By proxy

by Jen

He's not as smooth as he thinks he is. I'm not going to tell him that, because I'm not as dumb as he thinks I am, and the longer he underestimates me, the closer I get to my goal. Discord, Goddess of War, sounds pretty good to me. But this one isn't exactly difficult to figure out; it's so obvious that even Strife could see it. If I'd had any doubts, they disappeared the first time I watched Ares screwing Hercules' brother, all the time talking about screwing Hercules. I hadn't seen anything get Ares as hot as that for a long time.

It took me a while to track down what Ares was concentrating on this time. Face it, apart from that amusing little incident with the serpents, the mortal brother has hardly registered. He's never around when we're having fun with Hercules, and he's a boring, whiny, sulky mortal brat. I guess that's why Strife and I call him the brat. I don't think Ares ever called him anything. Until now.

Of course we all saw the quarrel that resulted in the brat storming out in a temper, snarling at the smug bitch and the even more disgustingly smug half-breed that he wouldn't stay where he wasn't wanted and he was sure they'd be very happy without him and it wasn't as if they'd even notice he was gone anyway now that Hercules was home from the academy for the summer. Talk about self-pity central. I wouldn't have given him another thought, but that's where - very occasionally - I can still learn something from Ares. It seems he kept an eye on him, turned up at the flea pit of a tavern he's staying in, and introduced himself as Enyalion, who turned out, by some wild coincidence, to be a fellow-sufferer of insufferable brothers. Of course Enyalion's brother is daddy's favourite, so he can't do anything at all to him, but that's why he's so keen to help Iphicles get even with his jerk of a brother. It's called catharsis. And there's got to be some justice in the world, after all.

Damn me if the mortal didn't fall for it. Either he's even more stupid than his half-breedbrother, or he wants revenge so badly he doesn't care where the help comes from. Ares had already got the brat on his hook by the time I turned up, and when I did, he just winked and told me to watch and learn. That arrogance is going to be his downfall, so of course I pander to it.

And really, it's not a huge hardship to watch him in action this time. There's nothing to learn: there's scarcely any need for his manipulation, this brother of Hercules is so ripe for the plucking. He's eaten up with jealousy and resentment and all he needed was for someone to show him the way to get what he wants. So that side of it's pretty boring, but there are compensations. Like what I'm watching now - Ares lying next to him, talking him into hardness, not even needing to touch him. Watching Ares in action, I almost manage to ignore the surroundings - the dump of a room that's all the brat could afford, with its sagging mattress, discoloured walls, and window so tiny that no air's moving and the room's getting hotter and hotter in the midday sun.

It's obvious from the way he's lying there, as tense as Athena on a good day, that it's all the brat can do not to touch himself as Ares' voice crawls over his skin, telling him just how it will be when he goes back home again, only this time he'll be the one with the power. And how Hercules, the brother who's always right, will be dancing to Iphicles' tune this time around. I don't know whether it's those promises or Ares' voice that's getting the brat excited, but he's certainly getting off on something.

"You'll control him, Iphicles. You'll get him so he wants - needs - to do something he knows is wrong. You're going to make him want you. You're going to make him need you, until he's so fucked that his world will never be the same again." He bends forward until his breath whispers hotly against Iphicles' skin. "I'll teach you how to twist him up until he can't say no to you. Until he won't want to say no. And then we'll see who's in charge."

The brat sucks in a mouthful of heated air as Ares' hand rests on his thigh and his legs fall apart in instant shameless response. I snort to see that Ares has finally found someone who's as big a slut as he is. A slut with a natural talent for sucking dick not seen since Ganymede in his prime, according to Ares. Well, he'd know.

"You're going to have play nice at first, apologise for being such a prick," Ares is saying, as his hand moves slowly over the muscled thigh that's spread for him. "It'll take a few days to get him to trust you again."

Iphicles is biting his lip now, and I have to say it looks good, teeth biting down hard into the obscene fullness of his lower lip. It makes me wonder briefly how it would feel if they were my teeth. Maybe Ares catches something of my thought because he glances in my direction and I snarl at him. As though I'm interested in his pathetic mortal plaything.

"Can you do patience, Iphicles?"

It's a simple question, but the first answer the brat makes is a whimper, I guess because of how Ares' fingers are moving. His second answer is to bend his knees further to offer his ass. I guess that's a `no', then.

"Maybe you can tell him that you met someone, someone who makes you feel things you never felt before, a sexy, handsome, fascinating stranger -" another whimper punctuates Ares' litany of modesty as his finger brushes over the brat's hole. "Tell him that's made you stop and think, and that now you've had a chance to think things through, you realise what a selfish little prick you've been to him and your mother."

Even Ares' touch isn't enough to stop Iphicles' lip curling.

"You share a room, right?"

He nods. It's jerky, but at least it's not another whimper.

"So one night you tell him about me. After those first few days, when he's let his guard down, you tell him about how it felt when I touched you, how fucking hot it got you." The way Iphicles is beginning to writhe as Ares' wrist brushes his balls and his finger pushes inside him means Ares' ego trip may have some basis in fact.

"But don't talk dirty - he's not ready for that yet. Tell him how much you care for me, how good it made you feel. Tell him about you and me together until you're so fucking hard that you can't help but jerk off - but let him hear you. Get him hot thinking what it would be like to do what you're talking about. Because I do get you hot, don't I, Iphicles?"

If the brat wasn't sweating and writhing about on the bed like he is, I think I'd give up at this point and go to be quietly sick somewhere. But - well, there are compensations.

"Then I'll send you a letter."

I guess even Ares begins to realise that, fascinating as he is, Iphicles just isn't listening any more because he moves his hand away. The brat stares up at him, confused, till his brain starts to kick in again. Such as it is.

"How will you know - "

"You'll tell me where to send the messenger, and I'll know when it's right to send it. I know how good you are, how long it'll take you to get Hercules to the right point. He's so fucking self-righteous that he's bound to give you the benefit of the doubt easily enough."

The brat's brow wrinkles slightly. Even he's not that stupid.

"From everything you've said," Ares adds quickly, and his hand rests on Iphicles' stomach, stroking slightly. The brow wrinkle disappears as the brat shifts restlessly.

"Can't you see it, Iphicles - can't you feel the heat in that little room you share growing until you can't breathe, can only just speak, but your voice still slides into the night, every word making it hotter, until Hercules is almost crying with frustration that he's so hard, but because you're there, lying just across the room from him, he can't do anything about it. You read my letter out loud, so he can't help but hear what I want to do to you, how I want to feel you writhing under me, gasping in the heat. I'll have to tell you that I'm missing you, of course - little brother still thinks sex is about love, though you're going to change that - but it's really about all the ways I want to taste you, touch you, and it's going to get him so hot that he's burning up with it.

"It's then, when he's so hard and hot that he thinks he's going to burst, when you know from the way his breathing has changed that he's started to jack himself off, even though he's trying to hide the fact, you'll say it. You'll tell him how much you miss me, how you try to pretend your hand is mine, but it's just not the same, not once you've felt somebody else's hands on you. How you never knew how it would feel until the day I first touched you - how you came inside your pants. But you do more than that; you tell him how it felt. How does it feel when I touch you, Iphicles?"

If I didn't know how it felt to be the focus of Ares' attention, to have that voice whispering darkly all the beautiful things he wanted to do to me, to have his hands move on me like lightning on the water, I'd sneer at the brat's moan. As it is, my lip only lifts slightly.

"You unmake me," he gasps, and then cries out as Ares' hand closes around his hard cock and he loses himself again.

Well, well - who'd have guessed Ares had a poetic mortal on his hands? Certainly not Ares, if the amusement in his face as he glances at me is anything to go by. He doesn't laugh, though, and I understand why; because if he can unmake Iphicles, he can make him again into whatever he chooses. And if, through Iphicles, he can unmake Hercules.... Well, one step at a time.

The answer pleases Ares as much as it entertains him. As well as the stroke to his ego, it gives him an edge. "So that makes you vulnerable," he says. "And little brother can't resist vulnerable, now can he?"

And he's right; this is why this crazy scheme of his might just work. The mortal has a look to him, when he's not brooding and snarling, that could just sucker Hercules in. Play it right - play the hurt, big doggy eyes on him, and he might just crack.

"So you tell him what it's like when I touch you." His hand's moving up and down Iphicles' prick now, till the brat's arching and whimpering. "You tell him that once somebody else has touched you, it's never the same again, touching yourself. You tell him just enough of how my hand feels wrapped round your cock to get him even hotter.

"And when he's doing it again - maybe you can see his hand moving under the sheet, and you can tell from the way he's breathing and lying as still as he can that he's doing it - you say it. `Herc', you say, `Look,' - as though it's just occurred to you - `we're both in the same boat here. Why don't we help each other out?'

"And he stops for a moment, scared to breathe, not sure he's heard what he thinks he did. And you say, `Come on, bet the guys at the academy do it all the time. Just a helping hand.'

"He makes a strangled sound, and you know he wants to, but he's scared. `Please?' you say, and he caves.

"And this time, and this time only, you go over to him. You pull the sheet back just enough to slide in beside him, but you don't look at him, don't do anything to make him feel any more awkward. You're lying facing one another, breathing fast and ragged in the heat of the room as you both know what you're about to do, and you touch his skin. He'll jump, the first time, but you spread your hand on his chest and feel the warmth, feel his heart racing and the sweat, and then you move your hand down, till you find his cock. It's hard and so hot and heavy in your hand, and you close your fingers around it and start to slide your hand up and down it."

Ares is suiting his actions to his words, and the brat's practically coming as it is, his hips arched upwards, his eyes screwed closed and his mouth open as he tries to pull air from the room that's just as hot as that stuffy bedroom Ares is talking about.

"And when he's so far gone that he can't help himself making noises about how good it feels, you stop and take his hand and put it on your cock. He'll do anything you want right then, just to get your hand back on his cock. Can you feel that, can you feel how it's going to be having Hercules jerking you off, knowing it's wrong, knowing he shouldn't want it, but unable to resist?"

And Iphicles comes, and Ares looks as though he's not far behind him. He remembers enough to unlace his pants rather than will them away, but it's only an instant before he's shoving his cock into Iphicles' open mouth, and I think the brat's going to choke what with trying to breathe and suck and moan all at the same time, but I guess what Ares says about his gift for sucking cock must be true because he somehow manages the three at once, and even swallows after Ares comes.

I guess all that talk of screwing Hercules has given Ares an appetite, because one he's stopped panting, he puts his clothes on - and I can see the self-control he's having to employ to dress like mortals do, wrestling tight leather pants back on when he's hot and sweaty - which generally he only bothers with when they have one of their breaks. I decide to leave. I've got better things to do than watch the two of them at the trough.

When I get back, it looks like I timed it just right. They're still in the main room of the tavern, but the bowls on the table in front of them are empty, and the wine pitcher almost so. The brat doesn't look anything special - he's half-asleep, leaning back on the rough wooden bench with his head propped against the whitewashed wall behind him - and I wonder if Ares is being too ambitious, thinking Hercules is going to fall for the mortal. Perhaps Ares feels my doubts, because Iphicles suddenly sits up straight, his eyes wide open and shocked as they stare at Ares, strands of his dark hair caught and held by the coarse surface of the wall behind him.

"Enyalion," he hisses, and when I move slightly I can see why: Ares' hand is firmly plastered against the brat's crotch. And despite his protest, the brat's pushing into it, his head falling back again to the wall, as Ares starts a rhythm. And maybe Ares is right after all; the brat's such a whore for sensation that he can't hide it when he gets turned on, and that's kind of exciting. Even Hercules might have a problem or two saying no when the mortal's making the sort of noises he is now; he's trying to stay quiet, but those strangled sounds keep on coming as he humps Ares' hand.

"So," Ares pours himself another cup of wine with his right hand, even while his left is still busy. "How long will it take for you to get little brother to the point where he can't stop himself, even in public?"

Iphicles shakes his head. "He wouldn't - not Hercules..."

"Yeah, he would." Ares gives Iphicles' leather-covered prick a final squeeze before he settles more comfortably on the bench and closes both hands around his cup. "I told you, just let him have your mouth once, he won't be able to say no. Give it to him a few more times, and he'll be begging you to slide underneath this table and suck him. It won't matter who's there."

Iphicles' tongue flicks out to wet his lips, and I see him staring at Ares. He's like a rabbit who's come face to face with a hydra, but a bit more fun.

Quite a lot more fun, actually, as he looks nervously around the room and then slides down underneath the table. The complacency on Ares' face changes slowly to something more raw, and I guess maybe the brat really is as good as Ares says he is.

It's not only Ares whose expression has changed; his little show isn't going down too well - unlike the brat - and it says something for the respect Ares commands even when masquerading as a mortal that nobody is interfering. I guess it's just as well; from the look on Ares' face, he wouldn't remain incognito for long if somebody did interrupt him - fireball time, without a doubt.

Nobody does interrupt, and when Iphicles crawls back up from underneath the table, dishevelled, lips swollen, he looks almost as freshly fucked as Ares is at the moment. But it seems he's been true to Ares' training and not done himself, if the bulge in his pants is any indication. I know he's young, but his recovery time isn't that good. Recovery time that it looks like Ares is about to put to the test yet again as he pushes the brat ahead of him back to their room. The mortal's room, that is. It's not like Ares would pay out anything if he didn't have to.

And really, fun though it's been, I don't think I'm ready to watch yet more sweaty rolling around on a flea-infested bed. I never thought I'd say it about Ares, but you can have too much of a good thing. And Strife's been way too cocky lately. He definitely needs reminding of his place in the pecking order.

When I get back, enjoying the memory of Strife's pathetic gibbering defence that Artemis isn't going to believe for an instant, they're still at it, the warm treacle of Ares' voice telling him how it'll be having Hercules in his bed every night. How it will be natural to move from jerking each other off to rubbing off against each other, how it will feel to have Hercules' come on his skin.

He's got the brat face down on the bed, and though it's getting darker in that room, there's still light enough to see where Ares' hand is stroking over the brat's ass and between his legs.

"See it, Iphicles, see the sweat shining on his skin, feel it slippery as you grasp for him, hot under your hands, and hear him gasping as his dick slides over you. He's grabbing for you, wanting your body close against his, and your hands move to his ass, holding him tight to you, and he won't care because it feels so good. So fucking good as he rubs off on you and comes on you."

Iphicles groans, and Ares turns him onto his side, his hand slipping between those hot thighs, already slippery with sweat and maybe other things too, considering how long I've been gone. "Then, after a few nights, when he's used to this, when he needs it, you tell him how fucking good it felt with my dick between your thighs."

He's pushing between the brat's legs, and I can hear my heart thumping as I watch his big cock pushing between those thighs, tight up against Iphicles' body, and I remember how it feels when he does that to me. It's usually just a warm-up for the full show, but sometimes he's a complete bastard and comes that way, and then laughs and disappears. Asshole. Iphicles is moaning frantically as he keeps his slick thighs pressed closed together and pushes back against Ares.

"That's it," Ares' breath is coming slightly faster now. "And then the next night, when he wants to do the same, you turn so your back's to him but this time you move around so that his dick rubs against your ass. And he's going to love it, and you move around more and moan to let him know how much you like it."

Doesn't look to me like the brat needs any lessons in how to moan and move around, but I suppose Ares is the expert. I'm not going to interrupt him.

"And the way you're moving, and the sweat and the oil you used earlier, he's going to start pushing into your ass before he even knows it. And once he's started, he's not going to be able to stop. He's just going to slide all the way into your ass and the only thing he'll know is how fucking good it feels."

He rolls Iphicles onto his front, and the brat brings his knees up under him and offers his ass like he's been doing it every day of his miserable life. Ares is leaning over him, hand moving lightly over his ribs, leaving shudders in its wake.

"I know you want to fuck him," he says. "I know you want to see your big dick sliding into his ass and fucking him until he's crying out your name." Iphicles bites at his hand as Ares' big dick does just that and Ares is looking down, watching his cock pushing into the brat's ass. "You want to feel how tight he is," he says, and thrusts forward in a move that has Iphicles crying out. "But you can't. That way, when he wakes up the next morning and hates himself, he can't blame you." He thrusts again. "How can it be your fault if he's the one who fucked you?"

I think even he's given up on getting anything sensible out of the brat now, because he starts moving in a rhythm that wrenches nothing except moans from Iphicles.

He finally stops again, which brings another moan. "Of course," he says, and he looks pretty damned pleased with himself, "He'll hate himself, but he'll want to keep doing you. And then we'll see what happens next time little brother tries to be all high and mighty." He's laughing now as he thrusts into the brat again. "Oh yes, it's going to be so good - trying to be self-righteous when you know how he looks when he comes, how he smells of sex and sweat and come, and how he'd do anything for more. How he's going to be a whore, just like you."

I guess Iphicles likes being called a whore because he shudders and cries out as he comes under Ares. And Ares can't stop laughing even when he comes, because this is it, this is so fucking perfect that the perfect brother is going to want to hide his dirty little secret at all costs, but he won't know that Ares knows. That we know.

Not long after that, Ares gets dressed again, and wakes the brat up.

"Time to go," he says. "I'll send you that letter in six days time."

The brat looks half-asleep still. Or maybe he always looks that stupid when he's not being fucked.

"You're going?" He asks at last. "Now?"

Ares shrugs. "Well, all this talk of little brothers makes me want to look in on mine," he says. "See if there's any way of getting back at him that daddy dearest won't spot."

Iphicles nods, but still looks disappointed.

Ares' smile grows. "Tell you what," he says. "How about I look in on you and Hercules some time, see how it's going? And maybe when you're on your knees in the barn sucking him, because he's got to have you even though mommy dearest is just outside in the yard, you can think of me."

The smile stays in place as he walks to the door, then he turns round and looks at the brat. "And who knows," he tosses back at him, "Maybe next year I'll be here again and you can look me up. Maybe next year you'll have him so far on your hook that I can teach you the things that will completely destroy every last always-right, smirking, smug bit of him."

He's laughing as the door closes behind him, both at the eagerness on Iphicles' face and the thought of it, and he's still laughing when we both watch the brat return home the next day.

He eats humble pie to the smug bitch, but it's just as well she's too stupid to look in his eyes before she hugs him.

The half-breed isn't quite so stupid, but at least the brat's got himself under better control by the time he shows up.

"Hercules." The brat puts all the lessons he's learned into sounding truly pleased to see him. And when the half-breed relaxes into and then returns his embrace, the brat's smile suddenly becomes genuine.

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