‘Be there at midnight,” the impeccable script read. No doubt written by a scribe, Ares thought as he admired the handwriting. No god would bother to write a note himself. Ares opened the papyrus roll a bit more to reveal the entire note, but when the God of Love tried to think of who might have authored it, he drew a blank. There were *so* many possibilities...
‘Take one of the private rooms and I’ll find you. Put this blindfold on and wait for me, naked.’
//Ohhh...// The god shivered at the thought.
‘Don’t speak and don’t try to find out who I am,” it commanded. ‘I’ve wanted you forever. You know you want me.’
“I just *love* modesty!’ he laughed and read it over again, his cock already filling at the prospect. Should he take the chance and go? It could be anyone -– his mind ranged over the potential suitors. Someone he *hadn’t* already fucked... Who could that be?
Ares put the papyrus down on the floor and turned over, wiggling on the massage table, adjusting his body so that the towel just happened to slip a little further off his hips. Whoever it was, he didn’t want Ares to know his identity. Ares closed his eyes and sighed as the masseuse’s strong smooth hands worked away at his chest, kneading the well-developed pectorals. He chuckled as the young man’s fingers brushed his nipples by accident, sending a stab of desire through him right to his thickening cock.
“A little lower,” the god breathed. Strong hands complied, stroking his ribs, and then moving lower to his rippled belly.
“Just a lit-tle lower...”
It didn’t really matter who his unknown suitor was. All that mattered was that the other god wanted him. Had wanted him *forever*. It would be a very enjoyable evening.
The Fortuna Baths were located on a small side-street in the south of the city. A natural hot spring fed the underground system of pools and only the wealthiest were admitted. Ares walked down the small stone stairway which led to the entrance and knocked. He gave the secret password and waited for the doorman to let him in.
The night was cool after such a blistering day and a soft breeze blew over Ares’ skin. He was wearing a toga that exposed his shoulder and part of his chest, deciding that his usual white leather was too obvious. It was a good choice, but the soft folds of the skirt barely hid his already-impressive erection. Flushed with excitement, he fidgeted as the doorman opened the spy hole and looked him over. There just a trickle of anxious sweat down his sides as he thought of his tryst with a ‘stranger’.
The doorman recognized him and pointed to the reception room, and Ares waited for the owner to finish escorting another patron to the baths. When the owner returned and saw Ares, he smiled.
“Amore,” the mortal breathed, holding his hands out in welcome. He knelt at the god’s feet for just a moment and then rose, taking Ares’ hand in his, rubbing it with glee. “What can I do for such a one as you?”
“Marcellus, I need a private room,” Ares replied, smiling at the mortal’s posturing. “I’m meeting someone...”
“Who may I ask, so I can direct him...”
“I’d rather not say,” Ares replied quickly, fingering the silk blindfold nestled in a pocket in his toga. He felt a surge of lust go through him at the feel of the soft material and had to suppress a groan as he thought of it. “Discretion is required.”
“Discretion is *always* assured for my patrons,” the mortal replied, winking at the god of love suggestively. “Will he ask for you? How will I know...”
“It’s another god, so I *think* he’ll find me,” Ares replied and winked back at him, fluttering his eyelashes for good measure.
“Of course,” the mortal replied and clasped his hands together. “No need to worry, then. I’ll give you my very best room and leave you alone. Come. Follow me.”
The mortal turned and led the way down the dim halls that went to the inner cavern and the baths. As they descended lower under the city, the air grew more moist and the cool air gave way to a warmth from the hot springs that only added to Ares’ own growing heat.
Small alcoves set in the stone walls held oil lamps and their flames flickered, lighting the way down the sloping hall. They passed a large open area -– the cavern formed by the underground hot spring -– and Ares saw a dozen or more patrons lazing in the hot water or reclining on stone benches. Bodies writhed together in the shadows, their ghostly limbs entwined, moving in a slow dance of desire.
Ares’ ear caught the sound of a man’s voice, a whisper and then a soft moan. The murmur of many other voices rose, drowning out the sounds of pleasure, echoing softly on the water and walls. It was almost mesmerizing in its effect on him. All around the baths stood slaves waving large fans, moving the humid air around so that a constant breeze flowed over wet, flushed skin.
“Here, my Lord,” the owner said, standing by one room and motioning inside with a sweep of his hand. “My very *best* room.”
Ares entered and looked at the space. While narrow, it had a high domed ceiling and there was an airy feel to it in spite of the smallness of the room. Walls made to mimic the rock of the cavern cordoned off part of the natural pool formed by the hot springs and a channel connected each room to its neighbours. A deep shelf on the wall behind the pool held a dozen lamps and even more candles. Their light danced on the water’s dappled surface and reflected on the ceiling and walls. The sound of water trickling out of a small artificial waterfall gave the room a sense of tranquillity.
Ares looked around. A long marble bench stood in the centre of the room and a smaller one was set along the wall for belongings.
“Thank you, Marcellus,” Ares said and handed him a purse of gold coin. “I trust this is sufficient for your discretion.”
“You are *too* generous, Lord,’ the mortal replied, but he squeezed the purse greedily, his eyes flashing as he felt the weight of the coin inside. He turned and let down the flap of material covering the door, giving Ares privacy.
Alone now, the god took in a deep breath to try to calm his nerves and slow his heart rate down just a bit. It was no use. He took his clothes off piece by piece, enjoying the whole process, knowing that his secret “suitor” was probably watching his every move. He untied his belt and let it slide to the floor, and then unwrapped the toga, feeling its smooth material slip over his damp skin so that he was naked except for the flimsy loincloth.
That was also discarded, exposing his jutting erection and he stroked his hands down his body, enjoying his own perfection, imagining other hands touching him, stroking his hot flesh.
He went to the pool and submerged himself entirely, then floated for a moment, lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sound of his own heartbeat.
Ares emerged from the pool and stepped, dripping, over to the small bench and retrieved the silk blindfold. He lay on the bench, wrapping the silk around his eyes as he did.
There –- he was ready. He could barely breathe as he waited, wondering who his lover would be.
The air sizzled as another god entered the room’s confines. A soft breeze blew over him, the air moved around him and he heard a soft intake of breath. He sniffed the air, checking for some tell-tale scent that would indicate the identity of his anonymous lover, but there was nothing. Just the clean scent of fresh sweat, the heady tang of ambrosia and something else... something he couldn’t quite identify – myrrh?
He couldn’t help himself -– the words slipped out before he could stop. A soft finger on his lips silenced him and he nodded in acknowledgement, taking the digit between his lips and sucking for a brief moment. The other god pulled the finger out and Ares pouted, not wanting to wait, but loving every agonizing moment. The other god just moved around and looked. Gods! It made him so hard and an almost unbearable feeling of lust built inside of him.
He couldn’t suppress a gasp as a warm wet tongue stroked over the head of his aching cock and swirled around the head. His hands reached out and down to the other god and he felt soft hair but before he could explore more, strong hands grasped his and raised them up over his head. A ‘click-click’ as smooth silver closed over his wrists, and then the clink of chains as they were secured to the bench. He pulled at them for a brief moment, testing their strength, but couldn’t move.
No ordinary manacles, these. Must be Hephaestus’ design. Could it be the god of the forge? They’d been lovers before, Ares thought. There was no need to play this game, so he shook his head mentally. No, this wasn’t Heph’s style. Besides, Heph hated water and avoided the baths, preferring to clean himself with his godly powers.
As the hands moved to his flesh, he gave up all attempts to discover his lover’s identity through his sense of smell and focussed on the pleasure as callused fingers traced over his shoulders and down his chest. Calluses -- on both hands, but more so on the... right hand. Whoever this was, he used that hand in some occupation, for the rough ridges were more pronounced on that one than the other.
Cool liquid flowed over his belly and the hands took the oil up and began to massage him. That scent -- it was myrrh. But also almonds. Sweet and musky, exotic. He moaned as the hands stoked around his groin, never touching his cock or balls, but all around them in a tantalizing manner. The knuckles kneaded his thighs and he groaned at the intensity of the pleasure as his strained muscles relaxed.
Then long slow strokes all the way down his body from his arms stretched over his head to his calves, over and over again until he was almost overcome with desire.
“Suck me!” he cried, his cock so rigid he ached for relief. Another finger on his lips and he groaned in disappointment as nothing happened.
“Please!” he whispered, and his plea was silenced by soft moist lips. A kiss, deep and passionate, the other god’s tongue exploring him then sucking on his tongue suggestively.
Two strong thigh straddled him, and Ares felt the heat of another body as the god leaned over him. The kiss ended and then the other god moved up and Ares caught the musky scent of the god’s groin and opened his mouth willingly, his tongue extending in wait for the taste of the god’s cock.
A soft chuckle and then the salty bite of leaking semen as the smooth head of the other god’s cock slipped into Ares’ mouth. Ares bent his knees up in an attempt to move into a better position, and it was then he felt something, something strange, undecipherable at first. A soft smooth caress on his inner thigh. What was it? It almost stopped his mouth’s movement on the cock as he concentrated. He moved his knee and then he knew. Feathers.
He pulled off the cock in a flash, conflicting emotions boiling inside of him, shock, fear, lust – but mostly, pure shock. Cupid? The God of War? Wanting him forever?
Cupid said nothing and didn’t make another move as if waiting for Ares to give him some indication or sign, permission to continue.
A moment of indecision as Ares tried to sort through his emotions. Yes, he *did* want Cupid. Always had, but was too afraid of the god’s unpredictability to approach him. Cupid wanted him *forever*...
“Take off the manacles, take off my blindfold,” Ares ordered. “I want to see you.”
Another moment of hesitation and then Cupid complied. The manacles disappeared as did the silk covering his eyes. There, standing at the end of the bench, was the beautiful God of War, naked, his skin gleaming in the lamplight, his dark wings spread out behind him. Cupid’s head was slightly bowed, and he looked at Ares from under a frown as he waited for the god to speak.
“You better not say no, or I’ll have to kill you.”
Lust and fear surged through Ares and he sat fully up and wrapped his arms around the winged-god’s hips, taking the god’s flagging erection in his mouth and sucking hard.
Cupid moaned in response -- shocked, Ares expected, at his very rapid acquiesense. Cupid’s cock grew hard, very hard, in an instant and Ares fondled the god’s sac and stroked his lean hip, squeezing one round buttock in appreciation.
“I *have* always wondered what you’d be like,” Ares said as he pulled off the god’s cock for a moment. “You’re so... unpredictable.”
“Quit talking and suck,” the war god replied and pulled on Ares’ long damp tresses to move his mouth closer to the rigid organ. Ares complied and rolled his tongue around the rim, then sucked in the whole of Cupid’s cock, gagging just a bit as the god forced it down his throat.
What would he do, Ares wondered as the god of war thrust in his mouth? What would he want? How?
The god pulled his cock out of Ares’ mouth and pushed him back on the bench. Ares’ cock was jutting out and up, it’s heaviness making it fall to one side, the fluid dripping out in a long clear string that shone in the candlelight.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Cupid whispered and almost pounced on Ares, lying on top of him, covering him completely, kissing Ares, pinning him down with his full weight.
“I want to feel your wings,” Ares said when the kiss ended. “They’re so... erotic. And the scent -- is that myrrh? But also almonds...”
“Fuck, Ares,” Cupid groaned, and Ares noted the small smile on the war god’s lips. “Do I have to gag you?”
Ares pouted in response, but smiled inwardly.
“I’ve never seen you smile,” Ares said and stroked his hands up Cupid’s back.
“I only smile when I’m moving in for the kill,” Cupid responded, his voice a soft throaty growl. “It’s an offensive tactic. It disarms the enemy, makes them vulnerable, open...”
Another smile on those usually dour lips and then Cupid kissed Ares, smothering Ares’ carefully worded response.
“Now shut up while I fuck your sweet ass.”
“Can I at least moan with pleasure?”
Yet another smile and then Ares gave up and lost himself in the war god’s lust.