Page 42 of Flamesworn

She kissed them back, aroused all over again as Ares shared their pleasure in her fierceness with her, the adoration War would have for one who revered it, who took to bloodshed like a gift instead of a necessity. “My brother is even now taking lovers to drive the memory of the battle from him.”

“That isn’t what you want, though, is it?” Ares watched her, stroked a hand down her back while she kissed and bit at their shoulder, hard enough to break skin and draw a shiver fromthem. “You aren’t running from the memory of battle-lust. You want to remember it.”

“Yes.” It felt good to admit it to someone who understood. “May I have you? Take you?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Ares said.

Kataida sat up, moving off them, neatly evading their grasp as she rose to her feet. “Yes, I do. Consent is a law, and it’s your right as a–person, god, being, whatever else you are. You have a physical form and it’s up to you with whom you share it.”

Ares, sprawled there on her bedroll, watched her with a curious expression. “I’ve already given it to you. You may wield me as you wish.”

“I’m not talking about wielding you.” She found her firearm and returned to the bedroll. “You have ownership over…this.” She waved a hand, indicating their naked form. “I’m talking about a sense of self that is yours and only yours.”

“Regardless, beautiful, I’d have you take me any way you want,” Ares said, and slid a hand between their legs, stroking themselves as Kataida so often did when she was alone. "I would have you conquer all that I am and can be.”

It should sound ridiculous, but she understood this wasn’t the same as pulling them into a battle or even wielding them as a sword. This was between them, private, it didn’t involve nations or mutinies or disputes. She smiled, moving between their legs, and held up her gun. “It’s empty, don’t worry. But I don’t think you’d mind if it wasn’t.”

Ares shook their head, leaning up on their elbows, watching her hungrily. Outside the tent, she could hear–drums, chants, maybe, though she put it aside and focused instead on Ares, settling between their soft, white thighs. She teased them with the barrel of it before sliding it between their folds, fascinated at the way the metal grew slick as she rubbed them with it. Ares, asuninhibited in bed as they were in battle, arched up and tried to rub themselves against the gun, head thrashing on her pillow.

Kataida lifted the gun away right when it seemed as if Ares was going to come from the pressure against their clit, and waited for them to sob for her, plead, beautifully desperate–and then raised the barrel like she’d done with the sword, licking the taste of Ares off it. It tasted like gunpowder and fire and salt, and she loved it, wanted to put her mouth there again and fuck them with her tongue. Instead, she held them with a sharp word and her dominance, and slid the barrel down lower, pressing against the wet, heated entrance to their body. “Do you want this?”

“Yes, oh, yes, please,please,” they babbled, and she took her time with it, slowly sliding the tip inside and watching captivated as the gun disappeared inside Ares. “It’syours,you kill with it, you’re so perfect, I want it so badly–”

Kataida laughed in indulgent, sadistic pleasure as she drew the gun backout. “When you’re so eager, it makes me want to deny you.”

“Yes, all right,” Ares sobbed, then went still, and fixed her with one of those unblinking stares that made the knowledge of theirgodhoodshiver over her, prickling her skin with excitement and awe at the thought. “I burn so hot for you. Do you like it?”

There was a weight to the question, something far more serious than they should be right now, and Ares’ eyes were starting to turn white instead of fiery. “I do,” she admitted, because lying was pointless. “I never knew I could have this.”

Ares smiled at her, the fire returning to their eyes, the godly stillness and otherworldly power easing back intowant. “Yes. You can have anything. I’d give you the world if you wanted it, I’d set it on fire, and I’d dance with you in the flames and sleep in its ashes, I’d–ahhhh!”

She slid the gun inside of them, too fast, not as careful as she should be but she knew she wouldn’t hurt them, not in a way they wouldn’t like. “I don’t want a god in my bed. I want you, Ares, bright eyes. Be with me. Be here.” She started fucking them with the gun, breathless at how it looked, and put her other hand between their legs to rub their clit. While Ares howled and thrust up to fuck the gun between their legs, Kataida shifted to lay down on her stomach. She fucked them with the gun and licked their clit, suckled it, rubbed their slit with the tongue until she felt their thighs start trembling.

“Let me come for you, beautiful, my storm, my Kataida, please, please–”

She made a sound against their sweet cunt, which tasted a bit like cinder and cinnamon and copper, and took their clit between her teeth. Her answer was to bite, gently, and fuck them brutally with the gun until they cried out and came against her mouth. She kept it up, over and over, until Ares was sobbing and she herself was so turned on, she was trying to hump her own bedroll.

She sat up, mouth shiny and wet from them, and her breath caught at how utterly destroyed Ares looked there on the pallet. They were a blissful, shaking mess, smiling and covered in sweat, eyes closed, bright, white light spilling from beneath their closed lids. They opened their eyes, and tears of fire and flame dripped down their face, still smiling, and the reached eagerly for her. Kataida put her gun to the side and climbed atop them, kissing them, letting them taste themselves on her mouth.

“You’re perfect,” Ares sobbed, while she writhed on top of them, desperate herself for her own fulfillment. “You’re perfect, that was perfect, let me–let me give you pleasure, my beautiful love. What do you want, what can I give you? Anything, anything.”

She was too wound up with lust and adrenaline and the battle to chastise them for the histrionic worship, and instead, she smacked their adoring face, pulled their sweat-damp hair until they were silent. “I want a cock to ride.”

“Take it, it’s yours.”

She shifted back and where Ares’ cunt had been, now there was a cock, hard and ready for her. She was so wet, there was no pain when she slid herself on top of them, riding them hard the second she had them inside. It hurt, but in the way she liked, a full stretch that gradually eased into a deep, heavy pressure that made her cunt spasm around their cock.

“Hurt me, please,” Ares begged, and how could she do anything else?

She scratched their chest bloody as she rode their cock, the pleasure of being able to dig her nails as deep as she wanted its own thrill, and when she backhanded Ares hard enough to split their lip, they arched up so hard they nearly bucked her off them entirely. She laughed wildly, feeling completely in control of herself and still drunk with sadistic pleasure, her thighs slick and the tent air heavy and humid.

She grabbed Ares by the throat and leaned forward, eyes crossing with pleasure at how good it felt. “I want you to come for me, bright eyes. Then you’re going to makemecome.”

Ares grabbed her hips and fucked up into her, and they were both moving together, sweaty and breathing hard, Ares’ eyes blazing white. Their fingers left bruises on her hips and she reveled in it, and when Ares came she could feel it, a rush of warmth between her legs that burned like fire, and she came without meaning to, hard and strong enough that she felt her calves tighten and spots of white formed at the edges of her vision. She was choking Ares while she shook on top of them, and when she finally dragged in a great breath of air, she used the last of the strength in her legs to push up and let theircock fall free from her body. She crawled gracelessly on all fours until she could straddle their head, sat on their face, and ground herself against their mouth until she came again, and then again, and if she thought of how it felt to be in the thick of combat the last time, well, no one but Ares needed to know about it.

By the time she rolled off Ares, utterly boneless and spent, her body was covered in sweat and her hair was soaked through, and the steam in the tent felt like the, thick, humid air near the sea where you would cross to Katoikos. She half-crawled over to the flap and flung it open, gasping in relief when fresh air flooded the tent, and only barely made it back to her bedroll. Ares was still hot enough that even lying near them felt like cuddling up next to a flame, but the way they were looking at her...

“I love you,” Ares said, reverently, touching her face. Their fingers trembled.

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