Orchids and Wine
"Not anyone," Anteros argues with a light swat from his golden club to his forehead. Eros looks up at his brother lounging on the chaise.
"Yes, anyone," he says in an almost serious manner. They've been play-fighting for a while now, which has since fallen to simply play-arguing. Eros extends his hand and pushes the tip of the club back up on to the cushions and Anteros' wrist follows farther, landing on his hip.
"Eros, come off it. You can't seduce anyone. Believe me, I know. Beauty's not enough all the time," his brother argues, "Remember my name. What it means. "
He rolls his eyes. With a strategic and graceful push, Eros slides up from the marble floor and stands, staring down at fair-haired Anteros. "Yeah? You remember mine. There isn't a single person out there who can resist Love."
"Want to bet?"
The deal is on very simple terms; Eros gets bragging rights or Anteros doesn't get blamed when---if his brother's head gets lopped off. The complications are in the list of three people Anteros chose; each one has to give themselves to him willingly.
First was Thanatos who is dead to everything and needs no companion but his sleeping twin. He'd been no challenge and it was almost an irritation to spend time construing the plan. Eros knows all about siblings, his mother never shuts her legs to anyone, so he knows the way to get to Death is to distract Sleep. Hypnos mesmerized by the beauty of some shepherd named Endymion left Thanatos bored and horny. Eros had barely appeared in the bedroom and the first task was already almost over. Little to no effort.
Second was Aphrodite, something Anteros expected his brother to have an issue with. Eros was more concerned with Love not needing Love, so he disguised himself in his father's skin. It was trickier, because of the acting and lying involved, but still easy enough.
Then the last one. Anteros claims that it's to balance everything out; two for love, two for death.
Third is Ares.
Getting out of Tartarus is easier than sneaking into the palace of Ares, so Eros chooses something public. War is a spectacle anyway; this is what he figures at least now that he's looking around at the statues in the temple. Eros' plan only goes as far as finding Ares. He knows he doesn't need to do anything else. Unlike the first two consorts, Ares will see the shard of beauty Eros is and be cut by it. Simple.
The fall of his leather sandals on the marble are the only sounds in the temple. The few priests saw him come in and dipped their heads. They know because they're smart--- smart enough to bow to one of the rare gods actually capable of giving a man power. Eros is glad he doesn't have any temples; it'd be embarrassing to have one and let it be this bare.
There are statues depicting the god with different weapons and the walls display a story of him founding Thebes. Eros has never bothered to found anything. It's bad enough he's shooting mortals on a daily basis; he doesn't need to watch a whole city of them, too. At the end of the hall there is a black throne. Personally, Eros thinks the decadence of it suits an actual king better-- possibly Hades.
He flutters right up the steps and falls sideways across the throne, treating it like a chaise back home. Eros already decided that Ares is interested in spectacles, so he's decided to become one.
Lazily, he traces his fingers down his chest, brushes against his leg where the cloth of his tunic has fallen down to expose skin. Eros holds himself and eyes one of the statues closest to him. Ares leaning against his spear wearing nothing but a helmet and dark expression. None of the poems ever mention that War is beautiful, perhaps because of the connotation, but he is. The way he stands, he looks like a panther with his sharp jaw and a man with the anger in his eyes and sexless with that flat torso--- all of those things all at once. It makes Eros want to tear him apart.
He starts to trace himself, pulls at his cock and imagines that statue under him, soft and malleable for him and only him. Eros moans, for himself and for Stone Ares and rocks his hips just enough to thrust a little more into his hand. He's so fucking close already-- it's been a while since Eros has tried this himself and his fingers have an expert gift. The image of the god moaning below him, writhing for him makes him all the harder.
Eros teases himself, slowing down and making his touches butterfly light. Cool air hits him and he adjusts, shrugging his shoulders until his tunic falls open and off below him. Now naked and on display, white cloth and skin on the garish black throne. Eros closes his eyes and imagines the statue made of flesh, helmet gone and that hot, wet mouth-- he bucks his hips-- right on him, around him and he takes it, fucks it. Eros is there, but he doesn't let himself come. He bites his lip a little, drags his teeth down on his skin in an euphoric rhythm and he's sofuckinclo--
"What the hell are you doing?"
Eros relaxes and opens his eyes. He's still impossibly hard, but his hands fly up to rest behind his head. He can smell the sweat on himself, the hot semen that leaked out on to his fingertips. Ares stares down at him, broad shouldered and bronze like armor even in just his skin and the cloth around his hips.
Love only smiles up at his angry glare, ignoring the big hand resting on a real spear. "Making an offering."
Ares' face is suddenly tinted scarlet and Eros smirks up at his handy work. His is cock aching now, but he's acting comfortable. Blonde hair sticks to his neck and he knows he looks inviting. Cool air washes over Eros and he bites back a moan at the teasing sensation against his swollen, sensitive skin.
"Isn't that what you do in temples? Make offerings to gods? Would you like to make one?" Eros asks sweetly and he gestures towards the heat rising between his legs.
The war god is not amused, but Eros catches his eyes flicker over to his cock anyway. He doesn't miss the shift in the Olympian's posture, adjusting to conceal something uncomfortable-- sore. Eros moves as well and now he's sitting contentedly in Ares' throne, his legs spread wide enough for him to be still open. It also means Ares has to consciously resist allowing his gaze to travel further down from Eros' face.
"Explain why you think you're entitled to defacing my temple," he orders. Ares is a war general, but it doesn't seem to compute that Eros is no solider. If anything, he's a thief. Stealing men's dignity without them so much as missing it.
Eros is considering which direction he should move his hips when he finally gets off of the throne, but for now he's letting Ares get a nice view. He rests his arms behind him and leans back, letting his palms support him and putting himself further on display. "I'm not defacing it," he argues and spreads his legs a little more. "Can you really think of a better offering than ambrosia?"
Ares' eyes tighten into a very handsome glare and the sweet tip of his spear is suddenly pressing against Love's throat. "Don't think I won't, Eros. I will if I have to. Stop playing games; tell me what you're doing here."
Eros knows, though, that Ares wants to cut him, so he leans forward and a bit if blood spouts up, a richer color than anything in the whole temple. Eros barely even winces, instead he opens his lips just enough for a moan to spill out as red stains the spear and glides down his chest in bright coppery rivulets. Blood doesn't smell that different from semen and it feels just as hot on his skin.
"You-- what---," is all he stammers, unintelligible, but Eros still smiles. Ares pulls the spear back, disgusted, horrified, utterly pissed off, and now unable to conceal the faintest shape of a hardon. The blood glides over the god's fingers. He's so tan that the red almost looks like mud.
"Guess you'll have to settle for my blood instead." Eros doesn't give Ares a chance to get angry again. He shifts up a little, balancing on just one arm now. His chest touches the war god's, who stands stunned like his statues. Blood smears on both their bodies as Eros reaches up to try and wrap his arm around Ares' shoulder, but he's pushed back with a sudden force.
Love feels pain this time. His skull hits the back of the throne when he's thrown against it. Ares isn't don't yet, so it's followed by a rough smack and the blunt end of the spear ramming into his collarbone. Eros bites his lip and his cock just gets impossibly harder and it's irritating the hell out of Ares. The war god shifts his posture and Love glances down at his attacker's legs, unabashed and knowing. When he notices, Ares grunts at him and the spear digs in.
Eros looks right back at him and ignores the searing pain coming from his shoulder. "If you wanted to really hurt me," Eros begins in an almost sneer, but he can't conceal pain and his voice has an oracle's rasp, "If you wanted to really hurt me, you'd have stabbed me by now. Destroyed me with those fists. Beat me 'till I bled. You don't want to hurt Love, you can't."
Ares roars this time, loud enough for Eros to wince, and forces the spear further. It's going to leave a scar, it's going to draw blood, crush bones and lungs."Not letting you get away with dying easy, Eros." Love just moans and reaches out again. Feebly, his arm latches on to the one holding the spear.
Ares has a gold band on his forearm and Eros latches his fingers under it and the god lets go at the unfamiliar touch. No one caresses War-- no one's that crazy. The spear clatters onto the marble, just barely missing Eros' leg on the way down.
"I can read you, Ares," he says softly, "You see?" Eros' wound has closed up and scarred, and even though his shoulder feels like it's been crushed, he pushes forward until his arm is around Ares' neck. It fucking hurts but he does it anyway-- to get a reaction.
"Let go." Same war general orders, Eros ignores him and instead pulls his neck and head forward, using the god's breaths as increments of distance. Skin moving against skin is enough for Ares. Every time Eros' fingertips brush against him, a muscle in War's throat jumps up and he moves a little, trying to get away from it. "Let go, Eros."
He does, but not because he's told to. With Ares watching, Love brings his hand back down to his cock and relaxes into the throne again. He barely brushes it, but then Ares is trying to avert his eyes. And failing.
Eros isn't going to hold out very long, but he doesn't know any other way to speed things up. He throws his head back, but his eyes are still fixed on Ares. "Want your offering?" he asks in between two soft moans. He stops, his hand just holding his cock now.
"Come, Ares, sit on your throne," Eros invites.
"You're a sick bastard." Ares takes a step back, but Eros is quick. His leg reaches out and latches around Ares' waist, pulling him back again.
"Not as bad as you." Eros takes advantage of his position, which Ares is too astounded to get out of, and pulls forward more until the war god almost loses his balance.
Ares sways, but while he's waving his arms out, he's sneaks a punch right across Love's face. Eros lets go, whimpering a little because he doesn't think quick enough to gasp. He isn't given another chance either, because Ares grabs him by the hair and pulls him up.
"Get out of my temple, Eros. You're fucking lucky I don't have time to torture you correctly," Ares spits right into his pretty face and then the war god throws him into the statue from before.
Eros sees the firm line of his stone jaw just before he blacks out.
He refuses to lose. Love conquers all; it's a war. Everyone knows that. He just needs a better strategy. Anteros tells him he's being stupid, that the bet's been won already. He doesn't get it. The point is no one rejects Love. Ever.
Eros is stretched back on his canopy bed and mulling over possibilities. He knows disguising himself won't work with Ares --too clever with his scheming blood thirsty mind-- and more than that, Eros doesn't want to have to conceal himself to win him over. After an hour or so of deliberating and throwing ideas back on to silk sheets, Eros resolves to prove himself to fastidious Ares. He knows he's already worthy, it only will take words now, for once Love will not speak simply sweet nothings.
Ares arrives at Aphrodite's palace under the misguided belief that Eros is capable of feeling rejection, especially on these terms. In actuality, it's a bit flattering. Everyone always tells him that he has his mother's good looks and though he's inclined to disagree because everything is his own, Eros is willing to entertain the belief for now. So when Ares comes trudging in thinking that fucking his mother is going to upset Eros, the god instead takes it to mean that he sought out the next best thing.
Eros goes wandering through the halls with his brother flitting by his side and together they happen upon the couple tangled together in the foyer. Aphrodite's white, exposed back being clawed at as only as war god knows how to and Ares thrusting as hard as he can into her.
Anteros, hand flying to half shield his eyes, seems more startled than Eros, who only smiles at Ares. If he is trying to be defiant or prove something, he probably shouldn't come right when he sees Eros, the way he is doing now. Ares moans just looking at him, that's all he needs (or so Eros decides).
Love wraps an arm around his brother's shoulders and they walk across the room without a word. The only sound in the palace is their mother's soft moans and the slap of skin against skin when they escape the garden.
"You're not upset?"
Eros shrugs. He's perched in the tallest tree, draped in orchids and with a view of the sea on the top branch. Anteros is looking up at him from a collection of boulders. His brother has lighter skin than him, but here stretched out on the soft bed of moss that has layered over the rocks he almost glows. If Eros squints, he looks more like an idol made of gold shining in the sunlight than a living thing.
"I take it as a compliment. He came out here because he's had a hardon since the day at the temple and he would risk another encounter -- or who knows, maybe he wants one-- just to get rid of the hot fantasies he's had since then. Meaning he's had them," Eros says, all proud of himself. He ignores the skeptical look his brother is giving him. "At the very least, he felt the need to do something, to prove something."
"Yeah, that he's rejecting you," Anteros says and shakes his head.
Eros climbs down from the tree, careful not to crush the flowers. This garden is a present from Demeter. Everything is has a subtle decadence to it, from the swelling, phallic flowers to the shape of each mound of moss or white crush of water as it strokes the shore. It's perfect in every way for a sex goddess and the best part is the tree, which Eros now leans against. An orchid rests against his cheek and he turns, eyes closed, kissing and then lapping at it. He gets sweet pollen on his tongue and moves to a new flower, sucking on the engorged pistil.
"How could he possibly reject," Eros stops to dive his tongue into the center of the flower, "me? He's only resisting."
He doesn't realize Anteros has moved off of the rocks until his brother's fingertips rest against his collarbone. Eros does not open his eyes because he trusts him. He just leans back, lips still parted for an orchid.
"I don't know how anyone could," Anteros says and his tongue replaces the flower.
Eros knows that Ares can't resist him for very long, especially when he comes back. Neither brother understood then that War intended to make a habit of visiting Aphrodite. The goddess herself likely did not realize it until the fourth time in a month. That was two months ago, during which time Anteros has gotten increasingly more aggressive. Still not enough for Eros, who has taken to craving blood and never getting it. Ares is never around for him, never alone though he often spends the night at their palace. Two months of this dissatisfaction, now it's the Ides of March and it's funny because it's also time for Aphrodite to get bored. Which she does.
"Oh, Eros, he's so awful. Always the same thing; just shoves it in, take what he wants. Awful," she sighs to her son, who rests on the chaise with his head in her lap. She idly plays with his hair, almost loving but also cautious. She's always like this; worried she might shatter her gorgeous sons because it's true that love can cut and beauty will kill.
"Are you done with him?" Eros has been waiting for this to happen and it's a bit difficult to keep from smiling-- Aphrodite hasn't figured anything out yet and Ares isn't going to tell her. Out of shame, likely. Eros has yet to lose his confidence. He hasn't told her about the day at the temple yet for this reason, too; he doesn't want any help.
"Hnn, no. Never done, but done for a while. I'm going out-- considering the date, I think it's a nice touch to be gone." Aphrodite has done this before with other lovers, so Eros is hardly surprised. "It's a shame, you know. He used to be very interesting; first three or so times. Mostly before you or Anteros were even born. Maybe once a while after, never since."
When Ares arrives that day, the palace only offers the sons of its queen holding each other in the garden. Anteros sees War first and tenses with a jealousy Eros recognizes enough to look behind him.
Ares is standing at the entrance in his leather armor, glaring at the two of them. Because Eros knows what makes the god envious now, he looks back at his brother and kisses him carefully until Anteros is moaning under his lips. Ares turns red and that same muscle from the day in the temple leaps up in his throat. His skin glistens with the movement and Eros has to consciously make an effort to keep his attention on his brother.
Aphrodite is still gone during the night, but Ares stays in her bed anyway. Expecting.
Instead, it's Eros who sneaks into the room around midnight. The taste of Anteros still lingers on his lips--- not salty like he should be, but sweet and fresh and untouched even though Eros knows that he's not.
Eros licks his lips and creeps up to the bed, where the god is asleep. He's naked, which makes this easier. Nothing shifts when Love, feather light as always, climbs on to the sheets. Ares is still asleep when Eros tenderly inches above him. Looking down at him now, Eros remembers the beauty he saw in that statue from before. In person, the feline qualities--- predatory but graceful are only more refined. Though he wouldn't call it easy, Eros could just take him right now, but that would defeat the whole purpose. He wants Ares to give himself up, wants him to want it, too.
Eros starts with his tongue, kissing Ares' thighs while he sleeps as he tests the water. No reaction, just a light change in the breathing. Eros licks at the smooth skin and moves on until his mouth finds Ares' cock in the moonlight. The god under him makes a sound, some kind of whine-moan hybrid that Eros never expected. It makes him just as hard as he's about to make Ares. He opens up his mouth and takes as much of his cock as he can get, pulling at it with his mouth and tongue. He slurps at it carefully, sucks lightly and then hums around it. Eros can feel the heat start to build and it firms up.
By the time Ares starts to stir, Eros is only using his hands, but his cock is wet and slick already. He's kneeling between Ares legs when the war god opens his eyes.
Eros laughs. "Only the first one, sorry," he says and picks up rhythm. Ares has a big cock, something Eros almost laments now. His pride won't let him give in, though. Ares can fuck him later, but right now everything is going too well as War moans for him.
"Oh g-god," Ares tries to bite his lip, but because of who he is, that only makes his cock stiffer. Eros flicks at the head with an index finger and leans down a bit.
"Yeah?," he asks with a laugh, and then kisses Ares' swollen cock lightly. He twists his wrist a bit and precum slicks his fingertips. Ares bucks his hips into Love's hand.
"More." Triumph. Eros lets go, grinning as Ares growls. "What the hell? I said more, don't stop. Fucking whore, get back to work."
Eros rolls his eyes. "I'm not my mother. You want me? Fine. Lift up your hips for me."
Ares gives him the stupidest, most confused look Eros has ever seen. Even virgins usually get it within the first five seconds. Eros sighs and starts stroking his own cock, which is already hard from listening to the sounds Ares made.
It's when War is staring, salivating at Eros' cock that he gets it. "No fucking way."
"It's the only fucking way." Eros, because he's a damn good tease, leans down and breathes on Ares' cock. The war god chokes out a moan.
Love moves his hands to knead at Ares' inner thighs. War isn't putting up much of a fight, only with words and an angry grunt as Eros' hands move back on to his ass.
"Come on, Ares; just give it to me already." Fingers find his entrance and Ares does move up a little. The action is almost surrender, but hardly enough. Eros makes circles around hot flesh a few times and then finally goes in. He's tight, tighter than Eros could have fantasized.
Ares grunts and adjusts. Eros goes in slowly, then out fast, in slowly again with another finger. War groans under him. Eros rewards him by lapping at his cock again.
"Fuck, Eros, fuck... you fucking whore."
"I don't appreciate the 'whore' comments," Eros says and his fingers disappear. Ares all but whimpers for their presence. "Bloodlust isn't far from actual lust, Ares. I deserve more respect." Love turns his attention back to his own cock and leans over Ares, reaching for oil that had been meant for Aphrodite. He slicks himself with it and splashes the remainder on to Ares' thighs.
"Keep going, keep going--please. I'm sorry, you're right." Eros considers playfully asking Ares to castrate himself along with this apology, but that would be such a pity.
"I don't think you mean it," he says, his voice more throat than air now. Eros strokes at his own cock, making a soft mming noise as he feels the oil spread. "If want a whore, you can go hire one. Or wait for mother."
"Pl-please. God, Eros, please keep going. You're not a whore, you're a god." Hm, original enough. Eros rewards him with three rough fingers and a kiss on his thigh.
His fingers slide back in easily and this time Ares lifts up his hips for him. Eros doesn't even need to stretch him anymore, now it's just to get the oil inside and watch Ares squirm a little more. The war god writhes and when Eros nips at his chest, he moans loud enough for Love to feel the reverberation.
Eros slowly pulls out his fingers and moves up, adjusting. He rubs his cock against Ares until there's oil lathered on everything. Ares whines a little and that's almost enough for Eros to come right then and there, but he doesn't. He shuts him up by putting those fingers in his mouth and doesn't even have to order Ares to suck before the god's lapping at them with a wet, inviting tongue.
He leans in close, hands on either side of Ares' head and kisses his ear, sucking at the lobe. "Beg me for it, Ares," he orders, adapting the war general tone from so long ago and pulls his fingers out of his mouth. He drags his teeth expertly across skin and licks his cheek with a lewd grin when Ares moans. "Don't just make noises, beg me." Eros glides his fingertips across Ares' hot skin, creating trails of saliva down his chest, circling nipples without touching them.
"Pl-please, fuc--" Eros almost lets the hot tip slip inside, but he pulls back again. Ares wets his lips and tries again."Please, fuck. Eros. Fuck me. Take me."
"I don't think you deserve it, lying to me all this time," he says, even as he grinds roughly against him. Ares groans, his eyes roll back in pleasure.
"I- I- I only came here to see you. Always imagined she was you," Ares stammers, "Take me, please. You can use me, I don't care. please."
"Why should I?" He slurps up more of Ares' ear and then lets his wet kisses travel down to his collarbone.
"Nggh god... B-because. Because I want you, please Eros, I want you so much," Ares babbles helplessly between wet moans. "I've wanted you since I saw you... ngh, in the temple. Fuck me."
So Eros does. He thrusts in as hard as he can and Ares roars in pleasure. There's the slap of them coming together, of Eros fucking him, but mostly it's Ares. He keeps talking, but the majority of it is incoherent except for Eros, Eros, Eros which becomes a raspy, chanted moan with each thrust of hips into hips.
Eros pushes in as far as he can go and kisses Ares until War is sucking on his tongue. He pulls almost all the way out, only to slam back in which elicits a cry from the god moaning for him, around him. Heat flows off of them and into each other. Ares wraps his legs around Eros' waist, trying to get more of him inside. Any kind of dignity the god had is lost in the moans.
Eros is reaching his limit just as Ares reaches for his own cock, jerking himself off. They don't have to say a thing-- Eros thrusts in one more time, harder than ever and Ares cries out and they come together. Hot semen gets all over Ares' stomach and chest, even a little on Eros.
With Love still inside him, Ares gingerly licks at the salty fluid on Eros' cheek.
He slowly pulls out, gasping softly as some of the come spills out onto the cool sheets. Eros rests against Ares and they fall asleep with vines of orchids growing on the ceiling above them.