AN: Greek mythology is like one long drama. XP So many 'who's with who' and 'who's kid is whose?'
Thank you to those that reviewed! I'm pleased this idea has interested other people! :)
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Outside the boundaries of the city-state of Sparta, many soldiers with red tuffs on their helmet finished off their opponents with the efficiency that was trained and expected of them since a young age. The blurring of sword and silver hair marked the god of war amongst the chaos, swiftly cutting down the last of the opponents.
Upon surveying the field, the King of Sparta raised his bloodied sword in victory, rallying the roars of his fellow fighters. The King of Sparta along with his Spartiates had paid Ares many offerings for this triumph and full of bloodlust Ares had led the charge as he was oft to do.
The god now stood in full armor and wearing the helmet of his favored city-state. He lifted his bloody shield and sword in ultimate triumph, the addicting adrenaline coursing through his body. That satisfying thrill of battle made him call out his own victory cry.
The roars of the people grew louder; Ares reveled in it, having slaked his thirst for now.
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Night fell and the soldiers were back home, feasting and drinking. A few stayed on guard by the gates and a set group of soldiers refused any drink in the case of a sneak attack.
The battle was won, but Spartiates were soldiers first and foremost.
Ares stayed for some food and drink, liking the rewards of a battle well done. He sat on his chair in a higher position than even the king, surveying with a bit of pride at the number of soldiers still left over from the battle. He bit into his meat, tasting the boar with renewed flavor.
His calm satisfaction was soon disturbed.
With the boldness of the Spartan women around and taking their husbands or chosen males elsewhere—if they even bothered to wait that long—he grew restless again. The firelight shown along one woman's hair as she straddled a man, making the god think that it nearly looked to be red. He thought of the goddess of love's locks as they draped over her bed as she lay beneath him with sultry eyes and soft touches.
He tipped back the rest of his drink, having suddenly been hit with a different sort of thirst.
He stayed seated in place for only a few moments more before he gathered his gear and with a nod to the King, the god of war retired the festivities of the city-state.
He made for her sanctuary.
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When Ken had been thrown from Olympus, he had lost his forge there.
He had landed in Lemnos and from then on, he preferred to work in that new forge despite the reinstatement of his old one. Granted, he showed up in the Olympian forge in order to not anger Zeus or Hera, however, most of the real work took place in Lemnos. Being gods, travel was not such an inconvenience as for the mortals so he did not see it as a hassle.
During these last three weeks, Sora was staying at her private place by the sea more often than not.
Her husband hadn't noticed her going there often as he was too engrossed with creating Poseidon a new three pronged spear, a new chariot for Apollo, and tinkering with a pet project of his.
If he had been paying attention, he'd question why the sudden change.
Ken would have also noticed her frequent attention to a certain god in the hallways of Mount Olympus, but he was oblivious to the affair and the heated glances exchanged.
He was too busy caught up in his work-though not all of it included the forge.
When he had been cast out, he found some nymphs that had been a real comfort to him, not shying away from his crippled foot. They paid attention to him, listened and shot him looks beneath long lashes. He had fathered a few children during this time away that he had not known about before accepting Aphrodite.
He tried to tell himself that he continued the acquaintances with the nymphs out of some sense of duty, however, deep down, he knew that some tingling form of lust was what made him go to their bowers night after night, long after Aphrodite was asleep.
It was not necessarily seen as evil that he had other women; he couldn't name all of the children and consorts that Zeus had. He was a god as well, privileged to whatever he wanted solely by his birth.
Though, he did not think that it would bold well if his wife knew of the nymphs.
Some light giggling filled his ears; he turned around to spot the females looking at him from within his forge. His hand, as if on its own accord, placed the hammer down along the anvil.
His feet walked over to them, unable to control the desire in him.
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It was now night time and Leon walked through her place. He followed the sound of light splashing and by the glow of lamp lights up ahead, he knew where she was.
He did not need the light to find her bathing area, having been here more frequently than he probably should be. Technically he shouldn't be accustomed to her private sanctuary in any sort of way.
The issue was easily dismissed from his mind.
He pushed aside the strings of seashells hanging from the door frame leading to her enclosed pool in the back, the motion making a light clattering sound as the shells bumped into each other.
She had a few rather large oil lamps on, reflecting off of the water and her back which was to him as she bathed. The sound of the shells made her turn a little, her damp red hair clinging to her bare back and her bangs attractively plastered on the sides of her face and forehead.
Her brown eyes blinked at the sight of the god standing near the edge of her pool. He had stripped his armor and stood in his toga and sans sandals. Her eyes lidded a little upon perusing his form.
"I was not expecting you so soon, seeing as you had a battle to attend."
His eyes freely roamed her naked form. "I come victorious."
"That bolds well for you," she lightly said as she turned her head away, though one brown eye kept contact with him, "but what does that have to do with your presence here?"
He noted the corner of her mouth tilted up and her slender fingers lightly grazing the surface of the water, creating gentle waves that rippled around her and over to him by the edge of the pool. He could not help but think that she had sent the waves to him in a quiet and pleasing entreaty that he was not against.
"I require a bath," he rumbled.
Her hands continued touching the water as she turned fully towards him. She walked step by step in the water, not at all bothered by the fact that the portion of her body that was obscured by the water was slowly revealed to him.
He hummed, watching her progression over to him.
Wet locks of hair covered over her breasts, but did not hide the shape of her mounds from his eyes. Drops of water rolled along her body and went back into the pool, creating little ripples that were overcome by the larger waves that her legs made as she moved.
She stopped before him, unabashed at her nudity. She carried a grace and beauty in her bare form that he had not seen before and a confidence that was not tainted by a large ego or vanity.
If the tales of her birth were true, he would have given almost anything to have seen her emerge from the sea foam in her first moment of full splendor.
They stood before the other, silently appreciating the other's body. Soon, though, the quiet appraisal was interrupted as she felt a flickering of desire in her with the knowledge that he was here tonight and she was glad to see him. Their last encounter had been five days ago-that was far too long for her tastes.
"A bath," she murmured as her hands undid the tie around his waist, "you shall have."
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She had put on a robe before kneeling on the bank of the pool.
He sat in front of her by the water's edge.
In one hand she ran a washcloth along his body as the other hand was merely there to touch him as she pleased. He had briefly washed off after the battle, however, having seen her in the water and her dainty fingers brushing along the water's surface he wanted to know how she would bathe him.
Her lovemaking was new to him; he was certain her way of bathing would be as well.
He was very pleased with her so far and as she washed his hair and body and her hand roamed over his shoulders, chest, abdominal muscles, and even much lower a few times—which had caused his eyes to widen the first time, but her gentle ministrations calmed him, creating a languid burn of desire to form in him as he allowed her boldness—he found that he enjoyed her bathing him.
She put the washcloth down and reached for the conch shell.
She dipped it in the pool, filling it with water. His back shoulders touched her knees; she rested a hand on his shoulder to lightly push him to sit up. Since she had done this motion before, he knew what she wanted and he sat up, closing his eyes as she poured the water over his hair and face.
She watched as the water went over the contours of his face, down his neck and over his shoulders and chest, marveling in the strength of his physique and the attractiveness of his body that called out to her with a force stronger than her other lovers before.
He felt her fingers run through his hair.
"Let me dry you," she sweetly murmured in his ear, "so that I may continue with the bathing process."
He stood up, charmed by her and needing to see her in front of him again.
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After carefully drying him, she came back from her room with a bottle of scented oil.
She rubbed the substance into her hands and then, with special care and attention, she lathered it on his chest, not putting too much that it would annoy him but enough to add a gleam on his skin. The lamps glowed against his skin, defining and highlighting his muscled figure.
His eyes were lidded as he felt her hands massage the oil along his arms. Her short robe was made of the flimsy material and the loose knots closing it made him wonder if it was more to entice him rather than to "keep warm."
In the middle of her treatment, he undid the ties along the front. She continued rubbing the oil until his head bent down and his warm mouth sucked on her shoulder. He did not see it, but her lashes fluttered upon the contact.
"I'm trying to bathe you," she breathed out.
He chuckled along her neck as he backed her against the wall of the bathing area. She whimpered when his hands slipped under her robe and he gave a hard grind against her lower body. She cried out in pleasure; his bluntness told her that her seductions were working. She'd smile if she wasn't distracted by her need.
"You're trying to tempt me," he corrected with another grind.
Her body arched against him, wanting that delicious friction again. "I don't try," she brazenly said.
His eyes glinted in want at the confidence in her tone. "You don't," he agreed, lifting her up to straddle his waist as he carried them to her bedroom.
She nibbled on his ear as he walked, causing him to groan a little along the way. He was already delirious from her touches and her body currently pressing on him, her love bites were making sure that he'd go positively mad if he didn't have her within the next few moments.
Her curtains were already drawn aside, no doubt a foresight she had when she came into her room for the scented oil.
"Vixen," he rumbled out.
She gasped a little as he pinned her against the bed. His mouth went straight for her throat, attacking with teeth and tongue.
"Lion," she half groaned as his bites were fevered and his tongue hot and persistent.
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The candles in her room were melted down significantly, yet the lovers on the bed continued.
They were writhing and hips joining in an unceasing rhythm. Muffled moans filled her room as mouths were reluctant to leave the other, the taste of Love addicting and the heat of War a pleasurable scorching sensation.
She found that he was more open to her administrations than the first time they had met in secret. Liquid heat flowed in her veins and judging by the warmth his body radiated against her, she took it that he was feeling the pleasurable burn as well. She felt like a raging wild fire and she didn't want to control it.
In the middle of this heat, she threw her weight into him.
The sudden movement momentarily stunted him, he was lost in the feeling of her as the motion made the connection deeper. He groaned long; only when he felt the cool air in place of her lips did he realize he was on his back.
His eyes widened slightly.
Only for a greater pleasure did she leave his mouth, straightening up as she straddled him. She placed her hands along his chest in order to help her move her hips up and down. She loudly moaned at the new angle in which he now entered her, her head lulling back in mindless ecstasy.
He had been surprised and greatly incensed at their new positions. He was not a god that was ever beneath any one, especially a female. However, as she whimpered and moaned aloud, her pleasure evident as she boldly moved above him, his initial anger seemed to be quickly disappearing. When his name freely slipped from her lips, he found the new position to be extremely erotic, therefore more than acceptable.
He thrust upward as she went down. Her cry became passionate and her tone, oh heavens…the pleading want in her voice, the extreme arch of her body as she felt the pleasure from his addition, their positions were the last thing on his mind.
The vision and sound of her was intoxicating.
His hands gripped her hips and proceeded to add more force to her downward movements. She choked out something, she couldn't form proper words. His name, however short it was, was suddenly far too long for her to say as she only managed to get out one consonant and vowel before moaning incoherently.
He groaned in the pleasure and satisfaction in causing her to come to this state.
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He took pride in her limp state as she stayed on top of him, her body shuddering a bit as she attempted to calm her breathing. His hands stroked her back, feeling a slight sheen of moisture on her body from their activities.
"I approve," he murmured into her ear before he nipped it.
She gave a hoarse laugh. "Good, for I intent to do that more often."
He did not respond to that; he was too busy biting and tasting her skin. She mewled at the feeling, liking his attention. After a while of that, he noted that her breathing was regular again. She did not protest when he laid her on her back.
Her body was still in a lazy state but she was not opposed to him waking her desire up again. Languidly, her hands draped over his back as her hips slowly rocked against him.
His tongue continued along her body, allowing her teasing motion to gradually rebuild his desire. As she tipped her head back against the bed with a long moan as he found her breast, he reflected upon how he could not easily get rid of this thirst as he did with his bloodlust.
It was a far more voracious appetite than what he has come across before.
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