Title: Contrast and Submission
Author: Vesper
Rating: R
Pairing: Ares/Joxer
Archive: If you want it you can have it
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the character. And I only wish I had black silk
sheets.Summary: Ares's POV as Joxer sleeps
CONTRAST AND SUBMISSION
The fact that he can find such total peace in the God of War’s bed is an ironythat is not lost on me. To watch him sleep is a study in contrasts: his paleskin almost luminous against the black silk of my bed. The graceful sprawl ofhis limbs when I know awake he is as graceful as a cat in a bathtub. A mandedicated to war, raised in a warlord’s home but as pure and innocent as anewborn.
His perfection and purity are superficially marred right now, I can see theshine of semen on his thighs and bruises pepper his skin. Not all those bruiseswere inflicted by me, but I can claim the majority.
A wave of the hand and a flex of power and the old marks are gone, leaving onlythose left by me. I study the soft white skin of my mortal, which was first? There…where I grabbed his arms. Trailing one finger a hair’s breadth across themark I make the dark shape of my hands fade, first on the right arm, thenleaning over him for the other. Even after a night of loving, his scent, as Isupport myself above him, is intoxicating and I want him again. I’ll wait for awhile: he needs to rest and heal first.
The back of his neck: I gripped him hard there, it’s a little red. As I gentlymend him I remember the look on his face as I moved towards him: fear and need,he is capable of such great passion. If such a passion were directed to war hewould be a warrior to rival Xena. Somehow I’m glad it isn’t.
The lips are next; they’re swollen from the force of those kisses. My lipsstill tingle too: I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time exploring a lover’smouth as I did with him. My first thought was to kiss him hard and throw himdown on the ground, but that mouth…so sweet, so devastating truly a formidableweapon. I’ll leave his lips kiss-swollen for now: I’m not ready to remove thetraces of that.
What was next? Teeth and passion-marks…my mouth filled with the taste of sweat,leather and later his blood as I lost myself in the feel of his skin under mymouth. I was so hard it hurt, I wanted to hurt back. He cried out when I brokethe skin but never said stop. I’ll leave one mark, on his neck, to show he’smine.
He’s lying on his stomach so I can’t see…sometimes being a god is worth all thetrouble…I can lie him on his back without waking him. Although, right now he’sso exhausted I could probably tip him out of the bed and he wouldn’t wake.
Ah yes, more teeth marks. A thought and they’re gone. Turning him over I cansee his worst hurts: the scrapes and bruising over his hipbones. Making love onthe bank of a river illuminated only by the light of the moon may sound romanticbut there are far too many rough edges lying around. I wish he’d saidsomething: it must have hurt to be pounded into the rocks like that.
He stretches as I kiss those hurts better. His hands flung above his head andhis long, lean body relaxed and sex-satiated below me. I’m hard again, I wantto wait for him to wake and some things are worth the wait…but patience wasnever one of my virtues.
I find the last injury. Yes, I was rough with him and he was damaged inside. Not badly, but enough to spoil his enjoyment of what I’m about to do. I wakehim slowly by rubbing his wounds better with oil-coated fingers. His eyes aredark and sleepy and he smiles like the sunrise. His words are lost in a gasp asI lick him clean and prepare him for our next round.
How ironic that I, who crave conflict, should be so undone by a man’s instantsurrender and submission.
The End
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