No Vengeance For the Wicked
By Arami

 Sequel to "Revenge is Sweet"and "How Do I Thank Thee"

“Strife!”

Ares’ voice thundered through the great Hall of War echoed by his heavy boots on the stone floor.  He knew his nephew was around; he couldn't hide for long.

Strife knew from the tone of his voice that Ares was not happy, at all.  Quickly he leaped out of the throne, preparing to make his escape.  Unfortunately, he wasn't quick enough to escape Ares, who saw Strife trying to sneak out, a guilty look on his pale face.

With a flick of his wrist, Ares held Strife with a lightning stream against the sidewall of the temple.  The armour and banners that adorned the walls shook at the impact.

Strife looked down at this uncle, attempting to look innocent.  “Uh, hi, Unc.  How life?”

Ares just glared at him.  “Strife.  Did you think you could get away that easily?” rumbled the God of War, his voice reverberating against the walls.

Strife put his hands out in front of him as though he could stop Ares’ anger.  “Come on, Ares.  It was just a bit of fun.  They're just mortals.”

“FUN?!!  You meddled where you had no business interfering!” Ares yelled.  “You want to be a full-fledged god?  Making me angry isn't the way to do it!”  The lightning stream stopped suddenly and Strife fell to the floor with a thud.  He scrambled up, preparing for the full brunt of Ares’ wrath.  His nervous giggling scratched through the near silence.

Ares took a few strides towards his throne, but Strife remained where he'd fallen, just off to the side.  Ares grinned an almost feral grin as he spoke again.  “I didn't know you had such a jealous streak in you, Strife.  If I had, you wouldn't have had to resort to such measures.”  The grin was replaced by a knowing smirk across Ares’ dark, handsome features.

“Huh?”  Strife looked at Ares, dumbfounded.  “Um, well, Unc,” he stammered.  He couldn't get anymore words to come out.  He was exasperated and stunned.  Before Strife could respond with a coherent thought, Ares was down from his throne and in front of him.  Strife jumped in fear, and anticipation.

Ares reached down and stroked one of Strife's vinyl clad shoulders. Strife remained tense, not sure how to react.  Ares was being very unpredictable and that was more frightening that if he were angry. Ares could see the tension in every pore of Strife's body.  He smiled to himself.  He enjoyed the way his nephew feared him---he counted on it.

Ares’ hot breath warmed Strife's pale skin, standing mere inches from the younger god.

“I…. Think it's time for me to be going now,” Strife said in halting voice, trying to ignore the sensations moving through his body, and the extreme closeness of Ares’ leather-clad body.

Ares’ hand gripped tighter on Strife’s shoulder.  “Oh, you’re not leaving.  Not yet at least.”  In the next breath, Ares placed a punishing kiss upon Strife’s hesitant lips.  Vinyl meshed with leather.  Bronze skin pressed against pale skin.

Strife’s hesitation was brief as his long-fingered hands found their way to Ares’ broad muscular back and up to his dark curled locks. Ares’ own war toughened hands moved to grasp his nephew’s head on either temple, Strife’s jet-black, out of control hair a prisoner between the God of War’s fingers.

Ares found little resistance to his invading tongue, which pressed its way into Strife's hungry mouth.  Strife moaned as his tongue wrestled with Ares’.  Ares pulled the younger god closer to him, leaving nothing but a layer of leather and vinyl between them.  Both gods could feel the need of the other pressed against them.

Strife was giddy with anticipation and let his mind wander to various fantasies he’d indulged over the years.  Ares, however, wasn’t up for a slow, long, drawn-out experience.  This was, after all, supposed to be Strife’s punishment.  Ares broke from the kiss abruptly, sending Strife against the wall with a thud.  Strife didn’t move.  He just
stared at Ares and brushed his bruised lips with his hand.

A broad, almost feral, grin fell across Ares’ face, and an evil glint passed over his dark eyes.  “It’s not nice to mess with the God of War,” was all he said before, in one grand sweeping movement, he ripped off Strife’s ode to vinyl, and got rid of his own leathers as well.

Strife marveled at the sight before him.  Ares was truly an awesome sight to behold.  His dark curls caressed his broad, muscular shoulders and his moustache and beard of similar color accentuated his well-defined cheekbones.  Ares’ powerful, barrel-like chest rose up and down with steady rhythm.  From his perfect abs to his rippling thigh, he as the total embodiment of ‘Olympian’.  Strife’s vision fell upon Ares’ more than ample cock, which bobbed up and down as Ares moved toward him.

Ares took in the sight his nephew.  Here stood not the whiny weakling he once thought, but someone to marvel at.  True Strife would never be mistaken for a mighty powerhouse, but he did have strength of his own.  His tall, lanky pale frame was a stark contrast to his black, disheveled hair, and the dark walls he rested against.  His skin was smooth and his features looked to be formed of marble.  Like Strife, Ares’ sight found its way to Strife’s godhood, and he was actually surprised to see that his nephew could give him a run for his money!

Ares reached out for Strife and quickly pulled him to the floor, covering Strife’s body with this own.  He could feel Strife’s cock pressing against his thigh as Strife squirmed beneath him.

“Will you hold still for two seconds?!” demanded Ares.

Strife laughed and it echoed throughout the hall.  “I can’t help it….”

Ares covered Strife’s lips once again, the impact so hard that it busted open Strife’s bottom lip.  As the blood mixed with their saliva and passed between them, both gods became more aroused.  Ares ground his body into Strife’s, threatening to push the younger through the cold floor.

Ares pulled his mouth away and left Strife gasping for air.  His lips moved down Strife’s neck and further to his chest, trailing blood and saliva across the pale skin.  Ares’ warm, wet tongue laved attention on Strife’s dark nipple and Strife gasped again, arching his body up towards that of Ares.

Ares used his strength to pin Strife’s arms above his head, and bit into his chest; not very hard, but enough to draw blood from Strife yet again.

“Awwwww, ouch!!!” screamed Strife as he felt Ares’ sharp teeth puncture his skin and jerked away.  “What was that for?” he cried out.

Ares looked up into Strife’s face, his lips covered in blood.  His tongue darted out to catch the stream of blood streaking across his chin.  “I never said this would be fun,” replied Ares, grinning as he spoke.  Still half-reclining on top of Strife, Ares ran his hand over the newest wound, his fingers becoming wet from the red, thick liquid there.  He smeared the blood across Strife’s chest and down his abdomen.

Ares continued rubbing Strife’s blood over his body and moved downward until he reached Strife’s hard, straining cock.  It glistened with leaking pre-cum, but Ares didn’t stop there.  He stroked Strife’s thigh, leaving a dripping wet, red palm print across the taut muscle.

Moving quickly, Ares plunged his hand beneath Strife and inserted two fingers into his waiting ass.  Strife tensed and sucked air into his lungs and he was invaded roughly.  He squirmed and struggled to move away, but Ares weight prevented it.

“Struggle all you want,” said Ares huskily.  “It won’t make a difference to me.”  He continued to probe Strife and smiled as the younger god began to thrust up and moaned, a sure sign Ares had made contact with his most sensitive area.

A sheen of sweat had broken out all over Strife’s body, and beads formed on his brow.  After the initial pain, Strife’s desire and instinct took over.  He groaned and thrust towards Ares’ manipulative hand.  One of his own hands moved to his rigid cock, but was batted away by Ares, who said not a word.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ares stopped his manipulation of Strife, only to grab both of Strife’s legs and lift them up, bringing them level with his own massive, veined cock.  And then, without preamble, he plunged deep into Strife with one torturous stroke.

Strife lurched up, howling in pain; howling in pleasure.  Ares set his hands on either side of Strife’s shoulders and began to furiously pound into the pale one’s body.

Harder.

Faster.

Rougher.

Deeper.

Soon Ares’ own guttural moans and cries mingled with those of Strife’s as Ares unleashed his most basic urges into his movement.  He grabbed Strife’s aching, weeping cock and began to stroke it in time to the motion he was setting within Strife’s body.

Strife’s hips shot up involuntarily, keeping pace with Ares, pressing himself as far as he could to Ares’ body.  Never in his wildestfantasies could he ever have imagined this….  He was suddenly blinded by raw, unbridled desire as he came hard.  Ares continued to stroke Strife’s cock and thrust into him as Strife hit the orgasmic plane.

“Oh gods!”  he exclaimed.  “Ares, yes… ohh…. More, yes….!”  Strife’s pent-up want and need came forth as, soon, Strife and Ares were covered by his immortal seed.

Ares—with beads of sweat dripping off his forehead and his dark curls damp and sticking to his face and shoulder—fucked Strife at a blinding pace, one that would probably have killed a mortal by now.  Soon Ares tensed up, feeling Strife’s hot, tight passage grabbing his immense godhood as Ares finally released his own godly seen into Strife.

A deep, violent, animalistic growl erupted from Ares and thrust a few more times into the young god until the God of War was spent.  Ares withdrew from Strife and fell onto his back beside Strife.  The Hall of War was filled with the gasping breathing of the two gods as they struggled for air.

Strife ached all over and his right hand moved to the bite marks on his chest.  The blood from the wound was smeared around his chest and abdomen, and had begun to dry.  It was a mixture of saliva, blood and semen.  He thought on something Ares had said earlier.  He really hadn’t been jealous of the mortal king and the emperor.  Strife just
didn’t like them.  But now….  If this was the reason behind Ares’ uncommon obsession with them, then he could see why Ares would be interested in them both.

Strife felt Ares slowly get up and he turned his head to see Ares leaning against the nearby stone pillar, covered in blood, saliva and semen, much like him.   He found Ares staring down at his motionless, prone body.

Strife looked directly into Ares’ eyes: pale meeting dark.  “You know, Ares, I have been really bad lately.”

The End