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“I’m immortal because I serve a purpose. Loki is immortal because he is worshipped. There would be a price to pay. You would become a servant of something or…”
“Why not you? Why can’t I be your immortal servant?”
Mort thought about that for a second. “I mean. I suppose… I guess. Sure. We just have to find some spare immortality.”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic,” Tristan bit.
“Sorry. I wasn’t being sarcastic that time. Immortality is limited. And it is guarded, and I do mean heavily guarded. I tried to fight Loki for you, and…” Mort let out a sigh. “I wish I could make you immortal, Tristan. I wish it more than anything in the world. But Loki was right. I am not a god. I am a porter in the underworld, and I do not have that kind of power. I am sorry.”
It was humiliating to admit so much weakness, to confront the fact that he could not give Tristan the one thing he had asked for.
“Don’t worry,” Tristan said sweetly, instantly absolving him. “We’ll figure it out.”
19
Mort was awake late that night, watching Tristan sleep. No longer could he himself succumb to slumber and drift away into a tangle of limbs and sheets, wrapped up with the man he loved. Instead, he was now a separate thing. He hated it. As much as mortality had been a curse, now immortality felt the same.
He wanted desperately to give Tristan what he had asked for, to reach some place of resolution in their relationship so the happily ever after Loki had so casually tossed out could become reality.
Tristan had asked for immortality, and more than anything, Mort wanted to make that his wedding gift. As the clocks turned one in the morning, it occurred to Mort than there was one store of immortality he had access to, one gift he could give….
Tristan woke up feeling better than he ever had before. His head was clear, his body felt light and agile and strong. The ache he’d had in his shoulder for as long as he could remember was gone. Being married was apparently very good for the body.
Mort was lying passed out next to him, snoring softly. Tristan looked down at him with fondness, before the slow creeping horror of realization found him. Mort shouldn’t be asleep. Mort shouldn’t be able to sleep.
Tristan immediately elbowed his husband awake.
“Mort. Wake up.”
Mort’s eyes opened, blearily. “What?”
“Something’s wrong. You’re asleep.”
“Am I?”
“Well, not now. But you were. Immortals don’t sleep. Sleep is a mortal thing. Something happened. Loki must have come back and taken your immortality. But why would he do that? Why would he no longer fear your father?”
“I don’t know,” Mort said, snuggling down into the blankets, a cozy, dark shade. Beside him, his kitten kneaded the pillow and purred, looking very satisfied.
Tristan felt the lie. It wasn’t merely a suspicion, it was knowledge.
“Mort,” Tristan said, his eyes flashing heavenly blue. “What have you done?”
“Nothing?” Mort tried out another lie. Mortals were always lying. He was sure it was something he could get used to as well.
Tristan gripped Mort by his hair, pulling him up to force Mort to look into his brilliant blue eyes. When he spoke, his words dripped with cool authority. “Don’t ever lie to me again.”
Mort got instantly hard. That was not the desired response, he was sure, but he couldn’t help it. Tristan was fucking hot as an immortal. His skin was clear, his hair was lustrous, and his eyes shone with blue fire. Mort wanted to fuck him so badly.
“Tell me what you did,” Tristan insisted, releasing the grip as if realizing it was causing more distraction than good.
“I gave you my immortality. Now you will live forever. I gave you what you wanted. What you asked for.”
“I wanted us both to be immortal, Mort!”
“I can’t do that. But I could do this.”
Tristan looked down at him with celestially beautiful eyes. “Mort…” He said Mort’s name with soft regret.
“It’s done,” Mort said. “And it cannot be undone, not by me. Maybe by a very powerful god, but I don’t intend to bring this to their attention, and I’d prefer you didn’t reject my wedding gift.”
“Your wedding gift is me getting to watch you get old and die.”
Mort paused for a moment. “This feels like when I complained about suffering when I was first made mortal, and you having absolutely no sympathy for me whatsoever.”
Tristan growled under his breath. “You’re a brat as a mortal.”
Mort shrugged and smirked. “You’re hot as an immortal.”
There was a long pause as Mort felt himself inspected by a new immortal gaze. Tristan really was quite a stunning thing. Mort had never wanted to submit before, but Tristan had lured him into it while mortal, and now seemed inclined to continue in that vein.
