The dawn light slipped through the gaps in the curtains, painting golden stripes across the wrinkled, sweat soaked sheets. The smell of sex still hung thick in the bedroom air: a mixture of sweat, semen, feminine fluids, and that sweet, signature Betty scent (vanilla and strawberry) now soaked into everything.
The white sheets were a complete disaster: dried pink bloodstains in the center, large dark wet circles from Betty's multiple squirting episodes, and sticky trails of semen that had dried in irregular patterns around her body.
Malachai woke first. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling the warm, soft weight of Betty curled against his chest. She was sleeping deeply, her breathing slow and even, her messy blonde hair covering half her face.
One leg was tangled between his, one arm draped over his stomach, and a small, satisfied smile rested on her slightly parted lips.
She was naked, her pale skin marked with faint red patches where he had gripped her hard the night before: finger marks on her hips, rosy hickeys on her neck and breasts, and a slight redness between her thighs that spoke of how intense everything had been.
Malachai watched her for a long time. He felt no guilt. Only a deep, almost animal satisfaction. He had claimed her completely. He had made her his in a way no one else could ever erase. And she had wanted it. She had asked for it. She had enjoyed it until she screamed.
Careful not to wake her, he slipped out of bed. Betty murmured something in her sleep and rolled over, hugging the pillow where his head had been. He gave a half smile, covering her with a clean sheet he took from the closet (he'd deal with the soaked ones later; he wasn't about to wake anyone with the smell of sex in the house).
He put on black boxers and a tight gray t-shirt.
The house was completely silent. Judy was still asleep in the guest room; her deep, steady breathing was audible even from the hallway thanks to his enhanced hearing.
He decided to go downstairs barefoot, moving with the stealth of someone with superhuman senses.
But when he passed his mother's bedroom door, he stopped.
Cory was awake.
The door was open just a few centimeters. Malachai heard the subtle rustle of sheets, a breathing pattern that was too fast to be sleep. He approached without a sound, close enough to see without being seen.
Cory was sitting on the edge of the bed, back to the door. She wore only a long gray cotton t-shirt that reached mid thigh, her blonde hair loose and messy. Her legs were slightly apart. One hand moved between them in slow but firm circles over her pussy. The other hand gripped the sheet beside her, knuckles white. Her back rose and fell with short, trembling breaths.
She didn't moan. She wouldn't allow herself to. Only ragged breathing, the occasional stifled gasp she tried to contain by biting her lip. But her body betrayed her: her thighs quivered, her shoulders tensed every time her fingers found the perfect spot. She was wet, Malachai could smell it even from the doorway. The musky, sweet, feminine scent mixed with the expensive perfume she always wore.
She didn't know he was watching.
Malachai stood there for a full minute, observing in silence. He didn't enter, didn't speak… he just looked. Then, without a sound, he moved away toward the kitchen.
He started the coffee maker. Took out eggs, smoked salmon, whole grain bread. He prepared breakfast as if nothing had happened. But in his mind he was already calculating: Cory had heard everything. Cory had touched herself thinking about it.
Cory was on the verge of crossing a line neither of them had named yet.
Ten minutes later, Betty came down the stairs wrapped in one of his oversized black t-shirts that reached almost to her knees. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks still flushed from sleep and the night before, and she walked with a slight sway that betrayed the pleasurable soreness between her legs. She came up behind him and hugged him, pressing her cheek against his back.
"Good morning…" She murmured in a hoarse, sleepy voice.
Malachai turned, lifted her by the waist and set her on the kitchen counter. He kissed her slowly, deeply, tasting the remnants of sleep and of her.
"Good morning, beautiful. How are you?"
Betty blushed to her ears.
"Sore… but happy. Really happy." She lowered her voice. "Last night was… incredible. I didn't know I could feel that much."
He smiled, brushing his nose against hers. "We've got time to do it again. Many times."
Betty let out a nervous little laugh and kissed him again. But then they heard footsteps in the hallway.
Judy appeared in the kitchen doorway, already dressed in dark jeans and the same gray hoodie from the night before. Hair in a high ponytail, gray eyes bright and rested. She looked renewed, as if a deep night's sleep had fully recharged her.
"Good morning." She said softly but firmly. She looked at Betty sitting on the counter, legs dangling, Malachai's t-shirt barely covering her, then at him. She said nothing, just gave a small smile. "Smells like coffee. May I?"
"Of course." Malachai replied, pouring her a cup. "Sleep well?"
"Very well. I'm ready to work. We need to plan how to approach Pennywise without feeding him. And how to use the dagger without him seeing it coming."
Betty slid off the counter, adjusting the t-shirt. She suddenly felt exposed, even though Judy didn't seem to be judging her.
"I… I'm going to get changed." She murmured. "Then I'll help with whatever I can."
She hurried up the stairs. Malachai and Judy were left alone in the kitchen.
"She's strong. She'll hold up. But she's going to worry every second we're gone." Judy said suddenly.
"I know." Malachai glanced toward the staircase.
At that moment, Cory entered the kitchen.
She was impeccably dressed: black skirt, white silk blouse, hair in a professional bun, perfect makeup. But her eyes were slightly red, as if she hadn't slept well. Or had been crying. Or had spent the night listening and touching herself until dawn.
"Good morning." She said in a neutral, professional tone.
She looked at Judy first. "You must be the friend Malachai mentioned in his message was staying over. Judy, right?"
"Yes. Judy Warren. Nice to meet you, ma'am…"
"Cory. Just Cory." She extended her hand. The handshake was brief. Then she looked at Malachai. Her gaze lingered one second too long on his tight t-shirt, on the crossed arms that emphasized his biceps.
"I see you had… quite an active night." She said, trying for casual but with a subtle edge.
Malachai didn't flinch.
"Yeah. Betty and I talked a lot. And slept very little."
Cory pressed her lips together. She nodded once. "I see." She took a coffee mug without asking. "I have an early meeting. I'll be back by noon. If you need anything… let me know."
She turned and left the kitchen.
Betty came down minutes later, now in normal clothes, tight jeans, pastel pink sweater, hair in a high ponytail. She looked fresh, though she walked with a careful step that revealed the soreness between her legs.
"What did I miss?" She asked.
"Nothing important." Malachai said, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. "Just planning how to kill an interdimensional clown."
Betty smiled, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Then let's get started."
The three sat at the kitchen table. Judy pulled out a small notebook she had brought in her backpack. Malachai placed the dagger in the center, like a macabre centerpiece.
"First." Judy said. "We need a place to lure him where there are no civilians nearby. The sewers are his territory, but also his stronghold. If we go there, he has the advantage."
Malachai nodded.
"The well at Neibolt Street. The abandoned house on the edge of town. There's a portal there. That's where we can force the Ritual of Chüd without him escaping."
Betty frowned. "Ritual of Chüd?"
Judy explained calmly.
"It's the way to truly hurt him. Look into the Deadlights without going insane. Make him believe he can die. Say it out loud, to his face. But it needs collective belief. Even if it's just the two of us… if we believe hard enough, it can work."
Malachai looked at Betty.
"You'll be part of that belief. From here. Every time you doubt, every time you're afraid… think of us. Think that we're coming back."
Betty nodded, though her eyes grew moist. "I will."
Breakfast continued in productive silence. Eating, making plans, looking at maps, hand-drawing sketches, checking timings, inventing signals and other ways to communicate without phones (because Pennywise could interfere with technology).
When they finished, Judy stood. "I'm going to check the dagger again. I want to make sure Maturin's energy is stable." She went to the living room.
Betty stayed with Malachai. She looked at him intently.
"Promise me you won't do anything stupid."
He took her hand. "Promise. But you promise me you'll stay here. Because if anything happens to you… there's no clown that'll stop me from destroying this entire town."
Betty smiled, sad but determined. "Deal."
They kissed slowly, tasting of coffee and promises.
Outside, Riverdale looked like a normal town.
But below, in the sewers, a red balloon floated alone.
And Pennywise laughed.
"The new floaters… bring light… bring love… bring fresh fear."
The laughter spread through the pipes like black water.