Wrath is No Sin

         Apollo hadn’t meant to lose his composure in such a way. He just…. He wasn’t expecting (or even hoping for) Ares’s easy acceptance, let alone the taste of him on his lips and tongue. The Sun King can’t help it if his reaction is… a little disproportionate. 

         When he leans back and realizes the state of Ares’s clothing, Apollo winces in apology. He begins to speak, to atone for his slip in control, but then the god of war meets his eye and—- 

         Apollo feels something ancient and primal snap to life in the air around them, a thunderclap rending the fraction of space between their bodies and searing the Sun King’s senses with a taste of Ozone. On instinct, his whole body tightens and jerks upward, caught from taking flight only by the arms around him. Power, his mind supplies like a revelation, Concentrated Power…

         The Sun King blinks slowly to clear his swimming vision, resisting the urge to suck in a breath. When his sight returns, it is to see Ares’s radiant gaze, the aura around him terrible and beautiful at once. He clasps the hand fisted in his shirtfront, lips parted with wonder. Just like that, it’s suddenly so easy to agree.

         "…Okay.“

It was a belief held among the gods of Olympus that the Earth, and humans, had been created for their amusement. That humanity belonged to them, was created for them. That there was a reason his show of divinity had such an effect, even on a man such as Apollo. Ares disagreed, to a point. He liked to believe that humans chose their own path. They could worship whatever god they chose; or none at all. 

He was satisfied with one man’s adoration. The love and devotion of this king of light. And at that single word affirmation, he pulled Apollo against him and kissed him. Ares turned his head to make the most of it, a hungry gasping embrace that had so much need. Not just for the pleasures of the flesh, but of simple connection. This was an embrace between equals.

“Burn it all to the ground. Level everything.“

Ares knew his allies might not share the sentiment, but he’d been placed in charge of this group and he expected no dissent. The city was evacuated, and his mortal allies could no longer continue the fight here. But he did not intend to leave the enemy an intact city.

Ares demanded complete and total dedication to the war effort.

          Standing outside the pane-glass storefront of Ichabod’s Antiquities, Apollo laughs in spite of himself. He absently pulls his pale hair back into a messy bun at his nape, gaze sliding from the rickety looking armoire on display to Ares’s face. “….you never know until you look. That’s the joy of antiquing, John.”

           The alias tastes strange on his lips, like something too small to properly encompass the man before him. But Apollo has committed to carving out a simpler life here, with Ares and his son. He intends to embrace it as best he can.

          “Come on…” He palms the other man’s bare forearm, pulling him towards the dim interior of the shop, “…We need a new entryway table. One that might actually hold up under our.. ah…” The Sun King smirks, sly glance to one side “…escapades.”

It was hardly his ideal use of a lazy afternoon, but if digging through musty shops full of old junk would make his lover happy then so be it. He smiles contently as he looks over at ‘Andrew’. Their strange little cover story, here, couldn’t possibly fool anyone. Still, no one had bothered to call them out. As far as these good people seemed to be concerned, they were just a pair of good friends. Why say more than that?

“I’m coming, I’m coming,“ he chuckles while being pulled into the shop. With Alex spending the afternoon at a friends house, the men were free to take their time and enjoy the afternoon in peace. “I don’t think any table will hold up when we...“ he glances over at a young woman who raised a brow, and Ares chuckles. “get up to escapades.“

          Apollo holds himself very still when Ares steps closer to him, watching his companion with pale, vulnerable eyes. In all honesty, he half expects the God to deliver a well-placed punch. Ares would not be without cause for it. 

          In the time they’ve shared together, Apollo held off mentioning his separation from Midnighter, not wanting to dwell on the complicated upheavals of his relationship with the other man, or the ultimate fracturing of trust between them. Looking back, the Sun King realizes it’d been a cowardly tactic. He was hiding from his problems, taking solace in Ares’s magnetic attention and unexpected kindness. In the family that felt… like something he’d lost.

           Lost to his thoughts, Apollo isn’t expecting the hand on his, or how Ares pulls him closer – into his personal space – how he twists the Sun King from his upright position like it’s nothing and… oh. Oh God. 

          Apollo’s hand grips at Ares’s bicep, and if it were anyone else, he’d have burned him with the heat in his grasp. His entire being flashes, sudden and bright, a small solar-flare contained beneath his skin. 

           “…Ares.” Apollo chokes, half caught between a laugh and a groan. The god’s declaration makes something inside him throb with familiar, remembered pain, an old wound that simply won’t heal. The Sun King closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Ares’s own, battling with his words “…I’m… I’m not much good at love. But my heart… whatever is left of it…” he exhales, opening eyes that burn white-hot, “…you are welcome to it.” 

Ares knew how powerful Apollo was, but knowing and experiencing were vastly different things. In the embrace of their kiss, Apollo’s light was a surprise. Perhaps it was romantic, that their embrace brought out Apollo’s beauty and fire. Ares only grinned. The heat, such as it was, held no pain for the god of war. When he opened his eyes, letting Apollo return to an upright position, he was glad to hear the other man’s words. 

Looking into those burning suns, those eyes filled with not only power but pain and love, Ares brought Apollo close. His shirt, and some of his pants, had already burned away by being this close to Apollo’s light. He didn’t care. He held his love close, putting his forehead against Apollo’s. A mortal man would be blinded, looking into that light. Ares answered back with his own. 

Few, even among heroes, could survive the unmitigated power of an Olympian. But he knew, in his core, that Apollo could. So he answered Apollo’s light with his own. A violent, crackling, aura overtook him. His body radiated with power, washing out over them both and sending ripples through the long grass of the farm. His eyes, locked with Apollo, raged with cosmic power. 

          Apollo stills at the mention of Alexander’s growth, his unique intuition to foretell the Sun King’s arrival. He glances past Ares to the farmhouse settled at the end of the drive, gaze lingering with a wistfulness that pangs like bell inside the metahuman’s chest. When Apollo finally meets Ares’s gaze again, he cannot help but flinch at his plain-spoken judgement.

          I deserve the criticism, he thinks wearily. I’m supposed to be better than this… 

          “…I was…” The Sun King starts, then hesitates, because there’s simply no way to say the words without painting himself in a worse light. He huffs a laugh, utterly humorless, “…I was trying to salvage my marriage.”

          Combing the fingers of one hand through his long hair, the Sun King angles a hapless, self-deprecating look in Ares’s direction. “…. It didn’t work.” 

It’s easy enough to hide his shock at the revelation that Apollo is (was?) married. A little lift of his eyebrow was all that gave it away. Within... there were concerns. Was he going to have to fight a... whatever Apollo’s husband was. He wanted to be angry, to shout at Apollo for his abrupt departure. But in truth, looking at him here, he didn’t care about that anymore. 

Watching Apollo run his fingers through his hair, all Ares wanted was to do so himself. He stepped closer and reached up, taking the big man’s hand so that he could pull him closer. There wasn’t need for more talking, and he dipped Apollo;  which was easier to do when the damn man could float. From the outside, it might have looked like one of those corny romance movies, where one dips the other. And just like them, Ares kissed Apollo, a hand on his hip and the other on his firm jaw.

“It looks like they’re having a good time down there, right?”

For @aresisgodofwar​, welcome back! 

         "…Hey.“ Apollo’s greeting is casual, maybe a little forced. It’s the first proper thing he’s said to Ares in what seems like months. The Sun King stands at the corner of his property, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his linen slacks, feet not quite touching the ground. He smiles almost bashfully, expression half hidden by the fall of his hair when he drops his gaze. ”…Been a little while. You look… good.“ 

         Ares looks better than good, in actual fact. His presence reminds Apollo of easy afternoons at farmer’s markets and a slow, surprising coil of want in his gut. The Sun King had forgotten that attraction could really be just that uncomplicated…

         Hesitating, the pale haired meta-human licks his lower lip, mentally weighing his words before asking, ”…how’ve you been? And Alexander? He’s okay?“

Apollo’s appearance here was, frankly, a surprise. There were many things left unsaid between them, though Apollo hadn’t been gone over long. There had been tension, and desire. Ares was known to take lovers, but with Alex to look after he hadn’t been. Yet... this man was so beautiful he couldn’t help but want him. 

He didn’t come closer, worried if he put a hand on Apollo he might vanish. Or that perhaps he would never let him go. Ares nodded, glancing behind him to the farm house. Alexander had, a few minutes ago, looked up to him and said quite plainly that the crownless king was coming. 

Could only mean one man.