Ares groaned as consciousness dawned. The bed was jiggling, causing the smooth sheets below to rub against his stomach, and the cool air above to stir softly over his naked back and buttocks. Spitting hair from his mouth, Ares rolled over and blinked dopily at the intricately painted ceiling above him. It was very familiar ceiling; it was the ceiling from his bedroom on Olympus. He groaned louder as the pain he was beginning to classify as vindictive shot around his skull with increased fervour. It was just as well that he didn't have to go anywhere; Ares doubted his ability to crawl out of bed if the entire Pantheon depended on it. At some point, however, he would have to inform Hades about the Titans that had escaped from Tartarus to play continuous war drums inside his skull. Ares gazed blankly at brightly depicted battlefield above him, feeling a sharp pang of jealousy when his eyes came to rest upon the corpse of a beheaded mortal.
The bed shuddered again. In truth, the bed had never stopped its rhythmic shaking, but Ares didn't feel up to the task of discovering the identity of a bed-mate that he couldn't remember. He knew from personal experience that these things never boded well.
Someone groaned in throaty ecstasy... It wasn't Ares.
All right, he'd had enough of this crap: it was one thing to wake a god with bed jiggles, quite another to groan where you weren't invited.
"Shut the fuck up," Ares growled, carefully propping up on one elbow to view his 'guest'. Expecting the familiar sight of Hephaestus, or Dionysus, or Hermes, or Aphrodite (hey, she had a really deep groan), or Asclepius, or Thanatos, or just about anyone except the gnarled body and raging erection he found himself gaping at.
"Priapus?" Ares choked.
Priapus paused in the hectic masturbation of his huge cock to grin nervously. Ares stared at the voluminous sticky staining that covered his sheets and the garden god's furry legs; the outrageously endowed satyr must have been jerking off to Ares' naked body for hours...
"You little--" the God of War lunged forward with a snarl that would make Zeus himself run for cover.
A flash, and Priapus was gone.
Ares collapsed back onto the bed with the pained cry of a god suffering from the mother of all hangovers.
From across the room hands began clapping one of those slow mocking claps people did to irritate others. Fuckers -- why couldn't they leave him to die in peace?
"Aw, does it hurt?" came Apollo's sarcastic tones, turning Ares' plaintive groan into a growl. "Poor baby. Shall I get you something for your headache?"
"Go drown yourself in the Styx, Apollo." Ares cleaned his sheets with a disgusted flash.
"Now, that's not nice."
Turning his head, Ares watched his golden brother lean against the wall: arms folded loosely across his chest, Apollo was all smug smirk, white leather, and perfect hair day. By Gaia, how Ares hated his family.
"You know, you should be flattered by Priapus' display." Apollo left the wall to begin a slow stroll around the bed, his smirk widening to a cocky smile. "He is an ugly little bastard but they do say that imitation is the highest from of praise."
"What do you want?" Ares asked warily as Apollo trailed his fingers lazily along the gathered sheets at the foot of the bed. "On second thoughts don't bother answering, it can't be anything good coming from you."
"Oh, you wound me, dear brother," Apollo purred around the other side of the bed to sit on the edge by Ares' hip.
Sighing, Ares rubbed his eyes and spat a few more hairs out of his mouth. The hairs were very coarse. Curious, he lifted a strand up to for closer inspection. "Wolf hair?"
"Fenris'," Apollo supplied helpfully, one finger caressing Ares' nearest thigh.
"Fenris?" Ares eyed the long black guard hair, feeling its signature pattern. Apollo was right, the hairs did belong to the Norse Wolf God son of Loki. "What would I be doing with Fenris?"
"What you weren't doing with Fenris would make a shorter list." Apollo's caress moved up to Ares' hip. "You wolves certainly know how to have fun."
Ares measured Apollo's pleased expression. His brother was capable of many things, but lying wasn't something he normally stooped to. "Aw, fuck," Ares sighed venomously.
"Well, fuck is right." Apollo nodded, his hand now rubbing along Ares' hip and over to the soft hair that covered his brother's lower abdomen. But Apollo's hand was soon knocked away as Ares suddenly sat up, coughing until he began to hack something up his throat.
Already suspecting what the offending item might be, Ares was not surprised when the taste of cow hit his tongue. This wasn't the first time this had happened. No, he sighed as he eased the shiny black hoof from his mouth; this definitely wasn't the first time.
"How many?" Ares asked sourly, absently tossing the evidence of the consumed bovine to clatter across the floor.
"How many cows did you eat, or how many cows did you burn to a crisp?" Apollo grinned at Ares' pained expression. "Yeah, you were in your dragon form again. Luckily, you flew off before Hercules could get there and whine to Zeus about it. Eating Iphicles' cows," Apollo tutted with a sad shake of his head. "Your little king will not be amused, but he'll have to recover from that major fuck-a-thon you treated him to first." Ares watched his brother consider a moment. "You've probably got about a week before your little king gets around to complaining about the cows."
"What else?" Ares flopped back on the bed, letting Apollo's hand caress up his chest.
"What else did you do as a dragon? Not much." Apollo leaned down and nipped Ares' nipple before twisting it between his fingers. At Ares' hiss, he reached over and pinched the other nipple, hard enough to be rewarded with a satisfying growl. "You just did the usual dive bombing of the lesser gods in the Formal Gardens. You didn't even injure anyone this time." Apollo sighed. "You did knock the top off Heph's chimney, though. Set his forge work back a couple of days."
"What?" Ares startled, but Apollo began nipping his chest in earnest and Ares was arching heedlessly into the stinging caresses. "Heph's forge? That's just fucking great," Ares gasped as Apollo pulled his head away, disappearing his leathers to straddle Ares' hips. "I'll have to apologise to that stupid lame bastard now. Why can't he put shielding around his damn forge like any other god with the sense Gaia gave a goat-fucker?"
"Don't know." Apollo shrugged dismissively, ignoring his brother's ranting to tease Ares' semi-erect cock with his own. "But he's probably more upset about the orgy you had with Aphrodite and her priestesses anyway."
Apollo's soft lips then pressed against Ares', and Ares opened his mouth to allow Apollo's demanding tongue entrance. Upon tasting Apollo's tangy flavour of honey mixed with ambrosia, Ares' blurred memories of the day before sharpened into a moment of clarity.
"You scheming bastard!" Ares suddenly threw Apollo across the room where he hit the wall with a satisfying smack and half muffled cry of pain.
"It was you, you little fucker." Ares leapt from the bed and stalked across to the crumpled Sun God, energy crackling around him. "You set me up."
"Get back, Ares," Apollo snarled, readying a fireball as he clambered unsteadily to his feet. "You're in no shape to fight me and you know it."
Ares swayed dopily on the spot, trying to decide which of the three Apolloes looked the smuggest. He then growled in confusion, unable to understand why he couldn't summon up his own fireball in response.
"I was beginning to wonder how long it was going to take you to remember your friendly chat with my Muses." Apollo wiped a smear of ichor from his bottom lip, dissipated the fireball, and flashed on his leathers. "Did you enjoy my 'special' wine?"
"You--" Ares felt the room lurch around him, his legs buckled and his bare butt hit the cold floor with painful slap. "What did you drug me with?" He squinted up at the smirking triplets.
"Oh, a little Blue Lotus, a lot of concentrated nectar wine, and a special mix of herbs I made for the occasion." Apollo crouched just out of Ares' reach. "Don't even bother trying to fight the effects, Ares, I know your body too well. Don't fuck with the God of Healing because I'll kick your sorry ass every time."
"What did I do to you?" Ares asked in befuddlement, his consciousness growing increasingly fuzzy around the edges.
"Don't let that worry you, baby. You should be more concerned with what I did to you," Apollo replied in a dangerously soft tone, reaching forward to brush a few dark locks of hair from Ares' face. "You know," he mused, "I almost forgot what a truly unbelievable fuck you can be."
Ares could barely hear Apollo's smug tones over the rushing in his ears, and the image of his golden brother swam and blurred before him.
"Don't be insulted," Apollo's mocking voice continued. "You're normally a very good lay, but when you're willing to give over control." He sighed nostalgically. "Aah, to have all that power and passion working for me. To have you thrashing under me, screaming from the pleasure I'm giving you -- what can I say? You are a nice ride, brother."
"You fucked me?" Ares mumbled.
Apollo nodded cheerily. "Rode you like a prize stallion. Everyone on Olympus must have heard you shouting for me to give it to you 'harder and faster'."
"You fucking bastard tree chaser." Ares swayed, placing his hands on the floor to steady his upper body. "I'll get you for this, music-boy."
"I don't think so." Apollo sneaked in one last caress of Ares' high cheekbone before standing up with a bored yawn. "You'll be far too busy explaining yourself to the Council, and 'apologising' to everyone. Oh well, it's been fun but I've got a few prophecies to read, a few gods to heal, blah-de-blah. You know the deal."
"You just watched me?" Ares' dulled mind groped for one last insult as he registered his brother's intention to leave. "You fucked me. Let me run around all over--"
"Making a complete fool of yourself? Oh, yes." Apollo purred. "But I didn't just watch you, Ares." A shark-toothed grin. "No -- I sold tickets."
Disclaimer: No cows were harmed during the production of this fic, but Iphicles had to write off the loss of the Royal Herd as an Act of God.