When Mars Attacks
by PlacidGuy

Sweat beaded on Theo’s forehead as he worked a small tool across the marble surface of a statue of Juno. At thirty-five, his slender fingers moved with the precision that had earned him his position as conservator-restorer at the Marcel Proust Antiquities Museum. The ancient Greek and Roman statues, one of the largest collections in the World, needed constant attention.

The summer heat in the city was particularly brutal tonight; even at 2 AM, the un-airconditioned museum felt like a stone oven. Across the gallery Theo’s straight friend, Felix, a coworker, hummed softly as he examined a Greek urn. Their friendship had grown over years of these quiet overnight shifts, their similar builds and scholarly temperaments making them natural companions, both at work and at the nude beaches they frequented together. Theo paused, certain he’d seen movement from the corner of his eye. He blinked. Nothing. “Felix! Did you see that? I think I saw something moving in the gallery,” he called out. Felix glanced up, squinting through his glasses. “The heat’s getting to you,” he laughed, loading the urn onto his cart. “I’m taking this down to scan it in the lab.”

As soon as Felix entered the elevator, Theo saw Mars shift, imperceptibly at first, then unmistakably, the marble god of war steps down from his plinth. Theo freezes, his metal tool slipping from his fingers and striking the floor with a sharp crack that echoes through the cavernous gallery. Before him, cold, white marble now ripples with movement as Mars approaches. When the god closes the distance between them, his marble hands, impossibly gentle, encircle Theo’s arms. The statue’s lip’s part, and as they press against Theo’s mouth, not cold but warm. Theo’s palms find Mars’ sides, the chill of centuries melting beneath his touch. As their kiss deepens, heat blooms between them. Mars’ tongue now burning, his thighs firm against Theo’s. Theo’s hands discover the curve of stone buttocks that seem to pulse with life. Through his clothing, Theo feels the hard press of Mars’ cock.

Theo’s fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, while Mars’ fingers explore his exposed skin. The god lowers his marble lips to Theo’s chest, teasing with gentle nips that draw gasps from the conservator. Mars unfastens Theo’s belt, the fabric pooling at his ankles. Standing bare before the deity, their bodies mirror each other in perfect symmetry, the warmth of their cocks meeting in a single electric point of contact. Theo sinks to his knees in worship, taking the god into his mouth and finding not cold stone but throbbing heat. Mars breaks his eternal silence with deep, resonant moans that echo through the gallery. The god claims Theo’s throat with powerful thrusts.

With sudden urgency, Mars lifts him, spins him around, and enters him in one fluid motion. Theo cries out as Mars clutches his hips, each thrust more demanding than the last. The god of war’s grip strengthens; Theo’s whimpers feed his need. Mars’s rage threatens to rip open the younger man. The museum floor beneath them pools with Theo’s own juices. Theo is conscious the results may leave him bloody and bruised, but he doesn’t care. Mars reaches his divine climax, filling Theo with impossible volleys seed that triggers his own fevered orgasm. As Mars withdraws, Theo collapses onto the cool tiles, consciousness slipping away.

Felix’s voice startles him awake. “Looks like you had a private party while I was gone?” his colleague teases. The lab clock reveals only ninety minutes have passed. Theo rises unsteadily; his clothing discarded on the floor; dried cum on his pubes and skin. When he whirls around, Mars stands motionless on his plinth, same cold sentinel statue he’s been for centuries. A fantasy born of exhaustion and summer heat? Yet as Theo shifts his weight, he feels the unmistakable drip of cum seeping from his ass.

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PlacidGuy@proton.me