"Mmm." Iolaus shut his eyes and eased back against the smooth, warm stone. "That feels heavenly, Karis."
The willowy blond masseuse, kneeling behind him, only giggled. She continued to stroke his taut, thickly muscled shoulders, skillfully relieving the built-up tension of the past day. Her fingers were like magic, he thought, pliant but still strong. The delicious heat of the water, along with her massage, was well worth the exorbitant price, he decided. Sleep beckoned to him, dark and seductive and engulfing.
The fingers stopped. It was almost jarring, the cessation was that unexpected. He turned to look at her. Her scantily clad body was sprawled gracefully across the floor. She was unconscious.
His bleary eyes quickly scanned the dim room. No intruders that he could see. He mouthed a curse and reached out a hand to check her breathing.
"She's fine," said a terribly familiar voice from behind him. "Only asleep."
Iolaus shut his eyes. Gods, had he imagined it, or did that voice belong to--
He slipped off the wet stones back into the pool. He sat up, shoving his hair off his face.
Ares smirked at him. "Hello, Iolaus."
The hunter felt his stomach sink to his feet. "What the hell do you want?" he said in the most hostile tone he could manage. Only he managed to sound more like Iolaus the Joker than he had ever thought possible.
"I should think it was. . ." The god's tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth. "Obvious." Iolaus felt a foot travel up his calf, pause at his knee, then proceed up his thigh.
Shit. God of War wants to play footsie. Great. Iolaus thought about running, but the god's attentions were fully focused on him. Wait for a more opportune moment, the voice of reason said from within his head. Funny that the voice of reason sounded just like Hercules.
Ares laughed. "I'm not the God of War, you know."
Leaning forward, Ares grabbed him by the ears and kissed him. A long, steamy (both literally and figuratively), eye-crossing kiss.
"Rub-a-dub-dub," Iolaus said. "Oh my."
"Do you believe me?" Ares God of Love asked, fluttering his fan-like lashes.
"I don't know."
The god sighed. "You leave me no choice." He plunged underwater.
Iolaus could do nothing but peer into the depths as Ares approached him, or rather, as Ares approached a certain tender portion of his anatomy. The heat of the water evidently did not bother the god.
Lips closed around his cock. Iolaus could no longer give a damn whether this was the God of War or the God of Love from a different universe. He grit his teeth and flung back his head. The mouth licked, pulled, sucked urgently, deliciously. Within seconds he was sobbing and clawing at the black-curled head in his lap.
"So close," he cried aloud. "Don't stop."
Ares resurfaced. "Sorry," he said, eyes blazing. He quickly arranged his fingers over Iolaus' penis, gripping it tightly with two fingers. "Not yet."
Iolaus almost screamed his frustration-- but was also immensely relieved. He could not be the God of War; only the God of Love would have the patience to do something like this, he told himself. But something about this reasoning wasn't quite right, the voice of reason protested.
"Shove it," he said aloud.
"Sorry, wasn't talking to you." He grinned. "Though, you know, I wouldn't mind if you did that."
Their lips met again. Iolaus slid his tongue between the velvet lips of the god, and nearly came from the taste of him. Ares matched his action, and then pulled the man's tongue deeper into his own mouth.
Iolaus could feel his pulse racing, and feared that his body would be incapable of surviving the experience. Ares chose that moment to separate their mouths, and ran his tongue down the column of his lover's throat.
"Ye gods," Iolaus gasped, trying futilely to regain his breath.
"No. Just one," said Ares, sinking his teeth gently into the wet, supple flesh. "And that one is me."
Iolaus groped blindly in the water for the immortal cock. His fingers tightened around it, quickly, as if afraid he would lose it. Larger than he'd expected, certainly, he thought, and grinned in spite of himself.
"What do you think?" the god purred, moving his lips even lower to take a nipple.
He grunted something like a response, tugging at the prize in his hand. Ares laughed, shoved his thighs open, lifted his body, and pushed into him.
Iolaus' cry was cut off abruptly by Ares' mouth on his. Ares thrust slowly, steadily, first thrusting deep and fast, then shallow and slow, then deep again. He reached down and pumped the hunter's cock with his hand, running his hand up and down the length. Pushing, pushing, pushing.
Ares propelled into him, sharply, one last time, before climaxing. As he felt the hot, thick seed spurt up into him, Iolaus came into Ares' hand. The milky liquid was immediately diluted by the warm water.
He lost consciousness.
Ares laughed, extricated himself from the mortal, and stepped out of the pool.
Simultaneously, three gods appeared.
"Nice show," said Cupid appreciatively.
"Is he all right?" asked Dionysius, concerned.
Ares, God of War, shrugged. "He's still breathing. So, who's going to go next?"
Three pairs of eyes focused on Strife.
"No way," Strife objected. "I don't think so. I drew Joxer, for crying out loud."
"Come on, Strife, he's not so bad," said Dionysius, licking his lips as he scrutinized the comatose hunter.
"Yeah, easy for you to say," countered Strife. "You got Iphicles. The pouty King of Corinth. Gee, how are you ever going to bring yourself to fuck him?" He rolled his eyes.
Cupid sighed. "You're stuck with Joxer, Strife. Those are the rules. It won't take too much work for you to seduce him. Make yourself look like the blond sidekick chick, and that'll be it. Easy as pie. But I've got Hercules. I won't mind getting a piece of him, to be sure, but the guy's got the libido of a tree."
"Okay, look, are we playing the Game or not?" Ares asked, impatience creeping into his voice.
The other three gods exchanged glances. "Yes," they said quickly, in unison.
"All right. On to Corinth."
Iolaus tentatively opened an eye. "Are they gone?"
"Yes," said Karis, sitting up. She grinned, stripped off her robe, and arranged herself onto his lap. As they kissed, she changed into her true form.
Ares, God of Love, sucked on Iolaus' lower lip. "They are just *so* predictable."
Iolaus' laugh turned into a long, drawn-out moan.