Quarry
by Mythdefied
January 1999

"Ares!" he yelped.

"Just making sure you're up."

The low rumble of the God of War's voice against his skin sent a delightful shiver through Joxer's body.

"Ooh, yeah, I'm up," he replied, desire plain in his tone.

"About time." Another bite, but more of a nip this time. "It's been over three hours."

Ares said that like it was an eternity, and maybe to a god with the libido of a hyperactive rabbit, it was. Joxer, however, was only mortal and he did get tired. Whenever he was around Ares though, he counted himself lucky if he managed more than a couple hours in one stretch. A few months of being Ares' lover had improved his stamina but he didn't even come close to a god. And yet Ares seemed pleased with him. Joxer didn't understand it and he didn't care to question it either. He just wanted to enjoy their...arrangement.

Ares' attention had turned away from their conversation. Joxer moaned as he felt his lover's teeth lightly nipping their way down his ass, the hands spreading him open, the tongue--

"Oh, fuck!" he gasped as he felt the warm wetness flicking over his small opening.

"If you beg me," Ares paused briefly to say.

Joxer had no problem with that. Being with the God of War had given him plenty of practice.

"Please Ares! I want you, please!"

It wasn't good enough. Joxer whimpered as the sweet torture continued. Then the tongue pushed into him and he cried out.

"Gods! I need you inside me! My god, please!"

He nearly sobbed in relief as the tongue was suddenly withdrawn and he was pulled up onto his hands and knees. Without any further preparation, Ares thrust full-length into him.

Joxer bit back another cry, this one of pain as Ares set a quick, hard rhythm. It hurt -- and it, dear gods, it felt so good. If the pain didn't quite fade it was at least soon matched by the pleasure, the two mixing until he couldn't tell them apart. Every deep thrust had him groaning at the intense sensations racing through him, and he needed more.

Tightening his muscles around the large cock inside him he was rewarded by a low growl from his lover, just before Ares began slamming into him. Every impossibly deep thrust hit that spot inside him, making him push back against Ares, wanting even more -- wanting it never to end, but at the same time leaving him almost desperate for release.

Then Ares' hand was on his cock and it was all he needed. Just that touch and he was coming, clamping down on his lover's hard cock, his head thrown back as he screamed silently. Some portion of his mind registered Ares' low groan seconds later as he came, pushing one last time into Joxer's shuddering body.

When he was finally able to think straight again, Joxer realized that he was pinned beneath the collapsed body of his lover -- and there was nowhere else he wanted to be. It was difficult to breathe but right then he would've gladly suffocated. The moment was so perfect. It was a memory that would cheer him on the worst day in Tartarus.

"You're not going to Tartarus."

The voice was muffled against his shoulder and a bit slurred. Joxer smiled, his own voice not exactly steady when he spoke, "'M a bloodthirsty warrior. Not gonna end up in the Elysian Fields."

Ares snorted. "Right. You're still not going."

Joxer couldn't suppress the slight moan of disappointment as Ares pulled out of him and rolled over to the side. Before he realized what was happening Joxer found himself yanked into his lover's arms. Stretched out on top of Ares, he was trapped by those dark, fathomless eyes.

"You're not going anywhere until I say so," Ares said with such absolute certainty that Joxer believed that Death herself wouldn't dare come for him until the God of War allowed it.

"You mean it?"

"You're mine, mortal, and I say what happens to you."

It was a statement of possession and nothing more. Ares owned him and Joxer was quite willing to be owned. No one had ever wanted him before so even this much was more than he'd dared to hope for.

"Yes," he whispered in agreement. "I'm yours. I'll always be yours."

Ares' eyes darkened and Joxer felt the god's cock hardening between them. He couldn't get it up again this soon but it didn't matter, all he wanted right then was to please Ares, his own pleasure could wait.

"Well, isn't this a pretty picture."

The sarcastic voice sounded barely a second before the flash of light announced the presence of another god.

Quickly moving off Ares, Joxer grabbed the bed sheet and covered himself, blushing at having been seen at such an intimate moment.

Ares was looking predictably furious at the interruption. There were very few gods who were either stupid or powerful enough to just show up at a moment like this without fear. Joxer wasn't sure which category this one fell into, mainly because he didn't recognize the god.

Tall, good-looking, arrogant -- but that was normal for a god. For a few moments Joxer was confused, then he remembered the other gods, the ones from far-away lands like Eire. This had to be one of them. At any rate, it would explain the strange clothing. The black pants and odd red and black shirt looked too thin to be from somewhere further north, so this probably wasn't one of the Norse gods. Maybe Egyptian. Didn't they wear things like that over there? It sounded right to Joxer, anyway. But even if that was true, it didn't do anything to explain what exactly the strange god was doing here. He obviously wasn't a welcome sight to the God of War.

"You don't belong here!" Ares snarled at the intruder. "Get out!"

Joxer was a bit surprised that his lover hadn't simply attacked the other god, but then different gods had different powers, so maybe Ares had something to be wary of. That didn't exactly help make Joxer any less nervous.

"I see your temperament hasn't improved since our last meeting -- or your taste." The strange god glanced at Joxer like the mortal was some sort of bug he'd rather step on than look twice at.

A flash of light and Ares was clothed in his usual leathers, and Joxer found himself clothed as well, his outfit a far cry from his normal make-shift armor. Black leather made up everything except his shirt which was a deep blue, woven from a tough fabric he couldn't identify. Not that it mattered at the moment, he was just glad that his god had clothed him as well. He was a lot more comfortable now -- he'd be even moreso when the other god left. The Greek gods were difficult enough to deal with, he really didn't want to branch out to other cultures.

Ares was out of bed but he made no move towards the strange god, he just stood by the side of the bed, his body tensed and ready for battle. It was always an impressive sight and despite the situation Joxer felt a stab of arousal shoot through him.

"Is physical violence all you understand? How primitive." The other god said to Ares. "And how disappointing. I would have thought that by now you'd have realized that there are other ways of doing things."

"If you're afraid to fight then just say so," Ares replied through his teeth, "then I can just kill you and get it over with! Who knows, maybe I won't make it too painful."

The strange god just smiled at the taunt, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smirk that just oozed superiority.

That only served to make Ares even angrier. Joxer could see the buldge of impressive muscles as Ares' fists clenched in reaction.

The other god gave a sigh that sounded at once both resigned and condescending. "It really is a shame. You could have been so much more. Instead you're barely a step above these mortals you care so much about." He said it as though caring were a despicable trait, and to Ares it obviously was.

"I'm a god! I don't give a damn about mortals! They're here to entertain us and that is all I care about!" Ares insisted vehemently.

Joxer would have liked to say that it didn't hurt, hearing that, but despite already knowing his lover's opinions it was still painful to listen to. Maybe he had been deciving himself all this time, thinking that he was happy with what he had here, being the plaything of a god.

Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he'd lied to himself. He did it every time he thought of Ares as his "lover," giving himself far more importance than what Ares undoubtedly placed on him. But Joxer didn't know any other way to live. If he didn't...exagerate a few things in his mind, then how could he ever be happy? It wasn't like people were lining up to be with him. He had to make the best of what he had.

Joxer didn't realize that his feelings were showing on his face until he saw the interested way the strange god was looking at him. That look made Joxer shiver with sudden fear. It was one thing to be a spectator to a fued between gods; he really had no interest in becoming an active participant. Joxer had little doubt that any such "participation" on his part would result in either pain or death, possibly both. He needed to get out of there, let the two gods deal with their differences by themselves. But there was no way out unless he went past the strange god, and Joxer didn't want to be anywhere near him.

"Humans are simply a passtime for you?" the other god asked Ares. "A way to while away the lonely hours in between battles?"

"Yes!" Ares growled the word, watching as the strange god began walking casually around the bed.

"Then maybe you aren't so hopeless after all." The god stopped close to Joxer, apparently oblivious to the way Joxer away from him. "But I think we should be certain, don't you?"

Joxer suddenly found the back of his neck held in a painless but firm grip, impossible to break. The god was going to kill him and there was nothing he could do about it. The thought terrified him enough to try though.

"Let go!" he demanded, struggling uselessly. The god didn't appear to either hear or notice him.

"Get your hands off him!"

That surprised Joxer out of his futile struggles, causing him to settle down momentarily, his attention turned to Ares. He knew he didn't mean anything to Ares so what was going on?

"I thought you didn't care about mortals," the strange god echoed Joxer's thoughts.

"He belongs to me and no one messes with my property!" Ares responded, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

"Are you sure that's what the problem is? Or, could it be that you actually love...this?" The god's grip tightened and Joxer winced in pain.

"Love? I don't do love," Ares said with contempt.

"Shall we test that theory? Why don't I take your 'property' and put him someplace safe for a little while. That should give you a chance to 'reflect' on your feelings." The solicitousness of the tone was belied by the suggestion itself.

Already pushed to the verge of outright panic by the situation, Joxer quickly went over the edge when a familiar tingling sensation began to envelop him. He'd traveled with Ares often enough to recognize that it would quickly be followed by a bright flash of light that would carry him somewhere else, somewhere unknown. He was being kidnapped!

"Ares!" he screamed, hopless but desperate. He thought he saw something in Ares' eyes, some brief flicker of...worry? But before he could be certain, the light was blinding him.

When the brightness faded Joxer felt sick, both from the sudden transportation and from the knowledge that he'd been taken from his lover, his god. The hand gripping his neck released him and he really wasn't all that surprised to find his legs unwilling to support him. He fell to his knees.

And hit a hard, cool surface, not unlike metal. But who would make a floor out of metal? Where was he? Before that thought could completely process, it was quickly overtaken by the idea that since he wasn't being restrained anymore, maybe he could escape.

Starting to pull himself to his feet, Joxer looked up.

He really didn't feel his legs slide out from under him, dropping him back to his knees. He was too stunned by what was before him -- around him. He didn't understand; his mind simply didn't have the knowledge to comprehend what he was seeing. Seamless metal, flashing lights and handleless doors; the sheer foriegn-ness of it all shook him to his core, stunning him into mute immobility.

Joxer's mind shielded him from pure, gibbering terror by focusing on the two things he could understand: the chairs and the people sitting in them. People, dressed like the god standing beside him, who seemed if not shocked, then surprised by the abrupt appearance of a god and captive mortal.

The surprise, however, didn't last beyond a few brief seconds. What replaced it was a mixture of wary suspicion, anger and annoyance that only served to both confuse and frighten Joxer. Because he recognized it. That was how Xena or Hercules would greet Ares. But they were special, heroes, a demigod in Hercules' case. Did that mean that all of these people were important, powerful? Maybe even demigods, too, that they would greet a god with this attitude? Or worse, were they gods themselves? And what did that mean for him, the only mortal in sight?

Before Joxer's thoughts could lead him again into panic, one of the people, the one seated closest to where Joxer knelt, stood. An older man, no hair to be seen, but age hadn't stooped him or robbed him of the air of authority he projected with every movement. He was glaring as he rose abruptly to his feet, tugging down the hem of his odd shirt in the same movement. Even though that glare was focused on the god standing next to Joxer, Joxer cringed anyway. There was enough annoyance and animosity there to make him wish he were anywhere else. And when the man spoke, Joxer winced. Impressive, and intimidating, the wealth of accusation forced into that one syllable.

"Q!"

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TBC