Asshat

After eight hours of driving, Samael said he needed a beer. "Stupid holy boy gets to materialize wine for himself out of the moisture of thin air, and here I goddamn am, valeting two college girls and a virgin."

"I have sex with my mind, without touch. I'm omnisexual, just ask Mary Magdala and dear John. Can you say the same, dear, tasty Sammaelwich?" Jesus grinned, caressing the Yugo's plastic interior that stuck to all our butts.

I groaned. "I'm sure possession is basically the same."

Samael gritted his teeth. "Don't tell him about our intimate moments, Shannon."

Arietta rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, closing her anarchocommunist zine with a sexy stripper Lenin on the cover. "Do you ever feel like you are part of the capitalist hegemony, Samael, a man of political power who abuses the masses, assaults teenage girls, and terrorizes Millenials and Gen Zers."

Samael ground his foot into the break – HARD – and sent us sliding on the highway. "What, and dictator YHWH is better?"

"He at least gave us free will. And you ruined it all with an apple to moi," I admitted, sighing and rolling down the window, as Yeshua's prized Yugo had no air conditioning, and only an outdated Jon Bon Jovi cassette that played the album "Slippery When Wet" on repeat. Right now, Bon Jovi was crooning "Wanted Dead or Alive."

"It was my heart, Shannon! I loved you. I couldn't bear to part from you. I'm sorry." There were tears in Samael's eyes.

Jesus took a bong hit. The water bubbled, and he leaned over me to breath out the window.

"Why does no on understand the pain of a middle aged white man." Samael sighed. "I'm 45 in human years, look like Snape mixed with Pete Steele, but all Zoomers like Shannon do is cancel me and my illustrious ilk."

Arietta threw her balled up magazine at him. "OK Boomer."

Samael hissed, forked, labret pierced tongue weaving out – I imagined it between my thighs, then darkly cursed inwardly. "I'm GEN X."

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, gazelle and goats, tithes to Azazel and my Dad… how about a motel on me? Samael mentioned beer, and I could use some grub," Christ said pleasantly.

"AGREED!" the three of us said in union.

We pulled up into a dwarf hotel in a silver mountain. The dwarves all had sailor tattoos of doves, ships, axes, and hammers, and bearded dwarven maids in bikinis – or nothing at all. One that looked like Gimli checked us in.

"Ah, Yesh! My old friend. You finally got your own Yugo, I see," the bearded, braided, punk dwarf bellboy said behind the counter.

Jesus drew three silver nails from his hands and feet. "Yes, the Yugo is an investment. The typical payment okay for two separates and one double?"

"Anything for an old friend." He gave us our key cards.

"Blessings upon you, Dvalin Daybreaker, Smith of Asgard."

Dvalin blushed, looking copper. "Same to you, Son."

All four of us rushed to the tiki bar.

Samael smoothed his Reaper robe, muttering to himself, as Arietta and Jesus talked about cryptocurrency. I brough Sam an IPA.

"Hey, how are you?" I said softly, comforting him.

He looked at me with blue eyes like shards of ice, long tendrils of black air snaking out to lock across my wrist. Without warning, the hair asps pulled me into his lap.

His cock was hard under his boxers and robe. He grinned like a madman.

"So you're not my girlfriend, you little temptress," Samael oozed like mulled wine, voice hot, dark, pissed, and titillating. "Maybe I'll just make you my slave."

"Sam, I'm trying to be nice to you."

"You wound me with your crude behest, I dread what you extol. Your demon eyes, as though possessed, stare down into my soul…" he roiled so hard, the earth shook. His cock twitched under my ass, and I blushed to high hell.

"You're quoting the national poet of Romania at me?" I snorted. "You're drunk, that's it, no more beer bro basic white man pumpkin ales and stouts and Belgians. I'm putting you to bed. You just drove five hours in a car with your mortal enemy and an anarchist, after all…"

"You would cause Mihai Eminescu to make Lucefarul about a scornful princess, not Hyperion." He burped, carrying me to our room.

"Put me down, asshat!"

"Only one of us has our heads up our anuses, and honey, it isn't me."