Written for joymaro and posted with her permission, for grapho_spasm's fun flista secret santa exchange .
He shouldn't be looking, peeking in like this; but there's times he can't resist, especially when he senses something so interesting surrounding a mortal. It's rare to find one of Ares' favored and even more rare to find one who is unaware of it. Especially when he cavorts with demigods, such as the woman who sleeps not two feet from him, close too the trees, her senses so untrained she can't sense a god's presence.
The mortal is unremarkable, Morpheus decides as he sweeps a critical gaze over him. Slight, perhaps even on the scrawny side some might say, an outfit only a mother wouldn't laugh at and a fair looking appearance. At least that is what lies on the surface.
Morpheus knows that's never the best place to look, instead he delves deeper and watches as the man's dreams. It's almost voyeuristic, if it weren't for the dreams being merely that, and now Morpheus can see why his uncle would hold the man in such secret esteem. He's ashamed for not sensing the man's imaginative potential before, is curious how he missed seeing it. But it matters not. Inside the mortal's dream, the man-- Joxer, Morpheus reminds himselfâ€“ is stretched over Ares, firmly kissing the god.
Joxer's tongue tangles with Ares' drawing a moan from him as he strains in bindings, not at all Hephestian but merely leather and therefore easy to escape Morpheus notes. Yet Ares doesn't break free, isn't even trying, he's just tugging on the bindings as if to remind himself, his own desire holding himself in place rather than needing the constraint. Joxer's leading the kiss, teasing Ares with it before he presses his lips to Ares jaw, to his neck and underneath his ear, swirling his tongue in a manner which has Ares eyes closing as he rides out the sensations.
A part of Morpheus aches, wishing he could ride out the sensations too, desire building him in him to be the one experiencing this though from who's perspective he's not quite sure. But that will have to come at another time, when Ares, the true Ares, is distracted or perhaps when Phobos is available. Morpheus has taken a liking to him of late.
He's diverted from the thought by a groan from Ares, as the god winds his hands in the bindings eyes fixed on the shoulders of the man kissing down his neck. Joxer's taking his time, enjoying the taste of Ares; alternating between kissing, sucking and nipping at his neck. There are times his motions leave red marks, the times Ares groans the loudest and Joxer plays his tongue back over them as if apologizing. But then he does it again.
That's when Morpheus realizes that Joxer's branding Ares, claiming him, and moreover Ares is letting him do it. At least this dream version is. He can't help the mischievous wonder if Ares would be as reciprocal, if maybe something could be arranged.
And then Ares is gasping and Morpheus is lost for thoughts, just staring transfixed as Joxer moves his mouth up and down Ares shaft. Slow and steadily, tongue working with his lips as he worships Ares. Neither one is saying a word though Morpheus can see plenty is going unsaid, watches as Joxer carefully uses enough lubricant and preparation to get Ares pushing back against him eagerly, riding fingers that Joxer intends to replace with his cock.
"Joxer." The word is hissed from Ares' mouth, invitation in the word obvious.
There's no need for Joxer to be careful, no reason for fingers and tongue when he could just take this Ares without, yet he is and that has Morpheus transfixed. Has him wondering how this mortal remained out of a deity's hands for so long. Out of Ares' hands. There's a gentleness about Joxer, uniquely mixed with confidence as he pleasures his lover and Morpheus knows this is the true man he's seeing. Not the ordinary shell that presents himself to the world.
Now Morpheus has to look away, blushing slightly as Ares groans and wriggles, Joxer's sliding into him in one motion and the rush of emotion he senses from Joxer, so strong even in his dreamlike state, is enough to make him back away.
Not just hero worship, nor god worship. Something more. Something Morpheus can't understand. Acceptance of who Ares truly is mixed in with deep emotions, deep sensations which tug at his own heart. Joxer certainly has a vivid imagination and a great desire to please Ares and Morpheus cannot fathom just why Ares would ignore such an offering, however unconsciously made. He surely must sense it when they come face to face outside the dreaming world, even now Joxer radiates it and Morpheus' mind barely touches him.
"Perhaps, they need a push in the right direction." Morpheus smiles to himself, feeling the same rush of mischief from before. It makes him giddy, heady with excitement and he flashes out of the small clearing in a muted purple mist, intent on finding Cupid or Aphrodite.
He never notices the small shadow that detaches itself from one of the over-hanging trees and bends down next to Joxer.
Strife takes a moment to check Joxer over, but the mortal sleeps soundly and Strife grins as Cupid mentally shouts to him that their plan has worked. Cupid knows how Joxer feels for his father and Strife knows what Ares dreams of, Joxer's name has spilled from his lips enough times in recent years.
Strife's sure Cupid can get Morpheus in on their schemes, the god's not likely to need convincing after that show. "An' that was one of the tamer ones, right Jox?" He brushes hair from the sleeping man's forehead, grins once more and flashes back to Olympus.
After all who better to match make for the God of War than mischief, love and dreams?