FIC: Death and War, X-over (Ares/Methos),Slash, NC-17
Title:Death and War
Author: LizM
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Methos/Ares
Categories: m/m Slash, Crossover ( Highlander/Xena:The Warrior Princess), totally self-indulgent, shameless PWP
Warnings: dubious con in a few places but nothing really bad
Summary: Methos is having a bad day. What might happen to make it better?
Notes: Inspiration. A funny thing. I knew I wanted to write Methos/Ares. The timeline isn’t really a problem, the guys are gorgeous and I was in the mood for a PWP. Through a rec site I stumbled upon this (http://asylums.insanejournal.com/summerfic/10390.html), read the first line and KNEW, this was the start of my story. And from then on the story wrote itself. I think this might be the fastest I’ve ever written. Thank you, genteelrebel (go read her wonderful Highlander slash) for reading this through twice, general encouragement and drooling along;-)
Also, I haven’t watched anything Xena in ages. Ares’s voice is therefore probably slightly OOC.
And thank you, Kevin Smith for many fun hours and someone to drool over. Rest in Peace.
It had not been a good day for Methos.
Facing a challenge when you were barely half awake was NOT a good way to start the day.
And it went downhill from there.
First, his after-quickening-wank had been interrupted by the most obnoxious, idiotic person he'd ever met.
Of course he'd been tempted to kill the man but even DEATH couldn't bring himself to off that pitiful excuse for a warrior.
How the man had survived this long was a mystery to Methos.
By the time he'd been able to shake this 'Joxer', he was already in Sparta and then the trouble really began.
*
Now it was almost evening and he'd lost his horse and most of his possessions.
His feet were sore, he was hungry, dead tired and although the outer wounds were healed, even immortal healing didn't seem to be able to do much for the various pains and aches Methos was feeling.
And he still hadn't had that wank.
Methos was on the verge of falling into self-pity. And that hadn't happened for, oh, at least a 1,000 years.
Barely pulling himself together, Methos's only wish was for a quiet spot, where he could do something about the arousal that had been simmering all day and then drop like a stone for at least 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep.
There, that looked like a cave. If it was unoccupied it would make a great shelter and it would hopefully be dry. Sleeping in the rain wasn't fun.
Sighing, Methos drew his sword. After all he'd survived, it wouldn't do to be eaten by a wild animal. As he got closer he noticed the faint flickering of firelight in the cave's entrance.
Hmm, at least not a wild animal then. But maybe, whoever it was would let him sleep there tonight.
Methos sheathed his sword again and entered the cave cautiously. When the short entrance tunnel cave gave way to the big cavern, he gasped. This wasn't a cave, this was a palace.
Braziers with merrily dancing flames gave off a pleasant heat. The floor was covered in lush carpets and there were pillows everywhere. But the most amazing was the huge four poster bed right there in the middle. It called to Methos with a power not even the sirens would have been able to conjure up.
And he was seriously contemplating just dropping there; he'd deal with the repercussions later. The cushions and blankets looked just too inviting.
Until he saw the food. A meal, worthy of a god, right there next to the bed.
That was when Methos threw caution and his survival instincts to the wind and just dived in.
"Sated?" a deep, thrumming voice suddenly asked next to his ear, when Methos was contemplating to change his state from pleasantly full to absolutely stuffed. His head snapped up but there was no one there. Instead there was a tub with steaming water standing on the other side of the bed.
Suddenly Methos was wide awake and his senses were alert. He was sure that tub hadn't been there before. And who had brought it in and filled it without him noticing?
This was getting weird and his survival instincts screamed at him to leave the cave as quickly as possible.
But his curiosity was greater. Weariness piped in too. A hot bath would be absolutely perfect right now.
And so Methos abandoned his meal and went over to the tub. He did have enough sense left to stow his sword under the bed where it would be easily accessible. His other armaments were laid down on the floor where he could reach them even while sitting in the tub, should it become necessary. Methos hoped not because he for sure was going to have that wank now.
The first contact with the hot water hurt. He hadn't realized that he was so cold. Or that the water was this hot.
Then he sank down and closed his eyes in bliss. Sighed. And decided that from now on he'd try to lead lives where he would always have access to as much hot water as he wanted.
But he didn't make any plans now because his cock was demanding his attention. He'd been half hard all day and the quickening from this morning hadn't really settled. Methos dipped his hand into the water and started stroking. Given permission now, his cock filled quickly. Groaning, Methos closed his eyes and was just deciding what nice fantasy to use, when suddenly two hands settled firmly on his shoulders and started kneading.
Instincts taking over, Methos had leaped out of the tub, grabbed a knife and was standing in attack position before his brain and especially his penis had caught up with him.
Therefore he was in the most embarrassing situation of facing an opponent, ready for battle, stark naked, with his hard length bobbing somewhat painfully against his stomach.
What he saw when he took in the stranger standing before him, wasn't helping to make his erection subside. At all.
Black leather, all over. Dark skin, dark, silky hair, dark, deep eyes, muscles toned to perfection and the most seductive yet threatening smile Methos had ever seen. Unconsciously he licked his lip and his libido was almost drowning out his reasoning with shouts of "Want, want, want!"
"So, you want to play, hmm?" the stranger said and Methos recognized the voice from earlier that had spoken in his ear. His libido almost managed to win, but reason prevailed - for now.
Suddenly a long and expensive looking sword appeared in the stranger’s hand. Methos gave up on figuring out the why and how for now and just dived for his sword.
He'd just managed to turn around and bring it up in time before the stranger’s sword clashed into his in a shower of sparks.
Methos managed to drive his opponent back with a flurry of slashes so he could get out of the confining space between the tub and the bed. But soon he learned that fighting naked while his opponent was clothed in leather was a serious disadvantage. The stranger had no qualms about driving him towards the blazing braziers, which Methos felt strongly on his naked skin and he had to go into a defensive position more often than he liked.
They moved through the whole cave, the sounds of the clashing swords ringing through the air. The cushions were overturned and ripped, the food was either thrown at the opponent or onto the floor. Methos even upended the bathtub in an attempt to get a much needed moment of breath.
Methos knew he was going to loose.
He was holding his own very well, but he was fatigued and tired and his opponent was the best he'd ever fought against.
And his erection just wouldn't go down.
Methos had always loved a good fight. The danger, the passion, the skill, all involved made in a good fight, made his blood sing and stoked his arousal.
And this was the best fight of his life. And the most arousing. His opponent apparently thought the same because Methos had been able to feel the other's erection on several occasions already. And judging from the grin and the sparkle in his eyes, the stranger was enjoying it too.
Methos wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Judging from the evidence he was fairly certain the stranger wouldn't kill him, when he won. Methos wasn't averse to a sweaty round of sex either. His cock was certainly saying “Yes!” But he didn't know what else the stranger wanted and he seemed fairly powerful. Methos had no intention of becoming anyone’s sex-slave again.
This, along with the fear that the stranger might decide to kill him yet, drove Methos to a last desperate attempt at over-powering his opponent. It might have even been successful but Methos would never know for the bathwater from the upturned tub proved to be his downfall. Literally.
His naked feet slipped on the wet floor and before Methos knew it, he was lying on his back, the stranger's sword pressing into his adam's apple.
Methos closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get his breath back. He couldn't swallow because then the sword tip would have broken the skin and wounds to the throat healed slowly, if at all.
He opened his eyes again and looked at the other man. The stranger's eyes were sparkling and a satisfied grin was playing on his lips. He raised the sword a little and trailed it along Methos's upper body, breaking the skin above the breastbone.
The cut healed immediately, of course.
"Ah, that means we can play some interesting games together," the stranger said silkily.
Methos flinched internally. He’d had enough of those games to last for several lifetimes. He didn't mind a little roughness but for tonight he'd hoped he would get around such things. It was bad enough that he was here at all and couldn't do a thing about what the stranger wanted to do to him. Somehow he felt that the other man knew how to kill him - permanently.
Suddenly the other man looked deep into his eyes and Methos had the feeling that he was reading his mind.
"Not tonight then, my warrior. But one day I'll teach you that pain can be very pleasurable indeed," the stranger said softly.
Methos wanted to say something, anything, but just then the sword tip reached his erection and lust and desire slammed into his guts.
"Do you surrender to me?" the stranger asked and returned the sword to press into Methos's throat again.
Methos could only nod cautiously, for fear of the tip cutting into his throat.
The stranger pulled back the sword.
"Well, where were we? I think you need another bath."
And the tub stood back where it was before, filled with steaming water.
Methos had given up wondering. He let the sword drop from his hand and grasped the offered hand to pull him up.
With a slightly impatient "Get in!" the other man pushed him towards the tub and Methos, stomping down on his urge to protest for now, obeyed.
As he sank into the water again, the stranger’s hands settled back onto his shoulders and started stroking. Methos barely bit back the groan and his erection was so hard by now that the new wave of arousal couldn't do anything to it.
"Who are you?" he ground out, anything to distract himself.
"My warrior can speak," the seductive voice whispered right next to his ear, laughingly. Then the tone got deeper, more powerful. "I am Ares, God of War."
Forfeiting his disbelief and any theological discussion in the face of the power the other man had displayed, Methos had to accept this as the truth - for now.
A small smile played across his lips. It wasn't every day that one was seduced by a God. A touch to Methos's earlobe warned him a split second before the other man's voice flowed over him again.
"Oh yes, my not-so-mortal warrior. And a thousand men would gladly die for the honours that I have already given you. But I won’t ask that of you." His voice dropped even deeper, "All I want is to hear you scream my name when you come."
Methos swallowed. He had two choices here: either say no, get up and try to leave or say yes, and hope that the...god or whoever he was would let him leave in the morning. Maybe he would wake up and find that he’d dreamed the whole thing.
"If you wish. I do give you my word that I will let you leave - should you so desire. But it would be a pity."
Methos still knew that that didn't mean anything, since there was nothing he could do to stop the other from breaking his promise. But it was enough to placate his brain - or so he told himself. Deep down he had to admit that he wanted this. Very much.
And his libido wanted what it had been denied all day and even the soft waves against his erection were pure torture.
"Yes."
A soft chuckle against his ear, then a tongue lapping at his neck.
"Come on. You're in agony. What are you waiting for?” The god’s voice became dark with promise. “You will be able to come more than once tonight."
Methos just wrapped his hand around his erection in response. For a moment it hurt, it was so good. The God's hands stroked from his shoulders down to his chest and brushed his nipples. Methos had to bite his lip to suppress a moan.
A bite to his neck reprimanded him.
"Don't ever curb your responses. I want to hear what I do to you. Be as loud as you want. And now stroke yourself. You have a gorgeous cock. I want to see your come shoot out of it.”
Methos moaned. He’d had a lot of people talk dirty to him over the centuries and thought he was used to it but this man’s…god’s… Ares’s voice was getting to him. He sped up his strokes and soon came with a loud groan and so hard it almost hurt.
Boneless, Methos sank into the water, for a moment not caring about anything but blessed relief. Then a tweak to his nipple reminded him that he was not alone.
Dazedly he stood and stepped out of the tub, water running down in rivulets. Taking a deep breath he turned to face Ares, who gave him an once-over, then smiled approvingly.
“Sit on the bed,” Ares ordered and Methos had no choice but to obey on shaky legs. Sitting down was a good idea.
As soon as he sat down, Ares waved his hand and two things happened at once. Methos was dry and warm and Ares was naked.
Methos mouth went dry. He let his eyes roam over the magnificent body all made hotter by the arousing and intimidating smile that was still on the god’s lips.
Ares stepped closer and Methos knew what was going to happen next. He licked his lips in anticipation and the god’s smile grew wider and more predatory.
The bed was fairly low and the other fairly tall, so when Ares had reached him, Methos just needed to lower his head a little to reach the hard cock in front of him. He touched the tip of his tongue to the head to get a first taste, then lapped softly at the slit. A hand settled on his head, not demanding, not threatening, just stroking gently.
Methos ran his tongue along the hot length, pressing deeper with the tip sometimes, sometimes touching so lightly Ares made an involuntary movement forward. When he’d had his fill, Methos pulled back and looked up at the other, letting a smug grin emerge. Ares was matching his grin with a glint in his eyes.
Challenge met and answered.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Methos’s reason was pointing out that you couldn’t really reduce a god to a whimpering mess, but Methos knew he’d have too much fun while trying that he didn’t care if it was possible or not. Also he’d get some really great sex out of it.
With a last glance at Ares, Methos lowered his head again, this time taking in as much as he could. He thought he’d heard a low moan but he couldn’t be sure for the rushing in his ears. For a moment he simply sucked and then he proceeded to use every last trick he’d ever learned to get Ares to lose control.
Just when Methos thought he’d have to give up, Ares’s hold on his head grew tight, his hips bucked and then Methos was hard pressed to swallow fast enough. He licked up every last drop, then let the softening penis slip from his mouth and rubbed his aching jaw. But he couldn’t help the satisfied grin breaking out.
He looked up, prepared for anything, but he needn’t have worried. Ares was looking down at him through hooded eyes, with a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips.
“My turn!” Ares growled and pounced.
Methos didn’t have a choice but to go with the flow as the god’s body pressed him into the soft mattress. Ares’s hands pinned his wrists down and the god nibbled, sucked, licked and bit every part of Methos that was within reach of his mouth. Shoulders, ear, jaw, but mostly the neck and Methos was soon moaning and whimpering as if he hadn’t just had an explosive orgasm. His cock had started to fill again when Ares had come in his mouth but now it was fully hard again.
When Ares reached his nipples, Methos decided that enough was enough and he needed to do something. He started struggling playfully to get out from underneath the god and Ares grinned that seductive smile again.
Soon they were wrestling all over the bed, hands groping on naked flesh, the firelight reflecting on their bodies, sliding against each other with sweat glistening between them.
When they were both pleasantly sweaty and slightly out of breath - or at least Ares was pretending to be, Methos figured - Methos found himself sitting astride the god, with Ares watching him with a bemused expression.
“Yes, you can fuck me now. But if you do, I promise you that I’ll take you afterwards. And I won’t let you come until you beg me,” Ares said conversationally.
“Or?” Methos was stalling.
Instead of answering, Ares just wiggled his groin and Methos groaned as their cocks rubbed against the other.
Methos was tempted. It would sure be the easier option. But he knew he wouldn’t take it, no matter how much begging he might be doing later. And he was certain Ares knew that. The knowing glint in the god’s eyes seemed to confirm that.
So, Methos raised an eyebrow and the god waved a hand lazily. Suddenly there was a jar in Methos hand, which contained some sort of oil. Perfect. But he didn’t need it yet.
He fixed Ares with his best, threatening glare. Other men would have begged for their life now. The god just raised an eyebrow.
“Will you stay put?” Methos asked menacingly.
“For now,” Ares grinned.
Instead of answering, Methos slid down the other’s magnificent body, deliberately slow. It was fairly given that he was going to beg later, but nowhere did it say that he couldn’t try his best to reciprocate now.
Bypassing the again hardening erection, he pushed the other’s legs apart and grabbed his buttocks with his hands. Methos buried his nose beneath the balls that were just as tanned as the rest of the body.
Then he proceeded to try again to reduce the god to a whimpering mess. He didn’t manage of course but this time he heard several very satisfying moans as he plunged his tongue into the body before him. It made his cock jump painfully.
Methos soon had to stop or he wouldn’t last to enjoy the actual fucking. He pulled back and reached for the jar of oil, intending to put some into the tempting ass before him. But Ares stopped him by taking the jar from him.
The god then dipped his own fingers into the oil and quickly spread it on Methos’s cock. Methos had a hard time trying not to come right then. But Ares was unrelenting and grinned unrepentantly.
When he’d finished, Ares turned around and got to his knees. Methos moaned at the sight before him but was also a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to see the god’s face while he was inside him.
Ares threw him an unreadable look over his shoulder and then suddenly a mirror appeared at the sight of the bed. Methos could see both of them reflected perfectly. He swallowed. Now he *knew* the god was reading his mind. But he couldn’t dwell on that now for his erection was screaming at him to get on with it, already!
He obeyed and sheathed his cock inside the welcoming ass before him in a single move.
It was perfect.
For a moment Methos had to rest and catch his breath or he would have come. Conjuring up all the most un-erotic images he could think of, he managed to stave of the imminent orgasm a while longer.
A chuckle from the body in front of him didn’t really faze him. In answer he just pulled out slowly and pushed back in hard. Ares moaned.
Methos grinned. He set to it in earnest, alternating long and hard with deep and quick and when he managed to hit the prostate more often than not, Ares started to moan constantly.
Methos dragged his gaze from the sight of his cock disappearing into the tight ass to the sweat-glistening shoulders. From the corner of his eye he could see the mirror but realized he still couldn’t see the god’s cock.
Pulling out half-way he grabbed Ares’s shoulders and pulled them both to a kneeling position.
That was better. Their eyes met in the mirror and this time there was no mockery or teasing on the god’s face. Only desire.
Methos groaned.
“Touch yourself”, he whispered into the god’s ear, just as the other had done earlier.
“Fuck me,” Ares answered, just as his hand wrapped around his glistening cock.
Methos moved again, slowly in time with the other’s movements. He also started to give payback for every nip and lick and suck and bite the other had bestowed on him. A certain spot on Ares’s neck, made the god writhe and speed up his hand, so Methos concentrated on that and soon he knew they couldn’t hold back much longer.
He sped up his movements, thrusts going fast and as deep as he could make them in this position. Eyes riveted to the mirror he moved even faster, his hips slamming against the other’s ass.
“I’m going to come inside your ass, Ares,” Methos whispered hoarsely. “And when I do you’re going to come and I’ll watch.”
“Then fuck me harder,” Ares answered and moaned as Methos complied.
“Yes…harder.”
“Now. Come!” Ares commanded.
Shaking through his orgasm, Methos had a hard time keeping his eyes open to watch as Ares’s eyes looked deep into his and then closed just as the first spurt of come left Methos’s cock and poured deep into the god‘s ass. He watched, riveted, as Ares’s cock erupted at the same time and the come splattered against the mirror.
They were both moaning and gasping but Methos didn’t care. He was still coming.
And then it was over. Ares collapsed underneath him and Methos tried to break the fall on his hands but they had turned to jelly and collapsed onto the body beneath him. He just had enough sense left to roll off the other, before his consciousness left him.
*
Methos opened his eyes and moaned. His cock was engulfed in the hottest place it’d ever been and it seemed like the recent, best orgasm of his life had never happened. Also the ceiling of the four-poster had been transformed into another mirror and he could watch perfectly as Ares sucked his cock.
The god raised his head, licking his lips.
“I told you, you’d come more than once tonight.”
Methos swallowed. He wasn’t sure he’d survive another orgasm like the last one. It had been a very long time since he’d blacked out from pleasure. The begging he didn’t mind so much now.
Ares made no move to return to what he was doing, simply watching him and Methos wondered if he was waiting for an answer. Was he supposed to beg already?
The god chuckled then, for a moment no threat or seduction on his features. Methos raised his hips in answer, hoping that would be enough for now.
It was. But instead of going back to his cock, the wicked tongue slipped lower and then Ares repaid Methos for what he had done earlier. And a hundred times more. All made worse - or better? - because he could watch every flick of the tongue in the mirror above him.
Soon Methos was gasping and moaning and writhing. He didn’t know whether he wanted to escape from that maddening tongue or shove himself against it. His cock was aching but he wasn’t going to touch it.
He tried to make a sound, anything to tell Ares that he needed his cock inside him NOW! but just a raspy moan came out.
The god understood him anyway and pulled back. For a moment Methos felt at a loss but then warm slickness was coating his insides without a finger touching him. It seemed the god was getting impatient. In the state he was in, Methos didn’t mind, he didn’t think he would have survived a prolonged preparation anyway.
And then he didn’t think anything anymore, for Ares’s cock pushed against his opening and slid slowly in until the god was buried balls deep inside him.
Methos didn’t know where he should look, at the ceiling or at the sight before him.
At that moment Ares pulled out and plunged into him again and Methos simply closed his eyes and moaned.
And almost screamed as the next thrust hit the nub inside him full force. His hands were balled into fists with the will not to touch himself. Somehow he knew he wasn’t supposed to.
So he opened his eyes again and concentrated on the god who was currently fucking him with sure, slow strokes that hit his prostate every time.
Sweat glistened on Ares’s forehead and he was drawing in raspy breaths. Methos could barely hear them over his own moans but the fact that they were there at all sent even more pleasure coursing through him.
“Now, I’m going to make you beg, my warrior,” Ares suddenly groaned out. He sped up his strokes, going deep and fast, sending waves of waves of pleasure through Methos, who knew he wouldn’t be able to come yet.
Not until he begged. But he wasn’t there yet.
Ares reached out with a hand then and touched his cock. Methos screamed. Then his scream turned into moans again and then into sobs when the hand left him.
“Please…ah…please let me come.” Now he was begging.
“Not yet, I’m not fucking you hard enough yet. Beg me.”
“Harder...ah...harder.”
“Yes, you’re going to come just from me fucking you, while I come deep inside you.”
“Yes.. please.. make me come.. fuck me harder,” Methos was sobbing now. He couldn’t help it.
“Ohh, you beg very nicely, my warrior,” Ares rasped out and then pounded into Methos.
Fast and hard and deep.
“Want to..ah..come now?” Ares asked hoarsely and Methos instinctively knew something else was required.
“Yes… please… my god… make me come.”
“Look..oohh…look at me.”
Methos opened his eyes and looked into the god’s eyes.
“Come!”
As if some barrier was suddenly gone, the pleasure rolled through him in one great wave and his orgasm exploded out of him and Methos was coming and coming and coming.
“Oh God...Ares!”
“Yes…I’m your god… let me see you… come… while I fuck you…deep. I’m coming…YES!” Ares moaned as he exploded into Methos.
*
When Methos woke up, he was alone.
Groggily he seriously contemplated rolling over again and going back to sleep but he didn’t want to wear out his welcome. Also the god might get some ideas about having a go at him again and Methos for sure wasn’t up to it right now.
“But surely you wouldn’t mind a repeat performance?”
The voice send shivers down Methos’s spine and he slowly turned. Ares was sprawled in a throne-like chair, eating some grapes. Methos’s stomach growled.
The god waved impatiently and tables with more food appeared before him.
“You know I don’t,” Methos replied evenly as he searched for his clothes and weapons and put them on. “But I can’t do this every night.”
“Pity though,” the god mused. “But I guess I’ll know when and where to find you again.”
Methos gulped. Yes, Ares would find him and then... Memories assaulted him.
“I told you, I wanted to hear you screaming my name.” The voice was whispering in his ear again and Methos whirled around.
Ares was standing so close behind him now that Methos was practically in his arms. Methos didn’t dare move since the black eyes were keeping him spellbound again.
“I wanted to seduce you into worshipping me,” Ares said and Methos blinked. “But I have so many worshippers, I like this agreement of ours better. We can entertain each other for a few centuries to come.”
Methos nodded silently. What else was he supposed to do?
“I was sad when you left your path of destruction and death,” the god continued. “You were glorious, my warrior. I wanted to turn you back onto that path, so I could revel in your slaughters once again. But I realized that you will not return to that path. Still, you will always be my warrior and one day I‘ll get you to admit it. Even though you‘ve become more peaceful. The fact that you‘re still fighting is enough.“
Methos wasn’t sure what Ares was talking about but it didn’t sound bad. The god chuckled at that and then his eyes bored into Methos’s. Methos swallowed and then Ares crossed the little bit space that was still separating them and took his mouth in a thorough and at the same time tender kiss that felt like it lasted forever and not nearly long enough.
“Something to tide you over until next time,” Ares whispered hoarsely and vanished.
Methos blinked again, then shook his head to clear it. He had no clue what had just happened but there would still be enough time to think about that later. For now his stomach was demanding food.
A little while later, stomach pleasantly full, Methos stepped through the cave mouth into the morning sunshine and smiled.
It had turned out to be not such a bad day after all.
Author: LizM
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Methos/Ares
Categories: m/m Slash, Crossover ( Highlander/Xena:The Warrior Princess), totally self-indulgent, shameless PWP
Warnings: dubious con in a few places but nothing really bad
Summary: Methos is having a bad day. What might happen to make it better?
Notes: Inspiration. A funny thing. I knew I wanted to write Methos/Ares. The timeline isn’t really a problem, the guys are gorgeous and I was in the mood for a PWP. Through a rec site I stumbled upon this (http://asylums.insanejournal.com/summerfic/10390.html), read the first line and KNEW, this was the start of my story. And from then on the story wrote itself. I think this might be the fastest I’ve ever written. Thank you, genteelrebel (go read her wonderful Highlander slash) for reading this through twice, general encouragement and drooling along;-)
Also, I haven’t watched anything Xena in ages. Ares’s voice is therefore probably slightly OOC.
And thank you, Kevin Smith for many fun hours and someone to drool over. Rest in Peace.
It had not been a good day for Methos.
Facing a challenge when you were barely half awake was NOT a good way to start the day.
And it went downhill from there.
First, his after-quickening-wank had been interrupted by the most obnoxious, idiotic person he'd ever met.
Of course he'd been tempted to kill the man but even DEATH couldn't bring himself to off that pitiful excuse for a warrior.
How the man had survived this long was a mystery to Methos.
By the time he'd been able to shake this 'Joxer', he was already in Sparta and then the trouble really began.
*
Now it was almost evening and he'd lost his horse and most of his possessions.
His feet were sore, he was hungry, dead tired and although the outer wounds were healed, even immortal healing didn't seem to be able to do much for the various pains and aches Methos was feeling.
And he still hadn't had that wank.
Methos was on the verge of falling into self-pity. And that hadn't happened for, oh, at least a 1,000 years.
Barely pulling himself together, Methos's only wish was for a quiet spot, where he could do something about the arousal that had been simmering all day and then drop like a stone for at least 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep.
There, that looked like a cave. If it was unoccupied it would make a great shelter and it would hopefully be dry. Sleeping in the rain wasn't fun.
Sighing, Methos drew his sword. After all he'd survived, it wouldn't do to be eaten by a wild animal. As he got closer he noticed the faint flickering of firelight in the cave's entrance.
Hmm, at least not a wild animal then. But maybe, whoever it was would let him sleep there tonight.
Methos sheathed his sword again and entered the cave cautiously. When the short entrance tunnel cave gave way to the big cavern, he gasped. This wasn't a cave, this was a palace.
Braziers with merrily dancing flames gave off a pleasant heat. The floor was covered in lush carpets and there were pillows everywhere. But the most amazing was the huge four poster bed right there in the middle. It called to Methos with a power not even the sirens would have been able to conjure up.
And he was seriously contemplating just dropping there; he'd deal with the repercussions later. The cushions and blankets looked just too inviting.
Until he saw the food. A meal, worthy of a god, right there next to the bed.
That was when Methos threw caution and his survival instincts to the wind and just dived in.
"Sated?" a deep, thrumming voice suddenly asked next to his ear, when Methos was contemplating to change his state from pleasantly full to absolutely stuffed. His head snapped up but there was no one there. Instead there was a tub with steaming water standing on the other side of the bed.
Suddenly Methos was wide awake and his senses were alert. He was sure that tub hadn't been there before. And who had brought it in and filled it without him noticing?
This was getting weird and his survival instincts screamed at him to leave the cave as quickly as possible.
But his curiosity was greater. Weariness piped in too. A hot bath would be absolutely perfect right now.
And so Methos abandoned his meal and went over to the tub. He did have enough sense left to stow his sword under the bed where it would be easily accessible. His other armaments were laid down on the floor where he could reach them even while sitting in the tub, should it become necessary. Methos hoped not because he for sure was going to have that wank now.
The first contact with the hot water hurt. He hadn't realized that he was so cold. Or that the water was this hot.
Then he sank down and closed his eyes in bliss. Sighed. And decided that from now on he'd try to lead lives where he would always have access to as much hot water as he wanted.
But he didn't make any plans now because his cock was demanding his attention. He'd been half hard all day and the quickening from this morning hadn't really settled. Methos dipped his hand into the water and started stroking. Given permission now, his cock filled quickly. Groaning, Methos closed his eyes and was just deciding what nice fantasy to use, when suddenly two hands settled firmly on his shoulders and started kneading.
Instincts taking over, Methos had leaped out of the tub, grabbed a knife and was standing in attack position before his brain and especially his penis had caught up with him.
Therefore he was in the most embarrassing situation of facing an opponent, ready for battle, stark naked, with his hard length bobbing somewhat painfully against his stomach.
What he saw when he took in the stranger standing before him, wasn't helping to make his erection subside. At all.
Black leather, all over. Dark skin, dark, silky hair, dark, deep eyes, muscles toned to perfection and the most seductive yet threatening smile Methos had ever seen. Unconsciously he licked his lip and his libido was almost drowning out his reasoning with shouts of "Want, want, want!"
"So, you want to play, hmm?" the stranger said and Methos recognized the voice from earlier that had spoken in his ear. His libido almost managed to win, but reason prevailed - for now.
Suddenly a long and expensive looking sword appeared in the stranger’s hand. Methos gave up on figuring out the why and how for now and just dived for his sword.
He'd just managed to turn around and bring it up in time before the stranger’s sword clashed into his in a shower of sparks.
Methos managed to drive his opponent back with a flurry of slashes so he could get out of the confining space between the tub and the bed. But soon he learned that fighting naked while his opponent was clothed in leather was a serious disadvantage. The stranger had no qualms about driving him towards the blazing braziers, which Methos felt strongly on his naked skin and he had to go into a defensive position more often than he liked.
They moved through the whole cave, the sounds of the clashing swords ringing through the air. The cushions were overturned and ripped, the food was either thrown at the opponent or onto the floor. Methos even upended the bathtub in an attempt to get a much needed moment of breath.
Methos knew he was going to loose.
He was holding his own very well, but he was fatigued and tired and his opponent was the best he'd ever fought against.
And his erection just wouldn't go down.
Methos had always loved a good fight. The danger, the passion, the skill, all involved made in a good fight, made his blood sing and stoked his arousal.
And this was the best fight of his life. And the most arousing. His opponent apparently thought the same because Methos had been able to feel the other's erection on several occasions already. And judging from the grin and the sparkle in his eyes, the stranger was enjoying it too.
Methos wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Judging from the evidence he was fairly certain the stranger wouldn't kill him, when he won. Methos wasn't averse to a sweaty round of sex either. His cock was certainly saying “Yes!” But he didn't know what else the stranger wanted and he seemed fairly powerful. Methos had no intention of becoming anyone’s sex-slave again.
This, along with the fear that the stranger might decide to kill him yet, drove Methos to a last desperate attempt at over-powering his opponent. It might have even been successful but Methos would never know for the bathwater from the upturned tub proved to be his downfall. Literally.
His naked feet slipped on the wet floor and before Methos knew it, he was lying on his back, the stranger's sword pressing into his adam's apple.
Methos closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get his breath back. He couldn't swallow because then the sword tip would have broken the skin and wounds to the throat healed slowly, if at all.
He opened his eyes again and looked at the other man. The stranger's eyes were sparkling and a satisfied grin was playing on his lips. He raised the sword a little and trailed it along Methos's upper body, breaking the skin above the breastbone.
The cut healed immediately, of course.
"Ah, that means we can play some interesting games together," the stranger said silkily.
Methos flinched internally. He’d had enough of those games to last for several lifetimes. He didn't mind a little roughness but for tonight he'd hoped he would get around such things. It was bad enough that he was here at all and couldn't do a thing about what the stranger wanted to do to him. Somehow he felt that the other man knew how to kill him - permanently.
Suddenly the other man looked deep into his eyes and Methos had the feeling that he was reading his mind.
"Not tonight then, my warrior. But one day I'll teach you that pain can be very pleasurable indeed," the stranger said softly.
Methos wanted to say something, anything, but just then the sword tip reached his erection and lust and desire slammed into his guts.
"Do you surrender to me?" the stranger asked and returned the sword to press into Methos's throat again.
Methos could only nod cautiously, for fear of the tip cutting into his throat.
The stranger pulled back the sword.
"Well, where were we? I think you need another bath."
And the tub stood back where it was before, filled with steaming water.
Methos had given up wondering. He let the sword drop from his hand and grasped the offered hand to pull him up.
With a slightly impatient "Get in!" the other man pushed him towards the tub and Methos, stomping down on his urge to protest for now, obeyed.
As he sank into the water again, the stranger’s hands settled back onto his shoulders and started stroking. Methos barely bit back the groan and his erection was so hard by now that the new wave of arousal couldn't do anything to it.
"Who are you?" he ground out, anything to distract himself.
"My warrior can speak," the seductive voice whispered right next to his ear, laughingly. Then the tone got deeper, more powerful. "I am Ares, God of War."
Forfeiting his disbelief and any theological discussion in the face of the power the other man had displayed, Methos had to accept this as the truth - for now.
A small smile played across his lips. It wasn't every day that one was seduced by a God. A touch to Methos's earlobe warned him a split second before the other man's voice flowed over him again.
"Oh yes, my not-so-mortal warrior. And a thousand men would gladly die for the honours that I have already given you. But I won’t ask that of you." His voice dropped even deeper, "All I want is to hear you scream my name when you come."
Methos swallowed. He had two choices here: either say no, get up and try to leave or say yes, and hope that the...god or whoever he was would let him leave in the morning. Maybe he would wake up and find that he’d dreamed the whole thing.
"If you wish. I do give you my word that I will let you leave - should you so desire. But it would be a pity."
Methos still knew that that didn't mean anything, since there was nothing he could do to stop the other from breaking his promise. But it was enough to placate his brain - or so he told himself. Deep down he had to admit that he wanted this. Very much.
And his libido wanted what it had been denied all day and even the soft waves against his erection were pure torture.
"Yes."
A soft chuckle against his ear, then a tongue lapping at his neck.
"Come on. You're in agony. What are you waiting for?” The god’s voice became dark with promise. “You will be able to come more than once tonight."
Methos just wrapped his hand around his erection in response. For a moment it hurt, it was so good. The God's hands stroked from his shoulders down to his chest and brushed his nipples. Methos had to bite his lip to suppress a moan.
A bite to his neck reprimanded him.
"Don't ever curb your responses. I want to hear what I do to you. Be as loud as you want. And now stroke yourself. You have a gorgeous cock. I want to see your come shoot out of it.”
Methos moaned. He’d had a lot of people talk dirty to him over the centuries and thought he was used to it but this man’s…god’s… Ares’s voice was getting to him. He sped up his strokes and soon came with a loud groan and so hard it almost hurt.
Boneless, Methos sank into the water, for a moment not caring about anything but blessed relief. Then a tweak to his nipple reminded him that he was not alone.
Dazedly he stood and stepped out of the tub, water running down in rivulets. Taking a deep breath he turned to face Ares, who gave him an once-over, then smiled approvingly.
“Sit on the bed,” Ares ordered and Methos had no choice but to obey on shaky legs. Sitting down was a good idea.
As soon as he sat down, Ares waved his hand and two things happened at once. Methos was dry and warm and Ares was naked.
Methos mouth went dry. He let his eyes roam over the magnificent body all made hotter by the arousing and intimidating smile that was still on the god’s lips.
Ares stepped closer and Methos knew what was going to happen next. He licked his lips in anticipation and the god’s smile grew wider and more predatory.
The bed was fairly low and the other fairly tall, so when Ares had reached him, Methos just needed to lower his head a little to reach the hard cock in front of him. He touched the tip of his tongue to the head to get a first taste, then lapped softly at the slit. A hand settled on his head, not demanding, not threatening, just stroking gently.
Methos ran his tongue along the hot length, pressing deeper with the tip sometimes, sometimes touching so lightly Ares made an involuntary movement forward. When he’d had his fill, Methos pulled back and looked up at the other, letting a smug grin emerge. Ares was matching his grin with a glint in his eyes.
Challenge met and answered.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Methos’s reason was pointing out that you couldn’t really reduce a god to a whimpering mess, but Methos knew he’d have too much fun while trying that he didn’t care if it was possible or not. Also he’d get some really great sex out of it.
With a last glance at Ares, Methos lowered his head again, this time taking in as much as he could. He thought he’d heard a low moan but he couldn’t be sure for the rushing in his ears. For a moment he simply sucked and then he proceeded to use every last trick he’d ever learned to get Ares to lose control.
Just when Methos thought he’d have to give up, Ares’s hold on his head grew tight, his hips bucked and then Methos was hard pressed to swallow fast enough. He licked up every last drop, then let the softening penis slip from his mouth and rubbed his aching jaw. But he couldn’t help the satisfied grin breaking out.
He looked up, prepared for anything, but he needn’t have worried. Ares was looking down at him through hooded eyes, with a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips.
“My turn!” Ares growled and pounced.
Methos didn’t have a choice but to go with the flow as the god’s body pressed him into the soft mattress. Ares’s hands pinned his wrists down and the god nibbled, sucked, licked and bit every part of Methos that was within reach of his mouth. Shoulders, ear, jaw, but mostly the neck and Methos was soon moaning and whimpering as if he hadn’t just had an explosive orgasm. His cock had started to fill again when Ares had come in his mouth but now it was fully hard again.
When Ares reached his nipples, Methos decided that enough was enough and he needed to do something. He started struggling playfully to get out from underneath the god and Ares grinned that seductive smile again.
Soon they were wrestling all over the bed, hands groping on naked flesh, the firelight reflecting on their bodies, sliding against each other with sweat glistening between them.
When they were both pleasantly sweaty and slightly out of breath - or at least Ares was pretending to be, Methos figured - Methos found himself sitting astride the god, with Ares watching him with a bemused expression.
“Yes, you can fuck me now. But if you do, I promise you that I’ll take you afterwards. And I won’t let you come until you beg me,” Ares said conversationally.
“Or?” Methos was stalling.
Instead of answering, Ares just wiggled his groin and Methos groaned as their cocks rubbed against the other.
Methos was tempted. It would sure be the easier option. But he knew he wouldn’t take it, no matter how much begging he might be doing later. And he was certain Ares knew that. The knowing glint in the god’s eyes seemed to confirm that.
So, Methos raised an eyebrow and the god waved a hand lazily. Suddenly there was a jar in Methos hand, which contained some sort of oil. Perfect. But he didn’t need it yet.
He fixed Ares with his best, threatening glare. Other men would have begged for their life now. The god just raised an eyebrow.
“Will you stay put?” Methos asked menacingly.
“For now,” Ares grinned.
Instead of answering, Methos slid down the other’s magnificent body, deliberately slow. It was fairly given that he was going to beg later, but nowhere did it say that he couldn’t try his best to reciprocate now.
Bypassing the again hardening erection, he pushed the other’s legs apart and grabbed his buttocks with his hands. Methos buried his nose beneath the balls that were just as tanned as the rest of the body.
Then he proceeded to try again to reduce the god to a whimpering mess. He didn’t manage of course but this time he heard several very satisfying moans as he plunged his tongue into the body before him. It made his cock jump painfully.
Methos soon had to stop or he wouldn’t last to enjoy the actual fucking. He pulled back and reached for the jar of oil, intending to put some into the tempting ass before him. But Ares stopped him by taking the jar from him.
The god then dipped his own fingers into the oil and quickly spread it on Methos’s cock. Methos had a hard time trying not to come right then. But Ares was unrelenting and grinned unrepentantly.
When he’d finished, Ares turned around and got to his knees. Methos moaned at the sight before him but was also a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to see the god’s face while he was inside him.
Ares threw him an unreadable look over his shoulder and then suddenly a mirror appeared at the sight of the bed. Methos could see both of them reflected perfectly. He swallowed. Now he *knew* the god was reading his mind. But he couldn’t dwell on that now for his erection was screaming at him to get on with it, already!
He obeyed and sheathed his cock inside the welcoming ass before him in a single move.
It was perfect.
For a moment Methos had to rest and catch his breath or he would have come. Conjuring up all the most un-erotic images he could think of, he managed to stave of the imminent orgasm a while longer.
A chuckle from the body in front of him didn’t really faze him. In answer he just pulled out slowly and pushed back in hard. Ares moaned.
Methos grinned. He set to it in earnest, alternating long and hard with deep and quick and when he managed to hit the prostate more often than not, Ares started to moan constantly.
Methos dragged his gaze from the sight of his cock disappearing into the tight ass to the sweat-glistening shoulders. From the corner of his eye he could see the mirror but realized he still couldn’t see the god’s cock.
Pulling out half-way he grabbed Ares’s shoulders and pulled them both to a kneeling position.
That was better. Their eyes met in the mirror and this time there was no mockery or teasing on the god’s face. Only desire.
Methos groaned.
“Touch yourself”, he whispered into the god’s ear, just as the other had done earlier.
“Fuck me,” Ares answered, just as his hand wrapped around his glistening cock.
Methos moved again, slowly in time with the other’s movements. He also started to give payback for every nip and lick and suck and bite the other had bestowed on him. A certain spot on Ares’s neck, made the god writhe and speed up his hand, so Methos concentrated on that and soon he knew they couldn’t hold back much longer.
He sped up his movements, thrusts going fast and as deep as he could make them in this position. Eyes riveted to the mirror he moved even faster, his hips slamming against the other’s ass.
“I’m going to come inside your ass, Ares,” Methos whispered hoarsely. “And when I do you’re going to come and I’ll watch.”
“Then fuck me harder,” Ares answered and moaned as Methos complied.
“Yes…harder.”
“Now. Come!” Ares commanded.
Shaking through his orgasm, Methos had a hard time keeping his eyes open to watch as Ares’s eyes looked deep into his and then closed just as the first spurt of come left Methos’s cock and poured deep into the god‘s ass. He watched, riveted, as Ares’s cock erupted at the same time and the come splattered against the mirror.
They were both moaning and gasping but Methos didn’t care. He was still coming.
And then it was over. Ares collapsed underneath him and Methos tried to break the fall on his hands but they had turned to jelly and collapsed onto the body beneath him. He just had enough sense left to roll off the other, before his consciousness left him.
*
Methos opened his eyes and moaned. His cock was engulfed in the hottest place it’d ever been and it seemed like the recent, best orgasm of his life had never happened. Also the ceiling of the four-poster had been transformed into another mirror and he could watch perfectly as Ares sucked his cock.
The god raised his head, licking his lips.
“I told you, you’d come more than once tonight.”
Methos swallowed. He wasn’t sure he’d survive another orgasm like the last one. It had been a very long time since he’d blacked out from pleasure. The begging he didn’t mind so much now.
Ares made no move to return to what he was doing, simply watching him and Methos wondered if he was waiting for an answer. Was he supposed to beg already?
The god chuckled then, for a moment no threat or seduction on his features. Methos raised his hips in answer, hoping that would be enough for now.
It was. But instead of going back to his cock, the wicked tongue slipped lower and then Ares repaid Methos for what he had done earlier. And a hundred times more. All made worse - or better? - because he could watch every flick of the tongue in the mirror above him.
Soon Methos was gasping and moaning and writhing. He didn’t know whether he wanted to escape from that maddening tongue or shove himself against it. His cock was aching but he wasn’t going to touch it.
He tried to make a sound, anything to tell Ares that he needed his cock inside him NOW! but just a raspy moan came out.
The god understood him anyway and pulled back. For a moment Methos felt at a loss but then warm slickness was coating his insides without a finger touching him. It seemed the god was getting impatient. In the state he was in, Methos didn’t mind, he didn’t think he would have survived a prolonged preparation anyway.
And then he didn’t think anything anymore, for Ares’s cock pushed against his opening and slid slowly in until the god was buried balls deep inside him.
Methos didn’t know where he should look, at the ceiling or at the sight before him.
At that moment Ares pulled out and plunged into him again and Methos simply closed his eyes and moaned.
And almost screamed as the next thrust hit the nub inside him full force. His hands were balled into fists with the will not to touch himself. Somehow he knew he wasn’t supposed to.
So he opened his eyes again and concentrated on the god who was currently fucking him with sure, slow strokes that hit his prostate every time.
Sweat glistened on Ares’s forehead and he was drawing in raspy breaths. Methos could barely hear them over his own moans but the fact that they were there at all sent even more pleasure coursing through him.
“Now, I’m going to make you beg, my warrior,” Ares suddenly groaned out. He sped up his strokes, going deep and fast, sending waves of waves of pleasure through Methos, who knew he wouldn’t be able to come yet.
Not until he begged. But he wasn’t there yet.
Ares reached out with a hand then and touched his cock. Methos screamed. Then his scream turned into moans again and then into sobs when the hand left him.
“Please…ah…please let me come.” Now he was begging.
“Not yet, I’m not fucking you hard enough yet. Beg me.”
“Harder...ah...harder.”
“Yes, you’re going to come just from me fucking you, while I come deep inside you.”
“Yes.. please.. make me come.. fuck me harder,” Methos was sobbing now. He couldn’t help it.
“Ohh, you beg very nicely, my warrior,” Ares rasped out and then pounded into Methos.
Fast and hard and deep.
“Want to..ah..come now?” Ares asked hoarsely and Methos instinctively knew something else was required.
“Yes… please… my god… make me come.”
“Look..oohh…look at me.”
Methos opened his eyes and looked into the god’s eyes.
“Come!”
As if some barrier was suddenly gone, the pleasure rolled through him in one great wave and his orgasm exploded out of him and Methos was coming and coming and coming.
“Oh God...Ares!”
“Yes…I’m your god… let me see you… come… while I fuck you…deep. I’m coming…YES!” Ares moaned as he exploded into Methos.
*
When Methos woke up, he was alone.
Groggily he seriously contemplated rolling over again and going back to sleep but he didn’t want to wear out his welcome. Also the god might get some ideas about having a go at him again and Methos for sure wasn’t up to it right now.
“But surely you wouldn’t mind a repeat performance?”
The voice send shivers down Methos’s spine and he slowly turned. Ares was sprawled in a throne-like chair, eating some grapes. Methos’s stomach growled.
The god waved impatiently and tables with more food appeared before him.
“You know I don’t,” Methos replied evenly as he searched for his clothes and weapons and put them on. “But I can’t do this every night.”
“Pity though,” the god mused. “But I guess I’ll know when and where to find you again.”
Methos gulped. Yes, Ares would find him and then... Memories assaulted him.
“I told you, I wanted to hear you screaming my name.” The voice was whispering in his ear again and Methos whirled around.
Ares was standing so close behind him now that Methos was practically in his arms. Methos didn’t dare move since the black eyes were keeping him spellbound again.
“I wanted to seduce you into worshipping me,” Ares said and Methos blinked. “But I have so many worshippers, I like this agreement of ours better. We can entertain each other for a few centuries to come.”
Methos nodded silently. What else was he supposed to do?
“I was sad when you left your path of destruction and death,” the god continued. “You were glorious, my warrior. I wanted to turn you back onto that path, so I could revel in your slaughters once again. But I realized that you will not return to that path. Still, you will always be my warrior and one day I‘ll get you to admit it. Even though you‘ve become more peaceful. The fact that you‘re still fighting is enough.“
Methos wasn’t sure what Ares was talking about but it didn’t sound bad. The god chuckled at that and then his eyes bored into Methos’s. Methos swallowed and then Ares crossed the little bit space that was still separating them and took his mouth in a thorough and at the same time tender kiss that felt like it lasted forever and not nearly long enough.
“Something to tide you over until next time,” Ares whispered hoarsely and vanished.
Methos blinked again, then shook his head to clear it. He had no clue what had just happened but there would still be enough time to think about that later. For now his stomach was demanding food.
A little while later, stomach pleasantly full, Methos stepped through the cave mouth into the morning sunshine and smiled.
It had turned out to be not such a bad day after all.