupping his cheek with her free hand before continuing.
"Just know that if you ever need anything, I'll be here for you. Be it as friends or lovers, for a listening ear, a drink, or a good fuck, and no matter the time or place. Always."Would she really? Xolotl found that hard to believe, or maybe he didn’t want to. He’s never liked having to depend on others, to have to hinge his hopes on the whims and inclinations of someone else. Too many moving parts. Uncertainties. Xolotl was a man who valued control, and maybe that’s why he’s better off alone. He knows that. And yet,
he had been the one to contact Freya, hadn’t he?
He had been the one to pick up his phone and bring the both of them here. What did that say about him, then?
A soft hand against his cheek stops the roiling maelstrom of his thoughts dead in its tracks.
For a long moment, he doesn’t draw back or move closer, just
stops, like he’s unsure of what to do. There’s a strange flicker in his eyes, something dark and almost…
confused. And then, he’s surging ahead, pressing his lips to Freya’s own in a heated kiss, who was kissing him back with the same amount of passion and intensity. He tastes the vodka on her lips, mingled with the smoky edge of mezcal. A hand comes up to rest against Freya’s face, like he’s trying to pull her closer, but he breaks the connection before long, jaw set in a rigid line.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, though he doesn’t sound very apologetic at all. Xolotl shakes his head after a moment, breathing out a humorless huff of laughter.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Fre. I get by just fine.”“Bullshit,” came Freya’s fast reply-- her tone a little bit brasher than she'd intended, but she knew that it had proven to be one of the most effective ways to get through to her friend.
“No one can do this alone. We all like to pretend that we can, but the reality of the situation is that not even the strongest can survive on their own. Now, the way I see it, is you have two options here, Hot Shot. One: you can cut the bullshit, stop lying to me and yourself, and we can go back to the room I'm almost certain you booked for us, to indulge in that therapy that will make us feel a hell of a lot less lonely. Or two: you can keep up the Superman charade, and we can both go home alone to spend another pathetic night wallowing in our own self misery. So, darling: what's it going to be?" she asked him, raising a questioning, defiant eyebrow in his direction.
Silently, Xolotl stares at Freya, thoughtful, as if he’s weighing his options. He could say no, that he’s not in the mood, and it would be true. He doesn’t know if he wants this, but at the same time, he doesn’t
not want it either.
It’s…
exasperating.
“You’re mouthy.” He says it in a way that’s more amused, more matter-of-fact than chiding. And somewhere deep within him, his sense of pride
resents that. He hates how Freya believes she knows everything about him, hates how she’s
right. Their relationship was one built on the back of mutual trust and shared desire for intimacy, though it came with one unsaid agreement: there would be
no strings attached.
A wicked smile lit up the Norse goddess' features at Xolotl's observation.
"I know," she smugly declared with a small shrug, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Most women would be offended by that statement: even if the tone of voice suggested that no negative connotation was meant in the first place. But, of course, Freya wasn't like most women. She was anything but ordinary.
"And if you let me, I'll remind you of just how mouthy I can really be."Sighing, he leans back in his seat, downing the rest of his drink in one smooth gulp before turning back to Freya.
“Well, you’re wrong about one thing. I don’t have a suite booked for tonight.” At this, Xolotl offers Freya a derisory smirk, absentmindedly brushing a lock of hair away from her face.
“How about I take you home, and we just… see how things go?”Excellent.With that flirtatious smile still in place, Freya slid off her stool, placed her hands on Xolotl's thighs and seductively leaned forward.
"Sounds like a plan," the brunette whispered in his ear before shifting her attention to his mouth. She let her warm breath tease the man before taking his lower lip between her teeth and gently nibbling it in that way she knew drove him to sin.
Xolotl can hardly resist rolling his eyes at Freya’s antics, but allows her to do as she pleases, shifting a little in his seat to give her more space to maneuver. It seemed to him that even after all these years, the Norse goddess — with all her sultry looks and honeyed words — hadn’t changed one bit.
“Freya…” he murmurs against her lips, and at the scrape of teeth, feels a bolt of molten heat shoot up his spine. All the while a part of him wonders: how did he end up here, in the middle of a busy bar, kissing Freya? As if on a tether, he pulls away suddenly, placing a firm hand on the side of Freya’s neck to still her movements, and looks her straight in the eye.
“Not here.” His words are quiet but clear, in a tone that leaves no room for argument. The hand he has on Freya’s neck shifts, moving to take her by the chin instead. For a moment, Xolotl is silent, dark and heavy-lidded eyes studying every inch of the goddess’ face, like he’s waiting for a reaction.
Just as she was skilled in the ways to provoke Xolotl, so was the Aztec god with the Norse goddess. There was nothing Freya loved more than a dominating man: one that could turn her into a puddle with a simple look. Xolotl knew this. His firm grasp on the side of her neck, along with that authoritarian voice and those piercing dark eyes, were enough to send goosebumps down the young woman’s sunkissed skin. Lust immediately clouded her hazel eyes, and her craving for him multiplied-- no doubt with a little persuasion from the drinks she’d partaken in earlier). Whatever the case, it was obvious that Freya, in all of her submissive glory, would do as she was told in order to get what she so desperately wanted.
“Wait for me at the elevators. I’m gonna pay for our drinks.”She didn’t have to be told twice. With a satisfied smirk and a playful wink, Freya pulled away from Xolotl and strutted away in the direction of the elevators.
Xolotl keeps a watchful eye on Freya’s retreating figure, waits until she’s halfway across the floor to summon a server with the universal gesture for “check, please.” He takes only a cursory look at the tab before passing his credit card to the server along with a ten dollar bill that they pocket with practiced efficiency and a grateful nod.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll be right back with your card.”As promised, the server doesn’t take long to return, and Xolotl finds his way to Freya soon after. When he approaches, he touches a hand to her lower back, though he only allows it to linger there for a moment before drawing away to call the elevator.
“You ready to go?”Freya eagerly nodded.
"Yes, sir," she answered in her politest, most innocent tone of voice before stepping into the luxurious hotel elevator and closing the doors behind them once her companion had entered.
It’s only a short drive to Xolotl’s place: a sleek, modern building of steel and glass. It’s late enough that the corridors are empty, elevators vacant, and they’re able to make it to his front door without any strange looks.
Xolotl easily finds his keys in his pockets, unlocking the door and allowing Freya to enter first.
“After you.”The apartment is furnished exactly as you’d expect it to be — all hard angles and muted grays — like something out of a catalogue. But there are a few touches here and there that make it clear exactly who the apartment belongs to. The faint, smoky aroma of incense in the air. The rug on the floor, woven in dizzyingly intricate patterns. And the shining disc of copper on the living room wall, ancient and etched with the shape of a man with the head of a bird.
As someone who had visited this particular apartment more than a fair few times, Freya knew exactly what to do and where everything was. After carefully placing her Chanel handbag on top of the kitchen countertop, the brunette took stealthy steps in the direction of Xolotl’s back. And when he finally turned around, she wasted no time in grabbing him by his tie and pulling him into the nearest corner, pinning her body against the wall with his and locking her lust-filled hazel eyes with his own again.
"Is this private enough for you?” she purred, lightly grazing his lips with her own as she spoke. The anticipation was building up, and the sexual tension between them grew thick. It would be Xolotl’s next move that would define the direction of the rest of this night.
Xolotl doesn’t stop Freya when she moves for him, humming out a quiet noise of agreement. If he were not willing, he would have stopped her right then and there. If he were not willing, he would not have let her pin herself with his body against the wall so easily. But he was, and now, with her back flush against the cool, hard surface of the wall and Freya’s hot breath on his lips, Xolotl can hardly stop himself from running his hands over every inch of her skin.
It was still too soon for that, though,
too soon; and Xolotl wasn’t the type to rush things.
They had the entire night, after all.
As a concession, he reaches up to brush a hand against the underside of Freya’s arm, fingers ghosting over the surface of her skin in a featherlight touch.
“Better. I don’t like people staring.” Xolotl’s voice has dropped an octave now, low with a hidden, dangerous edge. His hands slip lower as well, coming to rest against Freya’s hips.
“This is between you and me, Freya.”Then, Xolotl closes what little distance remains between them, claiming the goddess’ mouth in a deep, languid kiss, and little by little, begins to trail off to the side. First to the corner of her lips, the edge of her jaw, and finally the soft, golden expanse of her delicate neck. When he draws his lips across her skin, he feels the steady rhythm of her pulse thrumming just beneath the surface.
“Only you and me.”
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