AN: I saw a painting of Venus and Mars (Aphrodite and Ares) meeting up in secret. It made me think about how that occurred and what would draw them to each other repeatedly, as they had multiple children together within Greek mythology.
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On Mount Olympus, Ares constantly saw the goddess of love about.
She was currently smiling and laughing with Athena, wearing a creamy robe and with strings of pearls along the top of her red hair but done in a way that left her locks loose and free.
He thought it was strange that she would be so open with her emotions, seeing as she was the wife of the Olympian blacksmith.
Just thinking about Hephaestus, with his strange short orange hair and smaller frame made the god of war want to scoff derisively—how could Zeus continuously depend on such a weak looking god for his lightning bolts? Hephaestus, or Ken—as was his preferred name—was nowhere nearby at the moment, no doubt crafting some item that popped into his head or some idea that a mortal wished they had.
As a fighter, Ares could admire the blacksmith's dedication to his work, seeing as the god had created excellent war armor and weapons for him.
As a male, however, Ares thought him foolish.
Ares' dark grey eyes slid over to Aphrodite, admiring the redhead's form. She was petite and slender, her bosom not so generous and her hips not the most wide to be found, but they were pleasing to his eyes, calling out to him with more force than what was appropriate.
Not that he was self-conscious about propriety.
She turned her head over towards him, a curious tilt to it that made her red locks slip over her shoulder. He inwardly groaned at the sight that she made, making him wonder if she knew what she was doing to him.
By the flash of a coquettish smile, he found that she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
The blacksmith's absence made it easier for Ares to want her.
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The banquet was long and of little interest to her.
Her husband came in for a bit, not wanting Zeus to think that he was willfully skipping out in the meal. What with his return from exile but less than a month ago, the blacksmith was cautious about upsetting anyone.
Aphrodite idly plucked a grape from her plate as Ken kept his eyes on Zeus.
In a show of good will, Zeus bestowed Aphrodite's hand in marriage to the blacksmith. Though, Sora knew that Zeus also did it in order to put an end to the drama on Mount Olympus. Apparently, many of the gods had approached Zeus for her, which also brought the jealousy of the goddesses and demi-goddesses, creating a rather large migraine for the head of the gods.
Sora inwardly sighed. She thought it was ridiculous that Zeus had a say in the issue, seeing as she was not a true daughter of his, having been birthed in the ocean amongst the sea foam.
She was born free in nature; being given away without her permission agitated her.
It's what made her find her own name, Sora. She didn't tell anyone what it meant, for she felt that it was the last and only thing that was hers to keep.
Her rich, earthen eyes slid over to Ken, who nodded to whatever Zeus said.
She had no personal qualms with him. In truth, she probably would have gotten along with him, even befriended him if it weren't for Zeus' decision. She felt like he would have made a good friend.
As her husband, however, she was not happy with him.
He looked at her, from time to time, but rarely touched her. He spent long hours in his forgery or with other gods requesting for items. More often than not, she slept alone. While they had separate chambers to begin with, except for their first night together, he did not visit her chambers.
She often found him still in the forgery when she was off to sleep.
She was mainly recalled as being the goddess of love and of beauty, but she was also the goddess of sexuality, and procreation. The mortals at least bothered to recall the last title every once in a while, asking for aid for their own procreation.
She blankly stared at her cup of ambrosia.
What Ken failed to realize was that being the goddess of those things meant that they were in her; she was craving and wanting those for herself. It was all inherently in her, just as the talent of crafting was in Ken…Just as war and conquest were inherent of him.
Her eyes lifted up to look at the god of war a little ways down to the left.
He kept his gauntlets and breastplate on, but his helmet was missing, allowing for his long silver hair to flow over the darker armor. The muscles of his arms showed, but his gauntlets covered too much for her tastes. Broad chest and shoulders, strong jawline, and sharp nose, but not overly exaggerated. His grey eyes reminded her of the sword he carried.
Beautiful, but oh so piercing.
He sat straight and tall, but not stiff. She wondered how he managed to pull that off meal after meal. His eyes cut the air, swiftly meeting hers. She felt that familiar thrill down her spine that occurred whenever their eyes connected.
His eyes stormed with want; she wouldn't be surprised if hers did too.
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The blacksmith left long after the meal.
Sora slowly made her way through the halls of Olympus, trying to give a certain god time to find her. Sure enough, her patience was rewarded when she felt a presence behind her.
"What danger lurks down these halls?" he rumbled.
She stayed still. "Danger?" her head turned a little to catch his gaze, "I'm hardly an enemy."
"No," he agreed, "more like a prize."
She smoothly swung herself halfway around the column before he could touch her. "You have much to learn," she coyly said as she watched him from behind the pillar, "about foreplay and wooing, god of war."
Her hand slowly stroked the smooth marble of the column, his eyes stayed transfixed as her slender fingers ran along the surface. "I know none that would be wooed by being called a prize."
"I know some," he stated with a half smirk.
She allowed him two steps before she spoke again.
"Those, I'm sure, were the spoils of war." With a haughty tilt of her chin, she stepped away from the pillar and continued her way down the hall.
Despite the armor, his steps were fairly quiet.
"Will you run from me, then?" he murmured, watching the swishing of her hair and clothes as she walked, "Are you that intimidated?"
His words had the desired effect. She stopped then and whirled around to face him.
"You do not scare me."
He took a few steps closer, leaving three in between them. "Those are bold words, goddess," he said with lidded eyes, "you do not even fear of being my conquest?"
Her own eyes half closed. She took the last three steps, putting them against each other.
"I doubt you could," she murmured, her hands running up his breastplate, "without me overwhelming you."
He felt her grip the top of his armor as she leaned her head up to brush her soft lips across his own. The touch was new for him and created satisfying feelings.
"Is that a challenge?"
She smiled. "An invitation."
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On earth, she took him to her private sanctuary by the sea.
He noted the calming sounds of the waves outside and smelled the salty air. The only times he came near the ocean was for sea battles. It was strange for him to be here for non-war issues.
His eyes slid over to her standing by her canopy bed.
He supposed this was a battle in itself, but much more gratifying in the carnal sense. He looked over her, the very figure he had been watching for almost three months now; and just when he had been about to make a move, Zeus had given her to Ken, infuriating the god to no end. What made the situation worse was that she had been starting to pay attention to Ares when she suddenly had to avert her attention to the blacksmith.
For a week, Ares had not seen the goddess on the mountain, except for the occasional banquet. He had been about to give up the desire for her when she started showing up again. For a while, she'd appear with her husband, but as the days went by, she was by herself more often than not, until the blacksmith rarely showed up with her nowadays.
The initial tension between Ares and her picked up where it left off, going from slight interest to simmering steam dangerously close to boiling in sexual desire.
He was more than pleased with her invitation.
"Your armor has no place here," she said as she slipped the strings of pearls from her hair.
He unfastened the leather ties of his breastplate, his shin guards, and his gauntlets. Her hand gestured to the side and he placed all of it, sword included, in the place she suggested.
He did not need such items to win this conquest.
She was now barefoot and pulling the gossamer bed curtains aside when he approached. She turned around upon feeling his hand along her shoulder, undoing the knot of her robe. Her eyes were sultry as she admired the sight he made in only his toga. She was pleased to note that he did indeed have broad shoulders and it was not solely a look that his armor had done.
The first knot was undone, followed by the second one on her other shoulder.
His eyes darkened in desire as her robes fell to the ground.
He wasted no time; he attacked her body with hands and teeth. She fell against the bed with a gasp, her hands pulling at his toga while he assaulted her body with purposeful and deliciously warm hands and mouth. He paused for a moment to rid himself of the toga and then renewed his plans in conquering her flesh.
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She cried out as he attached his mouth to her bosom without relenting in his thrusts.
The duo attack on her body, along with his rough, textured hands continuously touching and kneading her legs was bringing her close to the snapping of the coil in her stomach. Her hips could barely move against his, seeing as his body kept her firmly pressed into the bed. Her hands gripped his shoulders, holding onto him as he moved against her with the strong intent of bringing her to her end.
With one last swirl of his tongue and a deep thrust, she arched her neck against the pillow, groaning at the break of tension.
He watched her with great satisfaction, though he was a bit surprised that she had not called out his name. That was something that had been missing throughout the tryst, but he was not going to bring it to her attention.
She caught her breath.
He easily calmed his breathing, having not lost his breath as much as she had. Her release had almost brought his own, however, he persevered. With a smirk, he preened at his victory.
She, of course, saw it.
He frowned in confusion as she started to laugh.
"When I said you had much to learn about foreplay," she started with a little pat of her hand against the side of his face, "I hadn't realized that my statement needed to include lovemaking."
When indignation lit in his eyes, she laughed again.
"You found it lacking?"
Her lips curved attractively. "I admire your zeal and enthusiasm. You just need a little more passion with your impulsiveness," she finished as her fingers stroked the side of his face.
The touch calmed his temper a little and his frown eased a bit.
"Will you allow me to show you what I mean?" she softly murmured, making her voice docile and unthreatening but with a hint of a sensual purr to entice him.
Her fingers traced his sensitive lips, adding a final blow to his reluctance. Though, her gentle maneuvering was foreign to him, so he had not realized the effects of her actions against him.
With a nod of his head, her lips found the closest piece of skin to her, kissing and lightly licking his collarbone. She tasted the slight sweat that had appeared on his skin from earlier and she let out a light mew, the little sound and her mouth making him aroused. Her hands ran up his bare torso slowly, bringing out a long exhale from his nostrils.
She debated whether or not getting him on his back when she decided to forego it, not wanting to push her luck on his compliance.
There was always next time, she decided.
But for now…
Her hands went along the back of his neck. His eyes were slightly wide as her lips were on his, softly moving against his thinner lips. The texture of hers made him think of silk and the warmth come from fine wine. Her hands glided up to cup his strong jaw and she angled her head, her lips softly parting his own. Before he knew it her tongue was upon his, gently, sensually sliding along the length of his tongue in a languid manner.
He violently shuddered as she sent a jolt of electricity down his body.
A few times, he had the misfortune of coming into contact with Zeus' lightning bolts. It had been painful, even for an immortal.
What she was doing now sent his mind and senses in a flurry like the bolts, but instead of agonizing pain, he felt unfathomable pleasure.
She rolled her entire body against his. He groaned as her plush and soft body rubbed against him. Her tongue persisted in tasting him; he rolled his body back against hers as his tongue moved along hers, groaning again when the friction of both of them made for a greater pleasure.
She moaned as he reentered her without the force of needing to win over her. Her hips slowly met his, internally grateful that he was not preventing her from doing so this time. While she found his confidence alluring, she preferred to be able to contribute to the lovemaking.
As he needed to conquer, she needed to love.
One of her legs went around his waist as the other gave her a boost to push her lower half off of the bed and meet him with more force. Both broke off the kiss as the action caused them to throw their heads back and deeply moan.
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She knew not how long they have been making love, but she did not want to stop.
They were both hungry in their kiss and touch. He was along the lines of frantic passion as he thrust into her welcoming body. Her hands were tangled in his hair as she was lost in his rhythm, bringing her hips to meet him as often as she could.
"Ares," she whimpered, as his mouth attached to her neck, "Ares…"
"Leon," he heatedly murmured, "say 'Leon.'"
She bit her bottom lip as the tension in her body was becoming too great. His teeth ran over her slender neck and his tongue burned over her pulse.
"Leon…" she choked out, water collecting in the corners of her eyes as his arm went under her lower back to tilt her hip as he continued moving in her.
He panted against her neck, feeling his own desire close to the edge and threatening to come with a strong force. Her name was on the tip of his tongue, yearning to come out when he recalled that one time Athena called out to the goddess with a different name. Ever since then, that name has floated in his mind, echoing with a longing to be voiced out.
"Sora…" he moaned, the name tasting sweeter in his mouth than her given name.
The sound of her self-chosen name being used by him made her already fast heart speed up. Her eyes tightly closed as she was nearing the brink with even more strength than the first time.
"Leon…!" she gasped with a great push of breath out.
Her mouth was open in a wordless cry; her hands tightened in his hair, her legs, her arms, her entire body and the tension finally, finally broke and washed over her. He groaned against her neck, reveling in her release and with another deep thrust, his face buried against the bed next to her head, overcome with his own end.
He slumped against her for only a few seconds and then fell to his side.
She moved with him, continuing to cling to him as she enjoyed the lingering feeling.
He felt her nuzzling his neck, her soft lips grazing his skin every so often. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the sensation she was causing. His eyes opened when she settled down and placed her head under his chin.
"That's what you meant."
Her eyes, about to close, fluttered open. "Did I offend you?"
"…A little, but now it is in the past." His hand ran along her back, taking in the way she shivered against him. "This is better," he confessed, but then he grinned as he added, "Our next meeting will have more of both versions."
Her head moved and he saw her face, a sensual gleam in her eyes.
"Have I tired the god of war?"
His face leaned down and caught her bottom lip. "I have great endurance, I assure you."
"I did not think you were a man of words," she murmured, her hip rubbing against him, "action seemed to be your forte, unless I was mistaken."
She found herself on her back once more; he was poised above her with her right foot in his hand. His thumb ran along the bottom of her small foot, tickling her and making her squirm a little. She stilled when he placed a kiss along her ankle, the action catching her off guard.
He saw the opportune moment.
He released her foot and pounced on her, mouth devouring hers as he grinded against her, reveling in her moan and her hands running along his back.
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AN: I'm going to leave this as 'in progress' because I may add a few other chapters/drabbles concerning these two.