Ares had been putting off this visit to Caesar. He'd been working his godly ass off all over the country for weeks, thanks to Demeter and Aphrodite screwing up. The incompetent goddesses had botched a famine that was supposed to cut the population, leaving Ares to clean up the mess. The God of War growled, according to the rest of the Twelve Seated Gods it was his business to hack up the mortals whenever they felt the need for him to do so. As a rule Ares didn't mind a little hack and slash to keep his hand in, but he drew the line at slaughtering his own loyal troops. The other gods, of course, didn't see this distinction which led to a rather enflamed argument, ending in cracked marble and smoking leathers.
The god rubbed distractedly at the healed area of skin above his sternum, and watched Caesar dressing down one of his Captains. The tent they stood in was set on the site of Caesar's latest victory against the Gaul tribes. It was opulently furnished and very comfortable - for a mortal's needs. The God of War found the whole situation rather uncomfortable: standing in the middle of a Gaul field, in the back ass of nowhere, about to have another deadly encounter with this viper of a mortal. Maybe it was due to his weakened link with the Olympian aether causing upset to the little ball of foreign energy patterns within him. He could feel it shuddering; it was getting on his nerves. Maybe that was it.
"I will not stand for these mongrel, upstart, peasants to see another sunrise," Caesar was growling.
Ares watched the Roman rise from his chair, walk around his desk, and bring a wickedly sharp pairing knife to the hapless soldier's chin. "You should have been able to defeat this rag-tag band with one Century, Uninas!"
"Yes, great Caesar," the man responded into his general's frosty glare.
"Yes," the Roman echoed, a cold smile gracing his lips as he ran the knife-edge down the Captain's cheek.
A thin trail of blood graced the man's face as Caesar turned his back. "Go," he dismissed the soldier just as his eyes lit upon the godly presence in his tent. "Do not disappoint me again." A cool smirk then slipped over his face as he eyed Ares speculatively before dismissing the Captain and tent guards with a negligent wave of his hand.
"Ares," the mortal greeted the god with a dangerous purr. "I must say you don't look pregnant." He affected mock concern as he crossed to the wine table. "Don't tell me you feel you have to hide your delicate condition from me behind a godly aura?" He poured two goblets of wine and turned back to face the God of War.
Ares yawned, flashing teeth in a dramatic show of boredom. "I only ever hide the occasional sneer at mortal fools." He watched the mortal roll seductively up to him, and raised his hand to take the proffered goblet.
Caesar stroked the godly fingertips before withdrawing his hand from the cup. "So, why have you been ignoring me, War God? Has your pregnancy been keeping you sequestered?"
Ares ignored the shuddering ball of energy within him, and sipped a little wine. "Caesar," he sighed, ostentatiously changing the wine in his goblet to a better stock then smirking when a muscle twitched within the Roman's cheek. "You just haven't been entertaining lately. The Gaul tribes?" The god raised a pitying eyebrow. "Again?"
"I have annexed three more tribes," Caesar spoke, gaze narrowing. "The land is mine to the sea."
"Don't you mean Rome's?"
"Same thing," he snorted before taking a sip wine, then his apparent irritation was replaced by a calculating smile. He reached out a hand to run manicured fingers down the god's leather collar. "So, what can you offer as compensation?"
"Compensation for what?" Ares growled deeply, watching the stroking fingers.
"Compensation for ignoring the greatest general in all of creation, of course," came the purring reply, stroking fingers straying to the tantalising triangle of godly chest. "You are not doing yourself any favours by ignoring me, Ares." Caesar licked his wine stained lips. "The things I have planned..."
The challenging mortal gaze locked on smouldering godly eyes.
"Really, Gaius," the God of War purred in return as he stepped away from the growling man and began a slow circumnavigation of the room. "I may be pregnant, but you're the one that's whining like a woman. What makes you think I'm interested in anything you have to offer?" Ares cast a bored glance over the various maps scattered upon the table. "You know, I think you're loosing your touch." The god turned to settle unheedingly upon a pile of maps, and sipped his wine.
"Have I ever disappointed, Ares?" Caesar strode across to the wine table and re-filled his goblet before turning to face the god in challenge. "Unlike that pet king of yours, I have more skills than those between the sheets. But, then again, that's what Corinth is famous for isn't it?" A nasty smirk graced the mortal's features. "Its whores?"
"I'm a busy god, mortal." Ares sighed his boredom into his wine and crushed a few more scrolls. "Less of the petty jealousy and get to the point. You're boring me."
Caesar raised one haughty eyebrow. Then took a long, slow drink of wine before continuing. "I have set a plan in motion that will bring the whole of Gaul to its knees."
The god rolled his eyes to the tented ceiling. "Where have I heard this before?"
"Not from Caesar," the Roman snarled with a frosty eyed glitter. "Boy!" he called, and an eastern youth of eighteen summers hurried into the tent.
"Please me," the general commanded the slave, his gaze never leaving the god.
Ares watched the youth drop quickly to his knees, his trembling fear tinged with arousal. Careful hands hitched up his master's tunic, and long fingers freed the Roman's erection.
"So tell me, great Ares," Caesar smirked as the slave began to suckle him hungrily. "Is your little Corinthian whore able to offer you such glory?"
"A blow job?" The god grinned over his goblet.
"The conquest of Gaul and beyond," the Roman returned with a jerk that almost caused the slave to cough out the hardening cock. "Caesar will bring the peasant hordes under the rule of Rome like no other in history."
"You know it's real unhealthy to speak about yourself in the third person." Ares watched the youth's practiced mouth with growing interest; he had never paused in his task despite his owner's apparent ranting to thin air.
"Undress," Caesar commanded, and humble cloth slipped from the slim body revealing smooth, olive skin.
The general took hold of the slave's thick black hair and stilled his movements. "What does your Corinthian whore offer you that this boy couldn't do better?"
"I haven't heard anything that I haven't heard before." Ares watched Caesar thrust lazily into the hot, eager mouth. "You have no idea how many times a mortal has come to me with such plans." The god raised his gaze to meet Caesar's dilated green eyes. "Only to fail," Ares dropped his voice to a deep growl. "Miserably."
"Caesar does not fail. Prepare yourself!" he commanded the slave who immediately began to probe himself eagerly.
"Caesar does not boast, nor make idle threats."
"Yadda, yadda, mortal." The God of War stood for an appraising walk around master and slave. "You talk and talk, and say nothing. What's your plan?"
"That need not bother you, Lord Ares. I only require the services of your sons, Fear and Panic."
"Oh, is that all?" the god queried, eyebrows raised in amusement. "With 'services' such as that you'll have no trouble fulfilling your ambitions."
"I don't require them to fight." Caesar thrust and stilled once more. "I merely wish them to provide a little ambience."
"Ambience?" Ares smirked, and settled back down on the desk. "Oh, go on." He nodded to the glaring Roman. "Don't let me interrupt."
"Guard!" Caesar called, holding his infuriated glare upon the amused god. "Rut this boy," he commanded to the unsurprised, ready and willing soldier.
"You see, the Gaul use their forest as a refuge," he continued as the soldier prepared his already swollen cock for entry with liberal amounts of spit. "Keep your head down!" The general delivered a stinging slap across the man's face. "I'm addressing the God of War! Do you think I want to see your ugly visage?"
Ares watched in amusement as the soldier bowed his head and began a grunting thrust into the choking youth. The god stood slowly then prowled lazily towards the thrusting mortals.
"I plan to take away their forest refuge," Caesar panted, setting a hard, slow pace that the guard quickly matched, with the slave groaning his pleasure between them.
"That's been tried before." The God of War stood by the threesome, idly watching the muscles play beneath the youth's flawless skin. "Fire, flood, it's never worked before. What makes this time so different?"
"Gods." Caesar shuddered as his climax built. "Mine and theirs."
Ares came to stand behind the thrusting Roman.
"Ah, I understand," the god purred in the trembling mortal's ear, and the general was suddenly naked for Ares to run his fingers over soft, creamy skin. "You plan on turning their gods against them, letting them think their gods are displeased with them. I like it." The War God grinned, nudging Caesar's legs further apart as he prepared them both with a thought.
"Not-" the Roman's words were cut off with his own cry of orgasm as the god thrust brutally into him.
"Ya know," Ares grunted, his hard thrusts toppling the climaxing youth and guard to the floor. "It might actually work." He continued to pump into the mortal, seemingly oblivious to Caesar's struggles to keep his balance on hands and knees, and the shocked stares of the slave and soldier whose general was being fucked by thin air.
"Get out," Caesar bellowed at the gaping pair. "NOW!"
The two scurried through the tent flaps just as Ares shouted his release.
"Yeah, your plan's got merit," Ares panted, having ridden the waves of orgasm he let the mortal crumple to the floor and materialised a fresh goblet of wine.
"Okay." The god cocked his head a little as he sipped his refreshing drink in consideration, ignoring the heaving mortal at his feet. "I'll lend you the services of Fear and Panic, but I give you no dominion over them. I'll give them their instructions. If you need to make any changes contact Enyo or Strife. Understand?" Ares lightly kicked Caesar's nearest leg for emphasis.
The general snapped up a frosty glare.
The god had already gone.