Notes: This is the sequel to my first Joxer/Ares story "Lessons in Battle." Appease the Goddess and encourage my Muse. Feedback is appreciated and responded to by the author.
Without Rhyme or Reason
by Miriam HeddyHe woke up naked and was disoriented, at first. It could have been any morning, except that the sunlight streaming in to blind him was coming through the high windows of Ares' Temple. And that he was naked and lying on a white, furry skin of an animal he'd never seen before. And that he was thoroughly, well, fucked, he would have said, except he never really said those sorts of things, mostly because they never happened. So, taking inventory of his surroundings-- this was the first rule of being a Warrior-- he established that either he'd had a really spectacular dream, like the ones where he could fly like Xena and fight whole armies single-handed, or, far less likely but still possible, he'd actually made love to the God of War.
If it weren't for being naked and not having any idea why he might have removed all his armor and clothing, he'd choose the former. He blushed as he realized that having a wet dream in Ares' Temple was in poor form, as well as in bad taste. The flush deepened when he realized that even thinking that the other thing was a possibility was ridiculous, and that he'd probably sunk to new depths of self-delusion if he let himself think, even just for a minute, that Ares would have wanted him *that* way.
He was still sitting on the rug and struggling with finding the right means to kick himself, while trying to figure out exactly how to attach his breastplate to the harness without having it always slip down his chest when he leaned forward, when he saw a bright flash of light in his peripheral vision. He dropped the breastplate and noticed that the clanging sound it made on the stone floor proved he'd been ripped off. Real steel didn't sound like tin when you dropped it. He pulled on his pants quickly. It was only after a few seconds of abject fear that he was able to bring himself to stand and look in the direction of the light, and what he saw forced him to conclude that, however unlikely it seemed, he had, in fact, not dreamed the previous night.
Ares, reclining with one leg slung over the arm of his throne, didn't say anything. He wasn't even really looking at Joxer. He was too busy humming to himself while running the blade of a small knife against the edge of a sharpening stone and watching the sparks fly off into the air. But despite his lack of response to Joxer's half-naked presence, Joxer knew that it had happened. In fact, if Ares had done anything but just sit there, casually, as if he was *expecting* to find Joxer half-dressed in front of his fire, Joxer would have thrown himself at Ares' feet and begged for a merciful death.
It was only when Ares stopped humming and looked up from his work that Joxer was finally able to identify what Ares had been humming. It was the tune to "Joxer the Mighty". Well, it was actually the tune to an obscure folk song. But Joxer knew that Ares paid no attention to folk songs, and so Ares was humming it because he was thinking of Joxer, and only then did Joxer let himself relax a little and smile back at the large, beautiful, dark, leather-clad, and dangerous God who sat before him.
"Good morning, Ares."
"Good morning, Ares." Ares responded, but the mocking tone was half-hearted and Joxer could tell that he didn't really mean it because he smiled as he said it, then went back to sharpening his blade.
Joxer tried again, not sure what the etiquette was for the morning after you slept with a God.
"Whatcha doing?"
"What's it look like I'm doing?"
"Sharpening your knife. That's not what I meant."
"And *what* did you mean?"
"Whatcha doing this *morning*." He clarified. A fool could see what Ares was doing *right this minute*.
Ares' brow furrowed for a moment, and then he set the blade and the stone down beside his throne. "I've got to see to a few--"
Ares stopped suddenly and the brow furrowed more deeply.
"A few what?"
"Why do *you* want to know?" Ares asked, sounding suspicious.
"I-- I don't know. I just thought that maybe we could do something or maybe you'd want some help taking care of some..." Joxer stopped talking as he noticed Ares frowning. The frown was familiar. It was pretty close to the expression Xena always had whenever he showed up, right before she covered it with a patient smile. The two of them even looked alike, kind of, when they frowned. People thought he didn't notice these things, but he did. Why should it be any different with Ares? No one wanted his help. It was stupid, stupid, stupid to think a God would want him to be the sidekick. Gods didn't have sidekicks.
"Joxer?"
"What." He looked up from the floor and saw that Ares' expression wasn't quite as dark.
Ares sighed, dramatically. "You know you can't follow me around, right? I mean, you *do* understand that."
"Yeah. You don't need me. I get it."
"Come here." Ares patted the arm of his throne.
"Why?" Joxer tried to sound defiant. He was more embarrassed than angry. What made him think he was any different than all the women Ares visited while their men were in battle? He was a one-night stand, obviously. Ares hadn't said it was anything more.
"Because I said so, dammit." Ares growled and Joxer felt his knees grow weak at the sound. It wasn't like the warm, soft feeling he got when Gabrielle looked at him or said his name. It was different and frightening. It made him want to beg, grovel, plead with Ares for another night, for a touch, a taste, for anything. And it made him, strangely enough, want to resist Ares. To fight. He could feel the blood rushing to his face and he clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms. He needed to distract himself from the way Ares was looking at him, as if he was some sort of disobedient animal or a horse Ares was trying to break. He was not going to come when called. He was not. Not going to come for the God whose whole leather-wrapped body was tense and nearly vibrating with controlled fury.
He was surprised when he was suddenly standing before Ares and realized that his body was not in complete agreement with what his head was thinking. Ares was so close, he could feel the heat radiating from the God's body and it occurred to him that he hadn't thought it was strange, last night, that a God should have so human a body and that he would want sex. Actually, he'd been too busy worrying about the strangeness of Ares wanting *him* to think about the larger philosophical questions.
"You're wrong, mortal."
"About what?" His voice sounded funny in his own ears.
But Ares answered with a growl and pulled him closer and kissed him hard enough to knock him off balance. He didn't hesitate to grab onto the only thing available for support. Ares' arms were strong, his biceps bulged under the leather shirt, and Joxer could feel a pulse beating beneath the warm skin. Like this, with his fingers tightening around the taut skin over muscle, it was easy to forget that this was a God and not a man, but then Joxer felt the charge of energy building around them, raising the hairs on the back of his neck, and he was suddenly too aware that this was Ares whose mouth was pressed against his own, stealing his breath.
The few probably silly things he might have said out loud were blotted out by that kiss, and when Ares pulled away, Joxer could only stand there, leaning against the throne, and touch his lips which still tingled slightly as if he had burned them.
"Joxer?"
"Yeah?"
"I was just checking. You humans tend to fade out without warning."
"Breathe-- We have to breathe or we-- faint." Joxer couldn't seem to draw enough breath in to speak without panting, and his head was spinning a little. So he held on to Ares arm until the Temple settled down.
"Yeah, well. You're pale. Maybe you should lie down."
"I'm fine. really."
"If you say so." Ares shrugged, dismissively, and stood up, shrugging off Joxer's hands. "I've got places to go..."
"Should I--?"
"Put your clothes on and go do whatever it is you usually do."
"I--I guess I'll go find Xena. Um. Will I-- I mean, will you--?"
Ares disappeared in a white flash of light but Joxer could hear his answer echo off the walls. "I'll find you."
It was a promise, a threat, a warning all wrapped up. And Joxer gathered up his clothes quickly and dressed. Xena had probably left Bodidea by now, and it would take a few days to find her trail.
Before he left, Joxer stepped up to the platform and lowered himself into the throne. He half-expected Ares to appear with a scowl and order him to get up. But nothing happened. And, without Ares, the throne was just a large chair, cold and uncomfortable. He sat there long enough to be sure that it wasn't really where he wanted to be, and then he left the Temple and set off at a brisk walk, wondering if Ares could see him. He straightened his posture, just in case, and cringed when his armor started to slip off his shoulders. The low laughter he heard might have been the wind, except for the words that followed the laugh. "Tell no one." Joxer thought that was funny. Who did Ares think he would tell? Who would believe that Joxer the Mighty had slept with a God? He didn't quite believe it himself.
They were lying beside the campfire. He was tired because it had taken a long time to find Xena and Gabrielle, and when he did, they weren't exactly glad to see him. He tried to tell himself again that they needed him but he didn't believe that, not really. He needed them, and they knew it and so they let him tag along, hoping he would stay out of the way. He tried to be entertaining, at least, but Xena wasn't the best audience for his War stories. She was always pointing out where something *couldn't* have happened the way he told it and didn't seem to care that her accuracy ruined the story. At least Gabrielle seemed to like him, a little. She didn't automatically assume he was bragging when he said he'd taken on ten men at the crossroads. She knew it made a better story than the truth, which was that last week someone had had to untie him from the post two thugs had trussed him up on, just because they were bored. Who wanted to hear about that? It wasn't even that funny. It was kind of pitiful, actually. He was glad that Ares probably hadn't been paying attention to him then. He would have to be more careful about getting into trouble now that Ares was watching.
He should be asleep already. Xena would be up early and they would spend all tomorrow walking. But, tired as he was, he couldn't settle down to sleep. Too many thoughts were going through his head and he didn't know what to do with them all. Xena was fast asleep, but Joxer could see that Gabrielle was still awake and staring up at the stars.
"Gabrielle?"
"What is it, Joxer?"
"Did you ever want--something-- for so long, that you couldn't remember *why* you wanted it?"
Gabrielle turned to look at him and Joxer noticed that her hair was like fire in the firelight, red and flowing over her blanket as if it might consume it. "What are we talking about?"
"Just, you know. Things."
"Yeah, but what things?"
"Like-- Okay, you've always wanted to be a storyteller, right? Well, do you still remember why you wanted it?"
"Yes... No... I don't know. I've always been good at it, I guess. I like putting the words together and seeing that look on someone's face when I can tell that they've forgotten about me telling the story and they're just *there*, where I want them. I used to dream about it but now..."
"You're with Xena." He was proud of himself for not sounding bitter. He knew he still loved Gabrielle, but it didn't hurt much anymore. Not really. Certainly not as much as having to pretend to be happy when he wasn't. He could see where it should probably hurt more than it did, but he wasn't going to let it. Someone wanted him. Ares wanted him. And it wasn't that Gabrielle didn't compare to Ares. Gabrielle couldn't be any more perfect if she *was* a God. But Ares wanted him and Gabrielle didn't. He wasn't going to be a fool anymore.
"One day, Joxer, *you're* going to find someone who will make you want to be something else. You'll still want to be a Warrior, but it won't be the most important thing anymore."
"That's what I've been thinking. I'm not sure I want to be a Warrior."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, I've been thinking. Maybe there's a way to have what I want that doesn't mean being it. You know?"
"Actually, I have no idea what you're talking about. But it's okay, Joxer. You can tell me in the morning." And Gabrielle rolled over onto her side and her breathing slowed into sleep.
Joxer continued to stare at the stars. He couldn't tell her in the morning. He wanted to try to explain what he still didn't quite understand. Maybe if he could just say it, it would make sense. Ares said it was a secret. Not being able to just come out and say it made it seem unreal. The one thing he'd ever done right and he couldn't tell anyone about it. He felt like he was going to explode if he didn't tell Gabrielle, but still, he didn't say it. Not until Ares said he could tell someone. And if that was never? He wondered if Ares knew that people could explode from keeping a secret. He had heard stories of people going mad because they couldn't tell someone that they had committed some horrible crime. And this was bigger than that, even. This was the biggest secret he could imagine. And it was *his* secret.
He wanted to see her face. He could imagine her shock, her disbelief. She would laugh at him, shake her head and say that he was dreaming. That if Ares was going to fool around with mortals, he wouldn't choose a Fool. But then Ares would appear in one of those big flashes of light. He would stand there, glorious, strong, his muscles oiled and flexing in the moonlight. There would be moonlight because it was never going to happen. It was just a dream, but it was his dream and so maybe Ares could show up naked. No, that would be too weird, with Xena around. But he wouldn't be wearing his shirt. Just those soft, black leather pants, and maybe the laces would be untied at the top, the pants loosened just enough to show off the arrow of hair that pointed towards Ares' cock, already hard for him. Joxer decided to get rid of Gabrielle so that he could start to unlace the pants, drawing them down, slowly over the sleek curve of his God's ass, down the thighs that could crush the life out of him.
He moaned and had to stuff the edge of the blanket in his mouth. It was going to be a long, hard night.
The path through the woods was dark and a little scary. Joxer tried to tell himself that he wasn't scared. Ahead, Xena was pushing through the undergrowth and Gabrielle looked relaxed, calm, her freckled arms swinging at her sides as she chopped at the leaves that blocked her path. The two women were like one unit, working together, not talking because they didn't have to. And Joxer was bringing up the rear, wondering why he still kept getting hit in the face by leaves that missed Xena and Gabrielle. Every once in a while he said "Ow," just to see if Gabrielle was doing it on purpose. But if she was, she didn't give herself away by laughing.
The walking gave him plenty of time to think, but it didn't seem to be doing any good. He'd failed his family, because he couldn't fight, and even if he could, he couldn't bring himself to really hurt anyone. And his decision to try to do good seemed hopeless because he was always getting into trouble. Some hero. Every time something went wrong, he tried to analyze it and figure out what he could do differently the next time. But it was like each time was slightly different from the last and he was destined to make a series of uniquely stupid mistakes. Thinking didn't seem to be his strong suit. Actually, he still wasn't sure *what* his strong suit was.
//Persistence.// The low voice was a whisper near his ear and he shuddered, not turning around.
"Ares?"
"What? Where?" Gabrielle spun around looking startled and Joxer realized he'd said it out loud and that, from the puzzled look on Gabrielle's face, Ares wasn't standing behind him, or, if he was, he was invisible.
"He's not *here*. I was just thinking."
Gabrielle looked relieved. "What were you thinking about?"
He had to think fast because he couldn't say what he was thinking. "Oh, you know, I was thinking about... what's going on in Carthage. Is that where we're going? Are we going to help?"
Gabrielle continued to walk backward, somehow not tripping on anything as she talked. He had to keep an eye on his feet or he would trip over the roots growing above ground. He wasn't sure how Gabrielle just avoided them without looking.
"I don't think so. Xena said that they don't need more help fighting. They need to stop fighting."
"Couldn't Xena stop them?"
Gabrielle smiled at him as if he'd just said something funny. He wasn't sure what it was, but smiled back, glad she was in a good mood.
"I'm not sure she could stop them. Besides, we're going in the wrong direction. Carthage is that way." She waved her hand in the general direction and Joxer blushed. He hadn't actually been thinking about which way Carthage was. It had slipped out because it was the only war he knew of. Now he looked stupid. He sighed and Gabrielle continued talking.
"I'm sure wherever we're going Xena has a plan. I'll ask her about Carthage when we make camp. It is terrible. I wish we *could* do something. Xena says that the people barely have enough to feed everyone, and yet they put all they have into feeding an outside army. But the kings don't care about the people. It's all about which one of them is the bigger man, and when they're all through killing each other, they'll be standing on rubble and will probably still be fighting about whose pile of rubble is higher. War is a stupid waste of resources."
"But War isn't always like that." Joxer noticed how easy it was to slip from talking about Ares to War as an abstract thing to the specifics of individual wars.
Gabrielle sighed and shook her head. "There's no good reason to fight, Joxer. Except self-defense. Or to help someone. War isn't about helping. It's about killing. And Ares doesn't care who gets killed, as long as someone does."
"Yeah, but--" He thought he had a good argument for that, but the idea that Ares might *not* be standing behind him and that he had been hearing things, distracted him.
//Go ahead. I'm listening.// The voice, again, a low and soft caress that he was sure was real and coming from directly behind him.
He nodded to himself and remembered what he'd been about to say. "Okay, what if there wasn't a God of War? What if there was no War at all?"
//I'm not sure I like where this is going.//
He ignored the menace in Ares' voice and jumped slightly when a hand slapped him on the rear. Gabrielle didn't seem to notice.
"That would be perfect, Joxer."
"But then there wouldn't be a choice of whether or not to fight. So how would you know if a person was good?"
Gabrielle thought about it a minute, rubbing her chin with her free hand. "I think everyone would be good if there wasn't War."
"But if there wasn't conflict--"
"Just because people stopped fighting, doesn't mean there wouldn't be conflict. People would just resolve it peacefully."
"Xena would resolve things peacefully?"
Gabrielle laughed and turned around. She had a pretty laugh. Xena was several yards ahead and didn't seem to be listening. "Okay, well, I see your point. But this is purely hypothetical."
"Hypo-what?"
"Hypothetical. It means that--that we're speculating on something that we can't prove one way or another."
"Oh. Yeah, I see what you mean. Because Ares isn't going away." He wondered about that for a minute. Was Ares really going to listen to everything he said for the rest of his life? The idea was a bit-- disconcerting. He shook his head, deciding that Ares wasn't that interested in what he might say and would probably get bored and leave. He picked up his argument, "Well, without War, we wouldn't have Heroes. Xena and Hercules would be farmers or something, right? And you'd be back with your sister in Bodidea and married to that guy you didn't like, right?"
"Yeah, I guess..."
"And you wouldn't have any stories to write. Because nothing interesting would ever happen."
Gabrielle nodded and Joxer heard the soft sound of invisible hands clapping behind him.
"Okay, Joxer. You win. War *might* be necessary. But I still don't like Ares."
"And he still doesn't like you." Ares said loudly and laughed, but Joxer knew Gabrielle hadn't hear him. She was already running ahead to catch up with Xena and didn't turn around.
"Ares, she didn't mean it like that."
Ares didn't answer.
"Are you still there?"
"Yes."
"Then let me see you." He hadn't meant to have it sound like an order, but it did, and he didn't regret it. But Ares ignored him and Joxer strained his eyes trying to catch a glimpse of something, trying to figure out how close Ares might be standing. He felt stupid, speaking to the air. Ares might not even be where he was facing.
"You mortals are so limited. You don't believe in what isn't right in front of your beady short-sighted eyes."
"That's not true. I believe in you. And why do you always say 'You mortals' as if we're all the same?"
"Because you are."
"Then why--"
"Joxer, look out for the--"
The warning came too late and he'd already walked into the low-hanging tree branch. As the stars flashed behind his eyelids, Joxer had a moment of consciousness in which to wonder why Ares had warned him instead of just removing the tree branch *before* he walked into it. And just before he blacked out he had the dark thought that maybe Ares *wanted* him to walk into the tree.
"Joxer, Joxer wake up."
"Ares?"
"Why would he...? Nevermind. Joxer, it's me. It's Xena."
"What? Xena?"
"Yeah. You hit your head. Lie still for a minute. You're going to have a nasty bruise, but I think you'll live."
He put a hand to his head, feeling the bump starting to form. From the size of it, the tree branch had gotten off easy.
From his place on the ground he had a very good view of Xena's breasts rising up from the leather corset and he decided that he wasn't going to sit up until he had to. Maybe Gabrielle would lean over too. He moaned softly, hoping to get her attention.
Xena walked away and he sat up when it became clear that Gabrielle wasn't going to play nursemaid to his injury.
Towering above him, arms crossed and biceps bulging, stood Ares, looking not very pleased. "They can't see me."
"But I can."
"Obviously."
"Thanks. I mean, for appearing."
"I'm here because you mortals can't seem to talk and walk at the same time without trying to kill yourself."
"Oh. Right. Well, not all mortals have this problem. Most of us *don't* walk into trees hard enough to knock ourselves out." He knew that this, like most of his life, would be pretty funny if it was happening to someone else and was glad that Ares wasn't laughing.
Ares uncrossed his arms and offered a hand to help Joxer up. He took it and tried not to think about what it would look like if Gabrielle happened to turn around to see him being pulled up off the ground. Ares had strong hands, warm and calloused.
He let go of the hand and touched his bruised head again. "I don't suppose you could heal this?"
"No. Xena would notice."
"You're enjoying this. I can tell." He knew he was whining, but it hurt and he was still a little suspicious about Ares' hand in his injury.
"Fine. I'll take the pain away." Ares waved his hand and the raised bruise felt just like normal skin.
"Thanks."
Ares grunted and crossed his arms again. He looked awkward, as if he wanted to leave.
Xena came back, didn't seem to see Ares, and said they were going to set down camp and she was going to go fishing for some lunch. Joxer nodded and Gabrielle followed Xena into the woods and back toward the stream they'd passed.
Joxer didn't say anything, because he didn't know what to say. Ares just stared at him. Joxer started to fidget under the intense scrutiny. He could almost feel Ares touching him, but Ares was several feet away and his arms were still crossed.
"Stop that."
"What?" Ares looked innocent, a strange and not terribly convincing expression on the God of War.
"Stop looking at me."
"You mortals are so self-conscious."
"And stop that. You humans this. You mortals that. If we're all the same, go find someone else to stare at." He turned away and knelt down by the fire Gabrielle had started, pushing at the wood until one of his movements nearly put the fire out. He stopped, knowing that Gabrielle would get mad if he ruined the fire. He rubbed at his head, even though it didn't hurt anymore.
"Do you really want me to stare at someone else?"
Joxer didn't turn to look at Ares. If he turned around, he'd lose his nerve. Of course he didn't want Ares to look that way at someone else. The man was, literally and figuratively, a God. Those legs that had wrapped around him, pinning him to the white rug, the way those legs flowed into the most beautiful ass he'd ever seen, the tapered, narrow waist, the flat stomach that was covered in soft black fur, the broad shoulders and deep chest that Joxer could still see so clearly, even when it was covered by the black leather vest. He was glad he was already kneeling down because all the blood seemed to be centering in his cock and his legs felt weak. It was sacrilegious to be thinking these things about a God, but he was almost past caring. After all, what could possibly happen to him? The Gods could strike him down, but that would be overkill. He cleared his throat. "What if I said yes?"
"I'll go. I do have other places to be."
Joxer couldn't tell without looking if Ares was angry, or just didn't care. Ah, but he couldn't look. It was bad enough just knowing Ares was there, so close.
"It's my decision then. I can tell you to leave and you'll leave. And I can tell you to stay and--"
"Aha. The mortal is starting to think he's in control. Don't let it go to your head. I *stay* only if *I* want to."
So he could tell Ares to go away and he would, but there was no way to make Ares stay. He looked down at the fire again. Ares was waiting for him to beg him to stay. Even outside the Temple, Joxer was still supposed to kneel before Ares. He wondered when Ares would start to demand sacrifices, and what he would be able to offer him. His life he'd already offered and Ares had yet to take it. And he didn't think he had anything else to give. All he had to do was say "I want you to stay with me" and Ares would stay. So why was it so hard to say it? Instead, he said, "It's not."
"What's not?"
Joxer made himself turn around enough that he could see Ares. "It's *not* going to my head."
He stood up, shakily. Let Ares see that his legs were trembling. Let Ares see just where the power *was* going.
Ares smiled, a malicious smile, and Joxer had a sudden image of those even, white teeth covered in his own blood. "Well, then. I guess I'll be going now. Since you don't want me to stay. I *do* have things to do." Ares turned away and started walking back down the path they had cut into the woods. He almost said it. Just a few words and Ares would stop walking away.
"Fuck you, Ares." He yelled after the God, not really caring if Xena and Gabrielle heard him. His mouth was dry and he swallowed, nervously, wondering how he could be so afraid of ordinary well-armed men and not at all afraid of their Master.
Ares stopped walking and Joxer knew that Ares had no real intention of leaving now. No, he was just warming up. If he wanted to leave, he would be gone in one of those flashes of light he seemed to like so much.
"Later, Joxer."
And then he did disappear and the light seemed to carry a wave of heat with it and Joxer found himself kneeling on the ground, dizzy and painfully aroused.
When Xena and Gabrielle came back with lunch, he had to shift around and cover himself with the blanket. He couldn't get the image of Ares out of his head and had to force himself to think about the Hydra and other ugly monsters, until he could finally stand up without embarrassing himself in front of the women.
And all through the rest of their hike he worried about what later might mean to an Immortal. He wasn't sure he would last that long.
They'd finally gotten past the forest and were walking down a dirt road. He was bored, and irritable because Xena still hadn't said where they were going and because Ares hadn't come back the previous night or the night after that. "Later" was starting to sound like it might be "Never." Maybe that had been his one chance and it was over now because he hadn't begged. Why hadn't he begged? It's not like he had a lot of dignity to protect. There was no good reason for not giving in, except that he hadn't wanted to. Because Ares wanted him to.
He decided to sing his song, because it made the time pass, and because he figured it might irritate Ares into coming back. Or at least irritate him. It was petty, but he didn't really care. Even nice people were allowed to have bad days. And the song always cheered him up.
He sang as loud as he could and didn't even try to sing on-key, at first, but made an effort after Xena glared at him and made a move to lift her Chakrum from her waist. Ares might not want to kill him, but Xena he wasn't entirely sure about.
Joxer the Mighty,
He roams through the countryside;
He never needs a place to hide.
With no-one as his sidekick
Fighting battles on his own
Righting wrongs and singing songs,
Being mighty all day long,
He's Joxer...he's Joxer the Mighty!
Ohhhh..... He's Joxer the Mighty,
He's really tidy.
Everybody likes him
Because he has a funny grin--"Hey. What happened to me?" Gabrielle interrupted right when he was getting to the good part.
"You?"
"Yeah. I used to be swinging my 'little stick'." She waved it at him as if to point out that it wasn't a little stick and he backed up, afraid that he was going to walk into it or trip on it if she didn't decide to hit him with it.
"I rewrote the lyrics."
"Yeah, well it doesn't rhyme now."
Joxer knew that Gabrielle was just criticizing the song because she wasn't in it anymore. Well, she couldn't have it both ways. She'd lost her chance. 'With Gabby as his sidekick' no longer held the same thrill. It used to be, just saying it, he'd get excited.
But there were some fights that he knew he couldn't win. He used to believe that love conquered all, but, as Ares has showed him, War conquered Love. Or maybe Love was War. It was confusing, and he still hadn't asked Gabrielle how it all worked, but he figured it didn't matter. After all, he reasoned, he was *supposed* to give up on Gabrielle. He'd been waiting for the Gods to intervene and give him some sort of sign. And now he had it.
Actually, right now he didn't have it and he wasn't getting it. He sighed, deciding he wasn't really in the mood for singing. But, still walking to the same beat, he started humming under his breath and soon had a new verse. Just to hear how it sounded, he started to sing, quietly, so Gabrielle and Xena couldn't hear the words,
Joxer the Mighty,
He serves his master Ares,
The God of War is now his,
With trusty sword and silver shield
He fights in battle, doesn't yield
Because he is a Warrior
Swings a sword, superior
He's Joxer... He's Joxer the Mighty.
"Oh, you *are* asking for it."
Ares materialized directly in his path and Joxer made a move to walk around him, but Ares grabbed him by the arms and held him still. He struggled for a second and then gave up. Ares was too strong. And he didn't really want to get away.
"If I don't follow, Xena and Gabrielle will notice I'm missing and they'll come looking for me." Actually, Xena and Gabrielle were now far enough away that Joxer was starting to think they wouldn't notice he was missing until they got to the inn at the next town.
"They won't even know you're gone." The way Ares said it, with the bruising grip on his arms, made it sound like he meant "They won't even know you ever existed" and Joxer started to struggle again. What was he thinking? Ares was going to kill him. He was going to be like that horrible, mangled, blackened tree by the side of the road. People would stop and say, 'What a shame. Acts of the Gods can be so violent sometimes.' But maybe he could calm Ares down. He looked into the black eyes, inches from his own and saw the depths of them, the infinity behind them, and, behind what Ares wanted him to see, behind the anger and the violence, the images of death and destruction, there was a fire burning, so hot it was blue. And it burned for him. He didn't understand why, but he wasn't going to argue with it. He relaxed against Ares, letting himself fall forward into Ares' arms.
Ares wasn't expecting that and moved backward a half-step. Joxer had to step forward just to keep from falling, and once again he was close enough to Ares to feel the heat of him.
"Got you." He said, even though really, Ares had *him*.
"I *know* I did *not* approve those lyrics." Ares voice was low, just above a whisper. Joxer had noticed that Ares hardly ever raised his voice to him. He didn't have to.
"Oh, you didn't? I guess I thought you had." He tried to sound defiant, but his voice rose higher than normal and the last word came out as a squeak.
"I didn't."
"It's pretty good, huh?"
"If you ever sing that line or the one before it or the one after it loud enough for anyone besides me to hear, you *will* be the tree at the side of the road."
"Wow. Can read my mind? Can you read everyone's mind?"
"A mortal could read your mind. Everything you think shows on your face."
"Okay, so what am I thinking now?"
"I don't think either one of us wants me to say *that* out loud."
"Mmm. Well, maybe you can show me?"
"Later."
"No. Now." That desire to fight Ares was strong, and he felt a surge of energy that was like the excitement before battle.
"I could kill you right now."
"But you won't."
Ares nodded in agreement. "You're too good for me. And I mean that literally. It's ridiculous." He said "good" as if it were something really terrible and Joxer couldn't tell if Ares meant that *he* was ridiculous or that it was ridiculous for Ares to want him, but Joxer noticed that Ares hands were starting to move to his lower back, pulling him closer as he talked.
"And you walk into things."
"You should have made the tree disappear."
"I didn't *expect* you to walk into it. *Most* people avoid trees in their path. You are a disaster."
"Your disaster."
"A mortal--"
"Your mortal."
"Not even a very pretty mortal. With horrible taste in clothes."
"If you don't like them, take them off."
Ares lifted his hands from Joxer's ass and started to work at the clasps of Joxer's armor, lifting it off and over his head. Next came the shirt, and Joxer felt the chill of the air against his skin.
"Why don't you--"
"Shh." Ares touched Joxer's lips with a finger and Joxer kissed it before he could move it away.
Ares knelt before him and unlaced his boots and removed his boots. He stood up and had to use two hands to undo Joxer's pants and Joxer leaned against him for balance as he stepped out of them.
"What if someone walks by?" The idea of being caught naked didn't bother Joxer nearly as much as the idea of being caught naked and alone.
"Taken care of."
Joxer brought his hands up and began to unlace the leather vest. His hands were shaking and it seemed to take forever. He kept expecting Ares to get impatient and wave his hand and make the thing disappear, but he didn't, and Joxer tried to take deep breaths and calm down. By the time he finally could slide the leather over Ares' shoulders, he was light-headed from the stress.
He kissed Ares' neck and Ares tipped his head back. Joxer kissed the edge of Ares' strong jaw, liking the way the God's beard tickled his face. Then he moved to Ares' long throat, remembering how Ares' had bitten him, wanting to bite back but he didn't because he had the irrational fear that Ares would be bloodless and hollow inside. Instead, he laid kisses down the path of skin before him, moving down to the sweeping curves of muscles across the broad chest, pausing to lave each erect nipple as he passed. He didn't actually have much experience with anyone he hadn't paid for. And it was kind of hard to tell if you were doing it right when you knew that they were there because they had to be. There had been a few other women, women who were with him because they wanted to be, but he was still nervous. They had told him he was funny and sweet and a dear and he didn't want to be funny or sweet. He wanted to be something more. This wasn't just an ordinary person. The God of War wouldn't want funny and sweet. And Joxer knew that he had never wanted anyone or anything as much as he wanted this. He loved this God with a devotion so strong it consumed him, and marked his every breath. He lived for this, to taste the body before him, to run his fingers across the skin stretched so tightly over sinew and bone. Ares was larger than life, seeming to go on forever. And he wanted to be worthy of Ares and what he was offering.
Joxer moved down until he reached the edge of skin above Ares' leather pants and he continued to lick and nip and bite the skin above the laces until Ares was so hard that Joxer laughed nervously when he saw that it was hopeless. There was no way to get the pants off Ares in this state. They were a second skin, molded so tight over Ares hips that the leather seemed to wear thin in spots, become transparent in others. He tugged at the leather, letting his hand trace the outline of the God's erection and then found himself staring at bare skin. Ares' cock was nearly purple and Joxer gasped as he remembered what it had felt like to have that inside him. It seemed impossible, now. Ares was too large, his cock as imposing as the rest of his body, and as tantalizing. He pressed his hands against the strong thighs and ran the tip of his tongue in a line up the shaft of it, then took the tip into his mouth. *This* was power, the taste of a God, rarer than the essence of ambrosia, and it was his. He pulled away because he needed Ares to lie down or he was going to lose his balance.
Ares was apparently no longer reading his mind and made no move. His dark eyes were closed and his head was tipped back, exposing that long throat. His legs were spread apart as if for balance and Joxer knew it was for his benefit that the God displayed himself.
He stepped around Ares and moved down his back, running one hand down the center of his back and one along his side. Both hands met at the swell of muscle of his ass and Joxer used his tongue to trace the rounded skin of it. The skin was soft and firm. Perfection. And Joxer let his tongue slide into the darker valley and stopped when he encountered Ares center. He heard the gasp and harsh breathing speed up as he pushed his tongue against the ring.
Ares' breathing seemed to fill the silence around them and Joxer realized that the birds were no longer singing. The breeze no longer made a sound as it rushed through the tall grasses at the roadside. Time had, apparently, stopped for this moment.
"Joxer. I can't--" Ares voice was strained, each word forced out with an effort.
"You can do anything. You're a God."
"Not-- Not in this form. Not--"
And Joxer understood. He moved to stand in front of the larger *man*. Ares was like him, now. Vulnerable, limited, the great power of him contained in this human frame, concentrated and controlled.
"Lie down then. Something soft. A bed."
Joxer saw a bed appear behind them, looking strange positioned in the center of the dirt road. Like everything Ares did, he did it well, and the bed was luxurious, covered in layers of black silk. The frame was draped with crimson silk that flowed like blood down the carved bedposts. It was a little intimidating, more like a padded altar than a place to sleep, but he pushed Ares toward it and Ares reached behind himself and pulled himself up onto the high mattress. Joxer climbed up beside him and lay down on the soft pile of pillows. But Ares made no move to climb on top of him and just reclined on the bed, naked, with one leg drawn up, propped up on his elbows. He was so beautiful, and Joxer believed at that moment that no human artist could ever capture his beauty. The God's black curls softly framed a face that could set in anger and then seconds later smile as if he had never threatened to pull you apart. It was fluid, changing even as Joxer watched, and yet it was eternal. Joxer knew that each time he looked at Ares it was like he'd never seen him before, and each time he was stunned that he wasn't blinded by it. Ares could be the God of Love, looking like that. Or the God of Sex, if there was such a thing.
"You are really strange, Joxer. Really, imaginatively, poetically perverse. But I like perverse."
"I--"
"You should have asked me to stay." Again, the mild chiding, the grin and the low growl. Gabrielle had told him once that a cat's Meow was actually two words, the first a greeting and the second a warning.
"You knew I wanted you to stay. You can read my mind."
"But you had to say it. You didn't say it. Why do you resist me?"
"I don't know." He really didn't. Ares knew that, didn't he? He was a God and he had to understand. It was just beyond Joxer to figure out. But a God would understand, wouldn't he?
Ares lowered himself down, stretching his arms up above his head and bringing them down to his sides before Joxer finally caught on. He rolled over on top of Ares, holding himself up on his arms.
"'The God of War is now his.' Not a bad line. I think I *will* approve that one."
"Thanks, I-- Oh!"
Ares arched his back and grabbed Joxer by the waist, pulling him down. The contact seemed to trigger something in him, and it was as if things that had been fuzzy were suddenly clear. He'd felt too thin and weak beside Ares, but above him, looking into those black, endless eyes, it was different. Like climbing a tall mountain and looking down, the world seemed within his grasp, everything smaller and at his mercy. He had felt this inside Ares' Temple-- the temptation to take up this power that Ares offered, always, to other mortals. It was a power that could and did kill, and Joxer had never before felt it was so close. It would be so easy to take this other offering. But he knew he wouldn't.
Ares was watching him closely. "Part of you wants it. Part of you can taste it." Ares licked his lips and Joxer *could* taste it, sweet and bitter and intoxicating.
He shook his head. "No."
"Are you sure?"
"It's not for me. It's not who I am. You knew that already, or you wouldn't offer it to me."
"Joxer the Mighty. I can make it real. Everything can be yours."
He shook his head again, grinning at the image Ares called up.
"Nope. With that kind of power, I might be kind of scary, you know?" His own voice sounded embarrassingly high and he giggled, imagining himself ruling the world. "I'd trip over a rock and destroy whole kingdoms. I'd swing my sword to swat a fly and miss and cut down whole villages. It would be chaos."
"Yeah, baby. Talk dirty to me." Ares smiled wickedly and the expression made it hard for Joxer to think clearly enough to fight off Ares' attempt to seduce him. He wasn't sure *what* Ares was doing. It was like a spell was being cast and it was hard to say no to Ares, especially when the God punctuated the smile with a wiggle of his hips that brought their cocks into contact for a brief second.
"Ares. Be serious."
"I am serious." Another wriggle and Joxer almost said, "Yes, anything Ares" and wondered if Ares would hold him to such an unfair contract.
"Ares..."
"Okay. I knew you wouldn't take it. But a God has to try. Salesmanship *starts* when the mortal says 'No'."
"Offer me something else. I want to say yes."
Ares smiled dangerously and said, once again, "The God of War is yours." Joxer noticed that Ares had changed the line. Ares drew his legs up so that Joxer's hips slipped between them, and their cocks were perfectly positioned together. Ares brought his hand down and pumped them together and Joxer moaned. It was too good. He couldn't last. He pulled himself to his knees and realized that, even on his back, Ares was receiving him as a supplicant.
But then Ares guided him inside his body, into the heat of him, and then pulled him down into another one of those kisses that only a God can perform without losing consciousness, but this time Ares somehow breathed the life into him instead of taking it, and as he started to move inside Ares he felt himself tightening, the whole of him gathering itself up.
Ares let go, then, and the contractions of his body drew Joxer's own climax out of him with such force and suddenness that he screamed. It was over too quick, but it was perfect, he thought, as his vision narrowed to a fine point of light.
"Joxer. Joxer. Damned fragile mortals. Joxer!"
A rough hand pushed against his shoulder and then he felt himself rolling over onto his back. He only opened his eyes again when Ares rested his weight on top of him.
"I'm awake."
"Finally. You faded out again."
"No I didn't."
"Yes you did."
"Well, I feel fine."
"You're not broken, then?"
"Oh, yeah. Little pieces of me all over the road."
He grinned and saw his own reflection in the darkness of Ares' eyes. The goofy grin, the pink cheeks and pale skin. Happy. He looked so happy. He felt drunk with it and couldn't stop grinning, for once really and truly not caring if he seemed silly. He was somehow still inside Ares, connected to him as if they were one body and he pulled Ares down into a kiss before letting him pull away.
"I love you, Ares. So much. I wish--"
"Joxer." Ares interrupted him, glared down at him and drawing his name out as a warning. "Don't turn this into a drama."
Ares pulled away from him and Joxer felt strangely empty, as if Ares had somehow been inside him and now that they were disconnected he was alone. His body was still thrumming with how good it had been, but everything good inside him was turning as he thought about how terrible it was that this meant everything to him and might be nothing but a diversion to Ares. But he couldn't stop. He didn't know why, but it was as if, high as he'd been, as high as Ares had let him go, he was now falling again and picking up speed as he went. The words just tumbled out of him and he didn't recognize his own voice, which was still too high to take seriously, but was also hard now. He sounded angry, but he didn't feel angry. Just numb. "Oh, but it would make a good story, I think. It's very dramatic. The God of War picks a man, just an ordinary mortal. No one in particular, right? All the same. You just decided, for the novelty, to pick me, but it could have been anyone else who threw themselves at your feet. It's not a very original story. I think I've heard it before, but I think Gabrielle could tell it so it would be entertaining."
"Joxer, don't."
"She could make it a comedy. People say I'm funny. Do you think I'm funny? Well, okay. Maybe it's not ha-ha funny. Maybe it should be a tragedy. We'll let Gabrielle decide.
"The God of War and me, just a lowly mortal. And the moral is that mortals love Gods and Gods love to be loved. Right?" He didn't want to really believe it. But maybe he was giving the Gods too much credit. Maybe, if he were a God, he'd look down on mortals, all of them and not just the failures, and think they all looked small and silly. Like toys a God could pick up, play with, and put back broken.
Ares actually looked shocked for a moment and Joxer knew he had read his mind. But then Ares seemed to recover and the scornful confidence returned. He rolled off Joxer and sat on the edge of the bed, dressing them both with a wave of his hand. He turned away, and Joxer couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded odd. Gruff, but not really angry. It was still a beautiful voice, the way Joxer had always wanted to sound, and Joxer knew he could listen to Ares say anything, even "Get lost" and he would walk away and still love him and probably hate himself.
But Ares didn't tell him to leave. "If I told you that you meant anything, mortal, I'd have to kill you. And I don't think I feel up to killing anyone right now."
"Zeus turns women into trees."
"Not my style."
"You know, the only people who want to kill me but don't are the people who care about me. Like Xena. And Gabrielle. And Autolycus. And my brother." He spoke to Ares' back, because the God still wouldn't turn around.
"Joxer. I'm not people. I'm--"
"I know who you are. Better than I know anything else."
"Maybe you do. Just-- Don't push it or Xena will have to bring a dustpan to collect all those little pieces of you all over the road."
Ares turned back to look at him and Joxer knew that he'd already seen too much to live. He was as doomed as if he'd looked into the face of a basilisk.
Ares had brushed his hand across his face, so quickly that it could have been nothing. But Joxer, if anyone dared ask him and if he dared to tell the truth, was absolutely sure that Ares had just wiped away a tear. Gabrielle had once told him a story about a group of people living in a cavern high in the mountains. They would pray around a hole in the ground that every night filled with salt water. The people said that the water was the tears of the Gods, because they were too high up for the sea to flow. He had asked Gabrielle if she believed it, and she said that she wasn't sure, but that the water in that cavern was so salty that it was of no practical use. It was poisonous and that, even knowing that, the priests of the Temple had to dig a cemetery into the hard rocks to bury the villagers who continued to make the trip into the mountains, thinking the waters would let them live forever.
"Joxer, don't believe everything you hear."
"I don't. It's just a story. Gabrielle said that it's a parable."
"And what is the moral of the story?"
"She said the lesson is that the Gods promise life but bring only death."
Ares didn't say anything to that, so Joxer tried again.
"I told her she was wrong."
"Of course you did." Ares smiled, slightly, and for once Joxer thought that it wasn't a scary smile. It was just a smile, and maybe a little sad.
"Yeah. See, I'd heard the story before. And the moral of the story is that still waters run deep. The people were wrong. Everybody knows that the Gods don't cry, so the water had to be from the sea. When the sea rose, the water filled the hole in the ground. And the rocks were also filled with salt. The people were drinking sea water and so they died because they were stupid." It was weird, because he could feel that his own face was wet, and the salt was running bitter into his mouth as he talked.
"I think I like Gabrielle's version better, Joxer."
"Yeah, well, like you said. Everything's not a drama."
"But you didn't listen to me."
Joxer got up off the bed and started walking down the road, not looking back. Xena and Gabrielle were now so far ahead that he couldn't see them. But the road was straight, and eventually he would catch up to them.
Behind him, he heard Ares call out his name, a demand, an order, but he didn't turn around. The tears continued to flow despite his attempts to stop them. And the light that flashed, though it was already far behind him, was bright enough to cause an afterimage of blood-red spots to dance before his eyes. He blinked until the image faded and the tears finally stopped and still, in the heat of mid-day that made the dirt road shimmer before him as if it had turned to golden water, it was all Joxer could do to keep from falling down. Go on to the third story in this series:The Gods' Tears.
—FIN—
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