Cristobal Rodriguez ♦ Coyote (coyoti) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-10-13 15:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | ares, coyote |
lately i've been losing sleep
Who: Chris [Coyote] & Daniel [Ares].
What: Ares finds his way back to Coyote's swimming hole.
Where: Here and there.
When: A long time ago.
Coyote leaned back into the soft, sweet-smelling grass that dotted the top of the hill providing shelter for his deity-made swimming hole below. Tucking his arms behind his head, he breathed out, making lights in the sky suddenly flicker and die as his shallow breath moved over them. He couldn't help but smirk to think how they'd gotten there, and how the spirits would have no way home had it not been for him.
The tinkling of the spring below did little to mask the steps of another, and Coyote merely glanced in the direction of the sound to see who had come to join him. His smirk grew wider at the sight of Ares, one whom he had not seen in some time. He patted the spot next to him on the ground.
"Hello again, Ares Miaiphonos. I was beginning to think you'd long forgotten your old friend."
Ares folded his bruised and sunburnt legs beneath him, sitting close enough to Coyote that their thighs lightly touched. He flashed a sharp-edged smile down to him. "So little faith in me," he chided. "And in yourself. You underestimate the impression our meetings have made."
He cast a long look over Coyote's body, a shape he knew a bit better after each of their interactions. He found himself wondering what new secrets he might learn this time. He could do little to curb the grin such thoughts elicited.
"I said before you made yourself hard to find," Ares continued, "but I am learning to read your signs. Soon your pool will be as familiar to me as my own halls." His hand stretched out, his touch firm where it landed on Coyote's arm. For one honest moment it seemed a gesture more of reassurance than possession. Then the caress was gone, and with it the softness that had briefly shone in his eyes. "Would that my vessel had the same success with yours."
Coyote's welcoming grin fizzled, and he shrugged.
"They seem to be doing well enough, from my perspective," he replied, settling back on the grass with his arms tucked behind his head as a makeshift pillow. His leg remained pressed to Ares', his whole form completely at ease with the other being near him. Eyes moved back toward the sky, picking out familiar constellations as he spoke.
"After all, I thought the fun was in the chase, is it not? Or do you have other concerns?" He glanced back at the other god, the familiar lines of his bearded face making him warm. He could not help smiling again.
"I have no concerns," Ares scoffed. "I enjoy the chase as much as anyone... so long as I'm winning." He stretched his arms heavenward until he heard a slight pop at the base of his spine. Then he lay down beside Coyote, staring up to the stars with him. The shapes and patterns they made only interested him for a moment. Then his gaze returned to Coyote's face, to the sharp edge of his jaw. "I don't enjoy losing. He and I have that in common."
Coyote shrugged, the grass bending and brushing his shoulders.
"What could he possibly lose? I thought you understood that such scenarios were fleeting. I know mortals feel differently, what with their shorter lives, but surely the experience in and of itself would be enough?" He turned his head away from the twinkling stars above, raising brows toward Ares.
"I'd say he's playing the game more than admirably. And, to be perfectly honest, this doesn't seem like a game you'd win or lose at."
"There are no such games." Ares' hand pressed flat to Coyote's chest. Trailing upward, it traced a path over taut muscle and sun-browned skin. He gave one nipple a brief, sharp pinch; Coyote winced, though his mouth told a different story that said the pain was not unwanted. "Someone always comes out on top. But I suppose the game isn't over yet, so…" He mirrored Coyote's shrug; his shoulder rubbed against the other god's. "We'll let it play out. They deserve their games, brief though they are. And we'll enjoy ours."
"Oh, I always do," Coyote replied. He turned in Ares's direction; putting one hand to the ground, he rolled his legs over the other god's, coming to a nimble stop just above him, straddling the other's hips. He leaned forward, hands on the grass beneath Ares's head and neck. His mouth hovered just over the bearded man's, eyes flicking down as he recalled just how he tasted—blood, iron, and sweat.
"Let the mortals have their petty worries. We certainly don't have time for that, do we?"
"We do not."
Ares' hands held fast to Coyote's hips. His thumbs dipped beneath the line of the cloth wrapped around his waist, tracing the ridges of his hipbones. His concerns for his vessel were not entirely put to rest, but it was difficult to focus on such fleeting things now. Already his body stirred. His mind readily supplied vivid reminders of their last tryst, goading him on. His hips rose, shifting Coyote's lean shape above him. With one hand he found the bindings of Coyote's clothing; he unfastened it with a tug nearly hard enough to tear fabric, and his hands returned to flesh the moment it fell away.
Coyote's hips moved enough to loose that torn cloth, leaving him completely naked. His mouth came down atop Ares's; whatever concerns he had for his own mortal vessel were so distant, they might as well have been the stars in the skies themselves. Instead, he found more immediate pleasure in piercing the other man with his tongue, feeling teeth and Ares's own slick member buried deep in a familiar place. His hands came up to the other man's shoulders, gripping tight, feeling over the planes of muscle that were at once both foreign and comforting in their shape.
"Should we make this a game?" He teased, reaching down to grasp Ares's wrists, attempting to pull them loose from his hips. Ares responded by wrapping his fingers all the tighter, until short, stained nails dug into tanned flesh.
"Let's," he said. He leaned up, catching Coyote's mouth with his own. His teeth sank shallowly into Coyote's lower lip. He sucked as he pulled away, a sharp-edged grin playing over his mouth. "But if the game is wrestling, you should know I've never lost. If you don't mind those odds, let's go." He paused, then, but it was clear he had every intention of cheating the instant he could; already he had drawn his legs up behind Coyote, his bare feet flat on the ground, ready to flip him onto his back the moment Coyote agreed to these entirely unfair terms.
Coyote was already laughing at Ares's constantly displayed hubris, the feel of the other man's legs behind his.
"I suppose the idea of winning hinges less on the game, and what sort of outcome is being sought," he remarked, a small groan making its way from his throat as Ares released his lip. His hands loosed from Ares's wrists, instead charting a course up the other man's chest, where nimble fingers pinched at a nipple. "How do you know I don't want you to put me on my back?" He twisted that little bit of flesh, his naked lower half cinching tight against Ares's.
It was Ares' turn to groan, then, his back softly arching as he raised himself toward that touch. His thin chiton rode farther up his thighs, freeing his burgeoning arousal. He pressed himself to Coyote's backside, biting his own lip against the moan that small motion elicited. Still holding tightly onto his partner, he quickly shifted his weight, rolling Coyote beneath him. He came to rest with his knees between Coyote's splayed legs, his hands clasping tight at his shoulders, holding him pinned to the ground.
"Good," he said. "Now we're both happy."
He bowed his head and bit at Coyote's neck. Sharp teeth followed the taut tendon there; they nipped at the hollow of his throat. Coyote's neck stretched, his head tipping back to allow the other man access. At first, his legs cinched around Ares's waist, but then his hands were reaching, groping, until fingers hooked into the sparse piece of cloth the man wore around his middle. He visited the same violence on it as Ares had his, tearing it loose until the other man was as nude as he.
One hand trailed spider-like up the dark bronze back of the war god; nails dug white, raised furrows into the skin. The other went between Ares's legs, catching his member with a gentle but firm grip that allowed him a stronger hold on the bull above him.
"I agree with that assessment, Ares Miaiphonos," he returned, his head tilted down again to bring their faces level. "But not happy enough, for my liking." Coyote stroked Ares, feeling the other man harden further beneath his touch.
Ares buried his grin in the crook of Coyote's throat; he marked him with lips and teeth and tongue. And all the while his hips pumped his length into Coyote's hand, begging the question which of them was really in control. He pressed harder, forcing his partner's legs wide. "I owe you," he growled, his breath hot against Coyote's skin, "for last time. At least a few bruises in trade." One hand moved to Coyote's hip. He held him there, stretched out beneath his weight, one small stroke from burying himself within the other god. His grip tightened, but it seemed more question than command.
Then the moment passed, and Ares raised his head from Coyote's throat. He took his mouth instead, his tongue greedily plunging over his lover's. A groan met this decision, Coyote straining against the makeshift bonds Ares was using to hold him down. He kept a careful grip on the other man, pushing him as close to the edge as he might dare.
"Are you teasing me, Ares Miaiphonos?" he said roughly against Ares's mouth, pulling back for the barest hint of space to allow speech. "Or do you not know what it is you want?" Coyote grinned, another stroke making Ares's member throb in his hand.
Ares snorted a laugh against Coyote's mouth. His teeth found the swell of his lower lip once again. He trembled, feeling himself pulled to an edge he was not yet ready to cross. His hand moved from Coyote's hip to wrap around his wrist. He tugged his hand away and pinned it to the grass below. "Enough." He fitted himself to Coyote's tight entrance; felt his legs close around him, goading him on. He groaned aloud, unabashed, as he pushed slow and deep into the lithe shape beneath him. His nails dug into brown skin, pulling him into that deliberate thrust.
Coyote's hands shifted to clutch thick handfuls of Ares's dark hair; his legs cinched tight around the other man's hips, slipping even still in the process as he was filled with that same, familiar harsh snap. He did not begrudge Ares his harshness; instead, he luxuriated in it, drowned in it, his arms wound tight around the other man's shoulders to say more. Shoulders raised toward the pain Ares caused, carving crescents into his flesh that nearly welled with blood; his head fell back, a garbled sound escaping from his mouth. He had no more witty things to say; the only words that seemed possible in that moment were again, again, again...
Still grasping Coyote's shoulders, still drawing him down to meet each hungry motion, Ares turned his head toward Coyote's lips. He felt each plea against the shell of his ear; it sent a shudder through him, made his movements increasingly vicious. He pressed his head into the sharp lines of Coyote's nails, each of them seeking more of their glorious pain. His hips rolled as he buried himself in his lover, basking in the feel of his legs shifting around him. He loved that tight grip, that now familiar embrace; he moaned his partner's name, punctuating it with another thrust, another hard bite to Coyote's clavicle. The other man moaned, his chest rising toward those teeth.
His own member, trapped between their undulating bodies, swelled; his legs grasped tight to Ares's form as he goaded the other man on. Nails found their own way down Ares's back, his arms and hands disconnected from his mind's conscious thought as he was instead transfixed on riding wave after wave of pleasure brought about by the one atop him.
Then momentary distraction turned into opportunity; once Ares thrust himself deep in Coyote, the smaller man used the momentum to turn both of them over, a small cloud of dust appearing from the movement. Ares uttered a curse that was lost in the motion, but no less vehement for that. Coyote settled as hard as he could over Ares's hips, pressing him to the ground as he gyrated; his hand reached forward, cupping himself as his spine curled his body into a bow.
"You cheat," Ares said, breathless. He hissed as his shoulders, scored by Coyote's sharp nails, ground against the earth below them. But there was laughter on his lips, and joy in his hands as they fitted to Coyote's thighs to pull him down to meet his next upward stroke. He bucked hard into him, as though he meant to throw his rider, but held him close even as he did. His back arched as Coyote moved atop him. His gaze drifted incessantly to where Coyote gripped himself. For a moment it seemed as though he would pitch his weight enough to rise from the ground. But then their bodies slid together once more, and Ares remained enrapt and firmly on his back.
Coyote grinned widely, his next words spaced apart by heavy breath. "You're surprised?" He stroked himself harder, his form pressing down swiftly atop the other man. Eyes squeezed shut as he felt himself nearing climax. The only free hand he had left settled atop Ares's, clutching tight with fingers and nails as he felt orgasm overwhelm him.
Ares shuddered, pulled mercilessly to his own end by sharp nails and sweat-damp, come-slick skin. He trembled, his hands wrapping low around Coyote's back, pulling him down atop his chest. He pumped into him once more, then stilled, crying out against the rough plane of Coyote's cheek as his own orgasm took him.
Panting and happy, Ares withdrew from him, nuzzling into the other god's neck. "I demand a rematch," he teased, his breathing at last beginning to slow.
"You're very greedy, you know that?" Coyote laughed, though nothing about his tone nor his posture implied that he had any issue with giving the other god another chance. Or another, or another, in their seemingly endless back and forth. A breeze played over the grass, brushing his back; between the stars and the ground, he found himself content to lay where he'd been placed, if it meant keeping the war god to himself for awhile longer.