Timor's Story:
The God and The Farmer
By Eirene

Ares was pissed off, for a start.  Being mortal was a drag and that  gorgeous, beautiful bitch had barely managed to get the word 'Thank- you' out of her mouth.  He'd given up his *godhood* for her, for  goodness' sake.  Any other mortal - or god, for that matter - would  have seen the deed in all its beauty and fallen at his feet in  gratitude.  Not her, though.   He'd loved her for a long time and she  despised him.  True, she was attracted to him at the same time.  He'd  not forget the hot kisses they'd shared or her biting his nipple in  what had seemed like a kind of surrender and seduction at the time.   For a few moments he'd thought he was about to make it inside that  leather and get comprehensively fucked to a standstill, but they'd  been interrupted.  So he wandered aimlessly through Greece, disguised  in his humanity, with no real prospect of getting his powers back.   So lost was he in his own inner world of rage, loneliness and being  generally fed up with life that he barely noticed the divine force  field until too late.  He was through and on the inside, looking at a  rather delapidated farmstead and then he recognised the place and  remembered...

"I would never worship a God like *you*."   An older, but still painful rejection.  And from a semi-literate,  hopeless farmer with about as much backbone as a jellyfish.  It was  almost incomprehensible.  The impudence of the man in his  simplicity.  Looked hauntingly like him, though.  The other thing  Ares could not understand was the fierce, almost uncontrollable  reaction of his body at the time. Hard, aching, and burning to bury  himself inside Timor and ravish him into helpless submission.  Not  just once, but over and over and over.....  Ares frowned.  None of  his lovers before or since - not even his unconsummated relationship  with Xena - had elicited such a primal, uncontrollable response.   He'd been stunned, surprised and disgusted with himself.  The  punishment of Strife and Discord after they'd got home had been  particularly intense and inventive.  In an added stroke of genius at  the time, he'd thought, he'd frozen Timor and his environment into an  almost timeless bubble of space that only he could enter;  fully  intending to go back and deal with him later.  It had never happened  until now.

Events and history had changed as Xena and Hercules grew up and made  trouble for him.  Add in Caesar, Iphicles and various assorted  warlords and the twilight of the Gods and he'd been rather busy these  past years.  Now, here he was, back at Timor's farm and not so much  as one lightning bolt at his disposal.  Not for the first time, he  wondered how it was that Timor looked like him.  He wasn't one of  Ares' children, that was for sure.  Ares knew and had cared for all  of his offspring, both half-mortal and divine.  Ares had looked at  all the Divine Records when Zeus had died.  Timor wasn't a brother or  half-brother either.  So, here was this farmer with an enigmatic  past.  Just one relative - an uncle and no known parents.  Ares had  heard of the *other* sorts of Immortals, the ones that chopped off  each other's heads, but Timor would be hopeless with a sword, so it  couldn't be that.   Ares looked down at his tattered clothes,  realising that he hadn't washed in weeks and probably resembled a  tramp.  He stroked his face - full beard, too.  As he brushed the  hair out of his eyes, he found with a shock that it now grew all the  way down his back in uncontrollable black ringlets.  Godly power and  his own sense of prestige would have kept him looking his best in the  past.  Now , he doubted even Hera would recognise him.  A small smile  played around his lips.  Maybe Timor wouldn't recognise him.  This  could be fun.

As he cleared the first stand of trees, he stopped dead.  The  farmhouse wasn't looking so delapidated now and there was a fine crop  of  wheat in the field nearby.  Even the animals looked plump and  well-fed.  Ares' brow furrowed.  Okay, so some time had passed for  Timor - maybe five years at best, but the man had been hopeless as a  farmer.  Where and how had he learned husbandry in the mean-time?   Ares heard a clear, true voice singing amongst the wheat.  Yes, Ares  realised;  it would be harvest about now.  The fruit trees nearby  looked ready to drop under various citrus crops and apples.  The  nearest stand of wheat fell under a scythe and there was Timor,  stripped to the waist.  Ares felt his jaw drop.  As Timor paused,  Ares got a grandstand view of rippling muscles, shoulder-length hair  and  a hairy chest to rival his own, all gleaming with sweat.  Ares'  erection swelled to full hardness so fast that he nearly swooned.   Ares shook his head and glowered.  Damn the man for making him want  and need like this.  Timor noticed him and dropped the bundle of  wheat. "Um....would you...hello...haven't had visitors in a  while.....um...." Timor's hands moved uncertainly, "Um....do you need  some food?"   Ares managed a curt nod, "Water?"   "Yes, of course...it's quite hot for Autumn, isn't it?"  Timor  moved to the well nearby and Ares padded over, getting closer to the  object of his unwelcome surge of lust.  Ares watched in silence,  feeling himself drool uncontrollably, having to bite back the moans  of appreciation that threatened to leave his chest.  As Timor handed  him a beaker of water, their fingers brushed and the sweet tingle of  fire through Ares' body was so exquisite that he couldn't help the  strangled noise which came from his mouth.  He buried himself in the  drink, "You must have gone a long time without it?"   Ares' ears boggled.  His mind went straight to the last time he'd got  laid.  By the Gods, it had been *ages*.  No wonder he was currently  desperate.  Belatedly he realised that Timor's question was entirely  innocent, like the man himself, "Oh.  Water.  Yes.  Thanks."   "I.....um.....I could give you a meal later, but I need to get the  wheat in.  I don't suppose you.....?"   Ares wanted to refuse.  A God, doing menial work?  But by all the  gods on Olympus, he was going to have Timor naked and willing under  him.  Working alongside him for a while would be a small price to pay  for that ultimate sweet surrender.  Plus, he was mortal.  Ares  nodded, "Yes.  I'll help you. My name's Ares."  Not a glimmer of  recognition.  Ares beathed a sigh of relief. As he followed Timor, he  saw the single grave near the house.  So the uncle had died in the  mean-time.  At least the two of them would be alone.

So, they began.  The wheat took two days.  The fruit trees, three.   All the time, Timor was welcoming, helpful and bashful;  a good  host.  Ares berated himself privately.  Timor was absolutely nothing  like the dream lover he'd thought about, but his body was rock hard  and wanting every time he looked at the man.   Then they turned to  the grape harvest.  Ares had known Bacchus well enough - the  strangely twisted brother with red skin and horns to shame an  antelope, but the ex-War god had never imagined how good treading  grapes for wine would be.  Especially when the object of all his  daily fantasies was there with him, almost naked, blissfully unaware  and splattered with grape-juice.  Ares had long, explicit fantasies  about licking all of it slowly off Timor and taking him in the  barrel, but he couldn't even begin.  Being mortal was a bummer - and  if Timor ever remembered exactly who was shaking with lust over him,  that'd be it.  Ares wouldn't stand a chance.  And by all Olympus, he  wanted that chance.

Having put the grapes to their fermentation and seen to all the  animals, Ares flopped boneless into bed that night.  Well, nearly  boneless.  There was one part of him up and raring to go at least,  although he doubted whether his aching mortal muscles would be able  to comply even if Timor came into his room stark naked and said 'Take  me, big boy'.  A sudden jolt of adrenaline and a surge of fresh blood  to his groin soon changed Ares' mind.  Okay, there was *one* thing he  could still do with his body.   It would hurt, but it would be such a  sweet pain.  As Ares lay there, waiting for the adrenalin and  testosterone rush to subside a little, he put his mind to serious  consideration.  Starting with the thriving farm and Timor's  conversion to brilliance in husbandry.  He went back to the spell  he'd placed on Timor, dredging up the words from his memory. 'Let Timor stay, here.  Let time move very slowly for him until I  return.  Let me be the only one who can come to the farm...'  Well,  that explained getting through the divine force-field, 'Let him  forget my name - for now.  I want him kept, preserved, well-fed....'   "Good Gods!  It was me!  I helped make him into a good farmer!  I  made him forget me!"  Ares laughed until the tears came, then  gradually sobered, "But there's more to it than that.  He knows  *exactly* what to do on the farm and when.  Okay.....he's a virgin.   Probably hasn't got a clue - unless he's been watching the animals  mating these past years.  There's a frisson involved with deflowering  that is just so delicious.  He's shy - and I don't *like* shy;   not  normally,"  Ares suddenly sat bolt upright, "Come on......nearly had  it then.....YES!" his shout echoed in the small room, "Timor  *glows*!!  Holy Hades....  He's a God - well, a potential God.  All  the power, the glory, everything;  but unleashed," A lustful,  lascivious smile slowly crept over Ares' face and his voice came out  huskily,  "And we know *exactly* how best to unleash it, don't we?   If I can possibly get him to take *me*, then all that raw power will  surge into me and I can tap into it.  I'll be a God again - at least  I ought to be.  A virgin, unrealised God and his first fully sexual  orgasm?  After such a long wait?  It'll be monumental!! Finding out  if it works will be *fun*........" Ares paused, contemplating  this, "So, if he's Divine, why isn't he listed in the Records?  Even  demi-gods and goddesses are there.  It's got to be tied in with my  need and desire.  It's as if he'd been made for this one purpose - to  give me back my Godhead. Okay, starting tomorrow - Operation Seduce  Timor commences!"

Ares started with lingering looks and gentle touches, but Timor  seemed oblivious.  Ares washed and dressed himself with extra care.   He started dropping subtle hints.  That didn't work.  A week past,  then two.  Ares had never had such a testing battle, but part of him  loved it.  If Timor had been easy, the surrender would have meant  almost nothing.   "I really think I ought to cut my hair, Timor."   Timor's head shot up from his supper unnaturally  fast, "No.....um.....don't do that." Ares' face was the picture of innocence, "Why?"   Timor hid his own face and mumbled, "I....um....it's kinda nice.   Looks like a long stallion's mane." Ares wanted to shout in triumph.   Timor was at least partially attracted and didn't know what to do  about it.

The first wine was ready to be sampled - to see if fermentation was  proceeding according to plan.  the two of them lay in the straw in  the barn at the end of the day, with the wine-skin between them,  getting steadily drunker by the minute.  The wine was very good and  would be magnificent when it had fully matured.   Ares touched Timor's hand, "I like you."   A soft giggle, "Like you too."   There was a red stain around Timor's lips and Ares gently wiped off a  drip, "Missed a bit."  Timor's tongue came out instinctively,  catching Ares' finger.  Ares bit his lip as the hot jolt of need went  straight from there to his aching erection.      "Could have licked it off....."  Ares couldn't stop himself.  He  didn't want to stop.  He bent in and gently licked the place with the  tip of his tongue.  Timor moaned and pulled him closer.  In a  heartbeat they were in a deep, lush kiss, tongues tangling and  sucking.  Ares didn't know how or where Timor could have learnt to  kiss, but he was exceptional at it.  Tasted wild and sweet and like  every home Ares had ever wanted.  Ares gave up the inner struggle at  that point and surrendered to the pleasure.  Timeless moments later,  they slowly pulled apart.  Ares stared up at Timor's hazy face, "Let  me show you how good it can be, Timor." "I....um..." Timor dipped his head shyly,  "I never........not with  another person." "C'm'ere."  He was suddenly sounding like the old Godly Ares;  a low,  growled and eager command.    Ares and Timor melted into another  delicious kiss.  Ares' head swam.  He grasped Timor firmly, his own  tongue deep inside the man's mouth.  Ares drowned in sensation, then  suddenly everything went black.

Ares' head felt as if Hephaestus had kept it in his vice all night.   Throbbing, pounding pain.  He gingerly opened an eye-lid.  That was  possibly worse.  His blurred vision caught a modest piece of papyrus  by the bed. 'Yoo willl have a hed-ake.  We dranc too much wine lasst nite.  Dere  is sum water for yoo.  Cum to hot spring throo the froot trees and I  will mak it better.'  Well, it wouldn't score any marks for spelling,  but Ares understood.  He'd seen the hot spring when they'd been fruit- picking and wondered if  Timor ever used it.  Now he knew.   Ares  also realised belatedly that he was experiencing his first  hangover.   Gods didn't get them.   He drank the water, stumbled out  of bed, downed some fruit juice which was in a pitcher on the table,  threw on a pair of trousers and went out into the late morning  sunshine.  Squinting against the brightness, he hobbled down to the  natural pool amongst the rocks.  Timor was already there, turning his  head so that Ares could get into the water without losing his  dignity.  The wonderful hot, bubbling water began to soak in.  Ares  lay back on a convenient, slightly sloping and very smooth stone and  sighed deeply.  The hot water lapped over him and his headache  vanished very quickly.  Ares turned over after a while and lay on his  stomach.  He heard Timor moving through the water.

"You......um......you look like the horse when he gets his back  knotted.  Please......let me?"  For a second, Timor's hands hovered,   then they began to massage.  Ares couldn't help the moan of pleasure  this time.  Sparks and heat from Timor's hand, a rock-hard erection  and his back turning to liquid under those skillful fingers and  thumbs.  Even Apollo hadn't been this good a masseuse.  Next came the  legs and feet.  Ares felt sure that his erection should bore a hole  right *through* the rock underneath him soon.  He felt limp and  revitalised all at the same time.  "You are very good." "It's.....um.....time to turn over,"  Ares hesitated.  There was no  way Timor would miss the reaction of his body.  He got up on all  fours, "OH!  Oh, my.  You *do* look like my stallion, in Spring when  he wants the company of lady horses.  Hasn't had them for some time.   It's okay, I know what to do....."  Timor's hands suddenly closed  around his urgent shaft and Ares gasped with a mixture of pleasure  and shock.   "People don't usually quite do it like this.....oh....good Gods,  you've got wonderful hands.  Let me show you.  It will please you,  too,"  Timor let go and looked up at him.  Ares looked down  at an  erection that equalled his own, "You see, you are like that stallion  too.  I know a way we can *both* find release."

Ares pulled Timor onto the rock and they kissed.  Timor seemed a bit  stunned, but he soon picked up what to do as their bodies tangled.   Ares whispered fevered instructions and Timor proved a willing and  adept pupil.  Ares was so aroused, he couldn't indulge in long  foreplay, so he showed Timor where he needed him to be and how to get  ready.  In moments Ares was shaking with need.  Timor paused,  positioned himself and slid home.  Ares had to bite his lip hard, it  felt so good.  He smiled.  Any time now.  He could feel the trembling  in Timor's hands.  Ares was only mortal.  He couldn't hold on as long  as he wanted to.  He felt himself building and building.  Timor's  hands were working magical perfection, and as for that delicious  thrusting inside him......  Ares groaned, then began to growl  appreciatively.  Timor gasped, then lost control.  So did Ares.  With  a mighty shout they made it within seconds of each other.  Ares  exploded;  not just physically.

Every atom of  his being was orgasmic, and it went on and on in  gorgeous, intense rolls of  pleasure.  He lost all concept of where  Timor finished and he began.  He became the pleasure, the orgasm.   Minutes, hours, days, maybe even years later - he couldn't tell, he  opened his eyes.  So, he still *had* eyes.  He looked down at  himself.  He was sitting on a great, white marble throne, naked and  alone.    /Not alone, love.  I'm here, with you;  *in* you./ 'Timor?' /I know who you are - were - now, and it's okay.  I love you and I'll  never leave you./ 'What in Hades' name.....?'  As Ares settled himself, he could feel  it was true.  Timor was merged with him, filling all the lonely,  empty places.  With a small moan of pleasure, he realised that he  could still feel Timor intimately filling him.  Right there, right  where he needed him.  His muscles squeezed gently and he heard a  delicious inner groan of pleasure. /There, too.  Always;  just as we were once./

Ares' brow furrowed, then slowly, gradually, he remembered,  'I was a  baby.  Aware from birth.   Hera formed me, intended me to be God of  Love, but Zeus said no.  He needed conquests, heros, warriors.  So,  he took something from me.  It hurt;  it hurt so much.  The pain was  excruciating.  I was plunged screaming down to earth in Egypt.  I  grew up the way mortals do.  All the other gods and goddesses were  mature almost from the moment of birth.  Not me;  I had to do it the  hard way.  I always ached, hungered, battled.  I was always lonely,  incomplete.  I never found what it was that I yearned for,'  Ares  smiled, a new soft, radiant smile, 'Until now.  It was you - the  missing part of me they couldn't allow to become divine.'   /I am now - *we* are now, I suppose./  'God of what, though?  I'm...we're...not fully a War God any more.   And *where* are we?' /Shall we look around?/ Ares chuckled softly, 'I don't know if I can move!  You feel so  damned good inside me at the moment.' /I know.  You too./ Ares managed to stand up.  He looked down at his body.  Much the same  as before, but with a new, golden glow about it.  Erect and more than  ready again, 'Wish I could have taken *you* - seduced you.'   /I think it might be possible, Ares.  I awoke to this situation some  time before you and realised who I was, who you were and what had  happened.  I got my smarts, too.  I *think* I have access to an  etheric body - you would too, love.  We can still part - in a way -  and make love./ Ares grinned, 'Oh, good!  Celibacy was never my  strong point!'

Ares and Timor, sharing the one body, stepped down onto the floor.   It was like sapphire and diamond, clear as glass and radiant with  energy and stretched out as far as they could see in every direction  from the throne.  He leaned down to touch it and found Timor, naked,  under his hand.  He laughed and they rolled together on the floor.   They were both so aroused that Ares slid home inside Timor  immediately.  Ares groaned and his eyes darkened with passion.  The  two of them mated slowly, sliding across the highly polished floor.   With a shout, Ares came and Timor followed seconds later.  Ares saw  that some of their seed had spilled on the floor and was now becoming  part of it, like shimmering pearls and jewels.  Timor gently blended  back into Ares. /Beautiful./ 'Yes - and the floor.' /Decorating project?/ Ares chuckled, 'Hell of a lot of floor, Timor.  Goes on for *miles*.'  /O, goody!/ 'You're a naughty ex-farmer and I think I love you!'

They stood up.  With a thought, Ares-Timor clothed himself in a long,  cream robe.  He looked down and saw *everything*,  "I understand.  It  had to be this way - the parting, the pain, the loss.  All the wars,  the scheming.  I had to know the beauty of the Darkness so that I  might also know the beauty of Light.  Eli was, at least, partially  right." Ares looked to his left.  There was a window, where none had  been before.  It was like no window he'd ever seen.  Large,  stretching from the floor, about three feet wide and to just above  his head.  The glass shimmered slightly and was cold to the touch.   On the other side was deep, velvety blackness, as far as he could  see.    'A universe.  At least, a potential universe.' /What about Greece?/ 'That will always be in our hearts and I suppose we could re-create  it.' /And the other gods, Ares?/ Ares shook his head, 'We are the only living beings *here* - and this  is the new, or another, Olympus.  We can make what we desire, try it  out, see if it works.  *That's* what I reckon Zeus saw or guessed -  that if I were whole I would have the power and knowledge not just to  be King of the gods, or the God of Love, but to *be* God.  Love in  all its fullness, the pain intermingling with the pleasure.  So, let  us make a universe that loves to live and lives to love.' /And fuck?/ Ares chuckled, 'Oh, yes.  Gotta have that.  Lots of it, all  pleasurable.  I insist that rape is unknown here,' he shivered  slightly, remembering Egypt. /All the men buff and hung like horses?/ Another wicked chuckle, 'Gotta have some nice scenery!  And the women  beautiful, of course.' /Children or offspring planned, wanted and cared for./   Ares smiled sweetly, 'Yes, Timor my love.  Thank-you.  Make offspring  slightly rarer and conception directly linked to the intensity of the  female's pleasure.' /Even the plants?/ 'Well, I know jolly well the nyads and dryads loved sex, so why not?' /Okay, sounds fine by me.  Where do we start, my love?/ Ares' smile became wide, brilliant and beautiful, 'Easy.  We need to  see what we're doing, don't we?  Let there be light...'

The End