Page 28 of Flamesworn

The form wavered, and where there’d been a woman there was now Ares, staring at her, then at the knife, their tongue dragging slowly across their bottom lip.

“Do you want this?” She grabbed their hair, pulled their head back, held the blade to their throat.I am holding a knife to the throat of War,she thought, and allowed one treacherous flare of excitement before reminding herself that wasn’t the point. She would settle Ares, but she was not Atreus. She would not use them like a weapon to be sharpened and bloodied until it broke.

“Oh, yes, so much,” Ares said, almost boneless, like the only thing holding them up was the hand in their hair. “Cut me if you want. I’ll bleed but I won’t die.”

She struck them again. “I’m settling you as a dominant settles a submissive. It isn’t the same as a craftsman making a bladeora soldier with a sword, and it’s time you learned that. Strip and lay on my bed.”

Ares moved so fast that trying to follow their movements was like trying to watch lightning move from the cloud to the ground. They didn’t really need to strip, she didn’t think, but since she’d asked, they removed clothes like a human would, and she saw the flickering slow again as they did.

“What did you call me? Is that one of your nation’s names for war?” Ares asked, pulling their shirt off.

She was distracted by the sight of their chest, which was firm with only the slightest hint of breasts. “Gracious One?”

“No, bright eyes. Would you like them larger?” Ares cupped their breasts, which sent a throb of heat between her legs. “I can make them larger if you want.”

“How wouldyoulike them to look?” Kataida asked. “That’s what I want, too. And I called you that because your eyes are pretty. They burn like firelight.” She flushed. She wasn’t one for sweet nothings or endearments, and here she was freely giving both.

“I would give you what you want of me, in this,” Ares said. “I have had lovers who prefer certain things.”

She almost told themwe’re not talking about sex,but perhaps that was a bit naive of her. “Show me what you looked like when I first saw you in my father’s council room—if you had been naked,” she clarified, not wanting Ares to suddenly manifest a uniform.

“But how will I know it’s what you want?” Ares fingers went to the waistband of their pants, and Kataida had to admit it was attractive—the small, lovely breasts and the defined abs, the cut of their hipbones with a slight gentle swell to their hips.

“It’s what I want because you’re doing what I tell you.” She snapped her fingers, sharpened her voice. “Ares. What form do you want now? Take that form and it will be what I want.”

At first she didn’t think they understood, as they went still and regarded her as if seeking clues to her true desires. Then, they took off their pants and stood naked before her.

Ares wasn’t terribly tall, about the same height as her brother, taller than her but shorter than their father. Their hair was out of their braid and cascaded down around their shoulders, white and fire-tipped, the same as their eyes. They had a cock between their legs, which were muscular with toned thighs, and their skin was pale with a hint of gold beneath. It wasn’t dissimilar to how she’d seen them, but knowing this form was one they’d chosen made her smile in pleasure and her voice warm with approval. “Thank you. You’re beautiful.”

They tilted their head, regarding her.

“You,” she clarified. “Not war. You, Ares.”

“Will you make me bleed for you?” Ares climbed on her bed, sinuous like some dangerous cat, and they didn’t need to be a god or even war incarnate for her to think they were impossibly lovely.

“I will,” she said, “because you’re doing so well.”

She disrobed, taking the time to hang up every part of her uniform, smiling as Ares cajoled her from the bed, just like any submissive eager for a dom to take them apart, whose dom was teasing them by making them wait for it.

Naked and with only her dagger, she went to her bed. Ares was hard, cock flush against their stomach, but they weren’t touching themselves at all. There was a flush on their gold-tinted skin, and she was certain they hadn’t blinked once, but the flickering had stopped entirely and their focus was all on her.

Kataida climbed on the bed, straddling their hips just above the jut of their cock, even though her cunt gave a soft throb at the thought of rubbing against it. “If this is the form you would wear, then wear it.” She put the knife at the hollow of their throat, leaning forward, all of her dominance come to bear in her words,thrilling because she was with someone who wouldn’t need her to hold back.

Ares tilted their head as much as they could. “Yes, yes,” they promised, tensing beneath her. “I–sometimes, I don’t always–Kataida, please hurt me.”

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to their forehead, and her body jerked on instinct as she realized howhotAres’ skin was, so much that she would have sworn she heard a sizzling sound when she pressed her lips to their skin, like water on a hot pan. “Finish your sentence first, bright eyes. You don’t always what?”

“Want to look the same under my clothes.” She laughed at how they phrased it, so strangely chaste and proper with her naked and holding a knife to their throat, wet enough that they’d have to be able to feel how much she liked this. “I would have a cunt for you to taste, too.”

“Ah.” She shivered at that, settling her weight, smiling a bit as she heard the same slight sound like a sizzle as she rubbed against their firm abdominal muscles. “That’s fine.” More than, actually. How wonderful not to have to choose, though she could hardly imagine how overwhelming it would be if it waseverythingabout yourself, you had to shape. She traced the slight, imperceptible swell of their breast with the tip of the knife, then shifted to rub herself against their hard cock. “This doesn’t define you. But youwillhold a form that is yours, even if this part changes.”

“Yes, Kataida. Will you cut me, now? Was I good enough?”

There was a brief flare of worry that they were still clinging too hard to her wants, her desires–but no, this was fine, in this context it was exactly how itshouldbe. “You were.” She sat back up and pressed the knife to their chest, between their small breasts. She wondered if they would bleed, if it would be red like fire or black like soot. “Will you tell me if it’s too much?”

Ares laughed, and the sound was indescribable. It was arrow-fire and shield-clashes, early-morning trumpets and soldiers singing rowdy chants at mess. There was a joy there, and she liked it, wondering how often the god of war was ever happy without churned mud and bodies bleeding out in agony.

No, that wouldn’t make them happy, would it? What the war god liked about battle was the rising tensions, the exchange of missives and broken treaties, the call to arms and everything that went with it, orderly ranks of soldiers chanting, singing, marching in perfect rhythm with their buttons shining and their swords deadly-sharp and gleaming. It was the well-orchestrated dance of camps being set up, plans being set in motion, battlefields divided. It was bawdy songs around the fire the night before, lines of soldiers facing each other across a pristine field of grassy wheat, a meadow of wildflowers, gently-swelling dunes of sand, and the chaos that came after the first arrow was let loose.

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