In response, the god made a sound like Cerberus captured by Hercules: an animalistic noise somewhere between a snarl and a howl. And Ares' eyes turned blacker than earth in a freshly-dug grave as he strained against the bonds. The bed creaked ominously, and Auto speculated what he might do to him if he could get free. Kill him, probably. That way there'd be no witnesses, no one to blab about the war god's newly-acquired taste for cock, not to mention submission. --Autolycus, Like a Virgin
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