Orders of the Day
by Sophia
The hot wind whipped the tent flaps open and closed, the snap of canvas against canvas an incessant tattoo reminding the King of the sound the god's body made against him while they fucked. He knew the god would grow impatient for him, but was trapped by the reconnaissance report and the tireless questions of his most trusted generals and officers.  He tried to focus on the map spread out beneath his fingers, but could only think of the god - his taut golden skin, itself a map of the King's own desire - the curves and angles of the god's body landmarks to his pleasure. Sand ground between his teeth and the tissues of his parched mouth cried out for the god. He imagined the god rising from the battlefield, and longed to suck the god's honeyed tongue, lap the god's sweat as it traveled in rivulets down that sculpted belly,  drench himself in the torrent of the god's essence as he came in the King's mouth.

//To Tartarus with the whole lot of you! Leave me to my god...//

A huge gust of wind sends a flurry of dust particles into the air, and he blinks against the sand. A dark figure eclipses the light from the door.

"Will you make me come to you?"

The god's voice resonates, its timbre touched by anger, sending a shiver down the King's spine. All eyes turn to the god, drinking in his massive form, warmed by his heat even in this torrid air. The god moves to the King, and one hand reaches out and grabs him by his chestnut waves, pulling his mouth to the god's own, stifling his moan.

//Not now. Not in front of them. I am the King.//

"I am the god."

The god grips the King's tunic with both hands and rips it off his body.  His dark eyes rake down the King's broad chest to his swelling cock. The god strokes up the King's muscled arms, and then down to his nipples,  his thumbs circling them, bringing them to hard points. He leans down and takes them in his mouth, one then the other, his tongue moving in slow circles around the nipple. The King's sharp intake of breath brings their collective eyes on his face, its features express his rapture. On bended knees now, the god's arms circle the King's slim hips, and he slides his wet tongue down the King's hard belly. The King's fingers comb through the god's lustrous black curls, tightening their grip as the god's hot mouth finds his aching tumescence.

The watchers, transfixed by the vision of beauty before them, turn to leave at the sound of the King's choked moan, but the god pulls off the King and holds up one hand. "Stay. Bear witness."  A dozen pairs of eyes turn back, pupils dilating to capture the perfection of the image before them. The god moves on the King, his mouth stroking the King's huge cock, his salvia anointing its length.  His hand cups the heaviness of the King's testicles, while the other reached up to the King's mouth.  The King lips part and suck in the digit, his tongue circling it, and it emerges, glistening and wet. Then into the god's own mouth before being buried between the King's thighs, penetrating the tight passage, caressing the gland, sending a shock of ecstasy through the King's perfect body.  The King shudders as he nears his release and the god pauses, then stands and crushes the King against him, kissing him hungrily, his tongue licks the King's full lips.

"Suck me."

The King's eyes open wide. The god smiles as he licks the King's neck and then sweeps the maps and markers off the table. He lies back, propping himself on his elbows, his legs circle the King, drawing him near. One hand pulls the King down to him once again and the watchers gasp as the god's black leather vanishes, revealing the golden skin, glowing with an unearthly sheen. The god is massive, erect, and the King leans down to lick its length with a grateful tongue. Back goes the god's head, his curls falling long beneath him, his eyes closed, his mouth open, his wet tongue licks full lips. His hips grind against the King, forcing his cock deeper into the King's mouth. His nostrils flare and he moans in pleasure. He lifts his head and pulls the King off him.

"Fuck me."

The King's eyes close for a moment, then open and look deep into the god's eyes. A flask of oil appears in the god's open palm and the King takes it and pours it on his own flesh and that of the god beneath him. He stroked them both, one hand on each rigid cock, now pressed against each other as they are pressed together, King and god.

"Fuck me -- now."

The King kisses the god once more while his glistening finger spreads the taut slit, gently stretching the god, preparing him, then one is joined by another, and yet another.  He pushes his flesh into the god in one smooth thrust and both shudder with pleasure as their bodies merge. Hips thrust and grind, the slap slap slap of flesh against flesh, moans escape lips as pleasure mounts, a hand strokes, its motion incessant and demanding.

The King cries out first, his thrusts fast and hard now, his eyes shut tight.

"Look at me while you come."

Fighting against the intense pleasure, the King complies and the god watches his King's eyes as he comes and then feels the force of his own orgasm explodes inside him.  His muscles clench even more tightly around the King's cock as it shoots the King's seed deep within.  The god's own creamy fluid spurts over his broad chest, branding his nipples and belly. The King pants over the god as his mind recovers from the intense pleasure.  He then leans down and licks the god's wet nipples and collapses on top of him, smothering himself on the god's mouth.

The End