Jett and Ares are owned by Renaissance Pictures and this is in no way intended to infringe on any copyright or whatever.
This is NC-17. Sexual situations, m/m.
This isn't exactly an answer to Allis Polise's challenge, but she did get me to thinking on this, and then I wanted to cheer a friend up, so I thought some more. This is my first attempt at m/m.
Dedicated to APB
You can find more stories by XMP at The Joxerotica Archives.
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An Acceptable Sacrifice
Jett carefully arranged the bones, fat and skin on the low altar and lit the sacrificial flames. As the fumes rose through the air, heading up to the god on Olympus, the debonair assassin leaned against a nearby pillar and buffed his fingernails, trimming them with a deadly little dirk as he whistled an insouciant tune. It had been his father's idea that he offer sacrifice to the god of war, but Jett had to admit, Ares was the best one of the lot. Feeling insufferably pleased with himself, he put away the blade and leaned back, watching the smoke rise to the heavens.
"Joxer! What are you doing? You don't have to offer sacrifice to me. I told you that," a deep voice called out unexpectedly from behind him, full of exasperated affection. The sudden, unanticipated sound, coming without warning, caused Jett to start with surprise, spinning around to meet the threat, dirk appearing in his hand almost as if by magic, positioned for a killing blow. The voice changed, showing surprised approval, "But I can see why you called me. I like the outfit."
Rising out of his ready crouch, the blade forgotten, hanging loose in his lax hand, Jett blinked with surprise at the vision before him. Standing not three feet away from him was the god of war, Ares himself! In tight, black leathers, tracing the rippling of his muscles, the open work of the vest showing off his outstanding chest, a neat, sculpted beard delineating his features. Jett stared, swallowing hard, feeling schoolboyishly shy and embarrassed that his own leathers were not loose enough to hide his automatic reaction to the sight. The vision spoke again, more sharply. "Joxer? What's with you, man? Are you sick?"
Jett shook his head, his breathing coming ragged and he tried to speak. "I'm, I'm..." he couldn't manage more than that. To his bewilderment, the handsome god approached him, a tender smile on his face.
"Foolish mortal," he chided. "You don't have to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you, Joxer. I could never hurt you." He reached out a gentle hand to Jett's face, softly caressing his cheek before leaning into a full mouth kiss. Feeling as though he'd died and gone to the Elysium Fields, Jett leaned into the salutation, surrendering his lips to the god's insistence. There was no way he could acquaint the god of the mistake, no reason to. He was as good as Joxer, wasn't he? No, better. And a god like Ares deserved the best. With that thought in mind, Jett devoted himself to giving as good a salutation as he got.
But Ares pulled back, a look of puzzlement on his saturnine face. "Joxer? Is something wrong?" Jett shook his head.
"N.. no, my lord Ares," he said swallowing hard. "I'm here ... I'm here at your pleasure." With that the god smiled, stroking Jett's face with the back of his hand, running it up into his hair with a lover's caress.
With shocking suddenness, he grabbed a hank of hair and jerked the assassin's head backwards in a cruel clasp. Ares thrust his face angrily into Jett's, demanding, "Who are you? You are not Joxer! How are you managing this imposture? Which of the other gods is helping you? And how did you find out?" Reaching down the god snapped the blade out of the mortal's hand, dropping it onto the floor.
Jett found himself fighting for breath, desire, not fear alone stealing the air from his lungs. He was magnificent, more beautiful angry than at peace. No wonder so many warriors followed him gladly to war.
"Please, sir," he found himself begging. He, who had never begged for anything in his life. "I'm ... I'm Joxer's brother, Jett. I didn't mean to ... I mean, I never intended for you ... Oh, god, you are so unbelievably handsome, lord Ares." His knees buckled and he slid into a a half-kneeling position, his hair still in Ares' hand. Gazing up with rapt eyes at the other's still angry expression, Jett continued, "Having seen you, the most perfect sight imaginable, I don't care if I die right now, if only it be at your hands." And he closed his eyes, to wait for the killing blow. But the thought of dying without that face before him was unbearable, and Jett opened them again just as quickly.
Still holding Jett's head back in a slowly relaxing grip, Ares examined the assassin's face closely, a considering expression on his own. "Joxer's brother, ummm?" he mused, thoughtfully. "I suppose that it would upset him dreadfully if I did kill you then." Without letting go entirely, he pulled back, his examination traveling down from Jett's face. "I wonder how far the resemblance goes?" the god spoke as if to himself. Focusing again on Jett's face, brightening with blossoming hope, he searched the assassin's eyes.
"Did you mean what you said, about being here for my pleasure?" he challenged him. Jett licked his dry lips and nodded, hope, desire and fear mixed in equal measure. Ares smiled. "Then I think I should give you the opportunity to prove your words," he decided. Releasing his grip on Jett's hair, he yanked the startled assassin up and hard against his body and kissed him roughly, nothing like the gentle caress with which he'd greeted the faux-Joxer.
Just as unexpectedly, Ares released Jett, who fell backwards on a couch that had not been there a moment before. Gazing up at the object of his lust, he could see peripherally, that they were not where they had been a few moments before, but it seemed so unimportant.
Ares stood there, looking lordly, untouchable and heartbreakingly gorgeous, staring down at Jett with a small smile on his shapely lips. "Well, let's see just how far the resemblance runs," he said quietly. Without making a motion, Jett found himself completely undressed, lying before the god of war, his erection straining upward, betraying the depths of his desire.
Ares smiled at this bit of self-deception. "Well," he commented, nodding his head slightly, "that at least is the same." He knelt down, one hand wrapping around the engorged cock, the other cupping Jett's balls. With a low moan of pleasure, Jett arched his pelvis up. But the god merely ran his hands over the man's genitals, then began a slow, leisurely exploration of the exposed body before him.
Somehow, between one intimate, probing caress and another, Ares removed his own garments. Raising Jett up, pushing him down onto his knees before him, Ares presented his staff for the adoration of his worshipper. Tremulously, Jett opened his mouth and took the mushroom tip between his lips. Pulling out again immediately, he licked the rock-hard penis down one side and up the other, wetting it, slurping. Opening his mouth wider, he tried to take the entire shaft in with one gulp. Ares shut his eyes, rolling his head back as the assassin's nimble tongue went to work on his cock.
After some time, the god pulled himself away, encouraging Jett to stand again. Kissing him gently, Ares gently forced the mortal to lie face down on the couch, his hands massaging the other's back, down to his ass cheeks, pressing them together, pulling them apart. One finger slipped down the crack and pressed against the small brown rosette of Jett's asshole, pressing gently but inexorably, slipping within. With the intrusion, the assassin bit the pillow, moaning softly and lifting his hips, inviting further penetration. Ares smiled with satisfaction.
Reaching for the lubricant that he wished were present, Ares removed his finger and applied a liberal amount to the tight hole. He pushed two fingers in, moving them around and spreading them slightly. Jett moaned again, trying to get the fingers in further, but the god's other hand was flat on his back, holding him down. Again, Ares applied lubricant, working yet another finger in, manipulating and spreading the asshole wider. Jett's moans became words, pleas and cries for more pleasure.
"Oh, please, lord Ares, please. Further, please. Oh, take me. I want to feel you inside me, I want you. Please, use me, take me." Ares smile grew broader. Removing his hand from the other's ass, he leaned forward, pressing his chest on the man's back, whispering into his ear.
"You want me to fuck your ass?" he purred teasingly.
"Ohhh, yesss. Please, please. Please, fuck my ass. Do it now. Oh, please!" Jett moaned, some small part of his mind amazed at the desire he felt to be taken by the magnificence upon him.
"Then I will." And Ares moved into position, placing the head of his cock against the opening. Pausing there for a minute, enjoying the sight of Jett bucking ineffectually, pushing backwards, straining to get the astonishingly attractive, tormenting pressure into him. At last, the god pressed forward and down, his cock sliding with excruciating slowness into the assassin's prepared back passageway. Jett yelled with pure pleasure, trying to hurry its entry, but Ares moved at his own pace, pushing forward until his balls banged against Jett's own. Then, just as slowly, he pulled out again.
Again and again, he entered Jett, and the assassin felt as though his own cock was being massaged and stroked, from the inside out. It was too much for him, and with a loud cry, he dissolved into a flood of sensation, an orgasm more intense than any he'd ever experienced before that went on and on, seemingly without end. In the distance, he heard Ares cry out as his own release came upon him.
Jett jerked his head up, looking toward the smoldering remains of his sacrifice. Shaking his head slightly, he looked around, noticing the dirk on the floor. He must have fallen asleep. That assignment last night did take more time than he'd thought that it would. Stretching, yawning, spreading his arms wide, he thought to himself, ah well, no harm done. No one came by.
Pushing off from the pillar, he leaned over to retrieve the blade, then stopped, bewildered by the sensations from his rear. Reaching back surreptitiously, he rubbed his ass a little, trying to make it a little more comfortable. Not that it was actually painful, but... What had he done to himself to hurt there he wondered, puzzled. Shrugging with incomprehension, he gingerly walked out of the building, with a something less than his usual grace and style. In fact, he thought, he was moving a little like his kid brother, Joxer.
Jett shook his head slightly at the thought, and wondered why he felt a sudden sense of envy for the other. Joxer had never had anything that Jett wanted, not after Jett had taken it away from him anyhow. Behind the altar, invisibly watching the mincing steps of the aching assassin, Ares laughed quietly to himself. Of the two, Joxer was more to his liking. He had more staying power.