Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Fire and Blood (Chocolate x Methos)

Joined
Jan 26, 2010
The forges of Hepheastus were hot and hellish, filled with sufficating heat and the loud hammering of the workers. Half-finished armor hung everywhere, as well as swords and shields. Every so often, something delicate intended as a love gift could be found. One tended to sweat the moment one walked inside the forge and only the heartiest could survive there.

It was not the kind of envirment one would expect to find Eukleia, goddess of glory and the chaste bride. As the daughter of Hepheastus and Aglaia, she often could be found in the company of her stepmother, Aphrodite. She and her three sisters were the younger Graces, attendants to the goddess of love and beauty. It was not always an easy job, Aphrodite was paranoid about the beautiful women around her and often jealous if she thought they recieved any praise.

Eukleia had been banished from Aphrodite's side after the goddess of love believed her son, Eros, smiled a little longer at Eukleia then her. Which, was silly since Eros was madly in love with his wife, Psyche (both having been stabbed by Eros' own love arrows). With no where else to go, Eukleia went to her father's home.

"You're miserable," Hepheastus said, looking at his daughter. "Why not see if Aphrodite has forgiven you?"

"I did nothing wrong," Eukleia said. "And if I return before she's ready to forgive me, then I'm in even more trouble. It's best if I just wait."

Eukleia did not look anything like her father. Where Hepheastus was ugly and twisted, reputed to be the most unpleasing of the gods, Eukleia took after her mother. She was tall and slender with high perky breasts and a sweet swell to her hips. Her black hair, much like the color of her father's, was plastered to her head and stuck to her face and neck. She did not feel very beautiful, and she knew that if her stepmother saw her, it would make Aphrodite feel better. She just had to wait for Aphrodite to make one of her rare trips to the forge.

Hepheastus sighed, pushing a beefy hand through his sweat-slicked hair. "Well, if you're going to be staying here, at least you can help. I have a few pieces of armor for Ares. You can deliver them for me."

Eukleia smiled. Her father hated Ares, the lover of Aphrodite. Though her father had the rare affair, he could never stay away from his legal wife. And Aphrodite knew it, taunting him with her many affiars and perfect children. Ares, protected by Zeus' desire for peace in Olympus, had no fear of Hepheastus and that angered the artisen god even more.

"I'll deliver them," she said. "Just let me take a bathe and change first."
 
Enyalius very much looked his father’s son. Indeed to his annoyance the resemblance was often considered sufficient that he was taken to be his father. The youthful war god had taken to growing a beard that covered the strong form of his chin and drifted up along the lower reaches of his cheeks and his lip. Dark eyes, were set against olive hued skin and closely cropped dark hair. He was the son of two gods of war Ares and Enyo, hence his body seemed formed in warlike perfection. His shoulders were broadly set apart and his form was of a muscular build. His torso had the chiselled appearance that the sculpture ever strove for, with each muscle rigidly defined and visible in its brawny power.

A tunic of crimson and gold rested against his form. He remained for the moment in his father’s house. Although Ares himself had departed on some matter or another. Enyalius did not feel the stir of conflict or war within his blood, so he suspected that rather than sowing havoc upon the earth, his father was like as not sowing his seed in Aphrodite or some other woman. A bemused smile graced his lips at that particular thought as his fingers idly touched against the hair that graced his jaw. Mischievously he wondered if absent the beard his resemblance to his father was sufficient that in dim light the goddess of love could tell the difference.

Although if he wanted a sure manner in which to bring his father’s wrath upon his head that would most definitely be it. Thus the experiment he’d considered was likely to go for not. Indeed he was waiting for the armour that had been procured by his father for him. His mother had been rather persistent that he warranted the finest armour that could be obtained in the heavens or earth as a god of war. Although Enyalius had no illusions that his father had sought it as a great sign of favour towards him, rather like as not it was simply to revel in the joy of needling Haephestus as Ares and the god of the forge loathed each other with a passion.

He could hardly blame the crafts god for his hatred of his father. After all the philandering of his wife was legendary at this point. Nor could one help but notice that Aphrodite had numerous children by Ares and yet not a one by Aphrodite. He could only imagine that it galled the lame god. He rather imagined that a less beguiling figure than Aphrodite would have been chased from his home and divorced many times over. None the less whatever contention existed it provided him with fine armour so he could hardly complain as he lounged with a cup of wine in hand.
 
After her bath, Eukleia dressed herself in a chiton of light sea-blue with a gold beld, inlaid with gems just a touch darker then her dress. It was a gift from her father, something pretty for one of his pretty girls. The dress matched her eyes, he said. It also looked beautiful with her olive skin. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and slipped on a dainty pair of soft sandals. She then went to get the armor from her father.

"You look too pretty to be delivering this stuff," Hepheastus said, pride in his eyes.

"Thank you, Father." She took the armor and left. She was to go to Ares' chambers in Olympus. Well, chambers made it seem so small. It was probably more like a home, one that housed not only Ares but a few of his kids. As Eukleia approached, she grew nervous. She had only seen Ares from afar, normally when he and Aphrodite were sneaking off for another tryst. She had heard of him, from her father.

Hepheastus may not have been an ideal father, perferring his forges to actual contact, but he tried. Eukleia was probably the only among her sisters who was as protective of her sire as she was of her mother. She didn't trust Ares, thinking it scummy to sneak around with another man's wife. While her mother was not Hepheastus' wife, her mother also never repeated her indiscressions. Hepheastus was alone and Aglaia had many other lovers after him.

When she arrived at the chambers, she squared her shoulders and walked in. She could see someone lounging in the main room. Thinking it was Ares, she walked over. "I have your armor," she said. "Father finished it this morning."
 
Enyalius lowered the cup from his lips as he spied the woman entering the room carrying armour with her. His eyes fixed upon the woman and traced over her body in a rather lingering fashion. His interest and appraisal of her figure was rather blatant, and its rather continued fashion seemed to indicate approval for the pleasant composition of her lithe form. After he took his time observing her he rose from where he sat, drawing himself up to his rather considerable height.

The war god sauntered across the room towards her without speaking. Rather he approached her and then stopped a hair’s breath from her form. His rather brawny form would loom over her and she would be able to feel the warmth of his breath as his head tilted downwards towards her. “How kind of him to send it over promptly.” He remarked as his dark eyes gazed down at her. His hand rose and idly captured a lock of her hair and toyed with it.

“Who would have thought that Hepheastus rivalled himself in the making of armour and weapons only in his creation of pretty daughters?” He said in a rather suggestive tone. His head tilted downwards to rest against her own. His hand pressed to her hip rather firmly and then he inquired “And which one are you hmm?” He inquired as his dark eyes gazed down upon her own.

Impetuous might be the right word for his current actions. Although in that Enyalius indeed resembled the father he was being mistaken for. But he’d looked upon the goddess and decided he wanted her. Now lust flared in him and that desire be obvious enough. War and lust always seemed intermingled and if the matter further provoked the lame god that while the father stole away his wife, the son claimed a daughter so be it. He would have what he wanted.
 
Eukleia was first struck by the handsomeness of the god she believed to be Ares. She could clearly see why Aphrodite had forsaken her father for him. If she were as shallow as the goddess of love and beauty, she too would then go for this viril warrior. His face was rugged and manly, short cropped hair that accented his features. Dark eyes that seemed to see into her soul.

Her knees felt weak as he walked to her, his eyes ablaze with a look she was used to seeing in men. However, for once, it was focused on her and not Aphrodite. In that moment, her awe turned to anger. Ares was Aphrodite's lover, and here he was, staring at her like she was that night's special.

Or some war prize.

With his hand on her hip, she finally found her tongue. She had to take a step back in order for her to shove the armor into his arms. If it clattered to the floor, it wasn't her fault. How dare he try to take advantage of her like that!

"My name is no concern of yours, Ares," she snapped. "Just take your armor and leave me alone!"
 
Enyalius observed her initial look of awe. A slight smirk graced his lips as she referred to his as Ares. It was a rather common mistake. But he noted the rather angry look that was directed at him and as she demanded that he take his armour and let her go. He lofted and eyebrow as he remarked “And if I don’t?” A rather arrogant tone entered his voice, as reasonableness and compromise tended not to be traits one associated with warlike deities. He simply stepped over the armour and he pressed to her body once more.

He didn’t allow her much of a chance to answer as his mouth pressed down rather firmly to her own. His lips rather hotly crushing against her own. His lips were demanding as he pressed them against her, and his hand strayed along her side rather firmly now. Roaming from the curve of her side down along her thigh. His fingers pressed into her flesh as his body pressed up against her. His muscular body pressing up against her form so that those supple thighs and pert high chest was felt.

His hand grasped hold of her chitton and then dragged the garment upwards towards her waist seeking to bare her lower body. His hand craving that naked flesh, and as he did so she’d feel his own arousal pressed to her body. The thick length of his manhood pressing through the tunic and up against her body. His member pressed against her belly and his mouth continued to savage her lips. Roughly pressing against them as he found himself burning with desire for her.

His other hand sought to part her thighs as his hips would seek to press between them. The thick form of his cock would soon press against the softness of her sex. Threatening to plunge within her as his muscular form was crushed against her body. His lips pressed to her as he murmured “Tell me you don’t want it..” Although he gave her little time for such protests as he lanced the stiffened form of his prick inside of her. His hips rolling into her and smacking against her hips as he claimed her soft body.
 
Eukleia's sea-blue eyes widened when he kissed her, his beard rubbing erotically against her, his body pressed hot to hers. She tried to fight against him when she felt him pushing her chiton up and spreading her legs. She didn't want this, she didn't want Ares (for he had yet to tell her she was wrong in her assumption). When he entered her, she bit her lip so hard to keep from screaming that she tasted blood.

She had been the goddess who represented the chaste bride. She had lived that life, remaining chaste and virginal until marriage. That was stolen from her in one brutal thrust. He was huge, far larger then she thought a man could be. Larger then any of the statues she had seen.

Tears stung her eyes as she clung to him, the pain too much for her to bare at the moment. She was no longer the goddess of the chaste bride. She had been robbed of her position by the very man her father hated. She no longer tried to hide her sobs, burying her face agasint his muscular shoulder.

"Please," she whimpered, "Please let me go. Please, Ares, just let me go. You've had your fun."
 
Enyalius watched her eyes widen as he kissed her and struggle slightly when he lifted her chitton. He pressed inside of her and he heard her muffled scream. His dark eyes watched her as his hips pressed to her, lancing that thick cock inside of her. The throbbing flesh of his prick filling her and rather swiftly he felt the presence of her hymen and the gush of blood that its rending indicated. He idly whispered “You’re Eukleia” after all he assumed the goddess of glory and the chaste bride would be the only goddess who would remain chaste at least until this moment.

As the goddess began to weep he raised his hand to her cheek and slowly wiped the tears from her eyes. Rather gently he’d wipe away her tears as her face was buried into his shoulder. He leaned in and pressed his lips to her ear “I’m not Ares, I’m Enyalius, his son.” There was a slightly soothing manner to which he revealed that. “You might note something of a resemblance though.” He smiled faintly “He is my father.”

The large member remained inside of her and as she clung to him slowly he pumped himself inside of her. Perhaps more gently than was expected as he slowly worked himself within her. He sought to let that virginal sex stretch to accommodate his presence within her. But he pressed inside of her filling her as he claimed that previously untouched passage. She felt deliciously tight and despite the pain she clearly felt he couldn’t help but to desire more.

He tilted her head towards his own and pressed his lips to her own. He could taste the blood of her bit lip and gently he’d suck on that lip as its coppery taste left a tang on his tongue. His mouth moulded to hers as his hips rocked and ground into her. Steadily his member pressed to the cradle of her sex, taking her rather firmly as he claimed her as his own. The goddess of the chaste bride was now rather unchastely his.
 
Enyalius. That name would be forever burned in her mind. Handsome, seductive and very possessive. The way his hands held her, the way he smelled. It was all branded in her brain. The way the pain between her legs faded as he slowly thrusted into her and pleasure filled her. Almost against her will, she found herself responding to him.

She held tighter to him, moving her leg up to hook around his thigh. This position helped open her further to him, and the pain eased even more. She allowed him to claim her lips, closing her eyes as he savaged her mouth. Her hands inched higher, moving from his shoulders to the back of his head, holding him to the kiss.

Every logical fiber told her to push him away. She should be screaming for help and outraged, but shd found herself pushing closer to him. When she wanted to scream, she kissed him, silencing herself.

All she could think of was that this was not Ares, and she should not feel ashamed for finding him attractive. Instinctively, her body molded to his and her hips slowly ground into him. When she could force herself to tear her lips from his fiery kiss, she managed to murmur, "You could have been gentler with me, you big lug."
 
Enyalius felt her beginning to respond to him, and as her leg hooked about her thigh and her body pressed back against him his pace began to increase. He pressed into that taunt sex as it gripped him and buried his cock within her slick folds. His desire only seemed heightened as she now gave herself willingly to him. His body crushing her to the wall behind her, as he pistoned his manhood within her. His dark eyes gazed down into her own blue orbs, peering into those beautiful pools. He murmured “I wanted you from the moment I saw you.”

Rather than screaming the goddess seemed to pull his head closer to her own and kiss him rather deeply. He grinned into the kiss as his body met her own. His hands pressed into the softness of her body and he felt those svelte curves brushing against him as they coupled. Those tantalizing thigh and firm breasts promising him all their delights. He pressed her back to the wall behind her as the weight of his body pinned her in place. His mouth consumed her own as he rutted between her thighs rather lustily.

He grinned to her as she murmured that he could have been gentler with her. But he bit down upon her lip and tugged upon it. “I could have, but I don’t think you want me to be.” His tone was rather teasing although he soon seemed to but the test of it as his hips smacked into her and drove her back into the wall. More firmly now he began to enter her. Rougher and more rapidly his hips moved in that arching motion to smack into her own, and ram his cock up and inside of her.

His forehead leaned against her own as he murmured “Your father is going to hate this.” The words parted his mouth although he was just realizing it now. He kissed her rather vehemently as his speared her upon his shaft. Deep and hard he fucked her now. He sought to fully fill her with each thrust. The virgin goddess was one no more, rather he sought to make her a goddess of carnal pleasures as he revealed in the feel of her folds about him.
 
Eukleia heard his comment about her father, but she couldn't think at the moment. Her body was a torrent of sensations,robbing her of her ability to do anything beyond feel. Each thrust caused a new sparking of pleasure through her body and she felt as if she were on fire. It started at her core and spread through every limb, every nerve. It burned pleasanlty, and when she thought she couldn't take any more, he pushed her more into that flame.

She clung to him, the only thing keeping her up was him and the wall. she wasn't sure if her own legs would support her. He was her only lifeline at the moment. The pleasure robbed her even of speech, and the room was soon filled with the sounds of her moans. She knew she should tell him to stop, that this wasn't right, but she couldn't. she couldn't vocalize anything beyond 'more' and 'yes'.

The fire inside her grew and she felt like it would consume her. Her moans became more urgent as his pounding and thrusting became rougher. She wanted to say stop before she was fully consumed, scared of what was happening. Her nails dug into his shoulders and back, and she surrendered. The sensations seemed to explode in her, her body shaking as the fire flickered on every nerve ending. All she could do was hold him, murmuring his name like a prayer.
 
Back
Top Bottom