A Night To Remember
Ares paced impatiently, hoping he wasn't wasting his time. Ordinarily, he took what Autolycus said with a grain of salt, but his description of this place had piqued the War God's curiosity. Given the number of brothels to which the King of Thieves gave his dinars, what was it about this place that had left him at a loss for words?
"You have to check it out, if you're ever in the area," Autolycus had said, rolling his eyes. "It's just …"
"Just what?" Ares growled.
"Just … I can't describe it." Autolycus swallowed, memory clouding his eyes. "Unbelievable." He stood up, exhaling noisily. "They'll give you a night to remember." He waved Ares' questions away. "Just go. Trust me."
So I'm here, he thought. He looked around, seeing nothing that drew his attention as being different from all the other brothels he had been in. All in all, eminently forgettable, and, to him, eminently familiar. The same dim lighting, rumpled bed, water basin and pile of towels common to all of them. Not even particularly clean, he noted with distaste. Yeah, definitely gonna have to punish Autolycus -- "night to remember," indeed!
He looked over when he heard the door open softly. And sharply inhaled. The young man who had entered the room could be his son: the same curly dark hair, sharply etched cheekbones and darkly intense eyes. He was dressed in a simple black tunic and soft sandals covered his feet. The boy smiled slowly at Ares and sat down in the chair by the door.
"Hello," he said softly, his voice surprisingly deep. "My name is Apollyon. And you are?"
Ares cleared his throat. "Ar … temis. Call me Artemis." He looked closely at the boy. "Okay?"
The boy smiled in a bemused way. "Whatever." He met Ares' eyes. "Unless you want to change it to something else. It makes no difference to me."
Ares felt a flush creep up his throat as the young man held his eyes. "No. Artemis will do." He stood up, shaking himself mentally. "Not important, I guess." He felt Apollyon's steady gaze piercing him between his shoulder blades, and he turned, almost against his will, from the window. The boy still sat, motionless, in the same chair, watching him in an appraising fashion, his black eyes calmly measuring.
What in Hades--?, Ares thought angrily. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. All right, he thought hotly, I can play this game, too. He laid down on the bed, locking his hands behind his neck and crossing his legs at the knee. Deliberately, he yawned. "So, what do you do?"
A soft chuckle. "What do you want?"
"What I want," Ares said with imperial boredom, "is what you do best. What's your specialty?"
Apollyon walked smoothly over to the bed. "Artemis." He sat down next to the War God. "Artemis," he said softly, the word a caress, "it's really very simple. I have no 'specialty.' I do everything, anything, you want." He drew his hand softly down the side of Ares' face. "And I want everything," he said, running the tip of his finger lightly around the curve of Ares' ear, "so the choice is really yours." Deliberately, Apollyon drew his hand back.
"Unless what you want is a nymph, rather than a satyr." He stood up languidly, quipping, "That's one thing that I really can't do." He looked closely at Ares. "Is that it?"
Ares sat up. "No. No, that's not it at all." He ran his fingers through his hair in a distracted gesture. "You're just … not what I was expecting." He stood up and walked to the younger man, placing his hands gently on the boy's shoulders. "Really, it's fine." Apollyon turned to face him, a slight smile curving his lips. "Very fine." He brushed his lips against the boy's mouth. "Great, in fact."
Ares covered Apollyon's mouth with his own, his tongue pushing firmly into the young man's mouth. He slid his hands roughly down the young man's arms and grasped his wrists, locking them in a fierce restraint behind his back, and he felt Apollyon's body arch against him in response, his mouth closing with unbelievably hot pressure on the thick flesh of Ares' tongue. Ares felt arousal course through his body, a hot tide that consumed everything in its wake, and still the kiss went on, his tongue being pulled deeper into the inferno of Apollyon's mouth and throat, being claimed, captured
and mounted as Ares felt the pressure of the boy's teeth fastening like a vise, the pleasure of the pain telescoping to his cock and tightening his balls, and his incoherent mind screamed its disbelief at the betrayal of the warrior's knees to support him as Apollyon suddenly broke the kiss. Ares slumped to the floor, panting, his eyes wide. "Gods," he gasped. "Gods."
"Come to me," the words, soft, seductive, insidious, unraveled what was left of Ares' control, and he groaned. "Come to me, Artemis."
Ares got slowly to his feet, his knees unsteady, and stumbled to the bed, dropping heavily at Apollyon's side. He closed his eyes, his head spinning, fighting for control. He felt sweet air cooling the sweat on his chest as his vest disappeared, and an involuntary sigh of relief passed his lips as the uncomfortably restraining leather pants were caressed from his body, freeing his painfully swollen cock. Apollyon's hands moved over his body, feather-light, dancing over him in an awesome dance without pattern, teasingly tweaking his nipples, softly tugging the line of hair from his chest to his pelvis, butterfly wings on his ribs and hips, cupping his heavy balls, stroking his perineum with maddeningly slow deliberation, one finger drawn softly up the underside of his cock from the base to the tip, flicking lightly over the weeping slit.
Apollyon laughed softly, sensuously caressing Ares' cock with his thumb and index finger. "Any requests? Anything … special … you'd like me to do?"
Ares groaned, already beyond words.
"I see." Apollyon scraped his fingernails roughly across Ares' chest, then again, forming an "X" of reddened skin. He smiled evilly at Ares' guttural moan. "In that case …"
Apollyon bent down, flicking the tip of his tongue over one of Ares' nipples, taking the aroused nub between his teeth and scrubbing the flat of his tongue rapidly across it, suckling it sensuously, and it enlarged still more under the pressure from those heated lips. When he moved to the other nipple, giving it like treatment, Ares' back arched and he reached up to press the boy's mouth tighter against him. Immediately, his arms were
slammed back onto the bed with steely force, and his eyes snapped open to see Apollyon leaning over him, an enigmatic smile curving his lips.
"Uh-uh, handsome. This is MY party now." Apollyon unhooked the shoulder clasps on his tunic, allowing it to slither from his lithely muscled body. He turned to the table by the bed, grasping a flask and dribbling sandalwood-scented oil onto Ares' midsection. His slender hands smoothed the fragrant oil into Ares' torso in sweeping strokes from his shoulders to his pelvis. Ares cried out as Apollyon's oiled hand cupped his sac, with a gentle squeeze, and he slid the middle finger of his right hand smoothly past the tight ring of muscle into Ares' rectum.
"Gods!" he gasped, trying to raise up, but Apollyon's left hand pressed flatly against his chest, holding him in place, and it was too much for him as he felt that hot mouth envelope his swollen penis, the sensation of it sliding straight down that incredible throat, Apollyon's lips pressed moistly against the very base of the War God's huge cock. Ares moaned loudly, his head tossing and his hands clenching and unclenching, delirious
with the mind-numbing pleasure of the boy's throat muscles working rhythmically against the sensitive mushroom of his cockhead and the deliberate in-and-out penetration of, now, two fingers caressing his prostate and the inside of his rectal walls.
Apollyon brought the god's cock slowly from the depths of his throat into the heat of his mouth, rolling his tongue over the fiery, pulsing glans, working his tongue into the slit and hollowing his cheeks, moving it slowly out of his mouth until only the nearly bursting purple head remained inside. He tortured the organ with his tongue, and Ares whimpered and moaned harshly. He felt Apollyon's skillful mouth and throat milk his
cock, deep plunge into hot throat followed by the whip of the boy's tongue, over and over again, and two fingers fucking him forcefully became three, and then four; and with the fourth finger, Apollyon began slowly twisting his hand in a sensuous motion, his thumb roughly caressing the god from the stretched anal muscle to the base of his sac.
Ares let out a low wail. "Please … please … ah, Gods!" Apollyon looked up, his hand locked around the base of Ares' cock, the distended tip of it against his lips. "Hmmm?" He flicked the tip of his tongue against the underside of the head, the weak note in Ares' voice bringing him immense pleasure.
"Please … what?," he asked, lightly tonguing the continually weeping slit.
Ares mumbled, barely moving his lips.
"Please …" and than a low murmur.
Apollyon leaned over, placing his lips next to Ares' ear. "I can't hear you," he whispered softly.
"Fuck me," the man gasped, finding a voice at last. A torrent of anger, sudden and unexpected, washed over him at being reduced to ASKING for it! "I said, fuck me. Now." His voice got stronger. "I said NOW!"
Apollyon looked at him, his face unchanged. "Anything else?"
"Yeah." Ares reached out and grabbed the boy by the arm, pulling him down on the bed roughly. "Yeah, there's something else." He twisted the boy's hair in his fingers and pushed his cock into Apollyon's mouth. "Swallow it!" He felt the boy's mouth go to work, and he shivered. "Yeah, that's it. Just like that." Ares closed his eyes, his hands guiding Apollyon's head as he slowly, sensuously, deeply fucked his throat. He felt the swirl of his tongue every time he drew out of the boy's throat, and that incredible suction on every forward stroke was enough to drive him mad. He pumped faster and with still more force into the boy's throat, riding the wave of lust, knowing that he was absolutely in control again …
Until Apollyon started to hum. The vibration started at the base of his throat and radiated up through his mouth, finally ending in his lips. Ares roared, and again felt himself pushed back onto the bed with a force he could not fight, and the vibration surrounded his prick, taking it over, becoming its absolute master. He heard the scream erupt from his throat as Apollyon's fingers tightened unbearably around the base of his cock and his sac, squeezing his genitals with hurtful force to stop him from coming, and
the vibrato in Apollyon's throat and mouth went on, increasing in intensity.
Suddenly, Apollyon released his stranglehold on Ares, and he exploded, almost without warning, filling Apollyon's throat with his cum, and the cataclysmic volcano of sensation that erupted within Ares was beyond even the War God's endurance. His last memory before losing consciousness was the sound of Apollyon contentedly swallowing.
* * *
"Here," the man said. "Drink this."
Ares raised up on one elbow, taking the offered goblet. He tasted it. "What is it?"
"Honey mead." He filled a second goblet and sat down in the armchair next to the bed. "I make it myself."
"Not bad," Ares said. He drained the goblet, and held it out for more. He drank, more slowly this time, tasting the fruit essence in the mead and letting the thick golden fluid slide down his throat, the alcoholic beverage providing a delicious warmth all the way down to his stomach. He looked at Apollyon.
"You are very talented, kid," he said appreciatively, shaking his head. "And I don't impress easily."
Ares looked up sharply. "Hey, I'm paying you a compliment. You COULD say thank you."
"Thank you." Ares didn't care much for the small chuckle. In fact, he didn't like it one little bit.
"Recovered already, I see." A soft laugh. "Now I'M impressed, Artemis."
Ares felt a stab of anger. "I said come here."
Apollyon leaned back more comfortably in the chair, sipping the mead. "Ask me nicely."
"I said," locking Ares' eyes with his own, "ask me nicely. Invite me over." He smiled coolly, a mirthless curving of his lips. "I never go where I'm not invited." Apollyon moved closer, bracing himself with one knee on the bed. His hand absently stroked his prick, hardness instantly suffusing it. "Artemis, invite me into your bed." Apollyon's thumb caught a drop of precum, and he offered the drop of fluid to Ares. "Say again
what you said before," he said softly, painting Ares' lips with his thumb. "Ask me to fuck you … PLEASE."
Ares felt the fever clouding his mind again, and his vision reddened as he tasted the saltiness on his lips. He reached between Apollyon's legs and caressed his balls. "Fuck me, Apollyon."
Apollyon pressed his lips together lightly. "Fuck me, Apollyon … what, Artemis?"
Ares wrapped his fingers around the boy's shaft, moving slowly up and down. He felt something catch in his throat, and for a moment he was afraid he couldn't get the words out. "Fuck me" and then almost inaudibly, "… please."
Apollyon said simply, "Ah," and guided his cock into Ares' mouth. "Ah," he said again, deep in his throat, as Ares began to tongue him wetly, his large hand caressing Apollyon's testicles as he sucked. He slid a little deeper, and Ares moaned as he felt the cockhead bump softly against the very back of his mouth. He ran his fingers through Ares' curls lightly and toyed with the sensitive lobes of his ears, then slid so that they cradled Ares' head and held it firmly in place. Apollyon's hips thrust in a calm,
unhurried rhythm, and Ares felt his throat open more with each successive forward plunge of the pulsing hardness into its depths.
Finally, Apollyon drew out of his mouth. Ares looked up at him with irritation. "What?"
"Well," he said, caressing the side of Ares' face, "you do still want me to fuck you," a small sigh, "don't you?"
Ares closed his eyes, then nodded. "Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't know," Apollyon said doubtfully, "you don't sound nearly so enthusiastic anymore." He stepped away, picking up his tunic from the floor. "Of course, Artemis, it IS your choice." He paused, hand on the doorknob. "Well?"
Ares sighed, knowing what was coming. "Yes, I want you to fuck me."
"Hmmm?" Apollyon circled his fingers lazily in the air. "And--?"
"Damn you!" Ares snarled. "All right. Fuck me -- PLEASE!"
Apollyon dropped his tunic on the chair by the door. "Good. Very good." He moved closer to Ares. "Anyone ever tell you you're a slow learner, Handsome?"
Ares exhaled angrily. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He turned back suddenly from the bed. "Maybe I need to remind you I am paying you for this?"
"Paying me?" Apollyon laughed shortly. "Oh, yes, paying me." He stood directly in front of Ares. "I had forgotten." He placed his hands against Ares' muscled chest, shoving lightly. "So good of you to remind me--" as Ares thumped down heavily on his back "--that you are my master." Apollyon took one step back, and Ares realized, almost with a sense of alarm, that the icy eyes and cold countenance reflected not a trace of fear or apprehension, not even the kind of cautious carelessness given as a
grudging sign of respect by his half-brother. Instead, there was only condescension, mixed with -- was that pity? Yes, it was pity.
"Now, one more time," Apollyon said, his hands on his hips, "What is it you want?"
Ares stared at the small (at least in comparison to him) man who had just shoved him flat. Something is not right here, he thought. What am I dealing with here? He studied the young man. Then he smiled tightly.
"I want you to fuck me," he deliberately paused, "please."
Apollyon nodded. "Yes. I want that too." He looked at Ares. "From the back, I think."
Ares positioned himself next to the bed, using the edge of it for a brace. He turned with a questioning look at Apollyon's small laugh. "What?"
"Oh, I think I have a better way," the young man said. "Lay on the bed on your side." He watched as Ares complied. "Facing the window."
Ares moaned softly as he felt Apollyon pressed fully against the back of his body, the boy's cock rigid against his ass. Apollyon slid his hand around to Ares' chest, teasing the nipples into hardness and running his fingers lightly over the thick curls of hair on his torso. He nibbled on the back of the War God's neck, his teeth scraping sharply over the skin, and Ares shivered as a wave of shimmering sensation washed through his
body. He felt the hard cock sliding sensuously back and forth in the crevice between his buttocks, the intimate caress of his sensitive sphincter unrelenting and pleasurable torture. His hands slid down to grasp his own cock, pumping lightly, and he arched his back, moaning in lust as Apollyon raked his teeth over the increasingly sensitive skin of
Ares' throat and neck.
"Artemis," softly breathed into his ear, followed by a hard nip to his earlobe, "come for me."
Ares growled savagely as the man's practiced hand jerked his prick once, twice, three times, carefully catching the flow of juice in his cupped hand. Ares felt the viscosity smeared between his cheeks, and he pulled up his legs to give the boy easier access as Apollyon's fingers carried the wetness inside of him. His heart pounded in his chest as Apollyon's hand slid between his legs, unbelievable strength lifting Ares' massive thigh
and laying him wide open to the assault he so desperately needed. Yes, his mind screamed, yes, YES!
He felt his ass spreading, unwillingly and oh so willingly, around the hot shaft of his lover, and the groan came up from the bottom of him, wrenched out bloodily as he bit viciously into the arm that encircled his upper body. He tasted the blood and bit deeper, and the man behind him growled ferally and drove himself deeper, faster, pounding, the force of it driving Ares' face into the mattress. The boy rode him cruelly, hurtfully, masterfully, and Ares cried out, "More, more!" The words became incomprehensible, garbled, and Ares felt himself come again, and it was unimportant -- and again, and it was still unimportant -- and then Apollyon flooded his ass with hot cum, manjuice that felt boiling hot, that was somehow a living thing -- and that WAS important, and Ares' mind, nearly unhinged, cried out inside him, I'm dying, please let me die, please let me die …
And he sagged down, feeling the unspeakably satisfying weight of his lover against his back, knowing not even his own name or what he was, knowing only that the press of Apollyon's lips at his throat was absolute fulfillment…
that the fullness within him was paradise…
feeling only vague unease when the sharpness of those teeth slid deep…
feeling only vague surprise as the cock hardened and swelled to a wonderfully agonizing depth and thickness…
the pain in his throat glassy and also absolute…
the act somehow right…
the act somehow right…
and oh, gods, let it never end, never end, never end, neverend, neverend, neverend, neverendneverendneverend…
And Ares descended into a cold red fog that embraced and welcomed him, coldly numbing him into a dreamless slumber.
* * *
"Here," the man said. "Drink."
Ares raised his head weakly, collapsing immediately back to the pillow. He felt a cool hand under his head, lifting him up so gently, guiding his mouth to a smooth chest, devoid of hair, pressing his lips against…
He drew back sharply, rewarded with a rush of dizziness.
"Artemis, you must." Softly mocking, softly jeering. "You don't want to go on feeling like you do, do you?"
He gasped out, "What have you done to me?"
Apollyon sighed with irritation. "Nothing!" He slid his hand into Ares' hair, twisting sharply. "Now DO WHAT I TELL YOU TO DO!"
Ares fought, weakly, against it, but it did no good. The boy was strong, and now Ares was not. His mouth pressed against the copiously bleeding open wound on the boy's chest, and when Ares still refused to drink, Apollyon, with an harsh snort, pinched his nostrils together. Ares surrendered, filled with disgust.
But Apollyon was right, of course. As he drank, he felt strength begin filling him again, and that awful weak-as-a-newborn-kitten shakiness deserted his limbs. The blood seared his throat painfully, but it began to taste less revolting, and then not at all unappetizing, and finally…
Ares looked up to see Apollyon sprawled on the floor, gasping, his face stripped of all color. Ares stared at him quizzically, and then suddenly started to laugh.
"Uh," between guffaws, "need some help, kid?" He stepped over and held out his hand. Apollyon took it, grudgingly, and pulled himself up.
Still laughing, Ares poured himself more of the honey mead and sprawled comfortably back on the rumpled bed. He took a big pull from the wine.
A towel landed on his chest. "You have blood on your mouth." Ares wiped his hand across his face, glancing at it carelessly. "Thanks." His eyes fell on the towel, and he looked pointedly at the boy. "Sure you don't want to lick it off?" A look of absolute disdain was thrown his way. "Well, wouldn't want to waste it, would we?" He chuckled to himself and stretched hugely, musing, Oh, when I get hold of Autolycus, I'm gonna …
"Aren't you going to ask?"
Ares looked up. "Ask what?"
"What happens now, of course." Apollyon was dressed and again slouched in the chair by the door. "What I am, etc. You already asked me what I did to you."
"Yeah," Ares said, still stretching, feeling the kinks shifting out of his back. "And you said nothing." He yawned. "Or did I mishear you?"
Apollyon shook his head slowly in disbelief. "You are incredible." He thought for a moment. "Maybe you're just dense."
"Oh, yeah, I'm dense." Ares smiled unpleasantly as he waved his clothes onto his body. "Let me see if I can guess." He tapped his forehead. "Try this on: you're a Bacchae, and I'm dinner, right?" He stopped, hands planted on his waist. "No, wait. I was dinner, and now you and I are both diners at the same table. Is that about right?"
Apollyon said nothing, dull realization dawning in his increasingly horrified mind.
"No, actually, that's wrong, too." Ares lifted the man's face to meet his, brushing his lips dispassionately against the rigid mouth of the boy. "Actually, you ARE a Bacchae, and I DID provide you with dinner." He laughed darkly. "However, you and I will NEVER dine at the same table." He turned back, the expression on his face almost pitying. "You see, I take most of my meals on Olympus."
Apollyon closed his eyes, waiting with resignation.
"If you get my drift."
Apollyon looked at him, black eyes blazing. "Artemis. Excuse me, that should be Ares, of course. As in God of War."
Ares bowed low, his hand sweeping the floor, a deference containing only mockery. "At your service."
"Ares, I get your drift. A deaf man would get your drift." He stood up, facing Ares with defiance. "So, do … whatever."
Ares pulled Apollyon into his arms. "What is it you think I'm going to do?" He kissed him lightly. "You were great. Amazing." He kissed him again. "I have no complaints."
Ares released him and stepped over to the mirror, peering reflectively at the still-angry bite on his throat, two punctures surrounded by puffy, bruised flesh. He grimaced, vainly preening. "How long will this last?"
"The mark?" Apollyon shrugged. "Till morning, I suppose."
Ares noted with satisfaction that the collar of the vest completely covered the livid bite. He turned back to Apollyon. "So? Anything else I should know?"
Apollyon smiled with malice. "You might want to … stay away from mortals. For their sake." He shrugged again. "Unless you don't care." His hand on the doorknob, he turned back to Ares. "You probably don't, do you?"
Quietly, from behind: "Do YOU?"
Apollyon nodded, exactly once. "Then we're even." He felt Ares' hand on his arm. He turned back, eyes redly dark. "Yes?"
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Apollyon fixed him with a level gaze. "Your money?"
Apollyon's chuckles quickly turned to a laugh, his head thrown back. "Don't you get it?" His peals of mirth gradually subsided to a percolating bubble.
Ares' face was a study in chagrin. "I am SO glad you find this amusing. Exactly WHAT is so fucking funny?"
"Oh, Ares." He smiled widely, baring his fangs. "Honey, you already paid me. In this establishment, the only currency necessary is … BLOOD!" Without warning, Apollyon kissed Ares lightly on the cheek. "Thanks for the laugh, lover! I needed that!"
* * *
"Thief." The hair on the back of Autolycus' neck quivered. Oh, shit, he thought. He turned in the direction of the growl. "Yes?" Oh, great, he lamented. A squeak! Good for me!
The God of War was sprawled across a bench at a table off to the side. Which is why Autolycus hadn't seen him. He swallowed hastily. I think I'm in trouble. Oh, yeah, I'm in trouble. Squaring his shoulders and adopting a casual stroll and a smile, he sauntered toward Ares.
"Ares." I'm dead, he thought, noting the glittering dark eyes and stony face. Damn, he thought ruefully, guess I should've made a grab for Xena before I turned into a corpse. A good-looking corpse, but … Oh, well, as long as there's no hope …
He sat down across the table from Ares. "Sooooo … slumming?" He gestured around the taproom. "Not exactly your cup of tea, I wouldn't think. Listen, let me get you some ale, okay?" he babbled, knowing that he was babbling and unable to stop. Ares hadn't moved so much as an eyelash. Autolycus got up hurriedly. "I'll get it, okay? The barmaids are kinda slow here …"
"Sit down." Autolycus sat.
Ares sat up and leaned forward, his face about eight inches away. "About Lilith's …"
Autolycus' testicles crawled quickly up inside his body cavity. "Uhhh … uh-huh?"
"Yeah." I'm not only dead, he thought with a tinge of panic, but it's gonna hurt like Tartarus!
"Autolycus." He felt Ares' huge hand drop over his and squeeze. Hard. Very hard.
He managed not to wince. "Ares?"
"Yes, Autolycus?" The pressure increased.
He tried hard not to wince, somewhat successfully. "Ares, I'm … sorry? You're welcome?" His fingers were being crunched, from the sound. "Ares …," he felt nauseous, "Ares …," he swallowed bile, half laying on the table. The pressure eased into a caress.
He wondered dully about the condition of his fingers, given the way they were throbbing. He raised back to a sitting position and looked at Ares.
Ares was smiling. He waved his hand and a pitcher of ale and two tankards materialized on the table. Ares filled the tankards and slid one over to Autolycus. "Cheers."
Autolycus lifted it carefully with both hands, grimacing. Ares looked over, amused at the look of pain, and with a movement of his finger, his pain vanished.
Autolycus looked quickly at Ares, trying to read him. No luck. The guy was totally inscrutable. "Thanks, Ares."
"It's nothing." He took a deep drink, casting his eyes casually around the room, and then back to Autolycus. "I'm curious, Thief. You're not that stupid. And because you're not that stupid, surely you know that it might have been prudent to warn me." Ares' smile was reptilian. "So … why didn't you?"
Autolycus studied Ares' face, indolent and darkly sexual, heartbreakingly handsome even in repose. He looked fine now, but the God of War was renowned, and feared, for his unpredictable moods. And since he was still within arm's reach of the god…
"Ares. Cut me some slack, okay? Just so I know: are you going to pound me, or thank me?"
Ares chuckled. "My dear Autolycus, now why would I want to pound you?" He took the King of Thieves' hand gently in his, the warmth from the gesture sliding up Autolycus' arm and creeping down his spine. Autolycus shivered pleasurably when Ares lightly stroked the tip of his finger across his recently crushed hand. He looked up, and Ares caught his eyes.
"That would be very unkind of me, wouldn't it?" Autolycus felt the layers of his mind buckle and shift in a familiar way, and his toes curled inside his boots.
"After all, you promised me a night to remember, and I got that." He felt a not unpleasant shimmering tickle lick delicately along the sides of his throat.
"Of course, the night's not over yet, is it?" Ares took his hand and Autolycus rose wordlessly, his eyes never leaving the God of War. "Walk," he commanded softly, playfully slapping Autolycus on the ass.
"Besides, I think you owe me, Autolycus," Ares murmured huskily, running his tongue down the side of the man's throat. "And I'm willing to accept the currency of the house." Ares sank his fangs into the thief's throat, savoring the coppery taste that filled his mouth and slid down his throat like a fine wine. After a while, he drew back, noting that the color had almost completely faded from the man's face. He eased Autolycus down to the ground and leaning him against the trunk of the tree. He studied him with idle curiosity, wondering if he had gone too far. Finally, he leaned down and sharply slapped the side of his face. "Autolycus?"
He did it again. "Autolycus?"
A low moan. Good, he thought. He waved his hand and a goblet of strong sweet wine appeared. He saw the man's eyes flickering weakly. He stooped down, patting his face, laughing softly. "Sleeping Beauty, wake up!"
Autolycus groaned loudly and coughed. His eyes opened to fasten with loathing on Ares' face. "You almost killed me, you jerk!"
"But I didn't," Ares responded mildly. He was having a fine time.
"Calm down, baby," Ares crooned in a patronizing fashion. "I could have -- but I didn't." He laughed softly. "You're fine. Or you will be in a while." Ares stood up, looked bemused by the smaller man's consternation. "That was fun. We'll have to do it again some time." He took note of, and dismissed, Autolycus' shudder of distaste. "Besides, tell me you don't go to Lilith's for just that oh so deviant pleasure at which you now curl your mouth in distaste." Ares chuckled darkly, delighted with the thief's reaction. His face suffused with sardonic mirth, Ares removed his purse from his vest and emptied it in Autolycus' lap. "Here, that should bring the sparkle back to those eyes." He bellowed laughter as he watched Autolycus' greed war with his dignity, dignity winning only by a hair, and he leaned down and kissed his mouth warmly. Tapping his fingers under Autolycus' chin, he said softly, "I'll be sure to look you up the next time I visit Lilith's."
Oh, fucking goody, thought Autolycus sourly.
"Hey, maybe we can even go together." Ares walked off, laughter suffusing his voice. "We'll be buddies!" He threw back his head, roaring laughter as he vanished in a flash of blue light.
"Oh, yeah," said Autolycus, speaking out loud, "that'll be just swell." He raised himself up slowly, the movement of his head bringing a sharp pain to the wound at his throat. "Me and my bright ideas."