*The powerful, dark-haired god bending to brand the pliant mouth of his honey-gold lover with a kiss…*
Okay, go —
*… their moist lips clinging together. He inhales his lover’s strong, musky scent as though it were the sweetest ambrosia and drinks the greasy bitterness of sweat with a thirsty tongue. Their knowing hands exchange rough caresses, each stroke answered wordlessly with breathless moans as their thighs bow the sweet, private music of bodies in tune.*
That’s beautiful, isn’t it? Sex, after all, is the harmony of sensations building to a sublime crescendo.
But when your rhythm’s off, you may as well invite the Royal Corinthian Circus – kazoo players, jugglers, big-footed clowns and the whole moth-eaten dog and pony show to preview the act.
So, let’s start over –
Ares leaned over to plant one at the same moment Hercules lifted his face for a kiss. Head smashed into mandible with a crack and a yelp and Ares said, ‘Whups!’ as he was tossed unceremoniously out of his own private Elysium.
A palm to his forehead confirmed there'd been no damage done but when he sat up, Hercules was rolled into a ball clutching his face. “You all right?”
“Dab’id, Ares! Wa’ wha’ cher doi’g!” Hercules took his hand away from his mouth and there was a dribble of blood running from his nose. “I think one of my teeth is loose!”
“Sorry, babe, bad timing.” Ignoring Hercules’ muffled ‘un’er dademen’ of ‘a cendury,’ Ares sympathized – that 'had' to hurt. But worse, much worse was that his cock was keening loudly for the warm port it had just been docked in. So, he waited... expecting a quick cuddle and a quicker return to satisfaction... He waited…but Hercules kept nursing his face. Finally, he said, “Come here and let me see.”
“Get off!” Hercules batted his groping hand away.
“What’s the matter with you? I said I was sorry!”
“It feels like my jaw’s cracked.”
In the sudden ugly silence, his cock gave an irritated little bounce to remind him what they were there for and Hercules said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means if that Samson guy ever needs to raze another temple. . .” (Ares' Rules for Winning Wars – Rule #1: Assume the offensive. Rule #2: Beat the shit out them. Rule #3 – There is no #3.)
“Very funny.” Hercules took his hand from his face, glowered at the blood on it and dabbed at his leaking nose. “It hurts!”
*Aw, that’s cute – he sulks just like his brother.* Still hoping to get laid, Ares didn’t make the observation out loud. Instead, he eyed the downy inner thigh of Hercules’ right leg and crooned,“Come here and let me kiss it better.” He reached for handful of what he wanted. “I’ll kiss a few other things too.”
“The mood’s spoiled.” Hercules got out of bed and Ares snapped his hand shut thinking *that’s not the only thing spoiled around here.*
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” Hercules came back wiping his face with a towel.
“It’s the best idea I-ah-‘we’ve’ ever had! You want to go back to trying to kill each other?”
“No, but. . .” Hercules climbed back on the bed and Ares was disappointed he wasn’t going to get a chance to lick the blood off – to clean him up and reduce him to compliant mush in the process.
There was something about fucking Hercules – once you got him pinned and all that power was responding to every thrust of your cock -- those gentle restrained kisses hid a raging hunger to be touched that broke out under Ares’ hands and it was like mastering the greatest war-horse ever born. Ares couldn’t get enough.
While he was thinking about that, he got the back of a broad shoulder as Hercules’ turned to put the towel on the nightstand and realized he hadn’t been paying attention “. . .you were a woman it wouldn’t have happened.”
“If I was a—!”
Hercules blew out the candle and Ares found himself in the dark with his mouth open.
*I should fry you right where you’re lying!* He flopped back on the bed in disgust.
He knew he wasn’t going to do it as he listened to Hercules’ breathing deepen. But he brooded and his cock was ticking mournfully across his stomach so he commiserated with it. *I can’t*. . . stroke. . . *believe* . . . stroke. . . *he told*. . . stroke. . . *me, if*. . . stroke. . . *I was a* . . . stroke. . . *woman’*. . . stroke. . .
Betting that Hercules’ ears were flapping, he gave a good hard pull.
*Balls! If I was*. . . stroke. . . *wouldn’t*. . . stroke. . . *know*. . . stroke. . . *to do*. . . stroke. . . *if I was a*. . . stroke. . . *was a*. . .
With a god there’s little difference between the thought and the deed.
*. . .I was. . . oh. . . o-oh. . . oh, that’s nice.* He luxuriated in the rush of inverted feeling, played between ornate folds of flesh dipped into a fountain of thick cream and spread that over the swollen miniature his cock had become, fighting the impulse to gig-*er*-snicker.
The last was pure vindictiveness. He could sense Hercules beside him, going rigid as the essential nature of the change wafted through the air, registered on his lizard brain and communicated the impossible to the slough of conflicting impulses that passed for the demi-god’s conscious mind.
The bed shook.
It was Hercules fumbling for the tinderbox and Ares listened to the steel tap-dancing nervously in the flint ring. As the candle flared, he gave his cunt a last flick, crossed his ankles, raised his arms and clasped his hands behind his neck.
Hercules whipped around.
“Hey, Sailor!” Ares said. And was interested to observe how much those sky-blue eyes could look like dinner plates while he waited for the explosion. He waited. . .
And Hercules said – “This is a new look for you.” The thing about powerful horses is that sometimes they throw you.
“I really don’t know why they say you’re slow.” Ares wagged his head in awe and stuck a sticky finger under Hercules’ nose. “Recognize her?”
“Are you saying our sister’s a tramp?”
“A cheap hetaera?”
“No, she was worth every bit of that half-dinar.”
“You never screwed Discord!”
“No,” Hercules said, “but now I’ll be able to find her in the dark.”
“Stop that!” Ares managed to suppress a grin. “I’m trying to be pissed at you.”
“Then you should’ve left yourself something to aim with.”
Oh, yes, every now and then, they throw you.
His mouth quirked in spite of himself and they both broke, side by side on the bed, howling with laughter.
He was wiping his eyes, about to change back, when he caught the look on Hercules’ face and got up on an elbow. “What are you thinking?”
“I think,” Hercules plucked the candle out of its dish, and scooted to the foot of the bed, “I want to take a closer look.”
Ares lay down intrigued. Maybe the joke hadn’t turned out as he’d planned, but he was willing to let the horse have its head.
The candle was only a two-inch stub and he could feel the heat on his skin when Hercules lifted his left foot up and held the flame close to it. Studying Hercules as Hercules studied the foot in his hand; he thought how predatory those blue eyes looked with their odd tilt enhanced by the candlelight. The swollen upper lip made him seem vulnerable even rapt but *you know you aren’t quite as human as you wish you were and I hate it when you hold out on me.* As if hearing him, Hercules glanced up, caught his gaze and kept it as he bent and started sucking, feeling between each toe with his tongue.
Little thrills ran up the nerves of Ares’ legs as Hercules finished by tonguing the arch of the foot and kissing the ankle. Then licked and nipped his way up to the knee, and lifted Ares’ leg to his shoulder so he could nose the hollow underneath.
The candle with its pool of melted wax was wavering above a delicate spot. Ares said, “Watch what you’re doing with that.”
“All right.” Hercules leaned forward and put down it between Ares’ breasts. “Don’t move.”
Settling back, he drew a line with his tongue down the inside of Ares’ thigh and halfway down, stopped and said, “The hair on you legs is softer.” He finished the line with his face right above the soft mound of fur. “Your pubes are curlier.” His nostrils were flaring and he looked at Ares with half-closed eyes. “But I think the tide’s out.”
“I think I should. . .” Ares pulled his other knee back to give the smart-ass a kick in the head, and the candle came close to spilling over.
“No you shouldn’t!” Hercules grabbed his leg, pushed it wide and buried his face in Ares’ sex.
*Cronos! I hate it when you hold out on me. . .but when you let go. . .! He lost the thought. Hercules’ tongue had found the right spot, his body asserted its need and he pushed up moaning. The candle’s heat bathed his face and he was washed with velvet lashings so gentle that when Hercules bit down, tongue vibrating against the tip of his clit, he convulsed in a wave of bubbling pleasure. Just then, the brimming wax did spill splashing his breasts as his cunt contracted again. By the time his brain stopped fizzing and the last spasm had passed, he was totally ruined for any call to arms.
When he opened his eyes, he was momentarily blinded by the dancing candlelight. Behind it, Hercules was stropping his face, damp with Ares’ own nectar, against Ares’ knee still hooked over his shoulder. The candle glow put a sheen on his neck and chest highlighting the honey colored hair and he could feel the rasp of new beard. Gasping softly, Ares laughed. “I know why women like you. You’re a dog.”
“I made you wet.” Hercules ran a finger along the lips of Ares’ cunt and Ares forgave the smugness because he was suddenly sharp for the taste of cock. “What’s it like?” The finger slyly dipped inside him and he squeezed trying to hold on but it slipped away.
“Fuck me and I’ll tell you,” he promised.
“I haven’t finished looking yet.” The finger found its way in again and he rocked on it impatiently. “Candle’s going to tip if you keep that up,” Hercules said. He stopped and the finger began slipping in and out, teasing him.
“No, fuck me. Use your cock.”
“Women.” Hercules sighed in resignation and got up on his knees. “This is what you all want.”
With his hips thrust, Hercules’ dark-tipped cock poked the air and Ares pictured a stallion as the odor of cock reached his nose.
“Yes,” he said, spreading his legs. The mare needed the stud.
“You sure this time?” Hercules leaned over and took the candle to put back in its dish. “Earlier, it was my ass.”
“I was different then.” He reached for what he wanted.
“Hey! Don’t be so grabby.” Hercules laughing took his hands and pressed them on the bed.
Bent like that, the blunt tip of Hercules’ cock was so close that Ares could push up and feel it poking between the lips of his cunt. He raised his hips to wrap his legs around Hercules’ waist and slide up on it.
Hercules leaned harder, trying to control him. “Wait a minute, I—”
The cock was nuzzling him and Ares tired to trap it. It refused to be caught but the feel of it on his swollen flesh was torment, a cheat. “Bastard!” he said knowing how much it would hurt.
His chin was jerked around and Ares was looking into blue-white rage. He could feel Hercules’ cock pressing hard and thrilling, dug his nails into Hercules’ back knowing the bloody scratches he had to be leaving. “Whoresonbastard!”
He heard the blow -- so hard that his ears were ringing – before his cheek flamed. “Shut up!” The hand that delivered it twisted in his hair, wrenching his head around. “Can’t you ever just shut up?”
Hercules arched above him. Hands dug under his ass and lifted. He was speared, howling wordlessly about it until his mouth was stopped and he sucked on that. A finger plugged his ass. He hitched himself and drove it deeper while he climbed higher on Hercules’ cock.
Ridden by passion, filled with ambrosial pain and rage, power spread from his center to his fingertips, but he wanted more.
He tore his mouth from Hercules,’ scraping his face, burying his hands in Hercules’ hair, dragging his head down, whispering in his ear. “Love you, baby. Love you. Give it to me. Give me what I need.” He whispered it over and over. He could hear Hercules’ hoarse crying as he labored straining against Ares’ hands. Finally Hercules lifted his head to cry out, rising bodily and carried Ares with him, holding him upright as they came.
Ares threw his head back exulting in their godhead.
“Ah,” he said as the nimbus of power crested and began to die back. “Ah.”
He was himself again replete, straddling Hercules’ thighs slick with cum beneath his ass. Hercules’ head was buried tightly against his neck; he could feel hot tears running down his chest.
“Did you get what you wanted?” Against his shoulder, Hercules whispered angrily. “Was that enough for you?”
*Are you broken?* His arms were stuck to Hercules’ back, glued there with sweat, but he pulled them loose and raised the demi-god’s head. He found confusion, pain and rage. *Not yet.* Ares was pleased. He let himself slip off and lay spread, showing Hercules his bearded face and male body.
Hercules looked at him. Ares saw his cock twitch.
“I hate you,” Hercules said and folded into his arms.
“I know you do.”
“Why do you push me?” The voice was as much desperate as sleepy to Ares’ ear.
“I wanted to.”
“I was trying not to hurt you.”
Ares smiled. “I was beautiful, wasn’t I?”
“You were a bitch in heat.”
“I was a goddess,” Ares insisted.
“There’s no difference. Answer the fucking question.”
“I’m a god.” Ares said, as if that settled all questions – as it did.
After a minute Hercules said, “I’m not.”
*Not yet, but soon, little brother.* Ares could feel Hercules' deep sigh and almost laughed. *Don’t you know, if gods breathe the passions of mortals, your hunger is a feast for me.* He didn’t say it. But he was tempted, only for a moment, to ask what Hercules was really getting from the people he helped but that willful stubborn innocence was part of the charm. . .
There was a hot gusty yawn against his ear and Hercules said. “You’re definitely a ten-dinar fuck, but all I meant was that I’d never had a lover so near me in size and it wouldn’t have happened if you were. . .”
*Charming to a point!*
Ares erupted. “Why didn’t you just tell me I was beautiful!”
“All right, you were beautiful,” Hercules said, “But, even Discord has ‘two’ eyebrows.”
“Just for that. Next time—!” Ares jabbed a finger into him. “You’re the girl!”