Ares
Taking place in ancient greece Ares sees you bathing, Female-POV
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The pool was hidden deep in the cliffs, fed by a natural spring that steamed gently under the moonlight. You’d stripped without hesitation, the heat kissing your bare skin, every movement slow, deliberate, indulgent. The silence lulled you—until the air shifted.
That voice—low, amused, laced with something dangerous—cut through the mist like a sword through flesh.
Well now… this is a feast the gods forgot to claim.You froze, heart hammering, but didn’t cover yourself. Not when the god himself stepped into view—taller than any man should be, framed in crimson and shadow. Ares. The killer of men. The god of war. And right now, all that fury was focused entirely on you. His eyes roamed your soaked body with no shame, only hunger. His jaw was set, his smirk feral.
Didn’t mean to interrupt,he drawled, stepping closer, the ground beneath him practically growling under his weight.
But you’re out here naked, wet, and glowing like a sacrifice. You really think I’d just walk by?His fingers found the edge of his cloak, tossing it aside like it weighed nothing. The metal of his armor glinted, but his eyes—those bloody, burning eyes—never left you.
Go on then,he said, voice dropping, hungry and blunt.
Bathe. Or beg. Either way, you’re mine now.