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Home Unknown	By : katecooley Category: S through Z > Xena Views: 15191 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Xena, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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Same junk as before. See part one for all the jargon. A little self-love in this, but with m/m in mind. Just a heads up. ;) And the title comes from the dunk tank one finds at many a Renaissance Faire. A breechclout is kind of like a loincloth, but you'll get a better picture if you think 'buttflap'. Like a toga but only in the front and back and only from the waist down. And this may seem like a PWP chapter, but it isn't. You'll see. J

Part X - Soak-a-Bloke and then a Stroke

"Umm� hi, bathroom!"

Joxer stood, picking the last of the grape leaves out of his hair, waiting for some kind of reaction from the enormous, well lit chamber made of white and rose-colored marble. Ares had mentioned that he didn't like a big fuss in his fixtures, but since the fixtures looked like they were made of gold, what had he meant by that?

It was more of an arboretum than a bathroom, the ceiling made of colored glass panes that twinkled different rainbow hues with each pass of the sun's rays. The tall trees outside seemed to grow as decorations, making the windows look alive. And the inside� Joxer wasn't sure which god was in charge of interior decorating, but whoever it was had to be the most overlooked deity in the pantheon. He had to keep reminding himself that this lush, pretty room was actually a wing of the Hall of War.

Ares had given him basic instructions about the bathing chamber. Very basic. What he'd actually said was, "Just ask."

OK.

"Bathroom, I'd like to take a bath." Joxer waited.

And waited.

Nothing was happening. Maybe this wasn't going to work for him. Maybe it only listened to Ares. No, that can't be right. All of his kids have rooms here. I can't believe he would let any of them get away with not bathing.

"Bathroom, may I please have a bath?" Politeness didn't get any reaction either. Joxer had to think about this now. This was slowly becoming more work than boiling the water himself� Boiling? Aha!

"Hot water please." He didn't make it a question, assuming that Ares wouldn't stoop to beg for anything, least of all from his bathroom.

The sound of rushing water made Joxer sigh happily. He sat on one of the comfortable benches and started undressing, whipping the laces on his new boots open with one finger, as steamy water filled the bathing pool, a wide expanse of the room that did, in fact, resemble the one in Cupid's temple in construction. As if the God of Love had based his on this one. Joxer flexed his toes once they were free of the shoes and grinned as he heard them crack. It felt like he'd been on them for weeks, but not in that agonizing way they had hurt when he'd been on the road with� He drew a hard breath in and let it out, a little surprised at the angry clench in his chest. He hadn't thought he'd still be upset about it, but it was like a lead weight in his chest. BITCH! The word screamed through him like lightning. He wanted to punch something, throw something or break something. A twinkle caught his eye and he whirled around, only to find table with twenty or so bottles on it. Like the ceiling, a spectrum of colors shone there, each bottle holding a different colored liquid. Joxer left off stripping for the moment, examining this new addition.

Mmm. Cinnamon. He whiffed the mouth of the bottle with the reddish-brown liquid and immediately thought of the solstice cookies his grandmother used to bake. He could eat about fifty in one sitting and drink a gallon of milk, too. He smiled a little sadly. It had been a long time since he'd had that chance. Muti had died not too long before he'd left home and even though he was almost sixteen, he'd still wept like a broken-hearted little kid about it, very nearly hysterical with grief. She'd been his last hope, his port in the storm. And then, she was gone. Just like that. I just wish I could've said goodbye, Joxer sighed as he capped the bottle and set it back on the table.

After sampling a few more of the aromatic oils, his head was a little foggy. They all smelled so good, it would be impossible to pick from them. And now the scents were overlapping, mixing to make him a wee bit nauseous. He could have hopped into the bath without a selection, but he wanted to take advantage of the chance. Once Ares figured out that he'd messed with that map, he was sure he'd be dismissed. Or exiled. Or whatever.

"Well, if I'm in the God of War's bathroom, might as well use it," he muttered to himself. "Bathroom? Set up Ares' favorite bath for me."

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Joxer almost groaned out loud. For a guy who doesn't like fussy stuff� His gripe was interrupted by a change in the lighting. There was still a sparkly, colorful glow coming from the ceiling, but it was muted, darker somehow. And the light inside was dimmer, too, candles replacing the torches that had been sitting in sconces on the walls, unused in the daytime. A musky, pine aroma filled the room and Joxer could see an oily swirl coasting on the surface of the bath. A pumpkin patch of mirrors cropped up around the outer edge of the water-filled depression and Joxer chuckled to himself. Ares didn't strike him as being that vain and insecure that he needed to look at himself that much. Though from his standpoint, he could definitely see the attraction.

Pleasure spiked through the least of War's soldiers, making him shiver. Ares gets naked in this room. A lot. Joxer slowly slipped off his soft cotton shirt, taking an instant like to the way the material felt sliding over his skin. Goosebumps prickled his arms for a bare second or two before the room got warmer. "Nice." Unconsciously, Joxer ran a hand across his chest, sighing a little as his palm brushed across his nipples, making the buds crinkle and tingle. The pants left next, though with a little more effort. The leather was so tight, it had to practically be peeled off, the laces pulled free one inch at a time. Undoing those was just about the most maddening task ever, the leather strings pulling right across his crotch with every movement and making his cock twitch for the light. He had to roll the donated trousers down his legs, which was making him crazy, both with frustration and sensation. His own fingertips tickled as they traced down his thighs and calves, but instead of giggling he found himself breathing heavier. Everything else whipped off in a frenzy of yanks and tugs and then, he was naked.

Naked in the House of War. Sounds like a bad play. Or maybe a good one. A good bad one anyhow. Now he did giggle a little.

Joxer tested the water with his toes and found it pleasantly hot. Not boiling, but not that shade of lukewarm that told you to get out before you got sick. Slowly, he sat down on the edge and dangled his feet in, getting them used to the temperature change. He wanted to do the rest just as slowly, but the difference between the heat of the pool and the air of the room had him sliding into the water quickly.

"Ooooooooooh. Very nice. Thank you, bathroom." Joxer found himself very close to purring. A few steps in the water and he could see a platform that jutted out from the wall. A bench, he supposed. Lowering himself to it, he noticed it too was marble and yet somehow cushy. He wiggled a little to get comfortable and rested back against the edge of the bathing pool. Next to him, a tray materialized holding soap and a cloth, a brush, a large towel and a great carved silver chalice brimming with dark, aromatic wine. "Very, very nice." Without a second thought, Joxer levered up and took a sip of the wine without lifting the cup. The mouthful was sweet and fruity and warm, and he smacked his lips loudly in appreciation of the treat. It had to be the best wine he'd ever tasted. "Duh. What else would the Heir to Olympus have?" He rolled his eyes and smiled to himself. Ares was a prince, both officially and casually. No wonder I'm� his eyes darted around to make sure he was alone before he finished the thought. �in love with him.

A high-pitched shriek, one that sounded too happy to be in terror, sounded from somewhere outside the room. Joxer prepared himself for an invasion from the pink and sparkly goddess but found none coming. Maybe she was happy to scream from a distance right now. Which was fine by him. He really didn't think he'd be up to facing her without a stitch of clothes and a rampant hard-on. She might get the wrong idea.

Or the right one.

He wasn't sure which was worse. That he be caught starkers by the Goddess of Love or that she find him all horny and ready to take care of it in her brother's bathroom. Sure, he knew that she knew how he felt about Ares, but he didn't need to get caught demonstrating it. The thought of it ratcheted his arousal down a notch, but a small one. Enough that he might actually be able to wash without embarrassing himself.

And so he did, scrubbing himself with that rich soap that had appeared and the soft cloth that came with it. He was working on removing the purple stain from his elbow - he seemed to have collected a few of those while examining the bower of grape vines outside the temple. The fruit was ripe and falling off the vine and he squished a few underfoot, which had made him slip and land on a few more. Somewhere in there, he'd managed to eat a few delicious grapes, tie back some recalcitrant vines and generally neaten up the area. That was kind of the way things had been going in his tenure as houseboy. No, no, no. Not houseboy. Maintenance Steward, maybe. Guardian if you're lucky. But let's not even think the word 'houseboy' and give anyone ideas. Title aside, he'd found the House of War in a fair bit of disarray. Nothing scandalous, but it was obvious that some details got chucked in favor of others. Things tended to get piled up rather than put away, left for later. The courtyard outside had been a prime example. It wasn't neglected, but no one had seen to it in a while, either. A shame, and a testament to how busy the business of war was. As if he needed another example. Doing jobs for Strife had told him enough on that subject that he needed to rethink everything he'd been told about the lazy, petulant, bored gods of Olympus. Gabby needs a re-write, he snorted.

Once he was satisfied with the elbow, he moved on to the splotch on his knee. He was in mid-scrub when he noticed movement in one of the mirrors. And it wasn't his reflection.

The first of the row of mirrors sprung to life, showing a picture of Cupid. And it wasn't so much a picture of the Love God as it was a window to him, watching him as he did his thing. Right now, his thing was feeding his son, which seemed to be half contact sport and half comedic theater. A good portion of whatever that was on the plate was already smeared on Cupid. Joxer smiled as Bliss whipped his arms around animatedly, telling some story that involved flapping and yelling and singing and banging on the table. Eventually, Cupid gave up on directing food into his son's mouth and joined in the hooting and hollering and laughing. Joxer kept washing as he watched. It was very sweet. If only� ah, who'm I kidding?

The next mirror sparkled and switched on, showing Strife and� Strife. And a spiky-haired blond Strife. And a Cupid-y looking Strife with black wings and reddish curls. And a girl who looked a little bit like Aphrodite if Aphrodite had been a brunette and partial to purple leather. She also looked a little younger than the others. They were all sitting at a big table, joking and messing with something Joxer couldn't quite see. The room around them looked like an extension of the hall he was bathing in, light marbled but warmly lit. Every so often one of the Strifes would shove another one, jostling them into playfighting, which looked awful real to him. Those two have to be brothers, he noted to himself, remembering the all-out brawls he and Jett and Jayce could inspire in each other.

The bathing moral sniffed out a laugh. Ares wasn't vain. He was checking up on his kids. What better way to relax and catch up on what was happening, especially if you were the ultra-busy God of War.

Strife, the actual one wearing black leather and not a dusk-colored toga, stood from the table in the second mirror and made as if to say goodbye. In a whitish-blue blast of light, he disappeared� just as the third mirror jumped on. Joxer's chest tightened for a second or two as Xena and Gabrielle's forms came into view. Of course Ares looked in on them, too. Xena was his daughter. Plus, he did show up to annoy them from time to time. It probably helped to keep tabs on them. They were stopped in some town, meandering through the market. He could see textiles and pottery and food in the stalls, the sight of the figs making his mouth water. There really wasn't anything quite like a good fig� As if hearing his thoughts, a plate of figs appeared at the edge of the pool, much like the other things had. One bite and he was sold. He knew he'd wind up licking the plate clean.

If he got over choking on that one first.

His coughing and sputtering eventually turned to the laughter that had been trying to get out. He couldn't help it. A yip and a scream made him suck half the brown fruit down his throat, sticking there for an impossibly long second. He panicked and gasped, swallowing hard and dislodging it. His throat felt on fire, but the sight before him in the third mirror made him forget pain. Xena and Gabrielle wandered past a fishwife's stall and every shellfish turned an eyestalk to examine the women. Then, all at once, they attacked, leaping out of their bins to launch themselves right at Gabby, who screamed and started turning in circles, swatting at the crabs hanging from wherever they could pinch. Jumping and hopping and making all kinds of noises, she knocked off a few, but not many. She boogied like this for a minute or two and then took off down the road, wailing and yelping and dancing. Xena chuckled and followed along after her, oblivious to the peals of hysterical laughter coming from the pale, black-leather clad form doubled over on the grass between the booths. Strife kicked his feet and slapped the ground as he bleated and howled his amusement. Joxer did the same thing back in the bathroom, tears pricking his eyes as he watched Gabrielle get pinched and harassed by crabs.

Joxer's sides were starting to hurt a little when his laughter finally died down. It felt good to laugh like that, loud and unstoppable. He wondered when the last time was that he'd had a good riotous guffaw. Too long ago, that was for sure.

After the adventure with the fig, his mouth and throat were all but begging for something to drink. That wine hadn't been bitter in the slightest - that would do nicely. Reaching up, he took the goblet in hand and took a sip. When it didn't burn his throat, he took a big drink, letting it slide happily down his throat. In fact, instead of burning, the wine made his throat actually feel better. As he drank, the rest of the mirrors flashed on, one at a time and a few minutes apart. One showed Hercules and Iolaus doing what they usually did: traveling. He couldn't tell where they were, the background looked like forest. Normal day for them, he assumed.

The next mirror was on Discord, who was still in Polyphystos. Orange flickered on her face, a hearth fire nearby. She was reclining on a pile of furs, dressed more simply than that usual Dominatrix Doll getup she usually had. Instead, she was wearing a comfortable looking linen dress, a longer chiton that draped and flowed. She looked lovely, pretty like a little girl. For an instant, he saw what he guessed Hermes did.

And then he nearly fainted.

Discord was talking to someone as she laid on those rugs and the mirror, on an unconscious command, moved back to show who it was.

Ares.

And he wasn't nearly as modestly dressed.

Laying down on similar furs by the fire, the God of War was in the same position, propped up by his elbows and talking with his twin. No toga, though. Only a breechclout to cover him. And not much of a breechclout at that. But it didn't seem to bother him, he just kept on talking as if nothing were wrong, pausing now and then to reach under and scratch his balls casually. As if he wasn't mostly naked and beautiful laying there in the firelight. Eris didn't seem to care. (About the nudity. The ball-scratching got a harsh look or two.) And why should she? That was her brother. They'd probably seen each other even more naked than that over their long, immortal lives. Joxer couldn't count the times he and his brothers had been undressed in front of each other since childhood. Though he guessed that was a little different, what with them all being boys. And since they were identical triplets, it was kind of like looking at himself, if he ignored Jayce's pierced nipples and that tattoo on the inside of Jett's thigh that he just flat out refused to explain.

But this� Brother or no, he wouldn't begrudge the Goddess of Discord the need to touch, if she had it. Judging from the casual way the conversation was going, Joxer guessed that she didn't. That was OK. Joxer wanted to touch enough for both of them. And there was only him in the pool. He balked a little, wondering if it counted as blasphemy to spunk in your god's bath. But Ares had all but told him to make himself at home. And if this was his place, he wouldn't have thought twice about it. And someone had to clean out the bath, especially to get rid of the oils that were used. Soooo�

Joxer peered back over each shoulder once, making sure he was alone. Really alone. True to Ares word, Graegus was sulking, sticking close to his master's chair for the past few days. Good. He really wasn't up to company right now, furry or not.

He took another long drink, emptying the big chalice before putting it back on the tray it had poofed in on. Then, he relaxed, slumping down a little and letting his hands wander, smoothing over his wet, oiled skin in paths of fire as he watched his god. He couldn't tell if it was the wine or the lighting or the smells or the sight of his god all sprawled out on a bed of fur or a combination of any of those, but he was raring to go. His fingertips skated over his skin, finding his tingling nipples and plucking them until he thought he'd go crazy. Every touch was going straight to his groin, making his dick sit up and beg until he couldn't resist.

Gently, Joxer slid his hand down his belly to find the head of his cock meeting him halfway. He hissed and shuddered. The water was ice compared to the heat his organ was generating. Careful not to set anything off too soon, he wrapped his hand around his thick stick and gave a teasing squeeze that almost sent him through the colorful glass ceiling. He waited, holding on for dear life, until he felt the tide inside him lessen. When he was sure he wasn't going to come like a madman on the first stroke, he turned his attention back to the mirror that displayed Ares and began to slowly touch and tease his aching flesh. It wasn't long before he was pulling at his cock with long, hard strokes, being firm but not too rough and finding a nice rhythm. His other hand found his tightening balls and worked them, rolling and squeezing his sack until they drew up tight to his body.

He didn't stand a chance. Never did, really. Anytime he fantasized about Ares, and there had been quite a few over the years, even when he'd been pining for Gabrielle there had always been Ares romping through his mind, waiting for his attention to stray from her even the slightest fraction� The oil made his hand fly slickly over his erect staff, stroking and yanking as his release built up. He forced his eyes open, made himself watch the mirror that showed Ares, right up until the end. The fingers caressing his balls reached behind, just brushing over the puckered entrance hidden in the dark valley there and�

"Oh! Oh yes!" He felt control slip from him, his pace growing and his hips thrusting up, fucking his hand hard until his probing fingertip breached inside and everything spun around him. His leg muscles clenched, as did his ass, trapping his hand for the duration, and as his other hand grazed the ridge of his cockhead everything burst into wild color. It was like being in the air with Hermes only a million times better. His cock bucked and spasmed as he came as hard as he ever had before, spurting over his fingers and into the water in hot jets. "Ahhh yes. Ares yes. Yes please. Oohhh Ares."

He melted into the seat, all of his bones like goo. Languidly, he washed his hands off, mindful that at least one of them had been up his ass and that just wasn't a smell he wanted following him around. The temperature in the water was pleasantly warm still and since he really didn't have much else to do, he decided to stay in there until he turned into a prune. A happy, contented prune.

That, of course, lasted all of three whole seconds.

-tbc-
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