Spring Storm
By Tacitah
Joxer shivered and huddled closer into his ragged cloak.  Snow had been falling for the last three hours, frigid wind whipped through his lean form. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he chastised himself.  Fed up with Xena and Gabrielle's condescending attitude, he had set out for Corinth on his own.  His stomach rumbled, he had planned on catching his dinner.  What should have been a day's trip was now going into the third day.  Yesterday, it had drizzled, and he had been caught out in it, unprepared.  Now, his clothes were still wet, and slowly stiffening in the frigid air.

With numbed fingers he gathered his collar closer, trying to generate what little heat he could.  Stumbling, his unfeeling feet skidded on the frozen ground.  Joxer squinted through the swirling snow. There, an outcropping of rock.  Hurriedly, he half ran and half slid into the shelter offered by the shallow crevice.   Shaking, he crouched down and rummaged through his pack.  Tinder, stone, and a small supply of dry kindling emerged.  He started a small fire protected from the vicious wind.  Basking in its warming glow, his bleary eyes watched shadows dance crazily across the rocks.  In and out, to and fro, around and around they twirled in wild abandon. In the fire's depths, he could almost see something.  The flames died down and he added a little more of his hoard.  Up and down, the pyre danced, bringing the vision into sharper focus.  In his mind's eye, he could see a great hall with a banquet laid out on a groaning table.  Candles gleamed brightly, casting a golden aura over the room.  Thick pillows formed a warm nest in front of a blazing fire.  Tall glasses of rich red wine were warming nearby.

Rapidly, Joxer fed the minuscule flame more wood, as the vision grew dimmer. Now a smiling bearded face loomed into view.  The fire flickered and died. Desperately, he dumped all of his remaining firewood into the coals.  Everything looked sharper and clearer than ever before.  He reached out a trembling had, he swore he could almost touch the grinning visage.  Sleepily, his breathing slow and shallow, Joxer touched the rock face, and found himself drawn forward, into the vision.

His cold nose nuzzled into a strong neck.  His legs buckled and strong, muscular arms surrounded him.  A voice growled into his ear, "About time you got here, I've been waiting."  Overwhelmed, Joxer passed out.

Time passed, Joxer was dimly aware of being carried and undressed.  He came fully awake, screaming, when he was lowered into a tub of warm water.  Pin prickles of pain radiated from his extremities.  Strong, gentle hands rubbed the circulation back into his painful limbs.  Over and over they stroked, until the violent shivering passed. Slower, and more intently, the hands dipped and played intimately. Flushing, Joxer stiffened and spasmed.  Head lolling, he opened his eyes to finally see clearly his benefactor.


"Shhhhhhhh!"  A long finger touched Joxer's lips.  The God motioned for him to follow.  Wearily, he tried to obey, but found himself without the strength to get out of the tub.  Ares glanced back at the still figure draped over the side.  Returning, he lifted the dripping warrior and carried him to the fireside.  The softly glowing flames revealed a creamy-white skin tinged with a rosy blush.  It took but an instant to dry, and wrap the fearless hero with a soft warm blanket.

Shadowed eyes intent, Ares traced a firm finger down the side of his face to follow the line of skin exposed by the blanket. Joxer sighed and leaned into the caress.  Clutching his cover with one arm, he dared to touch the God's wandering hand, tracking the veins and muscles. Ares tipped his head and lightly tasted his prize. Moaning his approval, he dipped into Joxer's mouth deeply now, tasting, devouring, consuming.  Joxer felt his senses reel, and his stomach growl loudly. Flushed, Ares broke off the kiss. "Later hero," he smirked.  Helping him to the table, Ares sat, and watched as Joxer ate.

Finally, Joxer sat back replete.  He glanced up shyly at the impassive countenance.  Ares leaned forward and braced a hand on his chin. "Well? Are you ready now hero?" Eyes widening, Joxer swallowed noisily and warily nodded his head.  Between this breath and the next, he found himself sprawled, stripped on the pile of cushions.   Reclining next to him, so close he could feel the God's body heat was a very naked Ares.  Curious fingers meandered, lingering here, tweaking there until Joxer was a squirming, writhing mass of sensations.  "Well Hero? What do you want?"  Fingers probed a remarkably susceptible region.

Joxer, now red-faced gasped, "P-please…."

The tormenting fingers returned, "P-please what, Hero?" Ares asked mockingly.

Joxer arched his back, desperately thrusting his distended cock into the air. Tears streamed from his eyes, the teasing fingers returned again and again.  His mouth opened and closed convulsively, "F-fuck m-me, p-p-please!"

"Now that's the kind of talk I like to hear! Brace yourelf Hero."  Ares moved between the restless legs.  Tormenting fingers breached and carefully prepared Joxer, moving in and out, smoothing, soothing, and stretching.  Until, ultimately, he was ready, a sensitive collection of screaming raw nerves.  The lightest touch was an agony of sensation.  Deliberately, Ares replaced his fingers.  Gingerly merging with the deluded warrior.  Surging and retreating, over and over.  Moving, merging, separating, returning, Joxer
braced his legs around Ares waist.  Mouth open, gasping for air as his world dwindled down to the sensations he was feeling, Ares, was his anchor in a vast cosmos of sensation. Riding higher and higher, spiraling out of control, until ultimately, Joxer stiffened and convulsed.  Ares too, succumbed.  Tumbling, falling, spinning heedlessly down to collapse in a boneless heap of arms and legs.

Long minutes passed, Ares pulled the would-be warrior closely under his chin. Thinking back to the day before, he sent a silent thanks to the weather gods for obliging him with a freak blizzard out of season.

The End