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He watches her from his shaded spot amongst the pillars of their father’s house, smiling and talking with her parade of sycophants that surround her – one of whom, his own daughter, he thinks bitterly.
She walks along in her stately, confidant manner, as she always does. And he hates her. Hates how sure of herself she always is. How tall and proud she always stands. How their father chooses her in all things.
But most of all, he hates how much he desires her.
Her long, straight hair is brown and dull, forever braided and coiled on the back of her head, with only a few wisps of loose strands to show any sign of winsome femininity. Her chiton is plain white linen – no doubt to brandish her virtuous purity – decorated with just a handful of small, silver clasps down the arms. All of it topped with a thin, silver diadem, shaped as an olive wreath adorning her head like the princess she acts.
With a huff, he wonders what his mother would think of that. Not that she’d say anything, with this perfect specimen of a goddess being the pride and joy of her husband, after all.
Yes, he hates her most thoroughly. But the singleminded ache he sometimes feels to ravish her chaste body, warred with the deep want to crush her. Or perhaps, they could be one in the same. He’d never attempt it, of course, for as often as their father forgave and accepted his slights, he knows there’d only be the cruelest of punishments for ever defiling the God’s cherished favorite.
Sauntering from the shadows, eyes on his rival, he sets his face with a mocking sort of cheer.
“Hail Pallas, victor in all things,” he shouts, drowning out the chattering idiots that surround her, causing a sudden hushed silence as they turn to him. But it’s only her attention he cares about.
Her genial smile falls slowly as the sea of bodies part to show her his presence. Her kohl rimmed, grey eyes take him in with a wary look. He catches site of his daughter, Nike, trying to hide herself behind her great idol, but she knows she’s caught when he gives her a quick glance of disappointment. Athena must feel the younger goddess’ fear, sliding a comforting touch around her wrist.
“Ares,” she greets him with a suspicious formality that makes him sneer.
“Don’t worry sister. I only come to congratulate you.”
She raises her brows as if surprised, but he can see she doesn’t truly believe it. If Athena was anything, it was brilliant, and he never would expect her to believe a word of kindness that came from his mouth.
It makes him want to show her a variety of other things he can do to her with his mouth.
“Then I thank you, brother.” She tilts her head in that way she does that says she knows all, and he nothing. It makes him feel like a child, and the hate he feels for her grows tenfold. “That’s very magnanimous of you.”
“Yes, not like you at all, Ares,” speaks Hephaestus in his raspy voice, sounding as if a gorgon had clawed at his vocal chords. A nice visual, Ares thinks, of such a sad beast that considers himself a god.
“Perhaps I was so impressed by my sister’s genius, I have no choice but show my amazement at her accomplishment.”
The idea to create a trap posing as a gift for their enemies, which they then would allow within their walls with open arms, was indeed brilliant. Even as incensed as he is over his loss, he can at least admit that.
All’s quiet and still before Athena begins a slow trek to him, her sandals tapping against the stone floor with every step. When she finally stands in front of him, it’s as if the crowd behind her has disappeared. The hiss and snap of electric current coursing between them reminds him of their father, and how much this ingenious being means to him, yet the jealousy he normally feels has tapered some with something else rising in its stead.
“Thank you, Ares. Truly,” she says softly, only loud enough for the two of them to hear. Then leaning closer, “If you mean it.”
She’s near enough for him to smell, flowery and feminine as he’d assumed, just like all the goddesses. But beneath that, something canlı bahis else, something only those that know battle can recognize, something primal and fierce, and he sees when she recognizes it within him, too.
It has the ache within him growing. Images flashing of her panting and moaning for him like a bitch in heat, as he takes her in this very spot in their father’s house. Bent over and begging, for all her little followers to see how sopping wet he’s made her – their prim, virginal goddess.
Her nose flares, cheeks blushing a pretty pink like she can see the lurid images in his mind.
A smirk slides across his face. The loss of a war to her was worth it for this moment. “Of course, sister.”
Leaning down, he gives her a chaste kiss at the corner of her lips, holding back the urge to catch the plump flesh of her bottom lip with his teeth. She stands stock still, her rapid breath swirling against his face and neck. Zeus’ pure little daughter is as aroused as he, Ares realizes.
He wonders if she allows herself any carnal pleasure, even if only by her own hand? He wonders if she will do so tonight, while thinking of him?
He stands straight again, looking down into her dazed expression with satisfaction. “Sister,” he says cordially before leaving her there wanting and desperate just as he has always been for her.
Sprawled on his chaise lounge, Ares watches Aphrodite as she stands, sweat glistening off her skin and generous curves. She wraps the thin linen of her peplos around her uselessly considering how sheer it is, her rosy nipples poking out underneath as if they weren’t covered at all.
She gives him a seductive smile before allowing a dainty hand to linger teasingly on his chest, fingers playing with the hair there. He hates to admit it, but it doesn’t do much for him anymore. There was a time when possessing the most divine being in the universe excited him. Now, as he watches her lips pout or breasts quiver he thinks that perhaps it’s too much – too inviting.
How can one enjoy the spoils of war, without first shedding the blood of battle to earn them? Where was the pride in it, if all was yours to take without a fight?
Aphrodite’s hips sway flirtatiously on her way out, and it’s almost enough for him to roll his eyes. Sighing, he leans across to reach for his chalice of wine, allowing the smooth sweetness to run down the back of his tongue and down his throat.
“I thought she’d never leave.”
Ares freezes with surprise at having been caught off guard. There aren’t many who can do that to him. Only one, in fact.
With astonishment, he watches Athena come to the end of his chaise, an uncaring air of confidence surrounding her that has him stirring.
Her hair is down, for once, in a long, thick braid, loose tendrils framing her slender face, softening it. And despite having just had his way with the goddess of beauty and pleasure, he thinks this lean, haughty nymph might just be the most glorious thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
Grinning, Ares sets his cup aside, once again lounging back comfortably with a hand resting behind his head.
Her eyes never leave him, and he doesn’t bother covering himself, one leg bent with a foot set upon the chaise, the other on the floor, quite open to her if she feels the need to let her gaze wander – which she does, he notes with satisfaction.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of such an unexpected visit?”
Her only answer is to hike up her dress high enough to join him on the chaise. His heart about bursts with utter shock, but he swiftly rises to clutch her waist, his eyes wide as she crawls closer to him on her knees.
“No one can know,” she whispers, her only explanation. But it is more than enough for him, balls tight and cock twitching with want for her.
He gives a quick nod in agreement, and she takes a steadying breath, and he can taste her nervousness, wants to devour the succulent sweetness of it.
It tastes like victory, he realizes. And with all the eons of squabbles and battles and wars that they’ve fought against bahis siteleri each other, it’s the first time he’s tasted it from her – willingly at that. It makes him clutch her harder, hands sliding down to her hips, squeezing with a strength he didn’t dare use with Aphrodite. She moans softly, eyes fluttering.
He then raises his hands to the neck of her practical chiton, no fancy colors or ornamentation, and begins ripping the fabric, tearing the garter with it. It seems to spur her into motion, yanking the ruined garment down her arms, hands smacking hard on either side of his head as she pulls his face to hers, seeking his lips with a desperate edge that has him growling.
Her tongue is soft but sure as she licks inside his mouth, turning him how she wants him so she can press deeper. And as wonderful as it is, this is his victory – for once – and he refuses to give her control of anything. His fingers find purchase in her hair, tugging almost cruelly and making her cry out as he holds her head back, immobile, with her neck and body bared to him in all its smooth, ivory glory.
“Now, now, sister,” he teases, his grin mocking as her grey eyes cut into him. “You must practice patience. That’s something you preach, yes? Patience before a battle?”
“This isn’t a battle.”
Ares chuckles. “Oh, I disagree. I think,” he begins, tugging at her hair again lightly, enjoying her wince, “this might just become my favorite battle.”
He leans forward, nipping at her lip, just enough to draw blood, making her hiss. “And this time, I intend to win.”
It’s silent as he sucks her lip meanly between his own, licking at the wound he created, her blood more delectable than any wine Dionysus could offer him.
“We’ll see about that,” she finally groans, hands dropping to squeeze his cock. Consciousness is lost to him for a moment, leaning his face into the crook of her neck, as his hips jerk up without any say from him.
“Dirty, sprite,” he mumbles into her skin, yanking her hips forward with enough strength for her to lose her balance, falling back with a gasp. He catches her in time, one hand sprawled across her back and the other around her arm, lying her down gently.
Hands on the back of her knees, Ares spreads her open for him before sliding the linen from what’s left of her chiton up her legs, until it’s bunch and hanging loose around her waist.
“Now, will you be good for me sister,” he growls behind bared teeth as he tugs her body closer to his aching cock, making her release a tiny yelp.
Locking her ankles at the small of his back, she squeezes, pressing and sliding her soaking cunt up and down against him. “What would be the fun in that?”
He has to laugh, this is turning out to be far better than any fantasy he could conjure, and he’s conjured quite a few. Hovering over her, he begins to feast on the delicate column of her neck, tendons and muscles stretching and moving beneath his mouth as she swallows and moans his name.
A siren’s call he couldn’t ignore if wanted to.
He nips at her collar bone, and she yanks at his hair before massaging the scalp unconsciously, fingers gripping and sliding through the strands in time with her undulating body beneath him. She seems almost in a trance, and he feels drunk from her far away sighs and moans.
His tongue licks at her pebbled nipples with a slow yet greedy pace, playing with them before sucking and scraping them against his teeth lightly.
Her needy little cries have him twitching and stomach clenching to drive himself within her. But then she’d wake from this blissful state he’s driven her to, and in those pools of grey she’d look at him with triumph, and he refuses to let that happen. He won’t be defeated by her in this. He’ll allow her victory everything else, but not this.
Unlocking her legs from around him, he trails his mouth down her pale skin, seeking every dip and hill to lavish with his skilled tongue, only raising her higher upon this mountain of arousal, intent on violently pushing her of the precipice.
“Tell me, sweet sister, how long have bahis şirketleri you wanted this? How long have you warred within yourself to let me take you?”
She shakes her head deliriously, pressed back against the cushioned chaise, with lips parted releasing puffs of breath.
He finds his treasure, glistening and contracting as if begging to be filled, and his moth waters at the sight. If only father could see them now, Ares thinks with a devilish grin, dipping down to taste the virginal desert of his sister. How would Zeus’ oh so precious daughter explain away this?
As if in answer, Athena cries out loud at the slide of his tongue, calling out to all the gods. He’d like that, for them to see this, see him possessing the one whom they all believed never could be.
Her taste is better than he imagined, so fresh and shameless, gliding over his tongue and down his throat. He drinks his fill of her as he works to drag her higher, battling her every step of the way. He leaves, but only to sample the yearning little nub, filling with blood and begging for attention.
He plays with it softly at first, bathing it with saliva as he presses gently, fingers spearing inside her tight canal. But then Athena’s pleading begins to drown out most thoughts keeping him on track, and he begins to suck and kiss her harder, stretching her further, if only to continue hearing the grunting and crying she releases so wantonly.
Her breasts and neck are flushed a rosy pink, eyes shut tight against the flood he’s released within her. Cock in hand, he gives himself a few selfish tugs before tapping his weeping, bulbous head heavily on his new friend. A nice hello before he begins to slide within.
Athena sucks in a long gasp, holding her breath at the intrusion. Ares settles one hand beside her head, gazing down into her astonished face with pleasure. This is what true victory feels like – a silken wrap held tight around his throbbing cock as his most beautiful rival yields to him.
A storm is unleashed in her grey eyes as they lock with his, so tumultuous, Poseidon himself could not navigate through it. But Ares is determined to do so, beginning his journey as he slides in and out slowly, enjoying every microscopic twitch and spasm that comes across her face.
He drops to his forearm, fingers twining through her disheveled hair. He raises her hand between them, wrapping his lips around her two first fingers, letting them slip out, wet with his saliva before slipping them low enough to play with herself. She takes to it quickly, moaning as she catches her lip between her teeth, making him think that he was right earlier, she has at least done that before. And he reminds himself to ask her later how often she touches herself to the thought of her him.
One hand holding her hip for purchase, he begins setting a new pace, faster and harder making her body bounce beneath his, her grunts matching his own as he seeks both their pleasures.
He pants dirty things into her ear, filthy, obscene things he’s dreamt of doing to his poised and proper sister, and then which of those things he plans on doing to her next. And it becomes the tipping point for her, well and truly falling from that mountainous precipice he pushed her up, knees clutching his ribs as she cries out loud and hoarse, blunt nails leaving sweetly stinging lines across his shoulder blades.
And the intensity of her newly used cunt, as it contracts around him with a strength he’s never felt before, is mind blowing. He knows it’s not long now before he joins her, falling into the welcoming warmth of her skin and hair as he ravishes her with a vengeance, taking from her what he’s always wanted. Until finally he’s spilling inside her, hips lurching violently before stuttering with a stop, cock twitching until he’s emptied within her.
Her breath is hot against his ear, body warm and sticky beneath his, it’s heavenly. Once his breath is caught he rises, peering down at his debauched sister – a vision. His drenched cock slips out of her, making her wince, the pearly translucence of his cum dripping out with it. The sight’s enough to nearly make him hard all over again.
Athena finds his hand, laying it against her cheek, and a twinge of fear spears through him at what she might say next.
“Fine. You win.”
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