Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Home Unknown	By : katecooley Category: S through Z > Xena Views: 15190 -:- 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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Same junk as before. See part one for all the jargon. And Star Trek: TNG fans will know what I mean when they find what I�m talking about. I can�t explain it more than that and it�s really nothing big, but it�s a momentary visual. Oh, and here�s the part where the m/m stuff gets started, sort of. Just some mutual appreciation going on, nothing bad� yet. *GGG*

Part V - Fools in the House of Love

"Pull up a chair, Unc. We�re just havin� some breakfast."

"With one of mine." The God of War�s cool, bemused visage didn�t turn from the back of Joxer�s head. "Shouldn�t you be somewhere, Strife?"

"I needed an extra body for the big stuff." Strife only shifted his shoulders minutely, as if it meant nothing. "I figgered since it was a job for you, ya wouldn�t mind me usin� Jox. He�s got talent in this kinda thing."

"I�m well aware of all of Joxer�s talents." A few steps on the polished marble floor and he stood right behind Joxer�s chair. The would-be-warrior swore he was either dead where he stood, or� well, something equally as embarrassing and unpleasant. He could smell the god behind him, sweat and musk and leather. He just hoped Ares wouldn�t require him to stand because it wasn�t gonna happen. Not without upturning the table with his fully-awake-and-ready-to-rumble dick. Dammit! Why now? Why here? Why me?

"So, you know he�d be perfect to help out. With him lendin� a hand, it shouldn�t take me so long to get things rollin�." Strife waved a hand in the air, dismissing any doubt, he hoped. "Besides, it wasn�t as if you had anything planned for him lately, didja?"

"If I did? What then, nephew?"

Strife was about to argue, when he caught the challenge. It was an old tactic, one he�d faced many a time. Of course, he usually lost miserably, but that didn�t get in his way. A long, evil-looking smile blossomed on his face as he eased his chair back with a long, squeak against the floor. All the logic that should have been telling him not to give in to this flew out the nearest fabulous window into the garden. Cupid sighed and covered his eyes. "Please don�t, guys. I just cleaned the place up�"

"Then� I TAKE YOU DOWN OLD MAN!" Completely ignoring his cousin�s plea, Strife planted a foot on his chair, in one step climbed onto the table and, deftly avoiding the flatware and crockery, took off, using the few steps he could take to launch himself over Joxer and pounce on the God of War. Who was, naturally, ready for him. Ares stepped back to give himself enough room to catch his springing nephew, though it was an admittedly awkward armful. Strife wasn�t a little kid anymore. Now, he was mostly arm and leg and leather. Still, it wasn�t much of an effort for the war god to flip him upside-down and tug his tunic up, exposing his pale, skinny belly. "Don�t."

"Don�t what?" Joxer marveled at how even-tempered Ares was, considering. Though he had no doubt this was a game, a familiar one it seemed, but the mortal had been sure he�d have been aether by now. Mark down another wrong answer for Xena. That grin was a more amiable version of the sneer he usually sported when tormenting the warrior princess� his daughter? Well, it only really made sense, anyway.

"I�m three hundred and six years old, Unc. You can�t just�" Strife squirmed as he was slung up further on his uncle�s broad-muscled shoulder, secured by an arm of steel brawn. His bare stomach was right there, waiting for�

SWAT "UNC! DON�T"

SLAP "I AIN�T KIDDIN� HERE!"

WHAPPITY-WHAP-WHAP "YER ASKIN FOR IT!"

SMACK-SMACK-SMACK "I�M TOO OLD FOR PINKBELLYS!"

Strife�s last protest was punctuated by an ear-piercing shriek as the hand that held him wiggled against his ribs. Joxer was sure he�d never live past this day, but at least he�d get to spend eternity replaying this one over and over again. Even if the gods were feeling generous and just dropped him back in Greece, he couldn�t see ever not smiling at the image of Ares, the buff and burly God of War, dangling Strife, the wicked and crazy God of Mischief, over his shoulder and slapping at his belly while tickling him into hysterics. Tears streaked down Strife�s increasingly reddening cheeks and howls of laughter broke all his complaining down piece by piece. His legs, draped over his uncle�s shoulders, flailed and kicked furiously, as if that would help bust him out of this torture before all the blood rushed to his head to make his face as crimson as his gently abused stomach. His hands scrambled at his tormentor, splitting time between trying to pry that arm off him and parrying with those fingers. Nothing was actually working. His sides were aching from laughing, his midsection was stinging like mad and if Ares didn�t let up anytime soon, his bladder was going to give up the ghost and he was gonna tinkle on his uncle. The words played over and over in his head, making him laugh like a loon. Tinkle uncle tinkle uncle tinkle uncle tinkle uncle tinkle uncle tinkle uncle�

"UUUUUNC!"

"Yes?" Ares drew out that word until it seemed years long. And he didn�t stop the torment for it, either.

"PLEEEEEEEEZE!"

"Please what?"

A low-boiling scream of agony built up in the godling, rising in volume until the windows almost buckled from the force. "QUITQUITQUITQUITQUIT!"

"You�ve learned your lesson then?" Ares flicked a look up to the two remaining table occupants and flashed a wicked little grin, one Joxer had been sure he�d seen on Cupid this morning. A playful god of war. Joxer wondered if he was still actually asleep and having one Tartarus of a dream.

"If you don�t let me go, I�m gonna piss all over the both of us! C�MOOOON!" A wild buck - and a loosening of his uncle�s grip - allowed Strife to become reacquainted with both gravity and the floor of the House of Love a lot faster than he would have liked. Thankfully, he was able to pull into a roll instead of just landing with a thud on the War God�s feet. Once back up, he straightened his shirt with an almost Picardian tug, cast a hard look back at his uncle and stomped off to the bathroom before he made a mess on the marble.

"One of these days, he�s gonna getcha, Pops." Cupid scolded his father, who chuckled as he took Strife�s seat at the table. Almost immediately, Strife�s plate and goblet disappeared and a more ornate, silver cup appeared, this one brimming with a reddish liquid. From where Joxer sat, it smelled faintly fruity.

"He�ll need to improve his impulse control first." Ares kept his smug grin as he lifted his cup and took a long swallow, followed by the most minute of grimaces. "Plus, he needs to work on his timing. If I can taunt him and then, like clockwork� wait." Ares shifted, skootching his chair a foot to the left while he still sat in it. The movement was apparently just in time as a spark of light flickered behind him and Strife, in mid-leap, flew past the repositioned Ares and across the table into his cousin, taking him down, chair and all. "God of War here. It�d be pretty sad if I didn�t hear it coming, right?"

"OW! Strife, getcher elbow outta my eye!"

"Hey, you gotta learn to duck, dude!"

"Watch that knee! WATCH�!"

"AGH! FINGER IN MY EAR!"

Ares leaned up a little to watch his son and nephew scrambling on the floor longer than necessary. Someday, he was going to tie them together in a compromising position and leave them there until they both got the Big Clue. As it stood, the tumble had turned into an impromptu wrestling match, knees and elbows and hands and feet and wigs that seemed to be fighting against them. While the impulse was strong to either zap them both or tell them both the truths they�d been sitting on for an eternity (the time since they�d both hit puberty certainly SEEMED TO HIM like it was forever), all Ares could really do was roll his eyes. The sound of a throat clearing softly reminded him of the mortal man who was the reason for his visit in the first place. Joxer was leaning up to look, too, watching the thrashing godlings try and reorient themselves, though none too quickly.

"Um, Ares?"

"Don�t ask. It�s a long, involved tale of stupidity and self-delusion." Ares sighed at his stubborn younger kin and sat back in his chair, which had somehow turned from the simple furniture Cupid had created to an ebony mini-throne, complete with red velvet pillow and a mace that dangled from a hook in ready reach. "They�ll cut it out before I have to hose them down." He leveled a dark but amused and somehow saddened gaze at the least of his warriors. "They always do."

"Ooo-kay. Actually, I was going to ask you if it�s all right, the thing with me doing stuff for Strife for a bit." Joxer hadn�t even considered what the two of them were doing on the floor, though now that he thought of it, they really had been eye-humping each other on the sly since he joined them. Huh. The past two days seemed to be chock-full of how �bout that moments.

"As long as Strife remembers who he is, and who you are, there�s nothing for me to be �all right� about. He�s House of War and so are you." Ares took another drink, this one long enough to empty his goblet. A minute shudder passed through the God of War, one of some disgust. Without giving a second thought, Joxer pushed his own cup, still mostly full of milk, toward his god until it nudged his hand. An eyebrow cocked up, natural suspicion roosting there. A quick scan of it proved only milk and he couldn�t help but feel a little silly. This was Joxer. What were the odds he�d try to poison his own god? The man worshipped him almost slavishly - even the thought of it gave the dark god a tingle. But this didn�t feel like that right now. Oh, there was an undercurrent of it weaving around - he suspected that Joxer�s very being was infused with it - but this was something easier. Something more� friendly? Their eyes met briefly again and Joxer gave him the go-ahead nod. He drained the cup in a long, satisfying swallow.

"Hey, I know what it�s like to get a bad taste in your mouth. Undercooked rabbit and radishes au gratin. That�s all I�ll say about it." He made a face similar to the one his god just made, this one with more tongue poking out. It took a bit for Ares to finish swallowing, as the debate between laughing and catching the tip of that pink little temptation between his teeth fought long and hard. "And they complain about my cooking."

"They complain about a lot. Don�t take it personally." Ares grumbled before refilling Joxer�s glass with a thought and setting it back in front of him. "Sometimes I think the blond is the unheralded goddess of bitching."

"That�d certainly explain a lot." Joxer chuckled while absently rubbing the spot between his eyebrows. That was a favorite target for Gabrielle, the latest memory of her staff connecting just above the bridge of his nose bringing back a reminding throb. He couldn�t even remember what he�d done to cause it. Hardly unsurprising, considering the frequency of blows to his head she seemed to like to dispense. It was a wonder he hadn�t forgotten basic Greek by now.

Joxer was slightly amused that he could think the blond bard�s name and not crumble. More of the House of Love�s influence, he guessed. A faint pang struck inside him, like a muffled chime of pain, but that was all. No agony, no horror. Best of all, no crying. And no more longing or pining. He wondered how much that had to do with the god sitting so close to him. Ares may have been the personification of war, but as far as Joxer could see, he was� there was no word for it. Aside from being monumentally gorgeous and smelling like sex itself, he was just very plainly overwhelming. It was as if nothing else in Joxer�s vision existed, as if every piece of furniture or art in the room was created as something to complement the immortal. As if everything and anything were fashioned to please him. Joxer included.

Joxer tore his eyes away from the dark vision, busying himself with the cool milk in his glass. I�m not looking. Not looking and definitely not staring. Not staring and definitely not imagining him without that vest on. Sweaty. Breathing heavily. Tight leather pants. NO! DO NOT THINK ABOUT IT! Ohhh, naked. Naked Ares. He could be naked. Naked and silky-hard and over me and on me and in� Oh, in me. In me in me in me�

"OOH!" The voice came from the floor, the pile of junior god that still scrambled and tried untangling.

"What, I din�t step on nothin� did I? Y�OK?"

"Mmmmmm�" there was a smile in that hum. A broad, candy-colored one. "Verrrrry OK."

"Hey. That�s your hand, ain�t it?"

Another purr, thick and deep and growly. "Yeah, don�t mind it. I gotta ride this one out. It�s too tasty to just let it go."

"Cupe, you�re like, glowin� and stuff. You sure everything�s jake?"

"Yeaaaaah. I just got two very nice little lust nibbles an� I don�t wanna waste �em."

The light enveloping Cupid was warming and lovely, making him even more handsome than usual, as if that were possible. It wasn�t as if he didn�t get much in the way of energy - quite the contrary. As a love god, he was usually infused on a regular, if not daily, basis from his followers in Greece. But this was different. Good different. Fantastic different. This was pure, free from any taint that life may bestow. And it was hot, burning hot like a flash of fire straight out of Tartarus. Lava hot. His body tingled with the force of both little bursts, one right after the other, and all he could do - all he wanted to do - was grab on and enjoy the ride. Fortunately or not, the only thing in reaching distance was Strife, currently tangled with him on the floor. Cupid wasn�t greedy. He�d share this with his favorite leather-boy. COUSIN! FAVORITE COUSIN! So he stopped fighting against the other godling and just wrapped around him, his hand sneaking up under Strife�s already rucked up shirt and pressing to the cool, pale flesh it found. Rather than control the juice running through him, Cupid opened up a floodgate and let it flow into Strife who�

"Ohhhh, that is nice." And it was so far beyond nice, it wasn�t funny. It wasn�t the sticky-sweet HOL vibe he�d been expecting, nothing pastel or fluffy about it. It was raw, hungry and needy and it was drawing on something inside Strife he really didn�t want Cupid touching right now. But he had very little say in it. That golden light that had instantly seized his cousin was leaching into him now, as he relaxed into an embrace he hadn�t planned on when he woke up this morning, but he wasn�t going to struggle against a power surge. At least, that was what he told himself. Downy-white wings wrapped around them both, gathering them in and encouraging Strife to curl into his cousin�s hard, tanned and gentle body and sigh happily. There was nothing sharp in this energy, not like the House of War�s signature blasts. No corners, no blighted pointy pokes, no dark cold things, just� He could definitely see the attraction. His head was thick and dizzy, a thousand times more so than when he�d tried the soothing bit with Jox the other night. It was like Dionysus� best stuff without the wicked aftertaste. "Mmmm� We gotta do this more often."

"Yeah." Cupid chuckled deeply as Strife�s head settled on his chest. "Something tells me we�ll get plenty of chances." He waited for his cousin�s confused look, which right now was wholly adorable and deserving of at least a kiss that would ruin everything, and he nodded up to the table that still loomed over them. Those blue eyes widened, taking that easy smile right along with them.

Still touching, the two younger gods rose, peering up over the table�s edge. Joxer was very busy with his cup, sipping, examining, fidgeting with every facet of it. A healthy flush was rising from his collar and his jaw was clenched so tight it had to hurt. Under the table, his feet bounced, full of nervous energy.

And Ares was watching him. And smiling.

-tbc-
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Home Unknown