Timor's Story:
The God and The Farmer
By EireneAres was pissed off, for a start. Being mortal was a drag and that gorgeous, beautiful bitch had barely managed to get the word 'Thank- you' out of her mouth. He'd given up his *godhood* for her, for goodness' sake. Any other mortal - or god, for that matter - would have seen the deed in all its beauty and fallen at his feet in gratitude. Not her, though. He'd loved her for a long time and she despised him. True, she was attracted to him at the same time. He'd not forget the hot kisses they'd shared or her biting his nipple in what had seemed like a kind of surrender and seduction at the time. For a few moments he'd thought he was about to make it inside that leather and get comprehensively fucked to a standstill, but they'd been interrupted. So he wandered aimlessly through Greece, disguised in his humanity, with no real prospect of getting his powers back. So lost was he in his own inner world of rage, loneliness and being generally fed up with life that he barely noticed the divine force field until too late. He was through and on the inside, looking at a rather delapidated farmstead and then he recognised the place and remembered...
"I would never worship a God like *you*." An older, but still painful rejection. And from a semi-literate, hopeless farmer with about as much backbone as a jellyfish. It was almost incomprehensible. The impudence of the man in his simplicity. Looked hauntingly like him, though. The other thing Ares could not understand was the fierce, almost uncontrollable reaction of his body at the time. Hard, aching, and burning to bury himself inside Timor and ravish him into helpless submission. Not just once, but over and over and over..... Ares frowned. None of his lovers before or since - not even his unconsummated relationship with Xena - had elicited such a primal, uncontrollable response. He'd been stunned, surprised and disgusted with himself. The punishment of Strife and Discord after they'd got home had been particularly intense and inventive. In an added stroke of genius at the time, he'd thought, he'd frozen Timor and his environment into an almost timeless bubble of space that only he could enter; fully intending to go back and deal with him later. It had never happened until now.
Events and history had changed as Xena and Hercules grew up and made trouble for him. Add in Caesar, Iphicles and various assorted warlords and the twilight of the Gods and he'd been rather busy these past years. Now, here he was, back at Timor's farm and not so much as one lightning bolt at his disposal. Not for the first time, he wondered how it was that Timor looked like him. He wasn't one of Ares' children, that was for sure. Ares knew and had cared for all of his offspring, both half-mortal and divine. Ares had looked at all the Divine Records when Zeus had died. Timor wasn't a brother or half-brother either. So, here was this farmer with an enigmatic past. Just one relative - an uncle and no known parents. Ares had heard of the *other* sorts of Immortals, the ones that chopped off each other's heads, but Timor would be hopeless with a sword, so it couldn't be that. Ares looked down at his tattered clothes, realising that he hadn't washed in weeks and probably resembled a tramp. He stroked his face - full beard, too. As he brushed the hair out of his eyes, he found with a shock that it now grew all the way down his back in uncontrollable black ringlets. Godly power and his own sense of prestige would have kept him looking his best in the past. Now , he doubted even Hera would recognise him. A small smile played around his lips. Maybe Timor wouldn't recognise him. This could be fun.
As he cleared the first stand of trees, he stopped dead. The farmhouse wasn't looking so delapidated now and there was a fine crop of wheat in the field nearby. Even the animals looked plump and well-fed. Ares' brow furrowed. Okay, so some time had passed for Timor - maybe five years at best, but the man had been hopeless as a farmer. Where and how had he learned husbandry in the mean-time? Ares heard a clear, true voice singing amongst the wheat. Yes, Ares realised; it would be harvest about now. The fruit trees nearby looked ready to drop under various citrus crops and apples. The nearest stand of wheat fell under a scythe and there was Timor, stripped to the waist. Ares felt his jaw drop. As Timor paused, Ares got a grandstand view of rippling muscles, shoulder-length hair and a hairy chest to rival his own, all gleaming with sweat. Ares' erection swelled to full hardness so fast that he nearly swooned. Ares shook his head and glowered. Damn the man for making him want and need like this. Timor noticed him and dropped the bundle of wheat. "Um....would you...hello...haven't had visitors in a while.....um...." Timor's hands moved uncertainly, "Um....do you need some food?" Ares managed a curt nod, "Water?" "Yes, of course...it's quite hot for Autumn, isn't it?" Timor moved to the well nearby and Ares padded over, getting closer to the object of his unwelcome surge of lust. Ares watched in silence, feeling himself drool uncontrollably, having to bite back the moans of appreciation that threatened to leave his chest. As Timor handed him a beaker of water, their fingers brushed and the sweet tingle of fire through Ares' body was so exquisite that he couldn't help the strangled noise which came from his mouth. He buried himself in the drink, "You must have gone a long time without it?" Ares' ears boggled. His mind went straight to the last time he'd got laid. By the Gods, it had been *ages*. No wonder he was currently desperate. Belatedly he realised that Timor's question was entirely innocent, like the man himself, "Oh. Water. Yes. Thanks." "I.....um.....I could give you a meal later, but I need to get the wheat in. I don't suppose you.....?" Ares wanted to refuse. A God, doing menial work? But by all the gods on Olympus, he was going to have Timor naked and willing under him. Working alongside him for a while would be a small price to pay for that ultimate sweet surrender. Plus, he was mortal. Ares nodded, "Yes. I'll help you. My name's Ares." Not a glimmer of recognition. Ares beathed a sigh of relief. As he followed Timor, he saw the single grave near the house. So the uncle had died in the mean-time. At least the two of them would be alone.
So, they began. The wheat took two days. The fruit trees, three. All the time, Timor was welcoming, helpful and bashful; a good host. Ares berated himself privately. Timor was absolutely nothing like the dream lover he'd thought about, but his body was rock hard and wanting every time he looked at the man. Then they turned to the grape harvest. Ares had known Bacchus well enough - the strangely twisted brother with red skin and horns to shame an antelope, but the ex-War god had never imagined how good treading grapes for wine would be. Especially when the object of all his daily fantasies was there with him, almost naked, blissfully unaware and splattered with grape-juice. Ares had long, explicit fantasies about licking all of it slowly off Timor and taking him in the barrel, but he couldn't even begin. Being mortal was a bummer - and if Timor ever remembered exactly who was shaking with lust over him, that'd be it. Ares wouldn't stand a chance. And by all Olympus, he wanted that chance.
Having put the grapes to their fermentation and seen to all the animals, Ares flopped boneless into bed that night. Well, nearly boneless. There was one part of him up and raring to go at least, although he doubted whether his aching mortal muscles would be able to comply even if Timor came into his room stark naked and said 'Take me, big boy'. A sudden jolt of adrenaline and a surge of fresh blood to his groin soon changed Ares' mind. Okay, there was *one* thing he could still do with his body. It would hurt, but it would be such a sweet pain. As Ares lay there, waiting for the adrenalin and testosterone rush to subside a little, he put his mind to serious consideration. Starting with the thriving farm and Timor's conversion to brilliance in husbandry. He went back to the spell he'd placed on Timor, dredging up the words from his memory. 'Let Timor stay, here. Let time move very slowly for him until I return. Let me be the only one who can come to the farm...' Well, that explained getting through the divine force-field, 'Let him forget my name - for now. I want him kept, preserved, well-fed....' "Good Gods! It was me! I helped make him into a good farmer! I made him forget me!" Ares laughed until the tears came, then gradually sobered, "But there's more to it than that. He knows *exactly* what to do on the farm and when. Okay.....he's a virgin. Probably hasn't got a clue - unless he's been watching the animals mating these past years. There's a frisson involved with deflowering that is just so delicious. He's shy - and I don't *like* shy; not normally," Ares suddenly sat bolt upright, "Come on......nearly had it then.....YES!" his shout echoed in the small room, "Timor *glows*!! Holy Hades.... He's a God - well, a potential God. All the power, the glory, everything; but unleashed," A lustful, lascivious smile slowly crept over Ares' face and his voice came out huskily, "And we know *exactly* how best to unleash it, don't we? If I can possibly get him to take *me*, then all that raw power will surge into me and I can tap into it. I'll be a God again - at least I ought to be. A virgin, unrealised God and his first fully sexual orgasm? After such a long wait? It'll be monumental!! Finding out if it works will be *fun*........" Ares paused, contemplating this, "So, if he's Divine, why isn't he listed in the Records? Even demi-gods and goddesses are there. It's got to be tied in with my need and desire. It's as if he'd been made for this one purpose - to give me back my Godhead. Okay, starting tomorrow - Operation Seduce Timor commences!"
Ares started with lingering looks and gentle touches, but Timor seemed oblivious. Ares washed and dressed himself with extra care. He started dropping subtle hints. That didn't work. A week past, then two. Ares had never had such a testing battle, but part of him loved it. If Timor had been easy, the surrender would have meant almost nothing. "I really think I ought to cut my hair, Timor." Timor's head shot up from his supper unnaturally fast, "No.....um.....don't do that." Ares' face was the picture of innocence, "Why?" Timor hid his own face and mumbled, "I....um....it's kinda nice. Looks like a long stallion's mane." Ares wanted to shout in triumph. Timor was at least partially attracted and didn't know what to do about it.
The first wine was ready to be sampled - to see if fermentation was proceeding according to plan. the two of them lay in the straw in the barn at the end of the day, with the wine-skin between them, getting steadily drunker by the minute. The wine was very good and would be magnificent when it had fully matured. Ares touched Timor's hand, "I like you." A soft giggle, "Like you too." There was a red stain around Timor's lips and Ares gently wiped off a drip, "Missed a bit." Timor's tongue came out instinctively, catching Ares' finger. Ares bit his lip as the hot jolt of need went straight from there to his aching erection. "Could have licked it off....." Ares couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to stop. He bent in and gently licked the place with the tip of his tongue. Timor moaned and pulled him closer. In a heartbeat they were in a deep, lush kiss, tongues tangling and sucking. Ares didn't know how or where Timor could have learnt to kiss, but he was exceptional at it. Tasted wild and sweet and like every home Ares had ever wanted. Ares gave up the inner struggle at that point and surrendered to the pleasure. Timeless moments later, they slowly pulled apart. Ares stared up at Timor's hazy face, "Let me show you how good it can be, Timor." "I....um..." Timor dipped his head shyly, "I never........not with another person." "C'm'ere." He was suddenly sounding like the old Godly Ares; a low, growled and eager command. Ares and Timor melted into another delicious kiss. Ares' head swam. He grasped Timor firmly, his own tongue deep inside the man's mouth. Ares drowned in sensation, then suddenly everything went black.
Ares' head felt as if Hephaestus had kept it in his vice all night. Throbbing, pounding pain. He gingerly opened an eye-lid. That was possibly worse. His blurred vision caught a modest piece of papyrus by the bed. 'Yoo willl have a hed-ake. We dranc too much wine lasst nite. Dere is sum water for yoo. Cum to hot spring throo the froot trees and I will mak it better.' Well, it wouldn't score any marks for spelling, but Ares understood. He'd seen the hot spring when they'd been fruit- picking and wondered if Timor ever used it. Now he knew. Ares also realised belatedly that he was experiencing his first hangover. Gods didn't get them. He drank the water, stumbled out of bed, downed some fruit juice which was in a pitcher on the table, threw on a pair of trousers and went out into the late morning sunshine. Squinting against the brightness, he hobbled down to the natural pool amongst the rocks. Timor was already there, turning his head so that Ares could get into the water without losing his dignity. The wonderful hot, bubbling water began to soak in. Ares lay back on a convenient, slightly sloping and very smooth stone and sighed deeply. The hot water lapped over him and his headache vanished very quickly. Ares turned over after a while and lay on his stomach. He heard Timor moving through the water.
"You......um......you look like the horse when he gets his back knotted. Please......let me?" For a second, Timor's hands hovered, then they began to massage. Ares couldn't help the moan of pleasure this time. Sparks and heat from Timor's hand, a rock-hard erection and his back turning to liquid under those skillful fingers and thumbs. Even Apollo hadn't been this good a masseuse. Next came the legs and feet. Ares felt sure that his erection should bore a hole right *through* the rock underneath him soon. He felt limp and revitalised all at the same time. "You are very good." "It's.....um.....time to turn over," Ares hesitated. There was no way Timor would miss the reaction of his body. He got up on all fours, "OH! Oh, my. You *do* look like my stallion, in Spring when he wants the company of lady horses. Hasn't had them for some time. It's okay, I know what to do....." Timor's hands suddenly closed around his urgent shaft and Ares gasped with a mixture of pleasure and shock. "People don't usually quite do it like this.....oh....good Gods, you've got wonderful hands. Let me show you. It will please you, too," Timor let go and looked up at him. Ares looked down at an erection that equalled his own, "You see, you are like that stallion too. I know a way we can *both* find release."
Ares pulled Timor onto the rock and they kissed. Timor seemed a bit stunned, but he soon picked up what to do as their bodies tangled. Ares whispered fevered instructions and Timor proved a willing and adept pupil. Ares was so aroused, he couldn't indulge in long foreplay, so he showed Timor where he needed him to be and how to get ready. In moments Ares was shaking with need. Timor paused, positioned himself and slid home. Ares had to bite his lip hard, it felt so good. He smiled. Any time now. He could feel the trembling in Timor's hands. Ares was only mortal. He couldn't hold on as long as he wanted to. He felt himself building and building. Timor's hands were working magical perfection, and as for that delicious thrusting inside him...... Ares groaned, then began to growl appreciatively. Timor gasped, then lost control. So did Ares. With a mighty shout they made it within seconds of each other. Ares exploded; not just physically.
Every atom of his being was orgasmic, and it went on and on in gorgeous, intense rolls of pleasure. He lost all concept of where Timor finished and he began. He became the pleasure, the orgasm. Minutes, hours, days, maybe even years later - he couldn't tell, he opened his eyes. So, he still *had* eyes. He looked down at himself. He was sitting on a great, white marble throne, naked and alone. /Not alone, love. I'm here, with you; *in* you./ 'Timor?' /I know who you are - were - now, and it's okay. I love you and I'll never leave you./ 'What in Hades' name.....?' As Ares settled himself, he could feel it was true. Timor was merged with him, filling all the lonely, empty places. With a small moan of pleasure, he realised that he could still feel Timor intimately filling him. Right there, right where he needed him. His muscles squeezed gently and he heard a delicious inner groan of pleasure. /There, too. Always; just as we were once./
Ares' brow furrowed, then slowly, gradually, he remembered, 'I was a baby. Aware from birth. Hera formed me, intended me to be God of Love, but Zeus said no. He needed conquests, heros, warriors. So, he took something from me. It hurt; it hurt so much. The pain was excruciating. I was plunged screaming down to earth in Egypt. I grew up the way mortals do. All the other gods and goddesses were mature almost from the moment of birth. Not me; I had to do it the hard way. I always ached, hungered, battled. I was always lonely, incomplete. I never found what it was that I yearned for,' Ares smiled, a new soft, radiant smile, 'Until now. It was you - the missing part of me they couldn't allow to become divine.' /I am now - *we* are now, I suppose./ 'God of what, though? I'm...we're...not fully a War God any more. And *where* are we?' /Shall we look around?/ Ares chuckled softly, 'I don't know if I can move! You feel so damned good inside me at the moment.' /I know. You too./ Ares managed to stand up. He looked down at his body. Much the same as before, but with a new, golden glow about it. Erect and more than ready again, 'Wish I could have taken *you* - seduced you.' /I think it might be possible, Ares. I awoke to this situation some time before you and realised who I was, who you were and what had happened. I got my smarts, too. I *think* I have access to an etheric body - you would too, love. We can still part - in a way - and make love./ Ares grinned, 'Oh, good! Celibacy was never my strong point!'
Ares and Timor, sharing the one body, stepped down onto the floor. It was like sapphire and diamond, clear as glass and radiant with energy and stretched out as far as they could see in every direction from the throne. He leaned down to touch it and found Timor, naked, under his hand. He laughed and they rolled together on the floor. They were both so aroused that Ares slid home inside Timor immediately. Ares groaned and his eyes darkened with passion. The two of them mated slowly, sliding across the highly polished floor. With a shout, Ares came and Timor followed seconds later. Ares saw that some of their seed had spilled on the floor and was now becoming part of it, like shimmering pearls and jewels. Timor gently blended back into Ares. /Beautiful./ 'Yes - and the floor.' /Decorating project?/ Ares chuckled, 'Hell of a lot of floor, Timor. Goes on for *miles*.' /O, goody!/ 'You're a naughty ex-farmer and I think I love you!'
They stood up. With a thought, Ares-Timor clothed himself in a long, cream robe. He looked down and saw *everything*, "I understand. It had to be this way - the parting, the pain, the loss. All the wars, the scheming. I had to know the beauty of the Darkness so that I might also know the beauty of Light. Eli was, at least, partially right." Ares looked to his left. There was a window, where none had been before. It was like no window he'd ever seen. Large, stretching from the floor, about three feet wide and to just above his head. The glass shimmered slightly and was cold to the touch. On the other side was deep, velvety blackness, as far as he could see. 'A universe. At least, a potential universe.' /What about Greece?/ 'That will always be in our hearts and I suppose we could re-create it.' /And the other gods, Ares?/ Ares shook his head, 'We are the only living beings *here* - and this is the new, or another, Olympus. We can make what we desire, try it out, see if it works. *That's* what I reckon Zeus saw or guessed - that if I were whole I would have the power and knowledge not just to be King of the gods, or the God of Love, but to *be* God. Love in all its fullness, the pain intermingling with the pleasure. So, let us make a universe that loves to live and lives to love.' /And fuck?/ Ares chuckled, 'Oh, yes. Gotta have that. Lots of it, all pleasurable. I insist that rape is unknown here,' he shivered slightly, remembering Egypt. /All the men buff and hung like horses?/ Another wicked chuckle, 'Gotta have some nice scenery! And the women beautiful, of course.' /Children or offspring planned, wanted and cared for./ Ares smiled sweetly, 'Yes, Timor my love. Thank-you. Make offspring slightly rarer and conception directly linked to the intensity of the female's pleasure.' /Even the plants?/ 'Well, I know jolly well the nyads and dryads loved sex, so why not?' /Okay, sounds fine by me. Where do we start, my love?/ Ares' smile became wide, brilliant and beautiful, 'Easy. We need to see what we're doing, don't we? Let there be light...'
The End
