Annwn, 'Black Eye, Yellow Eye'

As Ares settled back to a comfortable sprawl on the warm ground, Methos crouched before him, bending his head, tonguing one of Ares' nipples into a stiff little point, reaching out a hand to tease the other. The god let out a slow, pleased hiss, half-closing his eyes.

"Mmmmm. So…The king of Thebes was this guy, Laius. His wife, Jocasta, just had their first kid, a son, so he goes off to the oracle. Oracle says, that kid's gonna grow up to kill you. So, Laius takes the kid and leaves it on a mountain to die. Mmmmm!"

He threw his head back in pleasure as Methos raked a fingernail down the length of his muscular back, then reached to caress his buttocks through the supple leather of his pants.

"Of course, the kid gets picked up and adopted. When he grows up, Oedipus… that's the kid… goes to get his fortune told. The soothsayer says he's gonna kill his dad and marry his mom. So, he hits the road. On the road, he gets into an argument with a stranger, and kills him."

Methos looked up at him, plucking impatiently at the waistband of his leather trousers.

" Use your teeth, wise-ass. I'm not going to make it any easier for you. Anyway, Oedipus goes to Thebes and on his way he offs this monster that's been picking off travelers, so they're thoroughly pleased with him, and he marries the recently-widowed Queen Jocasta and gets crowned king. He and Jocasta have four kids, and then things start going wrong, there's a plague in the city. Jocasta sends her brother Creon to the oracle, and bang, the oracle tells them that Oedipus was the baby Laius and Jocasta left to die all those years ago, and to top that off, Laius was the guy Oedipus killed on his way to Thebes. Jocasta kills herself, and Oedipus rips out his eyes."

After quite a bit of fumbling, Methos managed to get Ares' pants open, and as he started to slide them down his hips, Ares smiled to himself and willed them away. Methos grumbled under his breath, but cupped Ares' balls in one hand, and began to caress his stiffening dick with the other. A glistening drop of pre-cum had already welled up at the tip, a crystal bead gleaming in the firelight. With a maddening slow swipe of his tongue, Methos licked it away.

"Oedipus dies a few years later, and his two sons, Eteocles and Polyneices, managed to kill each other fighting over succession rights. Jocasta's brother Creon takes over, and since Polyneices had hired some foreign mercenaries in his take-over bid, Creon decides to make a scapegoat out of him and proclaims that his body is not to be buried, but left to rot, and anyone who tries to bury him anyway, would be executed."

Ares inhaled sharply as Methos swirled his tongue around the head of his cock, then scraped it not-so-lightly with his teeth.

"So naturally, Antigone… that's the elder of Oedipus and Jocasta's two daughters, and she was also engaged to marry Creon's son Haemon… goes and buries him. She tried to get her sister Ismene to help, but she was afraid to. When Creon finds out, he has to sentence Antigone to death, otherwise it'd look like he was backing down on his first royal proclamation. So he has her walled up alive in a tomb. Haemon tries to go and rescue her, but he finds that she's hanged herself in the tomb, so he goes and kills himself. Mmmmph."

The god shuddered with pleasure as Methos flickered his tongue along the underside of his shaft.

"Anyway… that wandering nutcase you've adopted is Antigone."

Methos blinked; at least he had a name to put to the face now, and he supposed that nutty as she was, she'd come by it honestly… But that wasn't where his attention was focused. He rested his head against Ares' densely muscled thigh, licking his balls and nibbling at his scrotum, reveling in the god's heady scent. Ares twined one hand in the Immortal's dark hair, stroking his busy jaw with the other. Methos couldn't quite keep himself from shuddering slightly as Ares' strong hand caressed his throat.

The evening air suddenly felt chilly. Ares had apparently whisked away his clothes at some point… why hadn't he noticed?… and the cool night breeze raised gooseflesh on his bare skin. In contrast, Ares' skin felt fever-hot against his own, and his touch left warm trails along Methos' back and shoulders beneath his distracted caresses. The warmth seemed to sink into him, igniting an answering fire from the very core of his being. Raw lust fogged his brain. He pounced upon Ares' jutting member, and began devouring it in earnest. The god arched his back, thrusting his hips upward. Methos moved his hands to clutch Ares' taut buttocks, gripping tightly. Ares twined his fingers in the Immortal's hair, forcing his head down. This encouragement was unneeded. Methos sucked greedily at Ares' cock, ignoring his throat's spasms of protest.

Ares drew a sharp breath between clenched teeth. He gave himself over to the wave of sensation building up within him. His hands, still enmeshed in Methos' hair, clenched into fists. His hips twitched, bucking of their own accord as his orgasm swept through him. He flung back his head. Had he shouted aloud, or was that just his blood, roaring in his ears?

Ares' cock was too far down his throat for him to actually taste the god's essence as it poured into him, but Methos felt its warmth, burning into him from within even as his touch had burned from without. He raised his head, a feral growl rising in his throat. He seized Ares' legs, forcing them up and apart.

Languid and sated, the god regarded Methos' rut-frenzied face with satisfied bemusement. He made no move to assist or resist as the Immortal penetrated him savagely, and began thrusting with such vigor that a mortal partner would surely have been howling in agony. All reason had fled from Methos' face, and his breathing was harsh and ragged. He climaxed rapidly, and fell back, eyes glazed. Ares laid a possessive hand on his back, feeling more than hearing the changes in his breathing as he swiftly sank into an exhausted slumber.

"I've got you right where I want you now."

Methos slept later than he had intended--- later, in fact, than he could remember sleeping for several mortal lifetimes. His evening with Ares must have tired him more than he'd realized! The sun, high in the sky, was glaringly bright in his eyes. The screams were loud in his ears---

Screams? He scrambled to his feet, reaching for his sword. Antigone stood, her back to him, brandishing the dagger she'd apparently retrieved from his bags at someone---Methos couldn't see who, she was in the way, but he was evidently mortal---cowering at her feet.

Whoever it was, he seemed to have noticed Methos.

"Please! Help me! I swear, I wasn't trying to hurt her!"