don't go chasin' waterfalls Who: Daniel [Ares] & Chris [Coyote]. What: Deities converge in a shared dream; Ares visits Coyote at Multnomah Falls. Where: Dreamspace; Multnomah Falls. When: Long time ago and right now. Notes: Completed gdoc! Rating: NC-17.
Water cascaded heavily over a rocky outcropping that provided a small amount of space between the hillside and the pool the falls landed into. Sunlight streamed over the scene, warming the rocks and the water; crickets, birds, and other fauna filled the scene with a lively music twirled by the wind as it moved over swaying golden grasses. The pool itself was mirror-shaped, created entirely by two rocky hands that cupped together to catch every last drop as it filtered down. The water's roar was dulled, the spray caused by its plummeting managed by a few stones that caught it on the way down, creating something akin to chimes; altogether, the place seemed both naturally made and somehow divinely inspired, as though some mind had carved and molded it together for an express purpose.
A thin pathway winded down from the hillside to the pool; unlike the pool, it was clearly created by a small pair of feet treading the same path over a number of days, carefully moving down the somewhat-steep incline to the water below. It twisted around, ending behind the falls, which provided some measure of privacy from any prying eyes.
A figure appeared on the path: tall, broad-shouldered, clad in battle-scarred armor. Sweat gleamed on his brow; blood stained his hands and his sandal-clad feet. A spear, its tip black with gore, rested in the crook of his shoulder. He exuded a kind of satisfied exhaustion as he moved down the cliff's face. The pool presented a welcome comfort, a respite from his toil.
The visitor paused at the edge of the water. He stared out into its depths, able to see to the very bottom of the crystalline pool. Satisfied, he stripped down, setting weapon and armor and clothing aside, exposing bronzed flesh to the warm sun above. He stepped into the soft waves of the pool, studying his reflection as the surface broke around him. Blood and caked earth sloughed off his skin, drifting away like old memories. He splashed water on his face, passing rough, tanned hands over his close-cropped beard.
The grasses around the pool shifted, this time with a more forceful movement than the light wind would have caused. A coyote, bent low to the ground, crept near the pool, a yellow flower in his mouth. He'd been expecting someone, but not this someone; still, the figure intrigued him enough for him to linger, carefully putting the flora down amid the grass that surrounded him. He scooted a little more forward, ears flat against his skull as he sniffed the air -- blood, sweat, and more stained the air, making his hackles rise. He certainly hoped that whoever this figure was, he didn't plan on bringing any of that into this sacred space.
The interloper dipped beneath the surface of the water. He stayed under for a long time, only to break the surface farther away, closer to the waterfall. His black hair dripped with beads of water; they caught in his beard like diamonds, diffusing the light. He pushed his hair from his eyes. Then he moved back toward shore, swimming with long, languid strokes, as though the pool and all around it were for no-one's pleasure but his own.
He paused just before the shoreline. He sat down in the water where it rose only to his waist; it pooled around his hips, lapping softly at his skin. He washed his hands, toying with each nail, picking dried blood from beneath each one.
The sight of the water moving over the man's bronzed skin pushed away all other thoughts the coyote had in mind; he'd been waiting for another, but the nudity on display in front of him was more than enough for a distraction. His paws ached, his tongue pushing at the black lips around his teeth, wanting to be that water. Crouching, Coyote shed his fur, transforming into the young man he sometimes wore to speak and play with the people his siblings had created. That was the fun of multiple forms, after all; clad only in a loincloth the same color as his skin, Coyote parted the grasses and stepped forward, eager to see the man's reaction to his arrival.
"I hope you're prepared to make amends for staining this sacred pool," he started, doing his best to sound professional and a little assertive. "Who are you, and how did you even know of this place?"
The man in the pool turned to face the speaker. His mouth was set in a hard line, only the slightest hint of a curve at its corner. Black eyes passed over the lithe, muscular form before him. An insatiable hunger gleamed openly in his gaze. "I am Ares Miaiphonos," he said. "And my bloodshed blesses this sacred pool. You should thank me for that." He grinned, a baring of hard, sharp teeth still faintly tinged with red. "Who are you, and what can you tell me of this place? I have not been here before today."
"This is Multnomah Falls," the man-turned-coyote replied. "This is my place, made by me. I am coyotl, of the Northern tribes. You may call me Coyote." He waved a hand around to underline his words that the environment surrounding them was his creation, and no small amount of pride colored his tone. "I would thank you to have asked first, before assuming something that is not yours.
"And I have never heard of this...Miaiphonos. From which tribe do you hail?" His eyes narrowed at Ares, trying to perceive any trickery on the naked man's part. Mostly, though, he was using the look as an excuse to enjoy the sight in front of him; even if he wasn't completely happy with Ares' additions to the pool, the pool was still accomplishing its initial task.
"I am Ares Miaiphonos, bloodstained warlord of the Olympians," Ares answered, "if you could truly call us a tribe. More a family, perhaps. An incessantly fighting family."
He turned where he sat. The slight shift raised him above the waves for an instant, baring him to the view of this land's self proclaimed creator. But the water was too clear; even when he sat once more, the mirrored water hid precious little at all. "You've made a fine land here," he said. "You should better guard it, if you intend to be so possessive of it." He smiled, and it looked like a challenge. "What punishment does such trespassing carry?"
Ares, Olympians, all of these things were unknown to Coyote, and all of the wonder and questions he might have had were scattered to the wind as his eyes raked down and up the man's body. Not only did he enjoy the sight in front of him, he enjoyed just how it was being put on display. Taking a few steps forward, Coyote came to crouching at the end of the pool, head canted to one side as though thinking seriously about Ares' question. His eyes were fixed on the dark orbs in Ares' head, so much like two dark stones burning with something Coyote could not name.
"You look as though you have little to offer as it is," he replied, sounding skeptical. "I already have you at a disadvantage." Coyote reached out and took Ares' chin in his hand brazenly, his thumb needled a dozen times over by the man's close-cropped beard. "I do like to taste new things, when I find them. It allows me a measure of what they truly are."
"Do you," Ares mused. He watched Coyote, unblinking, seeing at once the man and the true beast within. Short hairs rose at the nape of his neck. The energy that coursed between them was familiar, so very like the adrenaline that flooded him before a great battle. His chin tipped upward, defiant even in Coyote's grasp.
Ares stretched out his hand. Rough, scarred fingertips skimmed beneath the line of Coyote's jaw. His palm fitted to the column of the creature's throat. His thumb pressed to his bare adam's apple, pressing, only slightly. "Then take your measure," he said, "test me. And understand I am at no disadvantage here."
Coyote grinned wide, his teeth too sharp to be human. "Your spear, your armor lay on the other side of the pool; your throat lays bare and helpless in my hand," he replied, moving his appendage down from Ares's chin to the described location. He could feel the other deities' hot, strong pulse pounding away beneath the hot skin. Suddenly he wanted much more than a kiss. "What could you possibly do to stop me, if I decided I liked your blood better on the ground, shed there by my hand for what you've done here?"
Ares' voice was a rough whisper, ragged with want. "My armor and spear come where I bid, when I bid. I am only ever as bare as I desire to be." He leaned closer, pressing his throat into the hard grasp of Coyote's hand. His dark gaze flickered from eyes to mouth and back again. "And I am never, never, helpless."
The coyote-turned-man's face leaned into the other's, gently brushing his lips against the blood-spattered man. That first touch turned harder as Coyote took more, pressed more, tested his tongue against the barrier of Ares's lips and teeth. He tightened his grip around Ares's throat.
"Good," he replied, pupils flicking back and forth between each black stone embedded in Ares's face. "Helpless prey is the most boring." He took Ares's mouth again, pushing forward, his feet sinking into the edges of the pool.
As he sank, Ares rose, shifting the balance as his own grip tightened in answer. He opened his mouth, willing, demanding, but only for a moment. Then he moved forward, so quick it was more lunge than lean, catching Coyote's lower lip in his teeth; Coyote grunted in return, his brow furrowing in desire. They shifted in the mud, Ares above him for an instant as they tumbled to water and earth below. His hands gripped Coyote's hips, nails and calloused fingertips digging into ridges of bone hard enough to bruise. The loincloth was pushed down, the cured animal skin sticking to Coyote's flesh as the water dampened it.
Coyote was unwilling to be fully bested. Though the smaller man, he used Ares's own size against him to flip the other man down onto the ground, smearing that gloriously golden skin with more dirt. Situating himself atop the other man, legs spread to evenly distribute his weight over Ares's lower belly as his hands caught at the other man's wrists. He grinned into the kiss, his tongue tracing a path around Ares's mouth as he gloated in his premature victory.
But Ares' hips rose beneath him, a sharp buck that unseated the pool's creator, though only briefly. His smile was a near match to Coyote's own; pleased and pointed, demanding ever more. Long fingers curled downward, grabbing at the hands that held him down. Water lapped at them both; water, commingled with the last vestiges of blood. Ares' hips rolled again. His arousal was plain, pressed as it was to Coyote's leg. He groaned, and snapped at the god's mouth once more.
Then he lifted one hip with a small, quick snap, rolling his captor beneath him. His teeth moved to Coyote's throat, drinking down the taste of sweat and sunlight on him. "Try harder," he said, writing every word on the other man's skin with hungry lips and tongue. Coyote stretched his neck out beneath Ares's teeth, a moan escaping his mouth, elicited by the other man's rough touch. He felt content for a moment to remain under the other god, his hips jutting up toward the heat he felt between the other man's legs. Then he reached down, his furless, clawless hand grasping the other man's member.
"I think you're hard enough for the both of us," he replied cheekily, his other hand finding purchase on Ares's backside as he stroked the man's cock. His own was rigid, showing the enjoyment he took in their foreplay. He pressed again, keeping the stroke long and slow from tip to shaft to hilt, no longer trying to topple the man nor dominate him, but pull him closer.
It worked, and worked well. Ares settled between Coyote's legs, a roll of his hips pushing them wide even as it guided Ares further into the circle of Coyote's hand. The thin strip of leather that separated them was soon pushed aside. Teeth sank into the hard ridge of Coyote's clavicle. His hands moved lower, curving to fit his backside; he hitched the god's body up against his lap, spreading him open in the same greedy motion. He bowed his head and parted his lips over one dark, peaked nipple. His black eyes held his host's, unblinking, as he spoke.
"Do you still think I have nothing to offer?"
Coyote shook his head, his body trembling even as he couldn't wipe the smile from his mouth. "I'll take this in recompense for the damage you've done here," he replied. "Are all of you, ah, Olympians so well trained?" He pressed his crotch closer to Ares's, goading the other deity on as more little sounds eked out from his throat. His hand slid up Ares's back to his hair, grabbing a handful of the black locks there to hold the man's mouth tighter to his chest.
"No." Teeth closed around his nipple, making marks soon smoothed away by a hungry, laving tongue. Water splashed around them, licking at their thighs as Ares moved again. His body fitted close against Coyote's entrance. Ares watched him, his bright grin reflected in his eyes. "No other compares to me."
He took the god's cock in his hand as his own drove quick and deep into him; he moaned, shamelessly loud, against the hard plane of Coyote's chest. Coyote groaned as the other deity entered him, his ass tightening and then relaxing around the sensation of being filled. He stretched his legs out a little wider, his hips jutting forward into the grip of Ares's hand.
"Prove it," he said, his mischievous gaze catching the hard-muscled deity's eye without shame.
Ares groaned aloud at the challenge; he tried -- and failed -- to hide his grin against Coyote's skin. He moved up the god's body, holding him tight against the grinding of his hips as he plunged deeper, bucked harder. His tight grasp worked Coyote's length in time with each jarring stroke. His mouth found the soft hollow of the other man's throat, his tongue tracing tender flesh and hard bone beneath, every moan a hot breath over his skin. His thumb passed over the tip of him, battle-worn fingers surprisingly gentle on delicate skin before drawing tight over his shaft once more.
His strangled voice was the only vocal reply Ares received; Coyote grasped at the other man's back, his hips thrusting forward as the Olympian stroked him, the sensation of being filled over and over and over again pulling his mind in a million directions. His too-dull human nails dug into Ares's back, drawing furrows that lightly filled with blood. The hand in Ares's hair pulled his mouth up again, bringing his lips back to Coyote's as the pinned deity worked to reclaim some of his own power. He thrust his tongue into the Olympian's mouth, biting at his upper lip, crying out again as the god of conquest rammed home into him again and again.
Ares opened his mouth to the god beneath him, readily accepting this claiming of teeth and tongue. He shuddered as blood welled on his back and beaded in his hair, thrusting viciously into his partner as pain pushed him to new pleasure. He drank down every cry, licking even the remnants of them from the god's mouth, desperate for the taste of this new and unknown creature.
"Harder," he growled, his grip twisting on Coyote's cock. The deity caught beneath him gasped in reply, but complied without hesitation. His nails dug deep, drawing out more of the blessed blood that Ares had already used to mark the pool Coyote had created. Even as it beaded on his skin and dripped into the water, it dissipated into the transparent liquid as though changed from its natural state into something else. He could feel himself coming close to the edge, his orgasm building in his pelvis. He drew another hand across Ares's back, the marks left behind by something more akin to claws than nails.
The god above him cried out. His back arched into the touch of blade-sharp claws, sending thin rivulets of blood coursing down scarred, golden flesh. With one last, deep stroke he buried himself in Coyote's body, splaying his legs wide with the motion. He bared his throat to the mouth beneath him, utterly open as his orgasm took him. His hand drew tight around Coyote's length, stroking still, pulling his partner toward that blissful peak with him. It did not take the coyote-turned-man long, the pleasure echoing out within him even as he spilled himself, hot and white, between their conjoined forms. His grip on Ares's back tightened, and then went slack.
His hands slid over the markings he had left, playing with them as he leaned back against the ground beneath him. A frisky smile played about his mouth, brows arched with respect. "You've certainly set a high measure for anyone else who finds this place after you. It makes me wonder if it's just beginner's luck, or something more."
Ares laughed. He bit the edge of that smile, drawn to it even now as the high began to fade. With a roll of his hips he withdrew from him, rolling over onto his back beside Coyote. He sucked in a breath as mud and water lapped at his wounds, grinning all the while. "I don't believe in luck," Ares said, "though many of my siblings believe in fate. Perhaps it is that." He glanced down over their bodies, still pressed so close together, Coyote's pleasure still spread over his sweat-slick belly. "I will have to find this place again, another time. I have rarely found trespassing so enjoyable."
Coyote sucked in a breath, letting it hiss out through clenched teeth as he rolled onto his side, propping his head up on one bent arm. "I don't think I'd mind that, at all. This pool hasn't been seeing enough use, anyway." He leaned forward, snatching up Ares's mouth again. Iron, sweat, and something more that was wholly the other god permeated his mouth, and he wanted more. "That doesn't mean it's open for just anyone to come wandering through, though," he added as he pulled back, his voice low.
"Of course not," Ares answered. "As it happens, I prefer not to share." He pressed forward, grasping Coyote's chin in his hand, pulling his mouth back down to his own. This time his kiss was more exploration than assertion, more offering than demand, as though with the first bright spark of passion died down he might now take his time. Coyote sank into the caress, more than eager to have the other man to himself; he scooted closer, hips pressing flesh between lapping water as his hands came up to cup Ares's face. The touches were soft, far more gentle than they'd been a moment before, his fingers moving over the plane of the man's face.
Ares leaned into each touch, his own seeking hard lines of muscle and bone. The scent of something wild lingered on the other god's skin; even the presence of the pool could not wash away that slight hint of fur and blood and earth. Ares breathed deeply of it, committing it to memory. He gripped Coyote's hip, his thumb retracing the marks he himself had made.
"So tell me, what does this mean? Does this make your sacred pool further stained," he teased, "or newly consecrated?" He drew the fullness of Coyote's lower lip between his teeth. "Is further sacrifice required?"
Coyote tugged his lip back, reaching down to relieve himself fully of the remnants of his loincloth and leave it, soaked, on the pool's bank. "It is clean," he replied, slipping down into its depths, grabbing Ares's hand by the wrist as he did so to pull him deeper. "But true blessings require that one go...deeper." Soft waves curled around them as their weight displaced water; though the pool was small, its floor could stretch as far as its creator wished it to. Coyote pulled Ares to him, wrapping one arm around the other man's neck to pull his mouth down to his own.
Ares' arms slid easily around the other deity, keeping close as the water enveloped them. The marks that scored his back were stung anew by the cool water and the motions of its waves. But he embraced this, as he embraced the one who had made the marks themselves. His tongue pushed over Coyote's, then beneath it, inviting him to take what he wanted in this perfect place he had made. Their legs tangled together beneath the water, lean bodies languidly intertwining.
Clawed fingers trailed up Ares's nape, into his thick mass of black hair as sharpened teeth nicked the war deity's tongue; Coyote sucked the slick muscle, tugging Ares's head forward. He kept pulling them both backward, under the waterfall's spray and into the privacy of the area beyond. Even without the sunlight's fingers to trail through the waters, it was warm in its shade. Coyote spun Ares around, turning to press the man against the far wall of the pool, finding purchase on underwater rock croppings to put himself a few inches above the other deity. His mouth pressed down, tongue lapping at the other's lips, teeth, one hand wrapped around the other man's throat once more.
Leaning forward, Ares pressed his throat into that bruising grip. He opened his mouth to the god and felt the trickle of blood from his tongue into Coyote's waiting mouth. His body stirred again; he leaned harder into the tight circle low around his neck. He groaned softly, but did not hear it, too focused on the body above him and the taste of beast and man in his mouth. Sharp rock dug into the wounds at his back, reopening them, renewing that bright spark of pain. Coyote pressed him harder against the rocks, one hand straying down to the deity's burgeoning erection. He pushed Ares up to sit on a small shelf created naturally in the wall's vertical surface. His mouth started to trail down from the war god's, moving over the slick surface of the other man's neck, throat, and clavicle.
His body arched to accommodate the path Coyote drew on his skin. His hands did not leave the other god's body, trailing up his arms and shoulders until they tangled tight in dark hair. His hips pushed forward, scraping skin against rock as Coyote's hand moved around him. His legs spread, then circled the deity, pulling him closer, pleading for more. As Ares rose above him, Coyote's mouth drifted further and further down. His lips traced a line his tongue followed over the hills of Ares's chest, deviating to one pert nipple for a moment before he was wandering over the firm abs lining the war deity's stomach. Skin flinched from his warm touch, so different from that of the water, as Coyote reached Ares's belly, his vertical line suddenly going horizontal as he outlined the ridge of one hip bone. His teeth sunk into the flesh around the structure, eyes looking up to see the other god's reaction. All the while, his hand was slowly, carefully ebbing back and forth over Ares's member, molding the skin and the blood and the muscle therein into its harder form.
Ares sucked in a breath at the sharp press of teeth; his hips twitched forward, but he curbed the motion at the last moment, unwilling to push his lover away. He groaned shamelessly with the next slide of Coyote's grasping hand. Leaning back against the stone, he pulled Coyote's rough kiss harder against him, strong fingers clenching roughly where they held his hair. He felt skin break, and blood pool beneath those teeth; he moaned again, his eyes downcast as he watched Coyote move. The coyote-turned-man's tongue lapped up the coppery liquid, his eyes closing in thanks for the divine gift. His tongue continued its journey toward Ares's groin, lips gently kissing and then enveloping the other man's sac. A handful of gentle sucks were applied, followed by Coyote running the flat of his tongue up Ares's shaft, circling the tip when he reached it. He looked up to watch Ares's face as he took the other man's member in his mouth, enveloping it to the wiry thatch of black hair at its base.
A long, low moan punctuated that deep kiss. Ares' head tipped back, lips parting on his pleasured sigh. His fingers softened in Coyote's hair, trailing down one rough cheek to fit along the line of his jaw. His thumb passed over Coyote's cheek, feeling every motion as the deity moved on him. His gaze turned, heavy and sleepy, to watch the god's ministrations; a gasp caught in his throat at the pass of teeth and tongue.
Coyote pressed deep, holding Ares within him for a moment as his fingers settled into the muscle of Ares's hips. Then he pulled back, his tongue running along the underside of the other man's shaft, rising back up to the tip. His lips did not leave Ares's cock fully, instead plunging down once more, pulling him in quick and tight as his throat contracted around the long, hard member being shoved down it. He choked for a moment, a quick gurgle, and then pulled back once more before repeating the same motion. As he came back up, his eyes turned toward the man's face, his hand reaching out to gently cup Ares's sac, fingers sliding between that sensitive area and the tender flesh between Ares's cheeks.
Every touch only made him want more. Ares spread his legs wider, his hips tilting to give Coyote more access to him. The same motion pushed him against Coyote's throat once more, and Ares held a breath to better hear the sound. A quiet curse fell from his lips. His hand did not leave Coyote's rough cheek; instead the pad of his thumb traced the line where their bodies joined, sliding over slick lips and damp, twitching flesh. Coyote could feel his own member swelling from the feel of the man beneath him, and his touch, but he focused on the other man's pleasure first. His movements increased in speed, the touch probing deeper into the cleft beneath the man seated before him, one finger shallowing dipping in. He closed his eyes, drawing Ares in again, holding him deep until he gagged, and then again, repeating the cycle.
Soon Ares was again groaning aloud, unable to hold back a single twitch or forward lean of his body. He stilled himself only with marked effort, and even then his fingers clenched and unclenched in the tangle of Coyote's hair. He moaned ragged encouragement as he filled Coyote's mouth again. He pressed back into the grasp of sharp rock and chilly water, grinding his hips to press down onto Coyote's hand. Then his stomach drew taut, his body curving upward as his orgasm tore through him, spilling himself over perfect lips and lapping tongue. Coyote's hands relaxed from their tight grip on Ares's burnished skin, thumbs drawing little circles where they had held too tight as if in apology. He leaned forward, a tongue running over his lips to lap up whatever was left of Ares's cum, lips trailing kisses upward over the man's belly.
Then he drew back, settling his head on one hand with half of a smirk drawing a corner of his lip up. "Now that's a consecration this place has not seen for some time." His feet kicked gently in the water, letting his grip and Ares's legs hold him aloft over the depths.
In response, strong legs tightened around him, and Ares leaned down to press an unsteady kiss to the god's forehead. "One I'll gladly renew as often as is required," he said. "You are something truly unique, Coyote. You should visit Olympus some time. I doubt they'd know quite what to make of you."
A knowing grin slid across Coyote's face. "My own don't know what to make of me half the time," he replied, laughter ringing through every word. "But I do love a new discovery. If you tell me how to get there, I'm sure I can make an appearance." In the meantime, though, he wasn't going to let the war deity slip away. Pushing himself up, he slid forward onto Ares's lap, wrapping his arms around the other man's shoulders, intent on making the most of his time there.