|Cristobal Rodriguez ♦ Coyote (coyoti) wrote in paxletalelogs,|
@ 2017-12-16 18:19:00
|Entry tags:||ares, coyote|
look i don't mean to frustrate
Who: Chris [Coyote] & Daniel [Ares].
What: Coyote goes to check in following all the Halloween insanity.
Where: Dream dream dream.
When: Nov. 23.
In his animal form, Coyote sniffed along the outskirts of Olympus. Following the oddly named holiday of Halloween and its circumstances, the Navajo deity wanted to confer with his counterpart if only to see where they stood. Had he need of anyone from his own pantheon, the finding would not have been so difficult—these greeks liked their walls, their fortresses, and Coyote shivered to remember the interior of Ares' castle. But he would have given much to be back there again, especially if the castle's owner were as bound as he had been during Coyote's last visit. Such memories were not appropriate now, but Coyote clung to them regardless as though they would be the last he'd ever have.
He came to the gate, and immediately began to argue with one of the sentries posted there.
"I have an invitation—"
"Never seen you before. If you've got a problem with Zeus, take it up at a temple."
"No, I'm here to see—"
"We know he takes all sorts of shapes, but that's none of our business. What he does on his own time is his to know about, and we don't—"
Coyote paid a little, as much as animals were able to, flabbergasted. "No, I haven't... I said, I'm here to see—"
Ares' voice cut easily through the conversation, and it brooked no reply. Ares gripped the gate in one strong hand and shoved it open; the sentry scrambled to get out from underfoot. Burnished eyes turned on the sentry, who shrank beneath their heat. "Not everyone comes here for my father," he said, his lip curled into a sneer. The sentry only nodded, and pressed himself closer to the open gate.
The god's face softened—though only a little—as he looked to his four-legged friend. He beckoned Coyote inside, but turned before ensuring the other deity complied. The animal-shaped god rose up on two feet and walked inside, brushing close by the war deity's arm.
"My thanks, friend, really thought I'd be caught in that loop all day—by the way, what is it your father gets up to in his off time that has the guards so up in arms?" He took a pace away from Ares, turning on one paw to quizzically glance at the man.
"Human women, mostly," Ares said, "although he's been known to have rather broad tastes. If you find yourself with a particularly aggressive bull, or swan, or eagle, or really anything that seems unnecessarily aroused by your presence, take care to cover all your orifices. Tell your women the same."
Out of earshot of the sentries, Ares tipped his head to study the other god. The sharp line of his shoulders eased. "It's good to see you, Coyote. I'd be surprised Daniel let you in, but I suppose you're too sly to be so easily turned away."
The other god's maw grinned with a long row of sharp, canine teeth.
"It helps when they are sleeping," Coyote replied, following Ares' path into the city. "And I would think your vessel is far more desirous of what he's lost than he wishes to admit to himself. But those are things for them to deal with, no? I thought I'd return the favor since you visited me, the last time." And here his form shivered, the animal falling away to reveal the handsome young man beneath the skin. Black hair draped over his shoulders, and a loincloth the only thing saving his dignity.
"Perhaps we could find somewhere more...private?" His brows rose, a hand skimming fingerpads along the waistband of Ares' tunic, plucking at the fabric to make it rise higher.
"My temple is always open," Ares answered, his playful tone further emphasizing the double entendre. "And you may be right about the boy. But you are wrong to think their problems are not ours." His steps turned to lead them both down a dark and winding path. Here the cobbles were shot through with weeds, the stones dark with centuries of grime. It was another path to Ares' temple, but one less traveled; one gloomy, unforgiving, and difficult to maneuver.
"After all," Ares said, gesturing to the too-close corridor around them, "is this the only way you want to meet from now on?"
Coyote's eyes ran a quick look over the path; he'd traveled many such paths before, through darkness, some through light, all connecting one place to another. What did it matter, the manner of meeting, as long as different parties were brought together?
"I doubt Chris would much mind you visiting our side of the divide," Coyote countered, sticking close by Ares' side. So close, his arm brushed the other deity. "Besides, in due time they'll realize all of this drama was for nothing, and things will be as they should."
"Time," Ares snorted. His arm slid around Coyote's shoulders, his grip tight and possessive as he pulled him near. "Need I remind you how little time they have? Seventy years, give or take, and they're halfway through them. I can visit you at your little pool, and I will. But I will not enjoy my vessel's uncommon sadness while I do."
The shadows did not give way so much as darken and coalesce around their origin. Ares' temple loomed overhead, a series of dark spires that rose up to pierce the sky. Ares led his lover beneath them without a second glance. "This is not my ordinary advice," he said, "but these are not ordinary circumstances. You should encourage your vessel to be more forthcoming with mine. If it helps you can both consider it a sacrifice. A less bloody one than I would typically request, I might add."
Coyote stifled a chuckle, masking it as a cough. His hand rose, making a fist to pound at his chest as though something had gone down the wrong pipe. Ares narrowed his eyes.
"Do you recall, upon my first visit, how we spoke of your other paramor? How you said that, despite the fact you were making a cuckold of her husband, that it was merely due to her nature that she need not be tied down?" His hand came up and wound fingers through Ares'.
"It is not in my nature to be forthcoming, unless it suits me. Do you think I wasn't aware of any of this while it was happening?" The words were dropped carelessly from Coyote's mouth, as though it made no difference.
"I assumed you were well aware," he answered. "But given the situation, it seems being forthcoming has cause to suit you now. Do you not see how you would benefit from truthfulness now?" He shook his head, leading Coyote up the stairs that led into his home. "I can appreciate being stubborn for stubbornness' sake. But even I know there is a time to retreat. To lose a battle to win a war."
Coyote did nothing to stifle the next chuckle. "Is that how you see this? Certainly explains Daniel's reaction to it all. The fight or flight response is, shall we say, a very primitive game plan, Ares Miaiphonos." He did nothing to distance himself from the other man's touch, nor did he at all sound put out by Ares' attempt to instruct him in his vessel's handling.
"Besides, there is nothing more for my vessel to divulge. He gave them their answers; it is not his job to convince them into believing him. What more need be said?" He shrugged. "As I said, it will now take time for things to fall into place."
"You're as much a loner as the beast named for you," Ares said. "I only hope your vessel enjoys that life as much as you." Coyote shrugged in response, having no such answer.
Again they passed altars of writhing sacrifices, humans and beasts alike suffering their last in the name of the bloodthirsty god. Ares paid them no mind, but Coyote's eyes were drawn to each, properly disturbed by the sights. But the god of war only tightened his grip on the man beside him, leaning over to breathe deeply of his wild, worldly scent. "Now. I believe some mention was made of favors to be returned."
Coyote dragged his eyes away from the sacrifices, wide eyes falling on the god before him. He was a magnificent sight, certainly worthy of the buildup that had preceded this moment. Coyote raised one hand, cupping the side of Ares' face, tugging at what little beard he found there.
"Favor," he replied cheekily, emphasizing the singular. "And I've fulfilled it, I think, visiting you here, but I won't mind paying in advance for future services rendered." He pulled Ares' face down, his head tilted up to catch the other man's mouth. Tongue dove deep, exploring the crevices and nooks of the darkness found within, and Coyote left no stone unturned as his hand stole under Ares' chiton, passing thumbs over thighs, drawing closer and closer to the warm heat between the god's legs.
"Aren't you generous," Ares teased, each word shaped against Coyote's mouth. But he was grinning as he said it, utterly incapable of denying the draw he felt towards the maddening god. His arms circled tight around Coyote's waist. Rough fingers dipped beneath the line of the loincloth's waistband. He felt it loosen beneath his seeking hands, felt it slide down Coyote's hard hips. He broke their kiss only to place his mouth on the column of Coyote's throat, biting and sucking his way down to bare clavicle.
"The Baron's wife was delicious," he said, "but she is certainly not you."
Coyote's hands, which were just about to grasp Ares' member, froze.
"What?" The word popped out just as Coyote thought it. He pulled his hands back to the other god's thighs as his head leaned away from Ares' mouth. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"Of course," Ares said. "What else would it be?" He moved forward, closing the newly-placed distance between them. His still-grinning lips grazed over Coyote's skin once more. Coyote shivered, but pulled back again.
"Perhaps in your world it works, friend, but in mine I don't lavish praise on the lover I find most..." He pulled one hand back, stepping away, the hand going to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"I don't want to hear about you fucking others, Ares. And you are a most strange choice for a man who claims to want to be someone's sole partner." His lip curled, eyes opening again to fall on Ares' form with disdain and some disappointment that this encounter had suddenly turned so sour.
"You assume he had a choice." Ares folded his arms across his bare chest. "He had very little say in the matter. Thus far he's had no complaints." This was, of course, not entirely true, but Ares cared little. "But… very well. I take back my compliment, and you will not have to suffer any others like it. Does that satisfy you?"
Coyote let his arms remain at his sides, his gaze sliding up and down the areas of bare skin he could see. His head rolled back, bringing his eyes up as he considered Ares' question.
"No, it doesn't." He reached into a pouch that hung off the front of his loincloth, an idea striking him, drawn from the memory he'd been toying with upon his arrival in Olympus. From the pouch he withdrew a long, golden rope, woven from the net he'd cut Ares free from before. At that damnable sight Ares carefully schooled his expression to blankness, save one dark brow that sharply arched in response.
"But I know what will. Turn around, and cross your wrists behind your back." An opportunity to continue the scenario, and ultimately a test. Coyote felt his heart beating in his chest as he hoped the other god would not take offense to the order—for that was what it was, a command to do as he was told—but the resulting reaction would tell him much.
Ares held his silence, but the tight clench of his jaw expressed a great deal. He studied Coyote, taking his measure, seemingly assessing a threat from a corner he had not expected. Then the hard line of his shoulders eased, though only a little, and Ares turned his back on the god. A brief pause suggested he might reconsider. But then his arms rose, crossed wrists coming to rest at the small of his back. He cleared his throat, plainly uncomfortable with this, and kept his black eyes firmly on the blood-soaked altar before him, taking from it what solace he could in this strange situation.
A ghost of a smile touched Coyote's lips, and he did not hesitate to move forward and wrap the rope around Ares' wrists. The binding was tight, tight enough to ensure the other god could not loose himself with ease; a long stretch of rope extended behind him, trailing to the ground. Coyote let this fall for the moment, instead resting his hands on either side of Ares' hips, his crotch hovering just behind the other god's folded hands. He stepped into him, knees hitting the back of Ares' knees.
Good things had come from similar, earlier demands, pleasures Ares would not have imagined. So while he still felt some degree of concern—not least because this binding could not be broken no matter how he strained—he still knelt, entrusting himself entirely to the unseen hands at his back. His sandals slid against the floor as he settled into place. He felt Coyote's presence behind him, looming too large for Ares' liking. And still he found himself leaning back toward him, until again he could feel the faintest impression of Coyote's hands. Those same hands kneaded along the back of Ares' head, tilting it back until their gazes met. Fingers stroked over that familiar face.
"Yes, this is much better." Coyote grinned, stepping around until he stood before his kneeling lover. "Now, we'll do something about that mouth." His hands drew back to his loin cloth, tracing the outside waistband until he came to the tie that held it together. It fell away with one simple gesture, revealing Coyote's half-hard member. Taking it gently in one hand, his other went behind Ares' head, tugging it forward with fingers wound through the god's hair. "Less talking, more action. That's something you're good with, Ares Miaiphonos."
Ares grunted his annoyed disagreement, but leaned forward all the same, unable to hide the smile that played on his lips. As he nuzzled against Coyote's length, the seam of his closed lips sliding over tender flesh, he tested the binding wrapped tight around his wrists. It did not give in the slightest. He tugged harder as his lips parted, his breath a warm, soft caress across his lover's body. Coyote shuddered. Then, his thumbs slipping against the knot that held him, Ares took his partner into his mouth, drawing him deeper, his eyes falling languidly shut. Coyote's eyes half-closed, his gaze fixed on Ares' actions below him. He pressed forward, drawing Ares toward the end of his shaft, burying himself completely in the other god's mouth.
"Ah, yes," he murmured, his eyes closed completely as he held Ares there for the space of a full minute, before finally releasing him to less flesh and more air. Ares gasped a sharp breath in the short span of that reprieve. His hips, however, did not pause long, thrusting forward gently again and again.
"A much better use for that beautiful mouth." Were he a smarter or perhaps less arrogant god, Coyote might have realized such comments were better left unsaid, much less not repeated, but the sight of the war god on his knees, bound before him, was a sight that was putting ideas in his head. "I could certainly get used to you like this, my friend."
Again Ares made a noise of utterly futile frustration. He did not balk at the action so much as the gloating; after another deep thrust and Ares' subsequent, half-stifled gag, he let his teeth drag down Coyote's tender flesh. In spite of his bonds he somehow made his challenge plain. An impish gleam lit his eyes, though tears pricked at their corners, and he met and held Coyote's gaze, unflinching.
"Ahh!" Coyote jumped back, shaking his head even as he was unable to fight the smile on his own mouth in response to Ares' teasing look. "That's not very contrite, is it, friend? How do you expect anyone to believe you're sorry when you start biting them?" He took a hesitant step forward, summoning up his courage once more. His member had grown in length and girth, not much more so than it had been previously, but more than enough to show how much he'd enjoyed their encounter. He pressed his growing length to Ares' cheek.
"Shall we try that again?"
"Are you sure that's wise?"
But Ares' grin belied his words, and in moments he was again nuzzling at the base of Coyote's cock. He breathed in the scent of him, all sweat and warmth and earth. And in spite of the faint skimming of his teeth over Coyote's length once more, when he took him in his mouth this time it was with a gentle, slick caress.
Behind him his hands ceased their fidgeting. His eyes still open, still upturned to his would-be master, Ares stroked Coyote's body with kiss-swollen lips and hungry tongue. He withdrew by painfully slow degrees, then sank back onto Coyote's shaft with the same languid pace, watching him all the while.
Coyote watched him carefully with half-lidded eyes, his thrusts more hesitant than they'd been before. It did not take long, however, to convince him of Ares' true intent, and one hand found its way to the back of Ares' head before too much time had passed. His member grew, filling Ares' mouth, sinking into the back of the god's throat. Coyote let his eyes slip closed, the feeling of Ares' warm, wet mouth around him clearing his mind completely.
"Ah, wait," he said, suddenly, drawing back enough that solely his tip rested near Ares' lips. His member was hard enough to stand on its own, and Coyote's fingers stroked the back of the god's head. A wicked look cast over his features. "There's more to this game, my friend. Rise, and let's find you a more comfortable position. Perhaps on one of your bloody altars? If you don't mind the mess."
At this, Ares' eyes lit up. "Mind?" he asked. His hands balled to fists at the small of his back. Ares pushed himself up, pausing briefly on one bent knee before rising to stand. His tongue darted out over his lips, sweeping up one last taste of his trickster partner. His gaze fell briefly down to Coyote's arousal; he felt the heavy weight of his own, untended, pressing against the thick cloth of his chiton. But he called no attention to it, instead making his way to the nearest altar. He paused before its cold, stony surface, gore-slick and permanently stained a deep red. He looked back over one shoulder, raising his wrists behind him the scant bit that he could.
"I take it you don't intend to loosen this."
"And ruin the fun?" Coyote replied, quick-footed after Ares in his path to where he'd been directed. He came up behind the other god, hands pressing to Ares' waist; one went to the small of the other god's back, encouraging him to bend down. "I promise you'll enjoy this next part." There was some hesitation in Ares' movements, but he bent all the same. With the war god sloped before him, Coyote pressed lips to his back, trailing along the outside edge of his toga. Hands sloughed off the cloth, pushing it away until it hung solely by a fold from Ares' neck. Slowly, Coyote traced a path down Ares' back, reaching the seam of his backside. Hands went to either cheek, parting him gently; then Coyote's mouth found that tight hole, fingering it with his tongue to encourage its widening.
"Oh." Ares squirmed beneath his mouth. He leaned hard against the altar, pressing himself into still-warm, sticky blood. His hands flexed in their bonds, grasping for his lover, who remained just out of reach. By slow degrees his body relaxed, opening to the touch of lips and tongue. His legs parted wider, his hips rocking backward to press himself onto that slick organ. Another soft moan met Coyote's next thrust, and Ares' bound hands tightened all the more. He would not beg, but in that moment he came very close, and the sinking of his teeth into his lower lip made that plain.
Coyote's tongue pressed deeper and deeper, eventually joined by a finger up to the first knuckle. He leaned back enough to peer over Ares' back, grinning to see the other god squirming against his touch.
"Told you," he said, his breath hot against Ares' rump. He leaned back down to continue his work, a massaging finger and insistent tongue pulling the other god as wide as he could. A second finger pressed in, the two sinking down past the second knuckle.
Ares groaned a curse, his voice low and rough with lust. His hands balled to fists, still bound tight by Hephaestus' terrible net—which this time, if Ares was honest, he did not particularly mind. His hips rolled, a plea he still stubbornly refused to give voice. But he begged without words every time he pressed his face to the altar, every time he writhed and ground blood and gore deeper into the fabric of his stripped-off toga.
"Fuck," he moaned, a single syllable dragged almost painfully out. "I…" He bit down hard on his tongue, the pain serving at once to focus him and to heighten the pleasure of Coyote's ministrations.
"You what, friend?" Coyote replied teasingly, pulling back enough to breathily ask his question. His fingers slipped away from Ares' hole, and instead hands went to his length to arrange the tip at Ares' entrance. He pressed in lightly, not enough to penetrate, but enough to give the idea of what his next step was going to be. Ares lowered his head, relieved and ready for what was to come.
"You're going to have to speak up, if you have a request." One hand steadied him with placement on the side of Ares' ass, the other holding himself up to ensure he was aimed correctly. He spat into that hand, wetting his length, his own form shaking a little in excitement. He could not have wiped the grin from his face if he tried.
The god beneath him tasted blood, so sharply did his teeth dig into his tongue. But as it often did with him, want at some point overcame pride. He sank his nails into his palms, squirmed against Coyote once more, and finally ground out, "Fuck me."
The grin went a little wider, but Coyote was quick to comply.
He pressed into Ares' hole, the feeling of being squeezed tight and enveloped enough to pull a needy groan from his throat. Sliding in deep on his first thrust, he withdrew, then thrust again. He set a steady, if somewhat slow rhythm, enjoying himself immensely. His eyes skipped up Ares' back, over the blood-soaked cloth wound around the other god's neck. He had to admit, the red had a certain appeal to it, but perhaps it was more the color smeared over burnished, hot skin. His hands reached forward, grasping Ares' hips, seeking a tighter hold on the god bent before him.
Only then, when he could no longer focus on the sounds of their bodies joining and Coyote's pleasure, did Ares allow himself a long, low moan. It was impossible to keep his body from tensing up at the next deep thrust, but that small spike of pain only seemed to heighten his pleasure. Fingers grasping behind him, he slid the rough, calloused pads of his fingers over Coyote's belly. His nails scratched, biting into skin as best they could, doing their best to pull the other god close. Coyote complied with the gesture, his body gravitating toward the other, his thrusts shortening.
Ares' head tilted on the stony surface. He looked back to Coyote, his cheek streaked with gore. His hair clung to his forehead with it; one thick, sanguine line drew a slash over his right eye. He grinned back at his partner, shoving his hips backward to meet the next thrust. Coyote nearly squeaked, but managed to hold on to some dignity at the sudden tightness around his cock. Shaking his head with a smirk, he altered the angle of his thrusts and hurried himself toward his peak. Leaning forward, his hand grasped Ares' member, timing his strokes with his hips' movements. It wasn't long before he felt himself shuddering, coming in Ares' ass, a hot spurt of cum filling the war god.
After such prolonged anticipation, such cruel and welcome torment, Coyote's hand on his flushed length was enough to send Ares hurtling toward that same edge. As he felt Coyote fill him Ares came, his hips twitching hard, pinned between stone altar and warm, wet flesh. He clutched at his lover, drawing breath in short, ragged bursts; as adrenaline fled him his legs began to slump against the altar's surface. He laughed shakily.
"My turn," he panted, flexing his hands to fight the increasing numbness in his fingers. Chuckling, he met Coyote's eyes once more.
"Well," Coyote started, picking himself up to draw Ares back a little from the altar. "I suppose one good turn deserves another, no?"
His eyes moved away from Ares' familiar face, going to the binding around his wrists. "And I'll be nice about it, and level the playing field. Wouldn't want you to feel disadvantaged." His fingers made quick work of the golden rope, the binding leaving red marks to match the blood on Ares' face and chest. He held the rope loose between his hands, waiting to see what his lover would make of it. One slow cant upward brought his eyes to meet Ares', the twinkle in them anything but innocent.
"So, where do you want me?"