Warnings: a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, implied sex
"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." - Kahlil Gibran
At night, Joxer is no longer the worshipper but the worshipped.
The sword-calloused hands that reverantly side his clothes off his body are his prayers.
The lips and tongue that kiss and lick every single one of his numerous scars are the homage paid to him.
His surrender to his lover's desire makes the final worship all the sweeter; when his name name is wrenched unwillingly from Ares' mouth.
And when sleep brings the terror's of his childhood and life before this back, his tears are licked away like a sacrament.
The holiest words he's ever heard are when Ares says "I love you"