The water ripples and churns. A series of ficlets. 52 - Ares didn't really do jealousy.
28 October 2006
Ares liked to think that he was pretty good at the whole "boyfriend" thing. He was pretty good at telling when Xena wanted his company, and when she needed her space because gods knew she needed her space.
But even gods have their limits. Especially when it came to irritating half-mortal half-brothers who liked to come around on quiet days with sneaky proposals involving fish as long as his arm.
Ares didn't really do jealousy, so the fact that he was sitting on the other side of Xena at the river bank, bored stiff and shooting occasional glares at Hercules, was due simply to lack of anything better to do. This was also why he'd reach over every so often and give Xena's hair a little tug and ask if she was done fishing yet.
When he was admonished for bothering her and scaring the fish away, he may have looked like he was sulking, but gods of war don't sulk either. Especially not when said irritating half-mortal half-brothers are around to give him insufferably smug smirks.
The next time Ares touched her, it was soft: a feathery stroke starting at the lobe of her ear and sliding back against the smooth skin near her nape. She shivered and glanced over at his innocent expression.
A few minutes later, the touch was back, gliding over the curve of her collarbone.
She closed her eyes and thought about fish.
Then, soft lips pressed against her shoulder. A nip from unseen teeth was followed by a swipe of a hot tongue. A hand edged up under the flanges of her skirt and brushed up against her inner thigh.
Muffling a moan, she dropped the fishing rod and turned to Ares, pushing her hands into his hair and her mouth onto his.
He made a questioning noise in his throat, and she nodded.
When they vanished, Hercules was blushing furiously.