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One would think that a god of war wouldn’t get bored but, unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. While basically every other olympian had a long list of all their domains, his was short. War and courage, nothing more. And for the most part, he was perfectly fine with that. He had his job and he did it well. He wasn’t like his half-sister having to cover everything from wisdom to women’s crafts or his uncle covering horses, earthquakes, and the ocean. He was the first charge, the battle cry, the bloodlust. He was the pounding of the heart, the joy of victory, the drive for retribution. He was bravery, honor, and strength. He was war.
And that meant that when humanity wasn’t in the mood for any of that, he was bored.
Humanity was feeling rather peaceful, his lover was off doing her role since her domains always needed some observation in some way, and it wasn’t like he had many friends. So he had two options. He could find a way to entertain himself in Olympus, or he could find some entertainment from a mortal. And upon realizing that it had been more than a week since he had seen a certain mortal, he was already leaping off the mountain and shapeshifting into a vulture before he could put in any further thought.
It wasn’t too far of a flight before he got to an island he had been often frequenting lately. He swooped down to a particular window and landed on the wood-carved perch that technically wasn’t made for him but still worked as a place to wait. He looked around the room but saw it looking oddly empty. But before he could leave his physical form and search the castle, the door swung open and he heard a familiar sound of breathlessness before a certain prince entered his line of sight, clearly in a rush as he started searching the room for something. But instead of drawing any attention to himself or even trying to figure out what he was doing, he was in a stunned silence as he stared at the boy.
The boy who was wearing a full set or armor.
“You had one job.” Telemachus muttered to himself as he frantically searched, “Oh sure Athena! You can give me a weapon made by Hephaestus himself and not lose it in three days! Gods, I’m an idiot. How hard is it to not lose a knife? Apparently very! Ugh, knife if you do not show up soon Athena is going to suspect that I couldn’t do something so basic and then she’s going to lecture me and- ah! Heyyy…”
Ares had been so entranced by watching him that it took him a few moments to process the fact that the prince had noticed him. When he caught up with things he tried to steady himself and left his animal disguise, standing in Telemachus’ room in his normal, though not fully godly, form.
“Hey to you too.” Ares chuckled, trying to stay normal looking, “I’m guessing this isn’t the best time for me to come by?”
“Well, it depends what you’re coming here for.” Telemachus shrugged.
Ares was trying to focus on what he was saying, he really was, but with what the prince was wearing…he was struggling far more than he had any right to. The helmet was nothing new –silvery, engraved, grey-blue plumage, formerly owned by his sister but given to the boy the night of his father’s return– but he was also wearing a thick leather chestplate over a heavier crafted chiton, copper arm and shin guards, and tightly laced sandals. He had never seen the boy fully armored in such a way before and he should have been able to handle it fine since he was literally a god of war and had seen countless mortals in much more impressive armor before but something about seeing his lovely prince even in something so unimpressive…
“-ou okay?”
“I’m fine!” Ares quickly said, louder than he should have.
“Are you sure? You were staring at me like a dog staring at meat.”
“I just…got lost in thought?”
“Sure, yeah, because you’re so well known for thinking to that degree.” Telemachus teasingly laughed.
Ares could sense the confidence growing inside the prince; the kid knew that he was barely hanging onto composure and Ares couldn’t even be surprised. He was smart and was always great at reading him. Ever since they met when he had to help him fight the suitors while his sister was still recovering from her lightning wounds, Teleamchus could always see right through him. When he had tried to hang around the castle out of simple curiosity and nothing deeper, he hadn’t even lasted a day before Telemachus had caught onto his guard disguise, hid his realization, lured him away, and caught him completely off guard by suddenly grabbing him and slamming him down to the ground, pinning him and demanding to know why a god of war was hanging around his home. Not the kid’s smartest moment but that day ended with the two of them fucking for the first time –Ares had gotten repeated assurance from his lover that she had nothing to do with it, sad that she hadn’t gotten the chance to watch– so maybe it wasn’t that bad of a plan.
“Fine.” Ares sighed, a soft smile on his face, “I simply wasn’t expecting to see you dressed in such a way.”
“Athena says that even if she hopes I’ll never have to deal with true battle, she wants me to be able to be familiar with the feeling. We’re working our way up in levels of armor.” Telemachus explained, pausing before taking a step closer, a smirk forming, “Do you like it?”
“It makes you look stronger. Not to say that you aren’t already strong, of course. We both know that you are far from weak.”
“Well I’m glad to hear that.”
“Do you want me to have more of a reaction?” Ares asked, raising an eyebrow as he moved closer to the prince.
“With the way you were starting…maybe.”
“Take off my sister’s helmet and then you’ll get your reaction.”
Telemachus got a look that could only be described as giddy as he pulled off the helmet and took it over to his desk, Ares following him, smirking as the prince set it down so carefully. When Telemachus turned around, Ares was already right behind him and scooped him up. Telemachus wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled himself into a kiss. Ares was happy to reciprocate as he carried Telemachus over to the wall, letting the prince support his back against it. The prince’s lips were so soft against his, but their softness wasn’t a sign of fragility and especially not inexperience. They had only been doing…whatever it was they were doing for something over half a year but in that time the lad had gained more than enough skill.
“How much time do you have?” Ares husked against Telemachus’ lips.
“How long do you think your sister will believe I’m looking for a dagger?”
“You? I think we have time for a little fun.”
“Then you better get to it.”
Ares scoffed at the mortal, but he still made sure Telemachus was properly supporting himself against the wall before letting go of him, freeing up his hands. He closed his eyes and mentally searched through any offerings he was given recently, finding one that was offering him –among other things– a very nice jar of oil. He didn’t pay too much attention to what they were asking for and just granted them their prayer. If that turned out to be unwise, he could deal with that later; he wasn’t the one with wisdom in his domain. He opened the jar and dipped his fingers inside before leaning over just enough to place the jar on the edge of the desk.
“So, how fast do you want me to be?” Ares asked, slipping one hand under Telemachus’ clothes as the other held the underside of his thigh.
“You know what I can take.” Telemachus chuckled, slightly smugly.
“Hey, you’re lucky I’m nice enough to ask.”
Ares pushed two fingers inside and Telemachus sharply inhaled, wincing slightly, but while his exhale was shaky, he didn’t give any further protest. When he gave a small nod, Ares started to gently thrust his fingers inside of him.
“I didn’t know that all it would take to get you like this would just be to wear some armor.” Telemachus chuckled through a moan, “You’re never this obvious, and that’s saying a lot.”
“You’re getting quite brazen, so blatantly insulting a god, my prince.”
“Is it an insult if it’s true? Maybe I should try taking some of this off and see if you still can’t wait to take me.”
“Don’t you dare.” Ares growled, pushing his fingers deeper inside, “Don’t you dare even threaten to take a single piece of this off. I had you remove my sister’s helmet out of respect for her honor. But everything else? It makes you look so much more like the soldier I’m both so glad and so mournful you’ll never be. Oh how I’d love to see you fight again like the night your father returned. The blood that you spilled made you look breathtaking and it’s a wonder how much restraint I showed.”
“Between my fighting and my parent’s love, I can only imagine how insatiable you and your beloved were.”
“A level you could never keep up with. Not unless she was there too.”
“Maybe you should invite her sometime. It might be fun.”
“You have a death wish, my prince.” Ares softly laughed.
“Only when I’m with you.”
Ares captured Telemachus’ lips in a much more commanding kiss as he sped up the pace of his fingers. The prince moaned into his mouth, allowing Ares to deepen the kiss. Telemachus clung to him but Ares made sure he’d be steady. Hearing the sound of the prince’s armor against his own was driving him mad and he couldn’t even think of a sane justification. Something about his precious prince wearing any level of armor made him want for him and he wasn’t even watching him fight wearing it; if he had seen Telemachus training while armored he likely would have pounced the lad the moment his sister was away, if he could manage to not interrupt their training and take him away prematurely that is.
Well, even if he wasn’t wise, he did have enough common sense to know that interrupting his sister’s training session to fuck her student would only lead to bad things for him.
Ares pulled his fingers out before pushing them back in with a third. Telemachus softly whined, but Ares had long since learned which noises of his were of discomfort and which were of pleasure. He hadn’t always been so knowledgeable and especially early on he had made some mistakes –having the goddess of sex as his lover and a prince who was a virgin when he met him as his…something was bound to lead to some less than perfect moments– but in their months together he learned what to do to give his prince exactly what he needed. Frankly he rarely prioritized his own pleasure when he was with Telemachus since it was always inevitable that the lad would bring him to every high he wanted simply by existing. So it was simply more productive to let his own pleasure happen while he dedicated himself towards ensuring that Telemachus felt as incredible as he deserved.
“Please.”
“Enjoying yourself, my prince?” Ares softly asked, a hint of a chuckle in his voice.
“Need more.” Telemachus moaned, his voice tight as he tried to roll his hips against Ares’ fingers.
“Now who’s the impatient one?”
“We do, fuck, have a time limit.”
“I know, I know. Once I know you can take it, I’ll absolutely ravage you.”
“I can take it.” Telemachus insisted, though his firmness was tainted by the pleading in his eyes.
“Ah, apologies, I mean once you can take it and feel exactly what you should.”
“Asshole.” Telemachus muttered.
“When did my prince become such a brat?” Ares laughed, moving his fingers faster.
“I’m not the only one who looks really hot in armor, okay!?” Telemachus exclaimed, breaths shaking but not letting that stop him from making his point, “Normally when we fuck you just vanish away whatever you’re wearing because you like it when I can feel you and mark you up and stuff. But now- now you’re still wearing all that shit and I can feel the cold metal as I look into your burning eyes and I just- I just, gods please fuck me.”
Ares suddenly removed his fingers, barely giving the prince any time to make sure he was supporting himself before he let go, grabbing the oil again and pouring a generous amount into his hand, pulling out his dick and slicking it up thoroughly. He softly moaned at his dick finally getting some stimulation but once he was sure he had done enough, he shifted Telemachus up so he could start to ease himself inside. Normally he wouldn’t have the prince take all of him right away, but with how much he was begging, he went ahead and fully sheathed himself inside of him. The look of ecstasy in the prince’s eyes was everything that Ares had hoped it would be as he let him adjust to the feeling; Ares may have big fingers but his dick was still a stretch for his mortal body.
“Don’t call to the gods.” Ares husked, his breath hot on Telemachus’ face, “None of them deserve to hear you like this. You will beg to me. Only me. Understood?”
“U-understood.” Telemachus stammered, face flushed beautifully.
“Come on, ask me properly.”
“Understood…Ares.”
Hearing his name fall from his prince’s lips sent a shiver down his spine, that alone getting him to let out a breathy exhale. The boy looked like such a perfect soldier and he was all his. He wasn’t under the command of some general who wouldn’t see his potential, but he also wasn’t in any sort of command role that might overwhelm him. He was true to his name, far from battle, and yet he looked like he had ambitions of going to the front lines. And Ares could, in fact, feel all the drive inside of him, but that drive wasn’t to fight, it was to please. As if simply being allowed to be in the presence of such a curious soul wasn’t pleasing enough for a god so used to being high on bloodlust –also regular lust thanks to his lover– or trying to figure out a way to get some excitement.
Ares got a secure grip on Telemachus’ waist, his large hands seeming even larger with the prince’s tall and somewhat lanky figure; he had been putting on a notable amount of muscle and was far from scrawny, but anything compared to the unnatural amount of size and muscle Ares had would look skinny. Once he was sure that Telemachus had a solid grip on him, the boys’ arms wrapped around his neck and holding onto his own arms tightly, he slowly lifted Telemachus up most of his length before easing him back down; even if they were on a time limit and he was wanting to ravage the boy as promised, he still didn’t want to be too hasty. Telemachus let out a long moan as Ares slowly moved him, letting the price feel every inch of him stretching his hole. Even as he slowly picked up the pace, he still made sure that he’d feel all of him. He hadn’t always been able to take his full length, after all, so he made sure he’d know just how proud of himself to be. When he got to a steady pace, the room was filled with the sounds of Telemachus’ moans; it wasn’t that Ares wasn’t also making his arousal clear, Telemachus was simply far more vocal than him.
“Is this what you wanted, my prince?” Ares asked, teasingly.
“Yes, yes.” Telemachus whimpered, “I wanted you. And now I have you.”
“If you ever need me, all you have to ask. I’ll hear you.”
“You’re a god.”
“And you’re my prince.”
Telemachus pulled himself back into a kiss and Ares was quick to reciprocate it, even giving the prince some sense of command with the kiss as he fucked him. Ares tightened his grip slightly on Telemachus’ waist, loving the sensation of feeling his hands against the thick leather. He rubbed his thumbs over the material and with the fact that he was able to feel the material, hear the sound of metal against metal, all while being able to have such a lovely mortal on his dick…he was far more turned on than he had any right to. He could only imagine how insatiable he’d be if Telemachus was dressed like a true general. In fact, it was probably a good idea to not start imagining that so that he’d be able to properly focus on what he was supposed to be focusing on. He wanted to ensure the prince was his priority, but with the way he was dressed, he longed to be selfish and only worry about his own desires. He sometimes let himself act in such a way with other flings, but never with his prince. Telemachus deserved better than that. He deserved to be taken apart piece by piece, not ripped to shreds. To be worshiped, not used. To be ravaged, yes, but in a way that would leave lingering memories that could only be described as fond.
He was a god of war and courage. He wasn’t about to be so cowardly as to fail at serving a lover as much as one should.
Ares could already feel his orgasm building inside of him and if he didn’t know that his lover was busy elsewhere, he’d have sworn that it was her doing. But instead it seemed that seeing the lad in armor was doing far more for him than seeing him naked ever did. Normally when he felt himself reaching such a state he would feel up the boy in ways he knew would get to him or mark up his shoulders or neck or even jerk him off, but between the armor, their position, and the fact that after they finished the lad was going to do off and train, none of those were an option. So he just started fucking the boy harder, figuring that nothing bad could come from that.
“I might not last with you looking like this.” Ares admitted, chuckling through a moan.
“That’s- that’s okay.” Telemachus panted, “I, fuck, yes, I’ll take whatever you have to give me.”
“I’d give you anything, my prince.”
“I don’t deserve that. I’m just a mortal.”
“But you're my mortal. No other god or other being can claim to have you the way I do. And they never will. I would start wars for you, Telemachus, oh warrior kept far from battle.”
“But would you end them?”
Ares could only chuckle as he looked into the deep, shimmering eyes of the prince, his prince.
“Without question.”
Telemachus moved his face from Ares’ lips down to his neck and he bit down hard on the god’s skin. Ares’ grip tightened further on Telemachus’ waist and he hissed as his movements stuttered for a few moments. As the prince sucked on the skin Ares managed to get back to fucking at a more steady pace. His heart was pounding and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer, but he also knew there was nothing he could do. So he let the prince leave whatever marks he wanted on his immortal skin as he kept pounding into him until he reached his peak with the mortal’s name on his lips as he came deep inside of him. Normally he would give himself some time to enjoy the high, but that was when Telemachus had gotten his chance to get his own pleasure already. And since that hadn’t happened, it meant he still had a job to do.
Ares pulled Telemachus off his dick and lifted him up high on the wall. Telemachus let out a surprised noise but still knew to swing his legs over his shoulders. Ares wrapped his arms around Telemachus’ legs so he could pull out the prince’s hard dick. Before Telemachus could even fully put together what he was doing, Ares took his length in his mouth and started to skillfully suck his dick. Telemachus grabbed at Ares’ head, letting out a string of pleas and curses, pleas that Ares of course listened to. The prince had never felt his mouth in such a way before so he knew he had to leave a good impression. And it turned out to be a very good impression as it didn’t take long for his mouth to be filled with the prince’s cum, cum that he dutifully swallowed, as was only reasonable to be expected. He let Telemachus get through all the aftershocks of his orgasm before pulling his head off and lowering Telemachus and setting him down on his desk so he wouldn’t have to use his legs again so soon. His heart was filled with joy as he got to look at Telemachus’ flushed cheeks and ears, the princes’ smile lopsided, eyes wide. Once the boy was able to catch his breath, he glanced down, looked beside him, and softly laughed, picking up a simple dagger and holding it up for Ares.
“Ah, found it. It was right in the open.”
“Lost items are always in the last place you check.” Ares nodded with a smirk.
“Yeah, that’s how finding things work.” Telemachus lightheartedly scoffed.
“I would have thought that I would have fucked the sass out of you for longer than a few moments.”
“Mmm, you did nearly suck it out of me. And, speaking of, wow I had no idea you could do that.”
“You know who my lover is, should you really be surprised?”
“Oh, right, gods can shapeshift.” Telemachus said with a nod, pausing for a moment before giving Ares a dangerously curious look, “So, wait, does that mean sometime you could-”
“Save the questions for another time.” Ares laughed, “My sister is waiting for your return, is she not?”
“Right! Right. I totally didn’t forget.”
“I’m sure you didn't, my prince.”
Telemachus hopped off his desk, knees buckling slightly, though he quickly recovered, tucked the knife in his belt, started to walk away, stopped, turned back to grab his helmet, and looked up at Ares as he pulled it on.
“I’ll…see you next time, I guess?” Telemachus awkwardly chuckled, “Even after all this time I never have any idea what to say at the end.”
Ares rolled his eyes with a smile and walked over to the prince, tilting his chin up and giving him a soft kiss.
“You know how to get me back, don’t you?”
“Y-yeah. I just, um, just have to ask.”
“Good boy.”
Ares turned towards the window, giving his prince the dignity of not looking at his reaction to his words. He shapeshifted back into his vulture disguise and flew away. Just in time, apparently, as he was just able to hear the boy’s door open and he was sure it was his sister having gotten impatient. He didn’t know what excuse Telemachus would come up with, but he knew he’d be able to handle himself.
And even if he couldn’t, he knew his prince would be anything but bored.