By Meryle
This story contains scenes of graphic sex between a man and a woman. If you are under 18 or if this is illegal where you live, please read something else.
The character of Ares belongs to Universal Studios and Pacific Renaissance and no copyright infringement is intended. The author is just having fun.
Rhysa stood, her gaze fixed on the spot where the warrior had fallen. Her first kill. It had been years ago now, but the memory was as fresh as if it had been yesterday.
She hadn't sought out this spot. On the contrary, she probably would have avoided it if she had realized she would end up there. She had been on her way to Anthrapes, her home before she had joined the amazons. Taking a short cut to avoid some of the smaller villages had brought her here to the scene of her first battle. Closing her eyes, she could still hear the sounds of swords clashing, bodies falling, lives ending. It hadn't even been her fight, if she wanted to be honest. A small group of travelers were battling to save their meager possessions from a band of thieves. Rhysa had come across them purely by accident. Having trained for years, she felt more than able to aid those whom she thought would benefit. Hadn't this been what all the training was for? Hadn't Alyssa taught her to fight the good battle? To defend those who could not defend themselves, and to always fight for the side of good, no matter what the cost? She wondered now about that philosophy. Was it ever really worth the cost? Was it worth the innocence of a young woman who had been changed forever by the taking of a mortal life? Was it worth the sleepless nights following the kill? The stomach-wrenching knowledge that she had ended a life? That was something Alyssa could never teach her. None of the warriors she had trained with had been able to prepare Rhysa for what to expect when the time came to actually kill. But she had learned. Indeed, she had learned quickly. With one thrust of her sword, the principles of training had turned to the cold realities of actual battle and Rhysa had been transformed forever.
Sighing, she opened her eyes. Why the continued remorse over the lost life of one bandit? How many had there been since then? 10? 20? Rhysa wasn't sure of the actual numbers, but there was one thing she was certain of. None had affected her like the first to fall at her hands. She often wondered if she were given the chance to do it all again, if she would have made the same choices. Would it have been possible to disable the thief without actually killing him? Would that have made a difference in the course her life had taken since that time? And if she were to be totally honest, would she have wanted it to? Her life with the amazons had made her complete. Had made her feel as though she belonged for the first time in her life. If it weren't for the experience she was now second-guessing, she likely wouldn't have stayed with the tribe she now called family. What good was an amazon who wasn't prepared to kill to defend her sisters? Rhysa realized it wasn't the death of one particular mortal that bothered her. No. She was certain of that now. It was the constant wondering of what could have been. What might have been if she had chosen a different road. Perhaps she would be married now, to a villager, or a farmer, with children filling the empty voids in her life. Perhaps she would be a teacher, or a healer, saving lives instead of taking them. Would it make her a better person? Would it make her life any more worthwhile? Rhysa couldn't answer that. She couldn't know what her life would be like if she had opted not to kill that first warrior. Still, she wondered, closing her eyes and dreaming of herself in the role of a wife and mother.
"You disappoint me, Rhysa," came a voice from directly behind her. "Remorse? Regret? Not exactly emotions befitting a warrior of your status."
It didn't surprise her to find she wasn't alone. She knew without a doubt to whom the deep voice belonged. "Not now, Ares," she sighed, not bothering to turn around.
"Forget the fantasies, Rhysa," he continued, oblivious to her words, "Reality can be so much more … rewarding."
She turned to face him then. His insensitivity, though well known to her, still baffled her at times and this particular instance was no exception. "Don't you have better things to do?" she quipped, "I'm really not in the mood for one of your little games just now."
"Oh?" his brows raised in the infuriating manner she had become most accustomed to over the years. "Then just what are you in the mood for, Rhysa? I've seen your fantasies. It's just not you." He smiled slightly as she raised her chin, anger flashing in her eyes. "Oh, I admit," he went on, glad for the reaction he was getting, "You aren't exaggerating the passion, I've seen you in action, but a farmer?" He threw his head back and laughed. She didn't realize she'd raised her hand to strike him until he caught her wrist in his strong fingers. She knew the futility of her actions, but still, sometimes he was just too arrogant.
"Face it," he replied, his voice devoid of mirth as he tightened his grip on her wrist. "You were born to fight, Rhysa. Like it or not, you and I have a lot in common."
"Hardly," she whispered fiercely, afraid her voice would betray the feelings stirring within her as she looked into his liquid brown eyes. "I'm nothing like you, Ares."
"Don't be so sure," he smiled, pulling her close to him until their faces were mere inches apart. "I can see it in your eyes. The passion, the desire. Don't fight it, Rhysa,"
She struggled to maintain eye contact, not allowing her gaze to wander toward his hard chest, his strong arms. She knew exactly what lay beneath the black leather he wore, and exactly how much pleasure his godly body could offer. How long could she expect herself to resist him? How could she not respond to him when he was this close?
"Besides," he whispered, sensing her indecision, "Isn't this what you wanted? An escape from reality, if only for a time? Isn't this what fantasies are made of, Rhysa?" He lowered his head slowly to hers, his lips seeking out her own in an attempt to rid her mind of any remaining doubt. She didn't resist, knowing full well that she would welcome the taste of his lips, the feel of his touch. After all, how could a lowly farmer fantasy possibly compare to a real-life encounter with the god of war? She felt the last of her resistance ebbing away as his lips found hers. He relaxed the grip on her wrist and let his hand slide slowly up her arm and around to her back in order to pull her closer to him.
Her breasts strained against the boundaries of the leather she wore and she wished it would give way and allow her to feel his flesh against hers. As though in response to her thoughts, he pulled his lips from hers and gazed into her eyes as he slipped the straps from her shoulders, allowing the leather dress to fall down around her feet. He sighed as his eyes took in every inch of her exposed flesh. Returning his gaze to her face, he again took her in his arms, tasting her waiting lips once more before leaving a trail of hot kisses down her throat. A soft moan escaped her lips as he gently lowered her to the ground atop the cool grass. He leaned above her for a moment, drinking in her beauty in anticipation of what was to come. She reached for the vest he wore, unfastening it and allowing it to slip easily from his well-muscled arms. As he lowered himself to her, she could feel the weight of his godly form against her skin and welcomed the rising passion he inspired in her. He bent to taste her breasts, his tongue teasing her nipples even as his hands wandered over her small waist and glided downward toward her well-rounded hips. The leather pants he wore vanished and his godhood sprang forth from its previous confines, pressing hard against her thigh with all the promise of fulfilling her every desire. She entwined her fingers in his hair and arched her back in sheer ecstasy as he continued to torment her erect nipples with his hot mouth. His hands moved masterfully over her smooth skin, parting her silky thighs, and tantalizing the most sensitive parts of her body. Her entire being seemed to respond as he touched her, his fingers exploring her flesh at will. She wanted him - needed him - now more than ever. No mortal had ever roused the passion within her as this god could. She never wanted the moment to end and yet, at the same time, she longed for the release, the culmination of her desire that only he could provide. He crushed her lips with his own, stifling her gasp as he entered her. She easily matched his rhythm as he began to move inside her. He abandoned her breasts and raised his head to kiss her deeply as their passion mounted. With each powerful thrust, her desire increased to the point where she though she would explode with sheer ecstasy. A powerful trembling shook her body as the darkness behind her closed eyes seemed to explode in a world of colors and lights. His increased intensity told her that he too, had reached the pinnacle of desire.
They held each other, each breathing heavily from the exertion of their union, until he rolled to one side, lying on his back next to her. She turned her head slightly to gaze at him. Lying beside her, eyes closed, breathing still slightly labored, he looked like he could be any mortal lover. These were the moments he seemed most vulnerable, the moments when she could forget who he was and what he stood for. Smiling slightly, she closed her eyes, trying to preserve the moment for as long as possible. Only when he spoke did she open them again to meet his gaze.
"Remind me to thank that farmer," he smiled wickedly.
She should have been angered at the remark, but she was still in far too good a mood as she stifled a giggle. "Very funny," she retorted, propping herself up on one elbow and turning her back to him to reach for her discarded dress. His hand on her arm gave her pause and she turned to face him, her look questioning.
"Feel better?" he asked, his voice sounding more sincere than it ever had.
"For the moment," she frowned suspiciously, "But this doesn't change anything, Ares."
"Maybe this will," he offered nonchalantly, holding something up in one hand.
Her frown deepened, "What is it?" she asked, reached tentatively for the orb glowing in his palm.
"Don't touch," he murmured, "Just look."
She gazed into the strange sphere, marveling, as images seemed to develop in the midst of the soft glow. She saw herself as well as the warrior she had killed on this very spot years earlier. "Ares," she breathed nervously, "I don't…"
"Shhh," he whispered, "Watch."
She felt compelled to watch the strangely familiar scene as it played out - a part of the past, replaying itself in the present. She saw the warrior injured by her sword, she saw the end of the battle, and she saw the injured warrior get up and stagger away.
"Ares," she sighed in exasperation, "You can't convince me that I didn't kill him. I saw the body. He never left that battlefield under his own power."
He raised an eyebrow, his look holding a hint of warning. "Will you just watch?"
She returned her gaze to the orb. Now the warrior was healed, a few more lines in his face, a few pounds heavier. She frowned as she tried to sort out what it all meant. A slight gasp escaped her lips as she saw the same warrior leading a band of thieves against an unarmed village. Women and children ran screaming as their homes burned. She watched in horror as the same warrior, the one who should rightfully be dead, cut down a young boy as he tried to escape. She could almost see the life leaving the small form as it lay in a pool of blood, the warrior having not even blinked an eye. Turning once again to Ares, she glared at him. "What?" he shrugged indifferently, "Isn't this what you wanted to see? What would have come to pass if you hadn't killed him?"
She thought about it for a moment, her anger subsiding as she realized what he was trying to do. Were the images real? Would the thief have gone on to kill countless innocent people if not for her taking his life when she had? She had to admit, she'd never really know. But still, it touched her that he would try to ease her mind. Of course, he wouldn't admit to any such thing. "He would have been a great warrior," Ares pointed out. "You struck him down in his prime and I lost a very promising student. The way I see it, you owe me."
She gaped at him incredulously for a moment before she burst out laughing, shaking her head in sheer disbelief. "Yeah right," she scoffed, reaching once again for her leather garment. Once she was fully dressed, she turned to face him. He still lay in the same position, watching her, but just as she'd expected, he was now fully clothed as well. Gazing around at their surroundings, a slight smile lit her face. "My memories of this place are far different ones now," she smiled at him, a teasing twinkle in her eye. "Maybe I do owe you one after all."
"Anytime," he winked, an evil smile on his lips. In a flash of light, he was gone, leaving her alone to ponder their newly made memories.
"Maybe," she murmured happily, "Just maybe, I'll have to come by here a little more often." With one last glance at the grass where he'd lain, she turned and continued on her journey.