Love, Cum and Armageddon

"Do whatever you want," she says, eyes good and evil. 
"Anything?"  His eyes wide, good and evil. 
"Don't tell me.  Just do it."  Her voice unfurls into a rasp, low and good.  "Just do it to me."
His shirt has been off for half a minute, and her hands are unbuckling the belt.  It feels good and evil.  
Her clothes have been off for two minutes.  They are in a patternless, wild, evil mess.  A sock by couch, the other by patio door.  Bra by washer, jeans by refrigerator.  She only wears panties, black, cotton and new.  He smells her sex mixed with the cotton.  It is a good and evil scent.  
He wraps her hair into a knot, and curls it two, three ... four times, until his fingers are on the scalp.  He slowly pulls her head back and looks down at her.  
"Will you do anything for me?"  He needs to hear she will before he can go on.
"Anything."
"Anything?"
"What do you want?"  She is on her knees, her hands tugging at his underwear.  
"What do you want?"  He lets go of her hair and playfully slaps her on the right cheek.  She moans.  It is a good and evil sound.
"To make you happy."  
"Happy?"  
"I will do whatev -"  He is exposed and she takes him into her mouth.  
"Will you let me -"  
"Shhhhh," she whispers, then puts him back inside.  
He looks at the digital clock on the microwave and it is four minutes later when he cums.  Cums.  It is a good and evil feeling.  

They clean up and she is open-mouthed, waiting.  He is slouched, open-mouthed.  He feels good.  She looks good to him.  He looks good to her.  

"Anything, right?"  He asks, in tired, good first words after any kind of evil sex.
"Yes."  She waits, smiles, semi-nervous.  "What?"
"You're beautiful."
"No I'm not."  
"You are."  He pulls her over and they lie on the kitchen floor, her head on his chest.  She can hear his heart beating.  It is good. "You are good and beautiful."  He rubs her hair, tender and smoothing it out.  
"Thank you." She finds his palm and slowly links her fingers into his.  It feels good.  
"Anything, right?"  He says.  
"What do you want?"  
He waits.  "I thought I wasn't supposed to tell you.  Only supposed to do it."
"Baby," she drags out, lifts her head up so her eyes can see his.  They look good, and so do hers to him.  "I love you."
"Shhhh," he whispers, glides her head back to his chest.  "I love you."
"Why?"
"Because," he says, turning her around so her back is on the floor.  He spreads her legs and places his head between them.  He begins to remove the good, black oanties and the scent of sex is better with the panties coming off.  "You are so beautiful.  And so good."  
He begins to make love to her clitoris with his tongue.  He stops for only two seconds to say, "I want to make you as happy as you make me."  

Soon, more buildings will fall, and more war will be waged.  Soon, all the good in the world will be made to feel; taste; sound evil. Soon, one of the gods will return to reclaim and destroy (or destroy and reclaim ... neither one makes much sense).  When they go out to the patio, sixteen floors above the city, they talk about this.  They will make the other feel so good.  That mixture of good and evil that only one and one can find in nakedness; intercourse.  Soon, it will all be over.  But for now, all they have is the other.  And it is good.