blood runs red ✓

XIX

'never take advantage of the person who does the most for you'

- jazz zo marcellus

Ares

Ares smirked as he saw the anxiousness in August's face. He loved the control he had over the shorter man; it made him feel strong, powerful. It made him feel like he was winning his little game against Sean, the one the blond wasn't even aware he was playing.

"Why so nervous, darling?" He ran his hand down the side of August's face. "Do you regret messing around with me?"

August glared at him. "Shut up."

"Are we really doing this again?"

"I just don't want you to use me as a- I don't know, just-" August sighed. "Please don't use me to piss off Sean."

Ares looked the man up and down, a fake smile on his face. "Of course, love."

"Okay, thank you."

Ares put his hand around August's throat, gently. "You gonna make up for that little stunt of yours or not?"

The Venezuelan man bit his lip anxiously, knowing any attitude from this point onwards would just be stupid. Besides, he was embarrassingly turned on by the thrill of publicly-but-hiddenly giving head to Ares. "I'm yours, Ares."

"Who?"

"I'm yours, sir."

"Yes, you are."

Ares pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He leaned back onto his chair examining the naked body of August.

In front of him, August sat against the large office table; his body completely nude and his clothes scattered on the floor. If Ares wanted a show from him, he was going to get one.

"Pose for me, baby." Ares reached for his phone.

August felt embarrassed, it was written all over his rosy face. "W-What do you want me to, er, pose as?"

"After all that confidence from earlier, now look who's nervous." Ares laughed. "Arch for me, darling."

The Venezuelan boy blushed, crimson tinting his golden skin. He felt shame, shame that made him somehow feel good as well as bad, and did as he was told. He wondered where the photos would be going, but didn't ask. He didn't want to infuriate Ares further.

"Tell me, prince, do you like the idea of marks? Of me proving who really owns you?"

"Well, haven't you done that before?"

Ares ran his hands down August's body, placing a firm hand on the man's hips. "Not those marks. They fade. I'm talking about a mark that stays. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I mean, I don't know, I-"

"Do you like pain, August?" The boxer whispered in his ear. "Masochism. I'm a sadist, darling. Would you be my masochist?"

"I don't mind." August replied shyly. When Sean hurt him, it did exactly that: hurt. But with Ares, it was different. It felt good.

Ares smirked.

With the cigarette he had between his fingers, he caressed it lightly onto August's chest. The ash of it sprinkled onto the smaller man's body fairly. Ares managed not to burn his delicate skin too harshly.

August gritted his teeth through Ares' actions.

"My God, you make me so hard." The boxer smirked, managing to take a photo of August at every angle he could possibly take.