“Oh, god, oh god, oh god, god. . . . “ Creamy streaks ran down the back of the platinum royal throne, King Iphicles had cum for what seemed the ninth time that evening.
“I usually don’t stop fucking you until you tell me you‘ve had enough, but if you don’t say stop now, there isn’t going to be much of a meeting tomorrow with the king unable to walk and the throne. . .”
“Shut up, you bastard. You may have to lick my cum off the throne if that’s what I tell you.”
“Just a little dominant tonight are we, Iphy?”
“I am a king, and I demand some respect. You just can‘t drop into my life and expect me to act like YOUR sex toy. I would have thought you got the idea when I fucked YOU tonight?”
“I came when you called, and I assumed that it really was a “matter of great importance” AND that you wanted to get fucked. I‘m not sure who the TOY is in that situation.”
An observer of this sexual encounter, of which of course there were none, might have speculated an incestuous relationship between identical twins. Naked the two men were virtually indistinguishable, except for the hair color. The other differences that existed were more in body language and demeanor but even those were slight, after all one man was a king, but the other was a god. They were related, but only through a common half-brother, a man who today went by the name of Dylan Hunt.
“Where have you been the past year and a half?” The king asked.
“You know me and time. It just slipped away.”
“And I am supposed to believe that? Tell me what you have been doing.”
“I could tell you, but my guess is, you don’t want to know. My guess is you’d just want me to fuck you again.”
“There is nothing about your fucking style that precludes you talking to me, and I bet you have a lot to tell me.”
“As I said, it’s none of your damn business. What you don’t know won’t hurt you.”
“Who says I don’t want to be hurt?”
“I’m not talking about that, you fucking masochist. After this meeting is over, there will be plenty of time for me to tie you up and play those little hurt games you love so much. Sometimes. . “
“You really aren’t going to tell me are you?”
“No, I’m not. It‘s a private matter.”
“Between you and whom? I assume it has something to do with our brother. As soon as I discovered he was alive in this time, I invited him here. It will be an interesting meeting for all of us.”
“And as I told you earlier, I have had contact with him. He’s relatively harmless. Still working for good, restoring the Commonwealth and all that, but he has no idea that he is anything other than a High Guard officer who has been caught in a black hole for three hundred years.
“Looks a little different, shorter hair, leaner, seems a little tougher. Not so always right and always good. While he realized that I am Ares, there seems to be very little other connection. I‘m not sure that he recognizes your name .”
“Is he hot?”
“Of course, he’s HOT. He always was hot, just reserved, prudish even.”
“Remember that night we both fucked him?”
“Yea.” Ares remembered, but not fondly.
“What ever happened to that little blond lover of his?”
“Don’t know. I assume he died, and finally stayed dead. God, Iphy don’t tell me you fucked him, too.”
“Once in a while. He was so HOT and he had the biggest dick.”
“They’re all hot to you.”
“I was the king, I fucked them all at one time or another, all your lovers, except for the bitches. What about the others in the party? King Erik?”
“Too young. Don’t you dare touch him.”
“Why, Ares, you sound possessive.”
“Not, He’s not my type. Way too young.”
“And the other man, Tyr Anasazi?”
“He’s a Nietzschean, that’s all I know. They don‘t play sex games. Something in their genes.” Ares pulled out his cock and shot his hot semen down the back of his partner. ’You are losing your ability to lie,’ he thought, ’that doesn’t wear well for a god.’
* * * * *
Dylan Hunt awoke from a vivid nightmare. It made such little sense. He had felt tired, worn, unsteady of body and mind, possibly suffering from some mental illness that clouded his world. He was on the floor, on his knees, his body slumped over a dais, while a laughing King watched him from the throne. Worse yet he was being fucked, hard and painfully, challenging even his ability to give consent, by a second man. He would not let those two men take his strength, his mind, his soul, he had to fight hard. The dream ended with something soft enveloping him and the words of his mother being whispered in his ear.
He tried to remember other things his mother had whispered to him so very long ago in a childhood that had always seemed somewhat dreamlike.. She had tried to warn him that he was different. She told he had memories that came from a long ago past and that he shouldn’t let those memories bother him or control his life. Up until he was caught in the black hole, he had not recognized the depth of these memories. Perhaps he had been too busy with the real life of a high-guard officer? Perhaps?
Such visions or memories had recently become more frequent in their occurrence, and usually involved people. Evan Hopewell, had somehow unleashed memories of a companion from the past who he had loved maybe more than he had loved himself. He was thankful the visiting librarian had been so understanding and forgiving. Another man might have called it rape, but it was almost as if Hopewell had shared the same memories. Since Tyr’s involvement with Harry Wagner, the memories had become something with which he had to deal with on a regular basis.
As a high-guard officer Dylan had been trained to use his mind to solve problems even when they could not be readily defined. Despite a strong engrained sense of right and wrong, he sometimes had to bend and stretch to accommodate the situation to his moral code. Sometimes he was more successful than others. Sometimes he just had to play it by an internal compass which pointed to a spot he was not really sure was to the north of anything.
King Erik had been one of his success stories. The young man had been able, in less than a year, to put in place a constitutional monarchy with the king serving as more than just a figurehead. He became the chief executive supervising the implementation of the parliament. Dylan’s actions necessary to keep the young king from being killed before his coronation were a perfect example of the manipulations necessary to achieve a desired goal.
It had worked with Erik, and he hoped it would work with Tyr. He was even more worried than he had been a few hours before. In the ancient memories that had filled his head, it had become apparent that the man on the throne was none other than King Iphicles and the man who was fucking him was Tyr’s friend Harry. He had known since first meeting him that Harry was Ares, god of war from ancient Greece; and he had this horrible suspicion that King Iphicles VI of Seolfor V might be King Iphicles of Corinth. He also felt that that both men were closely connected to him. It did not portend well for this visit.
* * * * * *
Tyr felt uncomfortable in a high-guard uniform. Over a great deal of protest, Dylan had insisted that both Tyr and Beka arrive on the planet wearing uniforms, but without weapons. Tyr wasn’t too worried; both he and Captain Hunt were skilled at hand-to-hand fighting and he had his natural bone spurs. He just worried a bit that King Ipp --whatever his name was -- might have a little something in store for them.
The planet’s use of gold and silver as a common building material resulted in a feeling of Baroque excess. Craftsmen where not content to cover interior walls with gold leaf, but actually covered exterior walls with overlapping 20 cm disks of gold, probably held in place by platinum nails. They also took advantage of the metal’s malleability and embossed, engraved or cast every flat surface with designs which ranged from detailed schematics of atoms to ancient cult symbols. Tyr was inwardly surprised that none of these decorations had shown up in Ares’s apartments.
The cadre was lead down halls of highly polished silver which must have created a never ending maintenance task considering the elevated oxygen content on the planet. The king sat on his platinum throne and looked down on the group. Iphicles VI was a big man, with copper-colored hair and wearing a purple robe with a lot of sliver colored, but probably platinum, ornamentation. Still Tyr was puzzled by how much the king looked like Ares. His first thought was that this was some sort of joke his friend was playing on Dylan or King Erik.
The king spoke in a language that Tyr could basically understand, but he missed some of the nuances of his verb choices. It was obviously a ghost-written speech that the King was reciting without emotion or probably understanding. However, just as he was about to finish, Tyr caught a drift about preservation of natural resources, external threats, and preparation for war. Dylan seemed to be following it, but both Erik and Beka seemed to be totally lost.
Tyr was surprised when the king changed to a language the entire group could understand and said something about his war minister, indicating that a Mr. Daron Dvorak would be joining them later.
“The relationship I have shared with Mr. Dvorak is one of continuing trust and intimacy, and not just in matters of war. His gamesmanship is second nothing except for possibly his joy in victory.” It suddenly dawned on Tyr that the joke Ares might be playing could possibly not be on Dylan, but on him. It made him feel uncomfortable. “I hope you all will get a chance to meet with him and share in our mutual good fortune to have this man at our service. Just remember that first and foremost, that the good fortune belongs to me, and he is at MY service. Understand?”
The king rose and quickly left the room.
“And what was that about Tyr?” Dylan asked.
“I was just about to ask you the same question. Interesting isn’t it?” Tyr retreated into his genetically engineered Nietzschean shell.
* * * * * *
As group was escorted to its quarters, Dylan had carefully watched his weapon’s officer who still showed no emotion. The suite had four bedrooms with private baths sharing a large well furnished and well stocked common room. It was the size of a small house, but part of a huge palace complex. It was easy for Dylan to ascertain that the Tyr had been totally blindsided both by the king’s appearance and his intimations.
“I have been thinking about it, Captain Hunt. The regent does look somewhat familiar, and I was wondering if this was some kind of joke.”
“On whom? If, it is, I can assure you that I am not part of it.” The Captain replied. “And what about his involvement of this Mr. Dvorak, what is his role in all of this?”
“It sounded to me like Dvorak was the king’s lover. Certainly didn’t seem like he was hiding that; more realistically, he was flaunting it. As if any of us would care!” Beka commented. “I’ll be wasting a perfectly good dress on a gay King.”
“I agree, there is absolutely no reason we should be interested in the king’s personal affairs, but he did invite us here,” King Erik commented. “He seems to have something he wants to share with us. I will be counting on you, Dylan, and Tyr, to assist me with negotiations, and I hope that you will not be affected by the king’s announced life style.”
“I agree entirely with you King Erik.” Tyr told the younger man, “But I feel that there is more to this than meets the eye, and I strongly suspect that Captain Hunt knows something he is not revealing. Right?”
“Guess you got me there, Tyr, but I think we should discuss this privately, between ourselves.” Dylan turned to Beka and King Erik and continued.
“Tyr and I are going to talk a little walk along the Balcony of the Silver Stars, and I promise that when we get back, we will be prepared to discuss this matter with you. Now just take advantage of the wonderful things our hosts have stocked in this room, and we’ll be ready to go in the morning. And Beka, on you, a dress is never wasted.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
Tyr was already at the door, he pulled on his leather coat over the high-guard uniform and was ready to go.
* * * * * *
“My assumption, Tyr, is that every inch of public space on this planet is bugged, and that there is no private space.”
“Except maybe the King’s bedroom.”
“And I assume, since you appeared as puzzled as I did, that the King is not your friend Harry with a bad dye job, correct?”
“Not that I know, Captain Hunt. He does look a lot like Harry though. And what about this other man, Mr. Dvorak?”
“Tyr think about it Harry Wagner, Daron Dvorak. Do you see a connection? An obvious connection.”
“Both men share surnames with classical composers from Earth. It could be a co-incidence.”
“And it could just be that our friend the God of War likes cheesy aliases.”
“But King Iphicles just about told us that Mr. Dvorak was his lover.”
“And???” Dylan watched as Tyr’s face turned pale. It wasn’t often he noticed something the Nietzschean hadn’t suspected. “I know I shouldn’t be asking, but are you and Ares having, shall we say, problems?”
“Quite the contrary, Captain Hunt, and you are right, you shouldn’t be asking, but I am willing to give you the answer, because I feel that there is more even relating to this situation than you are telling me.”
“Right. And since I have reason to believe that someone on this planet will be interested in both of our activities, I suggest we walk rather quickly and not linger in any one space on the balcony…unless of course we stop to share a shall we say intimate moment.”
“What are you saying, Captain Hunt? It appears the openly permissive sexuality of this planet has had an effect on you.”
“No, I am saying that conclusions could be drawn from our leaving the obviously bugged suites and trying to catch a few moments of privacy in a public place. Why else would we be walking in the Balcony of the Silver Stars?”
“Astronomical interest?”
“Perhaps, but this is slightly more convincing.”
“So you are going to explain it to me, correct, Dylan?”
Dylan leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. It was obviously part of the cover, as the kiss was closed and unemotional, totally Dylanesque. As they continued to walk, Dylan insisted that they drape their arms over each other’s shoulders so they could confine their conversation to the distance of intimacy and continue the illusion of a lover’s stroll.
The so called Balcony of the Silver Stars extended for almost two kilometers along the edge of the city. Because of the height of the walkway and the small size of the planet, the horizon dropped away quickly giving the impression that you were overlooking the entire visible universe and not just a salty-mineral sea.
“Tyr, this is difficult. First, because I believe Ares should have told you all of this; and, second, because although I know parts of the story, they do not all fit together smoothly.”
“I don’t need them to fit together smoothly, sometimes the fit is harsh and rough, Captain Hunt.”
They walked silently along the length of the balcony several times. Dylan had stopped and kissed him twice, each time seeming more unsure and nervous. Tyr had come here to find out the truth, not to be badly groped by his commanding officer.
“I’ve been looking for a spot. We don’t have a lot of choices.”
“A spot?”
“In order to tell you what I have to tell you we have to create a distraction, make it look to those who are watching us, like we are…you know.”
“I know what? No, I don’t know. You tell me, Captain Hunt.”
“I believe the best shield for what I am going to tell you, would be if I told it to you while we were…having sex.”
“What?”
“I’ve been trying to find a spot that would give us a little privacy just in case someone who didn’t really want to see what we were doing passes by, but not one of the convenient and thus obviously heavily bugged alcoves.”
“You lost me on the fucking part, Captain Hunt. Do you really expect…?”
“Yes, I do. I expect that you want to know what I have to tell you enough that you are willing to do most anything, even let me fuck you.”
“Jesus Christ, what sort of idiot do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you are an idiot at all. I am just not underestimating the people we are dealing with, now if you can think of a better cover, let me know. If not, I suggest we stand behind that statue over there, and you can start by giving me a blow-job. You can use your coat to partially hide...”
Even in the dark Tyr could see that Dylan had one of those thin-lipped, no- gleam in his eyes, “I’m-a-lot-more-treacherous-than-you-can-even-imagine” looks on his face. Dylan unzipped his the pants on his high guard uniform and extracted a long, thick, nicely shaped cock. The captain was not faking it. Tyr dropped to his knees, pulled the coat over his head and looked up at Dylan.
“If you start to whistle, I am going to bite it off,” he said noting Dylan’s pursed lips and far away gaze.
“Well, Tyr, it is like this.” Dylan tried to adopt a mater-of-fact tone despite the fact that the Nietzschean was face-to-face with his erect penis. “ As I said, I’ve known your Mr. Wagner was Ares from the very beginning. I also had a strong feeling, when I saw the name, King Iphicles VI would be sexually involved with Ares.”
“And why is that, Captain Hunt?”
“As you probably also noticed, I never liked or trusted Ares very much. Sure he is the most attractive of men, if you like them big and brutish…not really my type…but he is also perfidious. I’ve never trusted him. However, I have to say that you seem to have brought out a side of him that I didn’t expect to see. I sort of remember mostly his playing with his generals, kings, emperors and his red-headed boy-toy.”
Tyr had begun to notice that despite Dylan’s indication that this was a simulated blow-job, and his lack of interest in big, brutish men, his cock had grown even harder and was being moved with short thrusts toward Tyr‘s lips.
“So far you have told me very, very little that I didn’t know. I quite honestly don’t care about the fact that you have never trusted Ares, or that you seem to think I have been a good effect on him. Understand. What, and how, do you know about King Iphicles?”
“OK, I’ll tell you what I know, but some of it is a little sketchy. Some of it seems to be based on what I call ‘ancient memories’ which I have never been able to quite figure out.”
“Like from before the black hole.”
“No, much before that. You know how people always talk about memories of their childhood that seem really clear, things you did with friends, even your first fuck. Well I don’t have those. My first really clear memories were at the high-guard academy. It was like before that Dylan Hunt didn’t exist and I was…I was…someone else.”
“Go on, Captain Hunt, this is getting mildly interesting.”
“I could do with some “mild interest” on your part, Tyr. Some indication that you are willing to oblige me in exchange for what I am going to tell you.”
“Oblige you how? You cannot be serious?”
“Oh, I am serious, Tyr. You can begin by talking me into your mouth, and in exchange, I will continue talking.”
“Normally, I would only consider that action only if it would be effective as a way to shut you up, but since you seem to have me in a bind… I will start, please continue and avoid the digressions.” He took Dylan’s cock in his mouth and began a regimen of soft licking which he hoped would produce spoken results.
“Ok, we both accept the fact that your friend Ares is a god…a immortal..right? You don’t need to nod your head, it was a rhetorical question. Well I have wondered if I might have been immortal, too, which does a better job of explaining what happened to me that that black hole thing. Except my ancient memories are somewhat cloudy. I can remember my mother whispering things to me, to Dylan, but that I didn’t feel that I was Dylan, yet. It was like I was in a coma, but my medical files show no indication of serious problems as a youth, so I am not really sure.
“Anyway, this is where it gets a little shaky. I feel as if I have been connected with Ares for a long time. Like I was one of his co-gods, really close. Of course, I could never tell that to anyone. I really don’t know why I am telling you now, except for that thing you are doing with your tongue on the bottom… anyway he was always messing with my life. My women. Have that feeling about other women, even Sarah. Still wonder if he might not have been the man the she hooked up with after she thought I was dead, the man who fathered her children.” A little nip on the end of his cock told him that Tyr was not at all interested in hearing about Sarah.
“When I saw the name King Iphicles on the invitation I realized I associated that name with Ares. I think Ares was fucking a king named Iphicles back when we were Gods together in Greece, which means that the king is either a god or an immortal. Where do you, Tyr Anasazi, fit in a relationship between two immortals? I would say 'not very comfortably'.
“There was a part of me that wanted to keep you from finding out.” It was too much for Dylan to take, he fucked Tyr‘s mouth with hard strokes. No amount of perceived truth and ancient memories could keep him from shooting his hot cum into the mouth of the Nietzschean. He held Tyr’s trembling body to his legs until he gathered the strength to rise.
“I trust you enjoyed that, Captain Hunt. I feel that I have misjudged you. I had always considered you somewhat sexually repressed, but after that performance I feel that you are just as subtle about your sexual needs as you are for your need for power. You have managed to extract a great deal of sexual excitement and self-gratification from me in exchange for a somewhat paltry combination of repeated statements and half-truths. I feel I am entitled to more than that in exchange for me allowing you to cum in my mouth.”
“I had to establish a reasonable cover, Tyr. I am still hoping that Ares will fill you in on some of the missing facts, which with all honestly, I cannot remember to a great detail. I am sorry about that, but you are pretty damn talented.”
“Talented enough to be rewarded with more information. But let me assure you that the talent you have enjoyed and commented on is purely reflexive and has absolutely nothing to do with you. I am still debating the option of my insisting that you repay me in kind, which I assure you would be quite uncomfortable, as well as making it very difficult for you to talk. You’d better continue...talking, Captain Hunt.”
Tyr walked away slowly. He was more unsure than ever about the motivations of Captain Hunt. He stopped, looked back, and when Dylan got closer he kissed him with a full cum-flavored kiss. “I said, please, continue.”
“I have always felt, since I met Ares, a kind of deep-seated sibling rivalry. I believe Ares is my brother, and. . .”
“And. . .”
“For some reason I believe King Iphicles is my brother, also.”
“That is incestuous and sick. The man I am involved would not . . .he couldn’t look me in the eye…we have discussed Nietzschean philosophy… Why would he have his brother for a lover?”
“Maybe they’re not brothers. Maybe I am half-brother to both of them.”
“They look enough alike to be twins, except of course for the hair.”
“Maybe it’s another of those genetic flukes?”
“Why are you suddenly taking his side? Making excuses.”
“I am thinking about you. I really don’t want to hurt you any more than he has already.”
“Why, Captain Hunt, for a moment there you almost convinced me that that I was dealing with someone who gave a damn about me. The part about “not wanting to hurt me“ is an ever so sweet added touch; but I certainly don‘t need you to keep me from getting hurt.”
There were no words, no looks that Dylan could find that could convey to Tyr that he actually cared. Perhaps the sharing of indifference would suffice.
* * * * * *
INSIDE THE PALACE
“Well, what did I tell you? I was right wasn’t I? He is the guy you‘ve been fucking.” Iphicles had watched Ares shudder as he watched the two men on the balcony. It was obvious that Ares cared about one of the two men, most certainly his new sexual partner who had been keeping him occupied and away from his planet.
“Why would I get involved with your little brother, Ipfy, when I have the big-bad real you?”
“I’m not talking about Dylan, I’m talking about that walking hunk of testosterone that was down on his knees blowing him. I didn’t think Nietzscheans engaged in such activities.”
“What makes you think I would have any interest in a member of a species that uses sex only for procreation? I gave up the kid thing centuries ago.”
“I doubt if he would be stupid enough to think he could get you pregnant. I watched you. Your eyes betrayed you. Your ears betrayed you. I saw the way you strained to hear what they were saying.”
“That is because your microphone system sucks, and Dylan likes to talk a lot while he is having sex. Don’t tell me you weren’t interested what he was saying?”
“Your black, long haired lover sucks, Ares. Big time. Granted he is beautiful, but he is a whore. Doesn’t seem to care much whose cock is in his mouth if he will do it to. . . Shit, I can’t get used to calling him Dylan. Tyr is just another whore. Like all those women that you shared with Hercules in the past. Xena, Nemesis, even dear sweet Serena. All those beautiful women who preferred his goodness to your dark mystery. Stupid cunts. He’s going to die like they did, and leave you broken hearted again.”
“He‘s not like that, but yes, he IS MY lover. Perhaps I was wrong not to tell you. But those words you said, about “trust and intimacy“ and “gamesmanship and victory.” He’s given them a new meaning. ”
“You are dreaming. The same little romantic dreams you had about Xena becoming your goddess queen and ruling from Olympus. Scratch Ares’s hard surface and there is an incurable, and stupid, romantic underneath.”
“I’ll show you fucking romantic.” Ares ripped of the kings clothes and threw him over the back of the throne. Unlubricated, he thrust his cock into the king’s ass and pushed deeper than he had ever done before. He dug his fingers into Iphicles’s back until he drew blood and grabbed shackles he found on the floor and cuffed him in place. During the next few hours he stuffed an assortment items far more uncomfortable than his penis into the king‘s rectum. Sobs, pain, blood, sperm, shit blended together. Sometimes he wasn’t sure that he didn’t want to kill the man, and other times he wasn’t sure if the king was not enjoying it.
* * * * * * *
Ares awoke in a room spattered with blood. He had fucked men who had been so seriously wounded in war that they had died during the course of the night, and the room had never looked this bad. He softly placed a finger on Iphicles’s neck and felt a pulse below the skin. The king was still alive.
He had never before used his god’s powers to flash into Tyr’s world, but he needed to be with him immediately. Inwardly he hoped the Nietzschean would be asleep and they could just be silently together while he calmed himself and composed the necessary words to tell him what was happening; but he knew Tyr rarely slept soundly and anticipated that he was pacing the floor in his room with a growing sense of deserved rage directed at his actions. Ares decided to flash into the common room and knock on Tyr’s door; he would give Tyr a chance to refuse to talk if that is what he needed.
“I am sorry, Tyr. I acted with a degree of stupidity that I didn’t even know I could slump to. Please let me come in, so we can talk in private.”
Tyr allowed him to enter and they sat in the hard silver chairs in the room.
“Am I incorrect that this room is bugged, and that your lover will hear everything we are about to discuss?”
“No, you’re correct about the bugs, but I can assure you that the King will not be listening. Not in the state I left him.”
“I believe I have been in that state a couple of times.”
“Not like this you haven’t, Tyr, and be thankful for it.” Ares searched for any kind of look of hate, love, understanding, sympathy, concern, whatever, on the Nietzschean’s face. There was none. He was not about to share.
Ares talked quickly and filled Tyr in on details of relationships, both blood and sexual. They were complicated, twisted, and full of emotions about which he now felt ashamed. He insisted that he had had nothing to do with Iphicles’s planning the meeting with King Erik and his former co-regents, and that he too had been blindsided when the King insisted that he deal with the visiting dignitaries as his war minister.
“What I did do, Tyr, is pretty simple. About a year and a half ago, I was becoming bored with Iphicles. I went to this bar for a few drinks and a bit of god worship. Instead I met a man, a member of a species I had never given the time of day, who brought excitement to a life that had grown mundane and unsatisfying. When passion reappeared in my life and I felt like a god again, I should have gone to Iphicles and told him it was over. I didn’t, I just stayed away and tried to hide in the vastness of the universe. I’m sorry.
“Then he called me for a meeting. Honestly, I just thought he wanted to fuck, and I figured I would do him, tell him, and leave; until I heard his agenda. I guess I underestimated my former lover. Misread the degree of cruelty he would exhibit to get me back. It didn’t. It almost got him killed, except he is fucking immortal.”
“And perhaps, you both underestimated your current lover. The degree of treachery he would be willing to go through to keep you. Do you know if King Iphicles knows about Nietzschean sperm?”
“You are not thinking about giving the king, shall we a say a ‘taste of his own medicine’.”
“It would be so simple wouldn’t it. You could propose a threesome, he would be so excited he wouldn’t know what hit him, until immortal or not, he would be living in a world so painful he would wish he was dead. . But.. Ares was having difficulty in reading whether Tyr was serious. It sounded like the kind of plan a Nietzschean could successfully complete.
“I wouldn’t do it. I’ve killed a lot of men. I kill men who I think are about to kill me, usually without much of a question. I’d kill to protect my friends, my crewmembers, my family, my children. I don’t, however, kill for sport and certainly I don’t kill for sex. Sex is a game, a power game, but it’s not worth killing over.”
“He’ll try to kill you, you know, and you are not immortal.”
“Let him, then I might consider taking action.”
“A wise man once told me that I should take my sexual games more seriously. I never knew what he meant until tonight. Tyr, I think tomorrow, we should both go to talk to King Iphicles, together.”
“And Dylan?”
“Yes, we probably should talk to Dylan together. I wouldn't want to see him having to bribe you for more information, again.”
“But tonight, you are going to spend the rest of the night with me. You are going to lie beside me in bed, hold me tightly, kiss me gently, and fuck me until I fall asleep. And tell me Ares, why are you going to do this?”
“Because, I, Ares, God of War, love you Tyr Anasazi.”
“Actually, I was expecting you to tell me you were through with playing sex games, but that’ll do.”
McJude
January 2002