Through the Night
By Ateh Pavic
...and on the field outside Corinth, Ares suddenly appeared through the smoke and battle flame, liquid marble arms and heaving chest slick with sweat and blood, his eyes mad, blazing with the ecstasy of war.
Instantly, Iphicles' heart was in his cock, pounding deep, flooding him.
A Roman solider, soot blackening the brutal refinement of his young face, threw his sword at Ares' feet and knelt before the war god. Ares planted his own sword in the bloody soil and then opened his leathers. His cock was bigger even than Iphicles remembered, the shaft incomprehensibly thick, the head a fist. The god took the soldier's head in his enormous hands and with a growl rammed his cock into the waiting mouth. Buried deep, he paused a moment, then began to fuck the mouth, the thrusts quick and brutal.
Iphicles reached down to free his own cock, then matched Ares stroke for stroke, his only desire to come when Ares did, to be once again his secret sharer.
Then the god saw him.
Iphicles didn't expect to be recognized. He'd often followed Ares and his half-brother to the caves and grottos where Ares taught Hercules what it meant to be a god, before Zeus' special favor turned his lust to rancor. But even if he'd seen the watcher then, it was years ago, when Iphicles was little more than a child, a hungry, frightened child finding release in the desperate shadows.
And at first there was no recognition.
Looking up from the conquered Roman, Ares surveyed Iphicles, pausing briefly at his cock before returning to the sight of his own sliding between the soldier's lips. Then he looked back, eyes widening with a predator's pleasure. In one fluid motion, Ares retrieved his sword, slit the Roman's throat, and walked forward through the spray of blood. Before Iphicles could react, Ares stood before him, so close that the slightest movement would've caused their cocks to touch.
"Iphicles," he said.
He'd never heard the god say his name, only in dreams, never for real. Iphicles almost came then and there.
Smirking, Ares stared into his eyes, as though daring him not to kneel. Iphicles stood his ground and stared back, until the god barked out a laugh, raised his word, and with long, slow strokes, moved the flat of the blade first across his right cheek, then his left, blooding him, sending tremors through Iphicles' cock.
Without taking his eyes from Iphicles', Ares slid the sword into its
scabbard, then reached down and traced a finger along the underside of his cock, starting at the base and moving slowly to the head. With surprising gentleness he rolled the head between finger and thumb.
His legs now trembling, Iphicles struggled not to fall. Ares offered him his hand, showing him how his own leaking juices had mixed there with the blood of battle. Iphicles licked the warm palm, savoring the saltiness, then took the thumb into his mouth, sucking hungrily.
Ares placed his other hand on Iphicles' shoulder before sliding his thumb from his mouth to reach again for his cock, holding it this time firmly by the shaft. He moved slightly forward, so that the heads of their cocks now touched. Heat, so intense it should've burned but didn't radiated from his cock as Ares moved his head, armor hard but maddeningly soft, maddeningly smooth, around Iphicles' own. Then the god slid his head along his shaft, taking his time, moving with infinite patience until finally shaft lay against shaft, Ares' thick head pressed between the base of Iphicles' cock and his throbbing balls. Next, Ares held both cocks in his massive hand and pressed them together, squeezing until Iphicles couldn't tell the pulse of
the god's cock from his own.
Iphicles couldn't stand it--he needed Ares' cock in his mouth, needed to feel it against his lips and tongue, pressing against the back of his
throat. Before Iphicles could move, Ares dropped down before him. His eyes still locked on Iphicles', he parted his lips and wrapped them around the head of his cock. Crippling pleasure shot along the shaft, slammed through his balls, soared up his spine to the back of his skull, sending his brain reeling. But Iphicles didn't come, and understood now that he wouldn't until Ares was ready.
His lips moved over the head of his cock and around the first eager inch of the shaft. His tongue rippled beneath the head and then twirled around it, swirling and swirling, then returned to the base of the head, tongue flicking against the most tender spot. Ares pulled Iphicles deeper inside him, until his balls pressed against his chin and Iphicles could feel the back of his throat. The god held him there forever, his tongue snaking around the full length of his cock.
Still staring at him, Ares slid his cock out of him, not all the way--until only the head remained in his mouth. Then, his lips and tongue teasing the head with increasing speed, he stroked the shaft with one hand, his balls with the other. These separate sensations fused into a single pleasure much greater than the sum of its parts, and Iphicles thought he'd lose consciousness or go irredeemably mad before Ares was done with him.
Abruptly the god stopped, and for the worst moment of his life Iphicles believed it was all a trick, that like so many others he'd fallen victim to the cruelty of the gods. But no--Ares reached out, grabbed him by the wrists and moved his hands to his head, inviting him to grip his skull and fuck his mouth. Iphicles couldn't believe it. In all the encounters he'd witnessed between Ares and Hercules, twice, sometime three times for almost two years, Ares had never let Hercules do this. His brother had wanted to, had been desperate to, had often tried to grab Ares by the head and take control, but every time the god stopped him. And now Ares was giving to him the gift of power he'd always denied Hercules.
Iphicles held the god's dark head between his hands and slowly slid into his mouth, hesitant. Below him, Ares stared up, black eyes goading him on, daring Iphicles to treat him like nothing more than a mindless thing to be mindlessly fucked. So Iphicles gripped the soft curls more tightly and began ramming into him, his cock pounding past lips and teeth and tongue to the back of Ares' throat, over and over, faster and faster, becoming frenzied, until at last Iphicles did forget who Ares was, what he was, until he was only a hole, a tight wet hole wrapped around his thrusting cock.
It began, that tightening in his balls and shaft, that expanding surge in
the head of his cock, made slower and more intense by Ares' restraining spell. Iphicles was almost coming when Ares pushed him back and rose so that his cock was just beneath Iphicles' With long strokes of his hands, he pulled him over the edge and Iphicles came onto him, his body convulsing with each cascading burst, his semen spilling out in wave after wave until Iphicles had covered him, covered each inch of that huge cock.
Shuddering, Iphicles began to drop. Ares checked his fall, turned him around and pushed him to his knees. The god tore his breeches from him, dug his fingers into his ass and plunged into him, where no one, man or god or half god, had ever been. The heat amplified all sensation, so that instantly his cock mapped itself inside him, every curve and vein and texture imprinting itself forever in his body's memory.
After the first stabbing thrust, Ares went slowly, so slowly he seemed
barely to move, sliding in and out of Iphicles' ass with an immortal's
patience. And as the god's cock moved inside him, Iphicles' own cock stiffened again, even harder than before. Ares reached around to grab it, then began to stroke it in an echo of his own languid thrusts. God cock and god hand then built up speed, gradually accelerating to the frenzied pace Iphicles had used to fuck his mouth.
It felt now like Ares was fucking him inside his cock, filling it with his
own, his shaft thrusting into Iphicles' shaft, his head straining against
Iphicles' head from within. With the skill of centuries, the god brought him to the brink and held them both there, that last moment before orgasm stretched out near to the point of beautiful insanity, two bodies, two continuum of infused and thrusting flesh.
And then they came. As Iphicles' cock erupted in blinding pleasurepain, it felt like Ares was coming through him, surging through his cock, his come the god's come his come, each spurt shared down to infinity.
Eventually Ares pulled out of him, let him slip softly to the ground.
Iphicles wanted to speak, to ask so many questions, but his body failed him, and he lost consciousness.
Iphicles awoke much later, in that grey quiet just before dawn, his only companions the corpses of the Corinthian and Roman soldiers strewn about him. Wounded in solitude, Iphicles took some consolation from the fact that the latter far outnumbered the former. His first victory as king, the moment of proof he'd longed for, but now it meant next to nothing.
Then Iphicles registered something cold against his skin. Looking down, he saw, suspended against his chest by the chain Iphicles only now realized was against his neck, the amulet of the war god, streaked with the blood of glorious battle.