Castling the King
The huge doors of the temple crashed open and in strode the king of Corinth, his anger scattering the worshippers, cowing even the warrior priests. His as-yet unseen watcher gloated, and laughed softly to himself.
He strode up to the vacant throne, and stood, hands on hips, glaring at its uninhabited malevolence.
"Ares!" he bellowed. "What in Tartarus' name do you think you're doing?"
A flash of light heralded the unseen watcher's appearance. Ares, god of war lounged casually, a foot propped up on one of the wide, ebony arms. In his hand was a wicked-looking barbed dagger. He graced the king with a raised eyebrow and started cleaning his nails with the razor point.
"What's the problem now, kinglet?" he asked, his voice dripping scorn.
"You're interfering with my peace talks." Iphicles glared as hard as he could at the god. "I don't want any wars right now. I don't need one. Fuck it... I can't even afford one."
"Your point being?" Ares flicked his eyes up at the king, then returned to the contemplation of his manicure.
"My point being... I want you to stop this. Don't interfere." Iphicles paced back and forth, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him.
Ares stopped his nail cleaning and watched the copper-haired king. He admired
the way the muscles in his biceps rippled, the movement of his auburn hair as it whipped out behind him as he stopped his pacing and whirled round to face the god of war. He ran his eyes in a deliberately lewd fashion down the king’s body, raising his brows suggestively when he saw how nicely Iphicles filled his codpiece.
Iphicles flushed under his openly lustful gaze, then found some bravado from somewhere.
"Fuck it, Ares. Why are you doing this?" he demanded.
Ares smiled like a shark.
"I'm the god of war," he replied. "It's what I do."
Iphicles slumped in defeat, looking every inch a broken king for a split second, then drew himself up to his full height. "What will it take to convince you to stop this?" his voice was weary.
Ares paused, pursing his lips, and running covetous eyes over the deep, brooding gaze and sensual face of the man who ruled Corinth; and, better still, Hercules' other half brother.
"Now let me see," Ares said, putting an expression of grave thought onto his face. "What will it take to convince me?"
He could hear the harsh, angered breathing of the man who stood below his throne, smell the faint odour of fear. He would bet his sword that the kinglet was now regretting that ill-thought out request.
"Ah!" Ares snapped his fingers, liking the way the sound ricocheted around the dark empty temple, and sent a slight jolt of surprise through the king. He resisted the urge to do it once more, stood up and stalked down the stairs toward Iphicles.
He approached the king, and walked round him, regarding him with a gaze that he knew said, 'I'm a god and you're not, little man'.
"I'm a reasonable being," he said finally, after waiting the requisite time for godly grandstanding. "I tell you what... I'll play you for peace."
"Play?" Iphicles looked at him, his face puzzled. "Play what?"
Ares grinned, flicking his tongue out of his mouth, as if already tasting victory.
"How are you at Chess?"
Before Iphicles knew it, they were in a huge hall, there was blackness all around, so intense, the room boundaries couldn’t be seen. The only light was a single indefinable beam of illumination focused on a table and two chairs.
Ares smiled at the king. "Please, be seated," he said, courteously, motioning towards the table.
Iphicles looked around as he made his way to the table. "What is this place?" he asked at last.
"It’s where the gods play," Ares said mysteriously.
As Iphicles sat down, he became aware of an identical table a few feet away. There was, but one figure sat at the table – a heavily cloaked and hooded figure. In front of the being was a chess set, and at his side leaned a scythe. After a moment, the figure reached out a hand to move a piece. With shock, the Corinthian king realised that the hand was little more than a skeleton’s bones.
"Hey, Death. Get out of here." Ares said. "Your next soul game isn’t scheduled for another few years."
"I NEED THE PRACTISE." Came a hollow, sepultural voice.
"Look. You’re crap at chess. Try tiddly-winks next time. You’ve got more chance of winning." Ares advised.
"I RESENT THAT REMARK. IF YOU WERE MORTAL I WOULD SEND YOU TO THE PITS OF HELL."
"Yeah, yeah." Ares sounded bored.
The figure stood up, picked up it’s scythe, and disappeared without a sound.
Iphicles jumped in surprise as without warning a chess set appeared in front of them. The figures were beautifully crafted from black and creamy marble, about eight inches high. Only the kings were different to the set. The black side had a perfect figurine of Ares, the white king was Iphicles.
"I’ll let you be white, and give you a chance by moving first," Ares sneered. "After all, the god of war has to be a master tactician." He seated himself at the other side of the board, and folded his hands in front of his lips, as if praying, regarding the king with intent black eyes.
"If you win, you get your peace. If you lose... I get my war... and I get you."
"Me?" Iphicles’ voice went up a couple of notches. He began to sweat.
Ares smiled, and raised his eyebrows. "Yes... You... to do with as I wish... until the sands run out." He pointed over to a huge hour glass that suddenly appeared beside them.
Iphicles swallowed hard. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
The first moves would show Ares exactly what he was up against. There was no
way, this upstart king who just happened to be Hercules' brother could beat the experienced god at this game, after all, Ares practised every day on the battlefield. He was a master tactician and knew every move possible in this game of war.
Iphicles regarded the board, his brown eyes lowered, unable to look the god in the eye. Ares smiled to himself. So much for his bravado in the temple. Now they were alone, Ares could see the tremor, immediately stilled, in Iphicles’ fingers as he moved a pawn with business-like efficiency.
Ares caressed one of his own pawns slowly, feeling the smooth polished stone under his fingers, stroking over the large, bulbous head. He continued to stare at the king, beginning to feel aroused at Iphicles’ discomfiture.
He moved his piece and sat back. Iphicles counter-moved immediately, taking his knight into play.
Ares frowned. He’d never seen anyone take it quite so fast. Usually there were several moves of pawns scouting around each other, checking out the opposition. Perhaps he should re-evaluate this man?
Iphicles too, sat back and Ares saw his lips twitch, as if he knew he had confused the god.
Ahh. Those lips... full and red. They just begged for hard, biting kisses.
Ares eased his position on the chair, then told himself to concentrate. He was going to beat Iphicles at this game, take his pieces, utterly destroying them in the process, watch the king grow more and more nervous as he watched his chessmen decimated.
After all, a war was the winning prize, and Ares intended that war to happen.
He reached forward and moved another pawn, suggestively running his fingers over it first, then shifting it into place, meeting the king’s eyes. He smiled wolfishly, and flicked a tongue round his lips.
He would take it nice and slow, lull the king into a false sense of security. Let him think he was winning... just for a while.
They stared each other down, making move after move, neither gaining an upper hand. There was silence as they played, the only sound the soft creak of leather as one moved, the faint click of the pieces being moved into place.
Iphicles’ eyes shot towards the hour glass, and he frowned as he saw that the sands hadn’t moved.
Ares laughed softly. “You didn’t think I’d let our playing time interfere with what I was going to do with you after I’ve beaten you?” he asked, purposely making his voice gentle.
Iphicles let out a long breath, then moved his queen. The war god could see small beads of sweat appear on his top lip, then the slight flick of a pink tongue as the king licked the sweat away.
“I should’ve known you’d cheat, you bastard,” he said at last, his voice equally soft. “So what are you going to do with me?”
Ares studied the board, automatically thinking four or five moves ahead. If he moved his rook there, then Iphicles would probably counter-attack there... hmm.. that pawn would be useful.
He took his mind off the game for a brief moment.
“What would I do to you?” he asked at last. “Why, my dear kinglet... do you really want to know? The anticipation is such fun, don’t you think?”
He’d made a mistake.
Ares leaned forward, frowning, checking out the move Iphicles had just made. Yes, a definite mistake. He could see this game ending in less than ten moves. He reached forward and took the bishop, smiling at Iphicles as he crumbled it to dust in his fingers. Iphicles’ lips tightened, but he made no other sign of his discomfiture.
“Not a wise choice,” Ares exulted with just the right touch of sneer.
He raked his eyes down Iphicles’ body, making a pointed stare in the direction of the kings cock. Iphicles cleared his throat and moved closer to the table. The bead of sweat appeared once more and Ares reached across the table to smooth it away.
“Why, my dear kinglet. I do believe you’re nervous?”
“Shut the fuck up and play,” Iphicles growled.
“Oh, no. I’m enjoying this. I’m looking forward to the moment when I beat your king into submission, then claim my prize... the war... and... you. Are you looking forward to it, kinglet? Ever had a god fuck you before? Don’t you want to feel my cock impaling your tight flesh? Doesn’t it intrigue you... seeing what god seed feels like when it fills your body?
Oh yes. He was definitely getting to the king now. He saw the shudder and his cock leapt with need. Baiting this gorgeous creature was almost as good as the sex would be. He could hardly wait.
He ran a finger lightly over the pawn once more, shutting his eyes. “It almost feels like a cock,” he whispered. “Cold, of course... marble doesn’t warm easily, but if I close my eyes and imagine, I can almost feel it.”
“Damn you Ares!” Iphicles started to get up.
The war god opened his eyes and smirked. “Uh huh. If you leave, you forfeit the game. I take my prize after all.”
The king stood there, his jaw working in tense quandary. At last he sat down again, raking his hands through copper hair and wiping his face.
“All right. Let’s get this the fuck over with,” he snarled.
“Are you sure you’re Hercules' brother? You two are just so different? He’s Mr. goody two-shoes. You’re Mr. snap and snarl. Gods I love it. I think you hate him almost as much as I do.”
“Leave Herc out of this,” Iphicles said, his voice flat.
“I wonder what he’d say if he knew what I was about to do to his brother. Would he get all righteous and lecture me, or would he cheer me on?” Ares picked up the pawn he’d been toying with and moved it into place.
“I’m not talking to you about him. I just want this over with,” Iphicles said and casually moved his rook. “Check mate!”
Ares tore his gaze off the king's triumphant face and looked down at the board. “No!”
“Yes. If you’d not been so busy taunting me, you would’ve seen what I was doing.”
Ares glared at the king. “NO! You can’t do that!” he roared.
“I can, and I have!” Iphicles stood up. “So take me home and get your fucking warlords out of my fucking province!”
Ares stood up, grabbing the board and up-turning it. Several pieces shattered as they hit the floor and Iphicles suddenly looked very, very nervous. Not many people wanted the god of war angry at them. He backed off slightly.
Ares grabbed for the king, caught him by his leather jerkin and pulled him forward until they were nose to nose.
“Yes. You can have your peace,” he hissed in malice. “But I’m still taking you. You never know, you might even enjoy it.”
Iphicles did either stupidest or the bravest thing he’d ever done in his life. He spat in the war god’s face.
Ares’ face contorted with rage and he threw the king across the room. Iphicles landed against another table, and Ares advanced on the dizzied monarch. He picked him up once more and lifted the almost unconscious man onto the table.
“You can’t escape me, kinglet, so don’t even try. Lay back and take it.”
Ares started to laugh as he looked at the hour-glass and the sands slowly began to sift downwards.
Iphicles shook his head, opened his eyes and looked around. His hands and legs were restrained in shackles and he lay spread-eagled like a sacrificial virgin. He was still in the gods gaming room, but the table he was bound to wasn’t the chess table. It was more like an altar.
He pulled at the shackles restraining him, guessing that they would be Hephaestus specials, and he wouldn’t be able to break them, even if he had the strength of his half brother. He tried to calm his breathing, feeling fear rise up and threaten to engulf him. He strained to look about some more, wondering where the war god had gone. All he saw was the hourglass, it ’s sand lowering silently with grainy innocence of what was about to happen.
“Ares!” Iphicles could bear it no longer. He had to find out what was going to happen.
“Yes?” Ares popped into existence beside the king and smiled down at him, arms folded, sneer turned up to eleven.
“When are you going to start this? Aren’t you afraid the sands will run out?” Iphicles found bravado he didn’t feel in his words. With a bit of luck Ares would be so busy gloating, he’d forget about the time limit.
Ares went to the hour glass and tapped it with a fingernail.
“Did you think this was an hour glass?” he asked. “Didn’t you think that perhaps it was a little too large to only hold an hour’s sands.”
“You bastard!” Iphicles ranted, pulling at his chains. “You said it was...”
“I said nothing. You assumed. It doesn’t pay to assume anything when dealing with me.” the deep velvet voice sounded malicious.
“You’re just a sore loser.” Iphicles taunted.
“Perhaps. No one ever beat me at chess before. I admit I was surprised... but... yes... you were right... I let my lust for you overtake my desire to win. You see... it’s your fault. If you weren’t so horny, I would’ve let you go.”
Iphicles glared at the god. “Just do what it is you want to do, and let me go.” He growled.
“My dear kinglet, we’ve already begun.” Ares said softly.
He walked round the table, regarding the king with thoughtful eyes, then stood behind his head, absently stroking Iphicles hair.
“Now... how to get your clothes off.” Ares said, his voice low and intense.
“Can’t you just magic them away. You are a god.” Iphicles suggested, putting a light tone into his voice, trying not to let it shake too much.
“Far too boring. I like a little fun.”
Iphicles heard the metallic rasp of a knife being drawn, then a razor sharp blade stroked smoothly down the side of his face. “And this... kinglet.... is fun. Now be quiet. I might slip. You wouldn’t want me to slip.”
Ares gently ran the knife down Iphicles’ cheek, then to the hollow of his throat, pricking him slightly, then brought the knife to the neck of his jerkin. He dug the knife into the leather, and ripped it downwards. Iphicles held very, very still, sucking in his belly. He heard the tearing of leather, then Ares pulled apart the seam with his teeth, laying the king’s torso bare.
Cold steel moved downwards, circling his nipples. Iphicles felt them tighten in trepidation and once more tried to slow down his panicky breathing. He had no idea what the god was going to do to him, but he had a feeling it was going to hurt. He felt the slight prick of the blade at his navel then it moved down further to cut the thongs holding his pants closed.
He was now trembling uncontrollably. He didn’t want this at all, but there was something incredibly erotic and exciting about having the weapon so close to his skin, hoping that Ares’ hand wouldn’t slip.
The god seemed to think so too. Iphicles could see Ares’ face flushing hotly and his breathing was fast as he set about carving the sleeves of the silken shirt off his arms. Iphicles could see the erection that strained at Ares’ pants and he licked his suddenly dry lips. His own cock was starting to react to this gently violent peeling of his clothes, and he cursed himself for his arousal.
He sucked in his breath again as Ares released the opening in his pants, and then felt the frigid metal of the incredibly sharp knife slide down the crotch, then cut into the thick leather. Goose-bumps spattered over his flesh as he lay shivering in reluctant anticipation. “Uh.. Ares...” he said nervously.
“I said, be quiet.” Ares whispered and Iphicles felt the slight prick of the knife in his hip. He jumped, and the knife dug deeper than intended. His eyes flew open at the slight pain, and he was faced with the sight of Ares transfixed by the slight trickle of blood that ran down his thigh.
“Gods...” Ares breathed, and bent to lick the blood away.
Iphicles moaned as Ares' soft wet tongue licked at his skin, and he arched his hips unwillingly upward, finally admitting to himself that he wanted Ares to take his now weeping, desperate cock in his mouth and suck him into oblivion.
But Ares lifted his head and carried on with the methodical destruction of Iphicles' clothes.
At last, Iphicles lay naked before him, trussed and splayed. His cock rampant and leaking. Ares stood back and admired his handy work. It had almost, but not quite, been like skinning a deer.
His eyes fell on the small drip of blood that still leaked from the cut he had accidentally inflicted on that smooth, bronzed skin, and he licked his lips. He wanted to do more of that... taste Iphicles’ blood in his mouth, lick him all over, savour the salted-iron - then fuck him until he screamed.
He didn't care whether Iphicles screamed for more, or no more.... just as long as he screamed.
“There’s something missing.” He said at last, then snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes...” he ripped off a strip of Iphicles’ destroyed shirt and bound it securely round the king’s eyes. He grinned, then thought of something else and held out his hand. A small oil bottle appeared in his palm. He put it down on the corner of the altar and unstopped it.
Iphicles was now blind to what he was going to do. Ares smiled evilly and removed his own clothes with a thought. Once naked, he picked up the oil bottle and poured a generous amount into his palm., then stood beside Iphicles and started rubbing the oil slowly over his body, using smooth, slow strokes.
At first he had wanted to take this impudent kinglet and fuck him mercilessly, torturing him, perhaps, make him scream in agony before Ares took his pleasure; but now he wanted to take his time, torture the king in a different way. He wanted to make him beg for release, plead to be fucked by the god. That would be divine justice. Even now, as he ran oiled hands over the gorgeous, taut body, he could see Iphicles biting his lip, trying not to cry out or react, but his willpower was rapidly failing.
It wouldn’t be long.
He was right. Iphicles groaned and shifted in his bonds, his hands working to touch something that was beyond him, but Ares chuckled and kissed the desire-swollen lips, sucking at his tongue.
“No, my beautiful little king. I’m not letting you free until this is over.” He whispered, nipping at the pouting lips between words. Iphicles raised his head, wanting more, but Ares pulled away
“Ares...” Iphicles breathed, giving in, at last, to his need. “God, Ares... I want you to fuck me so bad... please.”
“Not yet, kinglet.” Ares continued his maddening stroking, avoiding Iphicles' swollen cock, but he let a hand rub gently down between Iphicles’ muscular buttocks, oiling him there. He pressed a finger against the tight, puckered entrance, and teased the king by entering him with only the tip of his finger. Iphicles moaned, sweat beading on his forehead, as he ground down onto that tormenting digit.
“Gods! Ares!” he cried out. “Please.”
Ares smirked, enjoying getting a little of his own back. He brushed a finger over the purpled, shiny head of Iphicles’ cock, watching clear fluid leak copiously from it. Iphicles thrust upward, arching his hips, desperate for a touch. Ares withdrew his finger from the Corinthian’s ass, and stepped back, watching Iphicles tremble in anticipation of what was to happen next.
Ares, once more, rubbed the tip of his finger over the slick helmet of Iphicles' length, then straddled his chest, holding his head up in a strong hand and feeding the king his cock. Iphicles sucked on the hard flesh urgently, hoping that if Ares got horny enough, he would do something other than this slow teasing.
He was almost frantic with lust. It looked like Ares was never going to let him release his own swollen, craving cock from its desire. Iphicles vowed if Ares ever let him go, god of war or not, he would get Ares down beneath him somehow, and fuck him until his brains exploded out of his ears.
The cock was slowly withdrawn from his mouth, not yet ready to come, and he gasped, trying to get his breath back, his senses reaching out to pinpoint where the god was standing.
He lay, blind, disabled by the shackles, wondering what Ares was going to do next. He held his breath, trying to hear Ares moving. He felt the gods warm body brush his shoulder then soft, velvet lips on his own, the tickle of his moustache, and his hot, wet, aroused tongue deliberately invading, and exploring. Iphicles reciprocated, lifting his head slightly, to make the kiss deeper, but Ares pulled away slightly, keeping the kiss gentle.
Iphicles let out a small sound of frustration, and Ares stopped kissing him, moving his tongue up to lap at his eyelids, then down to the side toward his ear. He flicked at the ring piercing Iphicles’ ear, then gently grazed the flesh with his teeth, moving downwards to the sensitive hollow behind it.
Iphicles shuddered and trembled beneath him, sobbing gasps coming from his throat. Didn’t Ares know what he was doing to him? How could he, the king of Corinth, suddenly want this obnoxious god so desperately? He was driving Iphicles insane with yearning.
“Ares... Ares...” he sobbed out. “Please... I... I... need you in me...”
“Soon.” Came Ares' silken voice, hoarse with his own passion. He licked downwards, burying his tongue in the furred armpit, tasting Iphicles' sweated skin. Iphicles heard his tormentor let out a soft growl, then move downward to his hard nipples, tonguing and nibbling, squeezing and pinching.
Iphicles thrust his pelvis upward, wanting Ares to touch his cock, needing contact with his skin - anything, but his arching hips met nothing but empty air. He heard Ares chuckle, his voice evilly sensual.
“Not yet, kinglet. Not yet.”
“Areeeeees!” Iphicles mewled. “For Zeus’ sake!”
Ares worked his way down Iphicles’ body, gradually, biting , licking and sucking, enjoying every last piece of trembling flesh that he encountered, until he reached the quivering cock.
He ran a gentle thumb over the silky skin, tracing the blue vein. Iphicles writhed under his seeking fingertip, trying to make the touch harder, but Ares purposely tantalised him, using a feather-light caress.
His eyes fell on the blade he had set down, and he picked it up. He knelt between Iphicles’ splayed legs, not touching him for a moment. The king’s breath was rasping in his throat, his chest heaving. Ares watched as a bead of sweat trickled down between his ribs, picking up more moisture as it wended its way down further, and pooled into Iphicles' navel.
Ares licked his lips. His own excitement was reaching fever pitch and he knew if he did what he had in mind, he wouldn’t be able to last out for much longer. His lust for this man was incredible.
But at the back of his mind, he heard the Corinthian’s contemptuous mortal tones as he had made his final chess move.
The war god growled in sudden anger and slashed downwards, inflicting a long thin cut on the king’s hip. The parted flesh started to bleed immediately, and Iphicles stiffened in pain, arched his back and screamed.
Ares bent down to his cock and licked the very tip, tasting the salt of his arousal. The scream turned to a moan, and Iphicles once more thrust his hips up as far as he could in his bound state.
Ares moved down to the copiously flowing blood and licked it away, savouring the taste of the kinglet’s pain. Iphicles, once more let out a moaning yowl, the words mixed in with his cries - incoherent.
Ares made another tiny nick in his skin, then another, covering his hips and thighs in blood. Iphicles jolted at every careful slice, but apart from the first anger induced wound, Ares was being careful not to scar, and the blade he used was so sharp, it would only sting.
Ares grew more and more inflamed with every gash he forced upon the king. Iphicles' hips and thighs were covered in his blood, and more smeared, as Ares slowly licked and sucked at the tiny incisions.
His cock was throbbing insistently, needing release. He picked up the oil bottle and poured more into his hand, stroking his erection gently, coating it in the lubricant. He then untied Iphicles’ legs, and pushed them upwards, laying him totally open.
He was about to enter the man chained beneath him, when his eye fell upon one of the scattered chess pieces on the floor... a pawn – a solid-marble, eight inch high, bulb-headed pawn.
Ares found himself unable to wipe the smile off his face.
Without moving from his position, Ares narrowed his eyes at the pawn and it floated effortlessly over to him. He caught it in his hand then set it down between Iphicles’ legs, picked up the oil bottle and dribbled abundant amounts of the oil over the tumescent game piece.
“Ares?” Iphicles voice was puzzled. The god had been kneeling for so long, silent between his thighs.
Ares flicked the head of the king's cock with his finger and thumb, and Iphicles jumped in pain. “Shut up.”
The war god looked down at the splayed monarch. He was sweating freely now, his breathing still heavy, fingers twitching in their shackles and the muscles in his arms straining to be released, as was his long thick cock. Ares touched an oiled finger once more to Iphicles’ throbbing hole, teasing, again, with his fingertip, then abruptly thrust two fingers deep inside him.
Iphicles groaned, and tossed his head, rocking his hips upward as the god of war moved the fingers in and out, spreading the oil inside the hot, pulsing depths. As he fucked Iphicles with his fingers, he bent down and sucked gently at the head of his cock. Iphicles strained upwards, struggling in his bonds in his urgency to get free and touch Ares.
“Pleasepleaseplease... oh fuck me.. please....” he moaned over and over.
Ares withdrew his fingers and moved forward, teasing Iphicles once more with the tip of his cock at the kings asshole, pushing it in a little way, then pulling back out. Every time he pulled away, he would bend down and take another taste of Iphicles’ aching shaft, sometimes just tonguing the hot helmet, other times, giving him a long, slow sucking. Iphicles began to sob and cry out, his voice hoarse as he attempted to make Ares do more, to bring him to completion at last.
But Ares hadn’t finished just yet. He began, afresh, to use his fingers, first the two, then adding a third, stretching and relaxing the muscles holding him. He held Iphicles legs up and pushed back with his godly strength, opening him totally. The kings sobbing voice sounded muffled to him, but he no longer cared. He was going to do this.
He picked up the pawn and pressed it against Iphicles’ dilated ass, putting slow but insistent pressure on the piece until it slowly began to move inside. The king began to cry out, struggling underneath his restraining arm but still unable to move. His body jerked underneath Ares’ insistent penetration with the pawn, then he screamed as Ares got it all inside and moved it slowly, pressing up against the prostate, sending Iphicles into a frenzy of need. Ares slowly and carefully fucked Iphicles, pushing the marble piece ever deeper inside him, feeling his body shudder and spasm under his confining arm.
Iphicles started to plead once more, begging over and over to be allowed to come, to stop the pleasure Ares was causing. The god could see it was almost becoming too much for the mortal and he laughed quietly.
“You really think I’m going to stop, when you scream so beautifully? Anyone would think you didn’t like what I was doing to you,” he said with a wicked chuckle. “Would you rather I hurt you? Broke your bones? Ripped you apart? It’s what you deserve after all.”
Iphicles was silent, but his body still tremored as Ares continued to moved the pawn. He adored the way he had this kinglet helpless beneath him, unable to do a thing but take whatever the war god threw at him. He hadn’t had so much fun for a very long time, listening to those wanting, mewling cries and watching the chess piece move in and out of his own mortal pawn’s desperate body. His own cock was throbbing, feeling hot and heavy between his legs, but the anticipation of finally taking the kinglet and fucking him hard, filling him with his seed was almost as good as the deed.
He slowly started to remove the pawn and felt once more the trembling of the king as he slowly relaxed from the monstrous sized invader.
Ares let his legs down for a while, letting Iphicles catch his breath. He didn’t want to suffocate him after all. He got up from his position between the monarch’s thighs and stood behind his head. He bent and licked the beads of sweat on Iphicles’ brow away, then tenderly kissed his cheek.
“Enjoy that?” he whispered into a nearby ear. “Want more?”
Iphicles took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. “Just finish it... please, finish it,” he whimpered.
“Oh... believe me, I will.” Ares grabbed hold of Iphicles’ shoulders and pulled him back slightly so his head was hanging over the edge of the altar. “Hmm... just the right height,” he commented and, holding his cock in his hand, stroked it over the kings face, leaving shining trails of pre-cum on his skin.
Once more, he pushed his cock into Iphicles’ mouth and felt the king swallow him down. He shut his eyes and slowly began to thrust, lazily letting the convulsive movement of the enclosing throat and his hips take him to a long slow climb to climax. He withdrew almost completely every few thrusts or so to let Iphicles get his breath, and languidly wondered if he should come in his mouth, then fuck him... fill him both ends with his desire.
It would make his revenge complete. He had made the kinglet beg. Now he would void his seed into his body, use him... and then... only then would he allow the king to find his own orgasm.
Perhaps not. Did this kinglet deserve that release?
Ares smiled down at the man frantically sucking his cock and reached out to pinch at his nipples. Iphicles groaned around his turgid flesh and once more his hips arched, his cock quivering in search of completion.
Ares began to move his hips faster, his arousal reaching further heights as he let himself go at last. He heard the king moan, the vibration of his voice on his skin making Ares shudder. He let out a long animal cry and his come splattered against the back of Iphicles throat as he finally climaxed.
He withdrew as the king began to choke on the copious amounts of semen flooding his mouth, and lifted his head for him, letting him breath again. Iphicles swallowed and coughed, his breathing laboured.
The war god grabbed the Corinthian’s legs and pulled him back down the altar so his head was supported. He watched emotionlessly as Iphicles got his composure and his breath back. While he waited, Ares amused himself by stroking the kings tight balls and teasing once more at his ass with his fingers. He leaned down and licked more of the still flowing blood from his thighs, then used his tongue to good tantalising affect on his cock head.
“Ares...” Iphicles choked out at last. “Please, Ares...end it. You promised...”
“I did no such thing,” Ares teased. He looked at the hourglass. The sands had nearly run out, but there was a little more to spare. This time he would fuck the kinglet and perhaps... if he was feeling generous, would let him come.
He grabbed Iphicles by the hips, feeling the thick, slickness of blood against his fingers, and impaled him on his cock in one hard, driving thrust.
Iphicles shrieked, bucking his whole body, Ares firmly pushed him down, and stilled for a moment, soothing his victim with calm words and stroking fingers. Iphicles was sweating freely now. The scent of his sweat and the musk of his body excited Ares further, and he withdrew a little, wanting to finally take Iphicles hard.
The feeling of Iphicles' willing ass around his cock was almost too much. The king had been held in a state of near orgasmic limbo for so long, it wouldn’t take much to set him off, but Ares wouldn’t let him... not just yet.
“Ok Iphicles. Ready to get fucked?” he asked, his voice sounding strangled to his ears.
“Do it... fuck me as hard as you can. I need you.” Iphicles pleaded.
Ares pressed home a little more, feeling the king shudder beneath him again, then he started a long slow rhythm, still not letting Iphicles go.
Iphicles moaned and sobbed once more, imploring Ares to let him come. Ares carried on tormenting, brushing his cock up against Iphicles’ pleasure centre in smooth, even strokes, feeling every tremor, every breathy gasp of the man beneath him.
At last he reached forward and ripped the blindfold off Iphicles, wanting to see his face as he came. He began to pump his hips roughly into him, penetrating even deeper inside him, then began to stroke Iphicles’ cock in time with his own relentless reaming.
Iphicles’ whole body stiffened, and he went dead quiet, worrying Ares for a moment, but then he writhed and arched, bucking wildly back into Ares' pounding shaft and he screamed, crying out over and over as tears streamed down his face, and seed spurted strongly over his chest and stomach.
Ares let out his own roaring cry, burying himself deep inside the spasming sheath of flesh. His climax hit him with the force of a sledgehammer and he emptied his bursting cock inside the king.
There was a sudden silence, then Ares collapsed on top of Iphicles and kissed him passionately, biting and tearing at his sex swollen lips, his tongue invading his mouth and sucking at his tongue until Iphicles was breathless. Iphicles bit back at Ares tongue and the god tasted his own blood in his mouth. He swore and withdrew from the kinglet’s body.
At last he calmed enough to dress himself with his godly powers, and released Iphicles from his shackles. The king sat up, rubbing his raw wrists.
“My clothes?” he asked, his own composure as unruffled as it could be after what Ares had done to him.
Ares waved a hand, cleaned the blood off his body (but didn’t heal the cuts), then clothed Iphicles in exact copies of the garments he had destroyed.
Iphicles stood up stiffly, and stared at the war god. “Are you going to keep your other promise? The one about no war?" he asked, his voice flat.
Ares regarded the man. “All right... at least for a while.”
A copper eyebrow raised and Iphicles folded his arms. “And I suppose you’ll want another game of chess to ward off the next fight?” he asked archly.
Ares smiled. “And why not?” he said as casually as he could. “I might let you beat me again.”
“I’ll be there.” The kings dark eyes held a hint of promise.
Ares waved his hand, sending his kinglet back to Corinth, then he vanished back to his own temple, his delighted laughter following him all the way.