A/N: Thanks again for Wednesday1990 for proofreading! :3
Rating: M for language and suggestive themes.
Main Pairing: USxUK
Side pairings: GiriPan, RoChu, FraNada, GerIta, SpaiRoma, DenNor, SweFin, and others.
Ares-Arthur/England
Heracles/Hercules-Heracles/Greece
Zeus-Francis/France
Apollo-Vash/Switzerland
Artemis-Lili/Liechtenstein
Athena-Elizabeth/Hungary
Dionysus-Feliciano/N. Italy
Demeter-Katja/Ukraine
Poseidon-Ivan/Russia
Hermes-Lovino/S. Italy
Hephaestus-Berwald/Sweden
Hestia-Natalia/Belarus
Hades-Lukas/Norway
Warnings: M-rated contents, and language. Some stuff are made-up, but most are actual according to Grecian myths. This story is purely fiction.
Chapter Two: Enraged
Ares felt like he had been hit by one of Zeus's mighty lightening bolts and his groggy mind was only just beginning to comprehend the situation that he was in. Wide emerald eyes shone with a panic and shock that was so intense he could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears like drums. He looked down onto himself, taking in the sight of his disheveled and naked state. He was still wearing his dress shirt, but the buttons were all missing and his pale, toned torso was too exposed for his liking. And his pants… his pants were gone. He tossed his head and found the indigo trousers were on the carpeted floor along with a pair of black boxers and they were a complete mess. How could his pants fly all the way over there? He didn't even remember having taken them off.
And then there was… someone.
Even Zeus's lightening sounded much more appealing when he came to realize, in sheer horror, that there was someone hovering above him. He looked up and froze. He recognized that toned arm, that… face. He couldn't believe his eyes. That man. That blonde American stranger he met at the club. The one who had tried to woo him, and he had foolishly let him do so. He gaped and his throat go dry. His trembling jade eyes slowly trailed along the muscular torso down to-
His pupils grew even wider when he realized the man was holding his legs spread apart in a suggestive pose, pushing on them while pressing his-freakin' sweet Zeus-loins against Ares's backside. Mortified, Ares flinched slightly, then suddenly a jolt of pain mixed with pleasure shot up his spine and made him yelp in surprise, eliciting a soft grunt from above him. He was beyond shocked. Did he just feel something move inside of him? Something hard and… fleshy. Fear dulled his mind when his sight went down again and found an epitome of abomination and nightmare.
Zeus.
Ares blanched and froze. He felt his heart stop and malfunction at the realization. He no longer gaped and was now tight-lipped. He stared blankly, wide-eyed. The shock only lasted for a split second before he could finally return to his rightful state of mind. And now that he was there, the shock instantly morphed into feelings of shame and a deadly wrath that was growing rapidly to the point that it would explode.
And it did.
"Fucking-Get off of me, you foolish mortal!" Arthur screamed at the top of his lungs, flailing his arms to push the bigger man.
Alfred was completely taken back by Arthur's unexpected monstrous strength and when he was pushed rather harshly, he lost balance which caused him to suddenly pull out. Arthur let out a throaty gasp in response while Alfred fell off the bed onto his back and he let out a pained shout.
Ares was outraged and ashamed. With his face reddened in anger and embarrassment, he pulled the sheets to cover his nakedness but stopped when a jolt of sharp pain crawled up his body when he tried to move. He leaned and clutched onto the bed post, his hand reached to hold his aching waist. He had just noticed he was still feeling hot and listless as well from the recent orgasm. Ares cursed indignantly, swearing he would remove that man's balls for doing this to him, once he had recovered a bit of strength.
"Fuck," He cursed, groaning from the pain in his waist. He couldn't move without having the pain weaken his knees. Growling in frustration, he tried to lighten the pain by massaging his backside, but when he did, he once again froze suddenly.
Something warm dripped down his inner thighs, making thin trails down onto the clean sheets.
And he snapped.
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
Ignoring the pain in his waist and turning around, he felt an uncontrollable desire to go and rip a head off of American shoulders. But his body said otherwise and he unsuccessfully flopped down onto the soft cushion instead. His waist hurt so much that his legs refused to cooperate. Frustrated, he could only glare at the young man as Alfred rose to his feet, perfectly energized and sexually sated. And the American even had the galls to flash a toothy grin at him.
"Sorry, I was too rough, wasn't I? I forgot it was your first time," he said with a satisfied grin.
Arthur was too angry to utter words properly. "You… you… you fucking son of a bitch!" he snapped, glaring holes through the American's head. "How dare you! To me, Ares the Mighty God of War!"
Alfred only looked at him funny. "Now, now, Arty darling, are ya still drunk? I know the first time hurt like a bitch, I understand. You should rest for a bit."
"Drunk? Drunk!" Ares growled dryly, clutching at the sheets. "So that's how you got me into this mess! You mortal piece of shit, once I have my strength back I swear I'll-what the?"
The enraged God suddenly went quiet when his eyes fell upon Alfred's half-naked body. There was some sort of tattoo on his torso. Arthur noncommittally leaned forward to get a better look and he drew out his hand to finger the tattoo. The round tattoo was placed right in the middle of Alfred's torso, just below the chest and above the six-packed abs. He looked at it closely and saw what appeared to be a small emblem of a cattle that was wearing a polos, a high cylindrical crown, with a pomegranate laid at its front legs. Arthur's face went from hot shades of red to a sickly shade of pale blue at the sight.
"Hey, are you okay? You don't look so good." Alfred approached him, worry written on his face. He outstretched his hand to feel Arthur's temperature, when suddenly a pair of horrified emerald eyes stopped him.
"Tell me," His lips trembled. "I-how could we-did we… did we do something else besides… besides sex?"
"What? You're not satisfied?"
"Just answer, you damn brat!" Ares snapped again, causing the other man to stagger back in response.
"Well," Alfred scratched his cheek, a deep flush tinted his face. "You were… kinda wild then, so… umm-" His face reddened further.
Ares could feel warmth surging up his face at the memory, but refused to show any emotion.
"I was really going with the flow… and you looked like ya felt the same so I kinda got caught up-sorry, I know you're a virgin… damnit, I actually feel like the bad guy here." Alfred scratched the back of his head, showing a sheepish face. He coughed briefly, then resumed. "I'm really, really sorry… that I… came inside."
Heat rushed to Arthur's head, not from the shame but from the bursting impatience and anger. "Not that, you bloody thick-headed idiot! Aaaah, screw this!"
He got up, his waist feeling less painful than before. Rage overtook him, he ignored the pain completely, and went to fetch his clothes, flinching as he bent over to pick them. He furiously began to dress himself, paying no attention to Alfred's vain attempts at apologizing. He gritted his teeth as he buttoned up his damp, wrinkled shirt, smelling the thick scent of sex clinging to him and his clothes. He didn't bother cleaning up, but he did flinch when more foreign liquid rolled down his legs although he desperately tried to ignore it. He didn't even want to know what that was. Ares had decided this was just one of his many night-stands and he would treat it as such, no more, no less.
And the tattoo. Arthur shrugged to himself. Maybe the tattoo was just a coincidence, maybe Alfred had the exotic tattoo done for him at some random tattoo shop, young men these days regarded it as fashion anyway. The fleeting thought ran through his mind when Arthur's fingers suddenly stopped to a halt. His eyes fixed upon his torso at the exposed part of his unbuttoned shirt, his lips parted slightly and his fingers began to shake uncontrollably. His eyes showed the reflection of an identical symbol placed on the designated location, just below his chest and above his toned abdominals.
A high-pitched scream tore its way out of Ares' mouth.
Heracles waved at the dark-haired boy, who in turn waved and smiled at him.
He could feel his face heat up and he only smiled sheepishly, still waving blankly although the boy had turned his back on him and walked away. Heracles stilled, staring at the spot where the boy vanished from within his line of vision. His ears caught the sound of a purr and he glanced down at the three kittens cuddled in an open-lidded box he held. They were still small, their eyes had barely opened. Their tiny paws kept patting at his arms as they mewled softly, probably from the pressure of his hold. Realizing this, he loosened his arms.
"Sorry, sorry." He muttered softly, earning relieved sighs from the kittens.
One of the kittens clawed at his shirt, and slowly crawled up. Heracles only stared at it absently as the kitten slowly crawled up to his shoulder, licking at his face with a tiny tongue. Heracles shuddered, a warm feeling rose from within his chest and his face flushed. The two kittens in the box mewled, wriggling around and clawing at his arms. They were absolutely adorable. Their purrs, their soft fur, their tiny little paws, their naughty spoiled attitude… He wanted to cuddle them and keep them close all the time.
On Olympus, there weren't any animals that were like cats. There were magnificent creatures that could understand and speak human languages, like pegasus, satyrs, dragons, and the others, but they were smart and stiff and boring. They weren't nearly as cute as these kittens. These animals may not possess their intelligence or the ability to speak or fly, but nothing could ever beat their cuteness. Cats might be self-centered and cautious, but they killed with their looks.
He sighed.
There was no way Ares would let him keep them.
His older half-brother didn't like it when he brought home the stray cats he found. He thought they were dirty and smelly and they threw up his cooking. Heracles only got to keep them for a few days before Ares found them new owners and Heracles had to let them go. Although he was sad, Heracles knew Ares did that because Heracles couldn't stay in the human world for long, he had to return to Olympus periodically. And when he had to leave, who would take care of the cats? Ares had a lot of other things to do, so Heracles had to half-heartedly give them up.
He stared sadly at the kittens, knowing he would soon give them up to someone else. He caught a hold of the one who was trying to climbed up his face and safely put him in the small cardboard box again. They mewled softly and Heracles smiled. They were so cute. Noticing the dark sky, he decided to return to Ares' house. He spun on his heels and walked down the park's path. Soon he reached a large road filled with sky scrapers that looked like they could reach Mt. Olympus. Heracles was amazed at how hard the humans worked to reach the heavens. Though their heights could barely accomplish it.
Heracles used to get lost often in this concrete jungle and Ares had needed to go through a lot to find him each time he did. But now he had gotten used to the present city Ares chose to live in at the moment. He usually moved somewhere else after a decade or two and Heracles always had a hard time remembering the new streets and neighborhoods all over again. Since the personified slaughterer had lived here for about two years now, he remembered the way home from the town's park or the downtown part of the city. He always made sure to remember the way to the park first since he enjoyed taking a nap on the green lawns.
He walked down the street, passing a bunch of shops and stores along the way. There was less crowd tonight, he mused, taking a hold of an escaping kitten and returning it back into the box. The roads were busy and filled with passing cars as they always were, though there weren't that many people on the sidewalk tonight. He was thinking about this idly when a loud noise that sounded like an exploding bomb rendered his legs still. Screams could be heard as well, most likely from passing pedestrians. He noticed the explosion had come from behind him.
Heracles stilled, didn't seem fazed in the slightest, but he did glance over his shoulder out of curiosity. He saw smoke and dust come out of the cracked brick wall of a building while a surge of water burst like a fountain from a broken pipe underneath the cracked cement, it dampened the street and the rubble under his feet. He glanced down and looked up again, turning his body half-way around. He noticed that in front of the cracked wall, there was a man. He had honey-colored blonde hair and a well-built body with strong, muscular arms and torso. Why did Heracles know that? Because the man only wore jeans and his upper body shirtless. He looked frightened and shocked. Terribly frightened. That was what made Heracles curious.
And when his eyes followed the line of sight that the man's blue eyes made, his became wide too.
Another blonde had stepped out of the hole, his white dress shirt and indigo trouser were terribly messy and wrinkled. Green eyes shone madly with rage while a long and sharp silver spear was held tightly in his right hand, blue bolts of something like electricity jumped and flashed along the spear's length, making crackling noise each time they did.
Heracles felt his jaw drop.
"Ares…?" He muttered in both shock and disbelief. Was he daydreaming or was he really witnessing his half-brother ripping a hole through the brick wall of a public building with his Godly spear in hand? No, it couldn't be. He must be daydreaming since there was no way this could be the present Ares, who had always warned him to be careful not to reveal his real identity and who had always been careful to do so as well.
"Intolerable mortal," Ares spoke in a dangerously low tone. His eyes, filled with hatred, were fixated on the shocked blue-eyed blonde who was still on the ground. "How dare you-Tricking me into having bodily contact with you, even… even making me do that." His grip on the spear tightened, his voice trembled with anger.
Arthur seemed to be purposely ignoring the wide-eyed stares of the people around them. His full attention was on obliterating the man in front of him.
He bit his lower lip, suddenly thrusting the sharp triangular blade dangerously close to the tip of Alfred's nose. "Only death can atone your sin!" He didn't heed the screams and gasps of the ordinary people as he pulled the silver spear back below his shoulder and then in a split second he thrusted the spear forth, aiming for the blonde's heart.
Before it could even touch the bare chest, Heracles had a strong hold on his brother's knuckle and the spear, preventing him from thrusting further. The box of kittens had been placed inn a safe corner,
"Ares, stop, you're in public," Heracles warned him, a drop of sweat made its way down his temples while his grip on Arthur shook. He had to use his full strength to stop a God from attacking and it was quite a hard thing to do.
"Heracles!" Arthur gasped, then glared at the young hero. "Let go, Heracles. I'm going to kill this perverted immoral bastard!" He uttered, adding more force into his thrust. Alfred flinched as the blade moved an inch closer, but the younger god hadn't let go of his hold yet. More drops of sweat trickled down his hard face, but he still insisted, putting more force into pulling back the spear.
"Let go!"
"No"
Heracles shook his head, looking his brother straight in the eyes. "Have you lost your mind? If you kill him right now, father will forbid the human world to you. You may kill him, but choose a better place to do it. Be wise, my brother."
"I DON'T CARE!" Ares snapped back at him, glaring fiercely at Heracles, who flinched slightly at his tone. His emerald irises shone crimson in anger and hatred, so passionate and intense, Heracles thought he was facing Ares, the God of Warfare and Bloodlust he had battled with centuries ago.
"This… this mortal dared to trick me, Ares the God of War! He put his filthy dirt at my feet! I won't sit still until he's dead!" Ares growled, snatching his spear from Heracles's grip and turned his deadly glares towards the blonde, the spear made intense crackling noises in his hand. Alfred looked beyond terrified and confused at the same time.
Heracles, however, didn't make a sound. He was strangely quiet. For a second he was looking absently into the stormy sky beyond the sky-scrapping buildings, before he turned his head to his half-brother again. His expression hardened.
"Ares," he called out softly.
"What? You can't stop me, Heracl-"
His statement was cut off as he heard a loud dull sound and something struck the top of his skull with a monstrous strength, too sudden and too powerful for him to avoid. The pain registered into his head quickly, with eyes widened he turned around and saw Heracles, his blank face was staring at him. Arthur felt his vision began to wane and he lost the energy to keep standing, Heracles's face began to blur as his conscious began to fade away. His mighty spear fell onto the cemented ground.
He cursed under his breath before falling flat onto the ground. His head lied at the feet of the trembling American blonde. Alfred blinked, staring blankly at the fallen gentleman, his brain was still registering the events that had just happened before him. While Heracles was standing in silence, a perfectly fine, thick piece of red brick was held in his right hand.
Before long Alfred realized the shorter blonde needed medical attention, so he outstretched his hand to check up on him. But Heracles's more muscular arm suddenly blocked his vision. Heracles wordlessly grabbed onto Ares's shoulder, his dull brown eyes caught Alfred's azure ones.
"…he's fine, this much damage won't kill him," was all he said as he resumed pulling Ares up by the shoulder, a free hand wrapped around his waist to support the weight.
Alfred, who noticed the hand on Arthur's waist, furrowed his honey-colored eyebrows and frowned, glaring at the bigger man. Heracles noticed this, but didn't press further although he was slightly curious. To everyone's surprise, Heracles swung Ares easily onto his shoulder, the blonde may have had a smaller, slimmer stature than him, but he was still a man and Heracles could easily carry him like a bag of wheat. He calmly and blankly explained to the spectators around him that this was 'a scene for a new thriller movie' and told them the cracked wall was done by 'the latest microscopic bomb.' He then turned around and walked towards the corner to pick up his box of kittens. He smiled as they snuggled together and purred softly.
As he began to leave the scene, Alfred, who had calmed down and was now able to think again, got on his knees and shouted at the Grecian, "Wait! Hey, wait a sec, you!"
Heracles halted his steps, glancing over his shoulder.
Alfred was glaring at the dark-haired man, his muscular chest heaved up and down. "What was that all about? Where are you taking him?" He pointed an index finger at the unconscious man on Heracles' shoulder.
"I'm his relative," he told him.
"So, your his relative, well nice to meet you, but that's not what I wanna know. Just-Just what's going on! I was with Arty the whole time and he just suddenly-"
"Wait," Heracles suddenly interrupted, his hazel sight went to the American's form, fixating at a certain spot on his bare torso. His eyes instantaneously widened when he saw the tattoo.
"Where did you get that?" he asked.
"What are yoy looking at? What d'you mean, man?"
"That tattoo," Heracles repeated, pointing at the emblem. "Where did you get that?"
"Tattoo…?" A questioning eyebrow went up. And then Alfred looked down to where Heracles was staring. "Huh…? What the hell is this!" He exclaimed in confusion, frantic fingers rubbing at the round emblem.
Heracles stilled and he turned towards a flash of lightening that had struck a silhouette of a pole in the distance, then he glanced at the motionless God. The reason behind Ares' rage and the emblem he saw on the blonde stranger somehow struck something into his head. He could vaguely guess what sort of disaster had occurred between the God and the human man. Suddenly, Heracles approached the perplexed blonde, promptly putting a hand over his gawking mouth.
"Sshh." He said. "The lightening's watching."
Then he released Alfred's mouth, who looked at him questioningly. Heracles only put an index finger to his lips, then he signaled for the American to follow him. Heracles spun on his heels and walked away, Arthur's head and arms swayed across his back as he moved.
Alfred rose an eyebrow, but tailed him anyways while the noise of a police siren quickly approached the scene.
Alfred was restless.
He felt uncomfortable, being a stranger in such a big, elegant house while he was in unsuitable clothing. He was still topless, his feet were bare, dirty, cold, and itchy and they made stains on the perfectly clean carpet. Sneezing, he wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing some warmth into his cold skin. He looked around and realized he was an oddball in this room that was filled with antique victorian furniture. A beautiful and comfortable-looking leather sofa to his left looked very inviting, but Alfred realized his dirt-caked jeans would dirty the sofa so he preferred to stand. He felt really awkward somehow.
A minute later, the Grecian guy came into the guest room, holding a fuzzy clean towel in his right hand and a mug of warm milk in his left hand. He glanced at the restless American, putting the mug down onto the elegant glass table. "Make yourself at home, don't worry about the sofa and the carpet," he said, throwing the towel at the blonde.
Alfred caught it easily, murmuring a 'thanks' while wrapping the towel around his bare torso. Heracles watched as the blonde sat down and sipped on the warm milk, making himself comfortable. Chestnut-colored eyes trailed down at the spot between the chest and the six-pack abs, staring at the tattoo. A strange gleam appeared within those orbs.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, feels like I got no manners when your being so kind. I'm Alfred by the way. Alfred F. Jones," Alfred suddenly said, putting down the mug and thrusting a hand towards the quiet Grecian.
"Heracles." The young God accepted his hand and they shook.
"So… uh, Hercules?" Alfred uttered as he withdrew his hand.
"No, it's Heracles." The Grecian corrected.
"My bad, sorry. Heracles, is it? You said your Arthur's relative…?" The American timidly asked.
"Yes, I'm his stepbrother."
"Oh… Oh. I get it. I thought-no, It's no biggie." Alfred laughed sheepishly while scratching the back of his head. He looked oddly relieved.
"Mr. Jones…"
"Call me Alfred. After all, your Arty's brother."
Heracles lifted an eyebrow. "Arty?"
"Err… pretend you didn't hear that, please."
Heracles tilted his head in curiosity, but nodded in agreement. Then a moment of silence emerged between them. Heracles put both of his elbows onto the cold surface of the glass, laced his fingers together, placed his chin on top of them, and looked straight into Alfred's eyes. The American immediately became quiet, feeling the serious look the other man was giving him. His eyes were calm and cold, but something in them burned holes into his head, crushing him with an immeasureable weight. Alfred gulped nervously, a drop of cold sweat trickled down his temples.
"So, Alfred," he uttered in a low monotone. "I'm guessing something happened between you and my brother. Would you mind filling me in?"
TBC
