London Calling
By Rusalka

Marina slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, letting her purse drop to the floor with a thud.  Gods, she was tired and lonely and faced with another evening sitting alone in a hotel room with only the TV and some magazines to keep her company.  She hated business trips.

It had seemed like so much fun at first.  A week in London. Stay at the Savoy on an expense account.  Ooooh, how glamorous. But it didn't take long to find out that work was work, no matter what city you did it in.  And then the week turned into two weeks.  Two weeks with no friends, no husband, and no internet access.

She took off her suit and hung it up in the closet, wrapped herself in one of the Savoy's thick, fluffy bathrobes, grabbed a copy of _Time Out_ from the nightstand, and padded into the bathroom.  If she had to name one redeeming feature out of this whole miserable trip, that bathroom would probably be it.  It wasn't the marble floor that got her, or the huge Art Deco mirror, or the heated towel rack.  It was the tub.

Being six feet tall and not exactly slight of build, Marina seldom had an opportunity to really, comfortably stretch out in a bathtub.  Here, however, she could sink into the water right up to her neck, stretch her legs out full-length, and still have room to move.  It was lovely.

She opened the jar of bath salts she'd picked up at Liberty's over the weekend, poured a handful into the tub, and turned on the water.  Lavender-scented steam rose up to fill the room. Marina took off her robe, hung it from the hook on the door, and lowered herself into the water with a contented sigh.

She spent a few minutes leafing through her magazine, searching for possible ways to amuse herself over the weekend in case her company, in its infinite wisdom, decided to make her stay another week.  But before long, the hot, scented water began to soak the day's tension out of her muscles, relaxation set in, and the letters on the pages started to blur before her eyes. Marina let her head fall back to rest against the edge of the tub, and closed her eyes.

"You know," a deep, masculine voice rumbled from somewhere near the door, "you could drown doing that."

Drawn out of a half-sleep by an unexpected male voice in her hotel bathroom, Marina did what any healthy, red-blooded American woman would do -- she shrieked her head off, and threw the _Time Out_ in the direction of the sound.

A split second later, she realized who it was.

"Ares!"  Marina sat up, brushing wet hair out of her face. "What are you doing here?"

He lounged against the door with an expression of wounded dignity on his handsome face, clutching the smushed magazine against his chest.  "Expecting a better welcome, that's for sure."

Marina glared at him.

"You scared the hell out of me!  I thought there was a homicidal sex maniac in my room!"

He smiled at her, a slow, feral grin that bared all his teeth. "Who says there isn't?"   His eyes looked so dark they were nearly black.   Marina could feel the gaze almost as a physical caress against her skin.  Her nipples tightened, and a faint flush crept across her breasts.

"W-what are you doing here?" She stammered, and immediately wanted to slap herself for being stupid.  It was patently obvious what he was doing.  "I mean-- what are you doing in London?"

"I was in the neighborhood, and thought I'd drop in."  His smile tightened a bit.  He stepped all the way into the room, and sat down on the edge of the tub.  "Actually, I could sense how miserable you were all the way on Olympus.  You really broadcast your emotions when you're upset.  I was half-expecting to find you chained up in a dungeon somewhere.  Instead I find you lounging in a bathtub, smelling like a flower garden."  He reached down to brush a drop of water from her cheek.  "What's wrong?"

Marina grabbed his hand before he could pull it away, and pressed her face against it.  It was the first close physical contact she's had with anyone in over a week, unless one counted people jostling her on the tube.  The pressure of a strong, callused palm against her cheek had never felt so good.

"It's the Twentieth Century, Ares," she grumbled.  "They don't chain people in dungeons anymore.  They chain them to computer desks instead, and give them insane deadlines, and change the project specs on them every two days, and--" she stopped, because Ares' thumb was brushing across her lips, and her body was forcibly reminding her that there were more important things in life to focus on than financial software.

"Marina..." Ares' voice seemed to caress the name, just as his hand caressed her face.  "This 'they' you keep talking about -- are they going to kill you?"

Marina sighed.  "No, not really."

"Are you going to kill them?"

She fought down a fit of violently wishful thinking.  "Probably not."

"Then it's not important.  Put it out of your mind."

"I already have."  She caught the tip of his thumb between her lips and sucked, and watched his eyes darken even further.

He leaned forward, and for a confused moment she thought he was going to get into the tub with her, black leather and all.  Instead he wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her out of the water with a smooth, effortless motion.

Marina gave a startled yelp, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to drop her, so she quickly relaxed.  Cradled in Ares' powerful arms, with her head resting on a smooth, broad shoulder, she felt light and petite -- not a feeling she was accustomed to.  Water dripped from her body and streamed from her hair as he carried her toward the bathroom, but she couldn't bring herself to worry about it.  It wasn't *her* floor after all.

Ares lowered her to the bed, and gave her a quick kiss before straightening up to remove his boots and vest.  His clothes were perfectly dry, she noticed, despite his having just carried an armful of wet naked Marina across a hotel room.  His hair was a bit damp at the ends, though, and a few drops of water glistened on his chest.  One drop trickled downwards, tracing a path between his pectorals and down the hard, muscular ripples of his stomach before coming to rest in his navel.  Without thinking -- she was fast losing the ability to think -- Marina scooted forward on the bed, and lapped up the drop with her tongue.

Ares drew in a sharp breath, and tugged at his trouser laces with increasing urgency.  Marina braced her hands on his waist, and proceeded to slowly kiss her way up his torso.  His skin felt hot and slick against her lips.  He smelled of musk and sweat.

She rose to her knees and closed her mouth over his right nipple, flicking her tongue against the puckered tip.  Ares growled impatiently, and gripped her ass with both hands, pressing her  hard against him. His erection twitched against her belly, a hot, insistent pressure. Marina lifted her face to his, and he kissed her.  It was not a gentle kiss, though his lips were surprisingly soft.  His tongue thrust into her mouth, hard and fast, a foreshadowing of a different kind of thrusts still to come.  Marina found herself moaning into the kiss.  She ground her hips forward and up, so that the triangle of hair between her legs rasped against the underside of his cock.

Ares slipped one hand between her legs, and rubbed one finger back and forth against her labia.  Marina had to break the kiss so that she could throw her head back and gasp for air.  A tingling heat spread across her stomach and thighs.  Moisture trickled down her legs.  She reached for his cock, ready to guide him inside her,  but he caught her wrist in his other hand.

"Not yet," he murmured.  "Lie down."

She lay on her back across the bed, with her hips at the very edge of the mattress, and threw her legs over Ares' shoulders as he knelt on the floor. His tongue lapped at her most sensitive places, sometimes feather-light, sometimes hard and probing.  When it brushed against her clit, she nearly screamed.

He slid his hands up her torso to cup her breasts, kneading gently with his fingers, circling the nipples with his thumbs.  At the same time, his tongue continued teasing her clit, each touch coursing through her body like liquid heat.  Marina buried her fingers in the thick, soft strands of his hair and pulled him closer.  Her every nerve tingled, the pleasure so sharp it was almost painful.  She wondered vaguely if he was somehow using his powers to keep her on the edge like this, it was too good, too intense, she couldn't--

He sucked hard on her clit, and the last traces of thought fled.  Her vision blurred, and the room spun in dizzying circles.  All she could do was groan and drum her heels against his back as she came.

It lasted forever.  It ended too soon.  Awareness came back slowly, one sensation at a time.  Damp linen sheets against her back.  Sweat cooling on her skin.  A pool of light on the ceiling from the bedside lamp. Marina lay perfectly still, waiting for her heartbeat to slow back to normal.

The mattress shifted slightly as Ares climbed up on the bed.  He leaned over her, smiling, so close that his hair fell forward to tickle her face.  "Feel better?" He purred.

Marina lifted one hand to stroke his cheek, savoring the contrast between smoothness of skin and roughness of beard.

"Oh, much better, definitely.  However--"  she let her gaze travel down his body to his engorged cock.  "I think there's room for improvement."

He traced the line of her jaw with one finger.  "I'm open to suggestion."

Before she could suggest anything, he rolled over on top of her, pinning her with his weight, nudging her thighs apart with an impatient hand. Marina wrapped her legs around his waist, and her arms around his shoulders. She pulled him close against her for a moment, then arched her back and rolled them both over with one quick motion, so that Ares was on his back and she was on top, straddling him.

"My turn," she breathed.

Ares grinned and ran his tongue over his upper teeth.  Marina knew perfectly well that he could reverse their positions again any time he chose, but he made no move to do so.  It was rare for him to surrender control like that, and Marina determined to take full advantage.  She rose up on her knees, wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, and slowly lowered herself onto the rigid shaft.

Ares closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, visibly struggling for control. His hips lifted off  the bed slightly, but other than that he managed to keep still, letting her set the pace.  Marina braced her hands on his chest to help support her weight as she slid all the way down.  There was a small amount of pain as her body adjusted to his size, but it was quickly drowned out by far more pleasant sensations.  He felt so good inside her, so perfectly *right*, as if a missing piece of her had been returned.

She lifted herself up until only the head of his cock remained inside her, and sank down again, and again, forcing herself to maintain the slow rhythm.  Her thigh muscles twinged.  She made a mental note to spend a few more hours on the Stairmaster before trying this again. Ares' chest rose and fell beneath her hands as he took slow, deep breaths.  Sweat glistened on his face.  He was clutching the sheets with a white-knuckled grip.  She tightened her vaginal muscles around his cock and he growled, a low, rumbling sound deep in his throat that vibrated through both their bodies.

She ran her fingernails lightly down his chest.  As they scratched across his nipples, his control broke, or maybe he simply chose to let go of it.  He began to pump his hips, matching his movements to hers, speeding up the rhythm.  His hands came up to grip her waist, and he pulled her to him.  Her breasts pressed against his chest.  She kissed his throat, and felt his pulse flutter beneath her lips.

He wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over.  No question of who was in control now.  The bed shook with the force of his thrusts. The headboard rattled against the wall.  Marina pulled her knees up higher, and reached down to grip his ass, digging her nails into the smooth, hard muscles.  She wanted him closer, deeper, she wanted him...ahhh, yes...right there...perfect.

Ares threw his head back and drew in a long, shuddering breath between clenched teeth.  A tremor coursed through his body, eliciting an answering shudder from Marina.  He leaned forward to capture her mouth with his.  His tongue and his cock thrust in perfect unison.  Marina's back arched helplessly beneath him, and the kiss smothered both their screams as they came together.

Afterwards, they lay nestled together in warm, comfortable silence, Ares' arms wrapped around her, his shoulder serving as her pillow. Eventually, when her legs no longer felt like water, Marina got up just long enough to fetch a bottle of cognac from the minibar.  She was in the process of struggling with the corkscrew when a high-pitched beeping noise made her whirl toward the desk.

"Oh, god, not now..."

Ares propped himself up on one elbow and scowled in the direction of the noise.

"What in Tartarus is that?"

"My pager."  Marina groaned.  "The overnight batch job must' ve crashed again, dammit, I'm gonna have to go in again--"

Ares waved one hand at the desk.  There was loud popping noise.  Bits of Motorola pager flew everywhere.  Ares gazed at Marina with an expression of pure, wide-eyed innocence.

"I didn't hear a beep.  Did you hear a beep?"

"Who, me?  Nah."  Marina braced the cognac bottle under her left arm, and pulled the cork out with a satisfying *pop*.  "Now then.  Where were we?..."

The End