Closing his eyes, Ares pictured Iphicles above him, head thrown back, lips parted in a wordless moan of pleasure as he rode his lover's cock, caressing the god's nipples, jerking off onto the chest below him...Gripping the edges of the narrow cot, Ares tensed, then began to shudder as he came, pleasure burning a path from his cock into the man's ass.  He bit harder on the fingers still in his mouth when hot fluid spilled onto his nipples and chest as his lover writhed over him.

His body continued to shake as the tongue lapped up the semen, the low voice explaining the need to hide the evidence of their pleasure.  Ares didn't care, only wanted that wet tongue, Iphicles' tongue, to lick the seed from his chest, only wanted to suck it forever from the man whose hips he now held above his face.

A final kiss, an assurance of a repeat performance the next night, and Ares was alone in his bed, still shaking, brutally aware that the salty taste in his mouth wasn't the king's.  With a wave of his hand, he sent the men around him into a deep sleep, then cleaned and dressed himself.