Chapter 7 The First Kiss
Ares felt the warmth of Apollo’s breath against his cheek. The air in the kitchen was heavy with tension, suffocating almost. It wrapped around them like a thick fog, making it difficult to distinguish where one person ended and the other began. Only the sound of their shallow breaths broke the visible silence. The honey-coated moment they’d shared hung in the air, reaching out like some sweet, sticky trap, and Ares wanted to dive headfirst into that dangerous, intoxicating pull between them. His brain was a whirl of opposites: want and fear, desire and caution.
However, the charm broke when a loud rap on the door suddenly interrupted them.
The interruption seemed cruel—as if something about it yanked him right back to reality when he wanted to lose himself in Apollo’s warmth. He could see the tension in Apollo’s jaw, the way he darkened his eyes with irritation and restraint. Ares had known that they both had been teetering on the edge of something that might change everything, but it was slipping away from him, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.
The door opened, and in walked a self-assured, authoritative man who was several years older than Apollo. Ruggedly handsome, with years of sun behind him, his dark skin seemed to shimmer in the kitchen’s light. There was an ease of power that filled him, exuded in the slightest of his movements. It was commanding in its own right. The appellation of this man, as Apollo introduced him, was Rafael Santos.
Rafael’s eyes flickered between Ares and Apollo, a knowing smile dancing on his lips, as if he felt the charged atmosphere he walked into. “Apollo,” Rafael greeted, his voice deep, like a river cutting through the wilderness. “It’s been a while.”
Apollo blinked, meeting Rafael’s gaze with a very careful one of his own. “Rafael. To what do I owe this pleasure?
Rafael’s gaze locked onto Ares, his eyes gleaming with a hint of intrigue. A flicker of recognition danced within them, accompanied by a mischievous grin that stretched across his face. “Just passin’ through. Thought I’d check in on an old friend.” The sight of his widening grin revealed teeth that seemed sharper, almost feral.
His gaze fixated on Rafael, his eyes narrowing as he observed the ease with which he interacted with Apollo. Every touch, every shared laugh, only served to fuel the flames of insecurity within Ares. It was as if Rafael had a map to Apollo’s heart, effortlessly navigating the depths of their connection, while Ares stumbled blindly in the darkness.
Ares could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the rhythm matching the intensity of his jealousy. His jaw clenched tightly, his muscles tensing with every passing moment. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy, as if weighted down by the unsaid tension that hung between the three of them.
As the tension in the room grew thicker, Ares felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck. “Is this a bad time?” Rafael asked, though his tone suggested he knew exactly what he was interrupting.
Apollo shook his head, and his voice was calm, but with an edge that Ares recognized as utterly forced. “Naw, it’s fine. But as you can see now, I am doing just fine. “
“I think Apollo already mentioned he’s doing fine,” Ares said, his voice cool and edged with the unmistakable authority of a man who was used to being obeyed. He didn’t blink, didn’t waver, as he held Rafael’s gaze with a sharp intensity that left little room for misinterpretation. The air between them thickened, a silent command woven into his words.
“I imagine you have more wilderness to patrol,” Ares continued, his tone smooth but with an undercurrent that was impossible to ignore—like velvet wrapped around steel. There was a subtle shift in his stance, the kind that spoke of old money and power, a confidence bred into his very bones.
The message was clear: Rafael’s presence was no longer required. Ares wasn’t just suggesting; he was dismissing, with the quiet, unyielding assurance of someone who knew exactly how to make others fall in line, lessons learned from his father.
Apollo coughed, a subtle shift bringing him closer to Ares, as if positioning himself between Ares and Rafael’s piercing gaze. “I think you should leave, Rafael,” Apollo said, his voice smooth as silk, yet laced with a firmness that hinted at something far more final. But Ares could see the tension in the way Apollo held himself, the way his words were a carefully constructed wall against Rafael’s presence.
Rafael nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing with a calculating look that made Ares’s skin prickle. It was the kind of look that suggested Rafael was piecing together something he didn’t like.
“Right. Baking. Who’s your friend, Apollo?” Rafael’s tone was deceptively casual, but the underlying edge was clear—he wasn’t just asking; he was probing, testing the waters.
Ares could feel the dynamic between them, the way Rafael’s presence still held a lingering dominance over Apollo, and it made his blood simmer with a quiet, simmering anger. He didn’t miss the way Apollo tensed, caught in the crossfire of Rafael’s scrutiny.
“I’m Ares,” he interjected smoothly, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But you might want to focus on your patrols, officer. I’m sure someone hit a deer by now… needing your immediate presence.” The words were light, almost playful, but the underlying message was clear—Rafael’s time here was up, and Ares had no intention of letting him linger.
Rafael’s gaze flicked to Ares, sharp and assessing, as if trying to gauge the depth of the relationship between him and Apollo. Ares maintained his unwavering stare to let Rafael see that he wasn’t intimidated by whatever history he and Apollo shared. If anything, the challenge in Rafael’s eyes only made Ares more resolute.
“I see,” Rafael said slowly, his tone carrying a hint of something darker, a warning perhaps. But Ares wasn’t about to let that slide. He could sense the toxic dynamic between Rafael and Apollo, the subtle way Rafael’s presence had shifted the energy in the room. It was the kind of control that spoke of past control, a grip that had been hard to shake.
Apollo shifted again, his arm brushing against Ares’s, a slight gesture but one that spoke volumes. It was as if he was silently asking Ares to hold the line, to not let Rafael get under his skin. And Ares wasn’t about to disappoint.
Rafael’s lips curled into a thin smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, Apollo,” he said, his voice dripping with false warmth, “It looks like you’ve found yourself some… interesting company.”
A surge of protectiveness raised in Ares chest. The urge to step forward, to stand between Apollo and Rafael, was almost overwhelming. But instead, he kept his composure, his tone light but laced with a cutting edge.
“Interesting doesn’t quite cover it,” Ares said, his smile widening. “But I’m sure you have plenty of other things to keep you occupied, Rafael. The wilderness can be a dangerous place if you’re not paying attention.”
Rafael’s eyes narrowed, clearly not missing the undertone in Ares’s words. But after a beat, he simply shrugged, as if conceding the moment. “You’re right,” he said, turning his attention back to Apollo. “I’ll leave you to it, then. But remember, Apollo, some things… you never really escape.”
With that, Rafael turned on his heel and walked out, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. Ares could feel the tension still thrumming between him and Apollo, the remnants of Rafael’s presence lingering like a rotten taste in the air. He turned to Apollo, their eyes meeting, and in that gaze, Ares saw the conflict, the unresolved past that still haunted him.
“Well,” Ares said, trying to lighten the mood, “He’s charming. I can see why you two…didn’t work out.” The sarcasm in his voice was clear, but so was the concern that lingered beneath it.
A knot formed in his stomach, tightening with every passing moment. His heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm echoing in his ears. The air in the room seemed to grow denser, as if the weight of his emotions was physically tangible.
His eyes briefly darted towards Apollo, but he immediately shifted his gaze, unable to endure the overwhelming emotion radiating from him. Jealousy and doubt swirled within him, a tempestuous storm threatening to consume his thoughts. It mingled with the confusion that clouded his mind, leaving him feeling trapped in a web of conflicting emotions.
“Who was that?” Ares blurted out, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.
Apollo turned to face him with an expression that Ares couldn’t read. “An old friend—nothing more.”.
“Nothing more?” Ares echoed with a slight rise in his voice. “Seemed a lot more than that. I’m not that fucking innocent.”
Apollo felt his eyes narrow as the frustration flashed across his face. “What do you want me to say, Ares? That there was something between us? Fine. There was. But that was a long time ago.”
Ares swallowed thickly; the admission hit him harder than he had expected. The thought of Rafael and Apollo together, closer than he and Apollo had ever been—the wave of jealousy that crashed over him at that moment was blinding. He knew it was irrational; he couldn’t help it. Thinking of someone else claiming Apollo—the thought made his blood boil.
“And now?” Ares demanded, his voice sharper than he intended. “What about now?”
Apollo took a step closer; his eyes seemed afire. “He’s just someone I used to know. Nothing more.” The words were firm, but there was a tension in Apollo’s voice that Ares couldn’t ignore.
Each passing second pulled the tension tighter until it was almost too painful to bear. His heart pounded relentlessly, the thudding beat echoing in his ears like a war drum. The room was heavy, the air thick with unspoken tension, as if his emotions had taken on a weight all their own.
He stole a glance at Apollo, but the magnitude of what he felt—the uncertainty, the raw need—made him look away just as quickly. The sight of Rafael still lingered in the back of his mind, fueling a jealousy that churned within him, dark and volatile. It mixed with the turmoil that clouded his thoughts, leaving him feeling ambushed in a storm of conflicting emotions he couldn’t seem to control.
Ares’s voice came out harsher than he intended, lashing out before he could stop himself. “What was that all about, Apollo?” The words were sharp, a defense mechanism against the fear of what he couldn’t quite name. “Do you just let him walk all over you like that?”
Apollo didn’t flinch, his eyes steady as they met Ares’s. There was a calmness there, a quiet strength that only made Ares’s frustration flare hotter. “It’s not what you think,” Apollo said, his tone gentle, soothing, trying to ease the tension, trying to pull Ares back to the connection they’d shared before Rafael’s interruption.
But Ares wasn’t ready to let it go, the uncertainty gnawing at him. “Not what I think? Then tell me, Apollo. What am I supposed to think?” His chest tightened with the words, the vulnerability in them too raw, too close to the surface.
Apollo took a step closer, his voice softening. “Ares, look at me.” The plea in his voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it cut through the noise in Ares’s head. “It’s just you and me here now. Don’t let him ruin that.”
For a moment, the tension between them wavered, a crack in the storm that threatened to tear Ares apart. He wanted to believe Apollo, wanted to reach out and grasp the comfort in his words, but the doubt still lingered, dark and consuming. Ares clenched his fists, resisting the urge to retreat, to push Apollo away before he could get hurt.
But the warmth in Apollo’s gaze, the sincerity in his voice, was like a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge. “Don’t let him ruin what we are starting here, Ares,” Apollo repeated, his tone insistent but tender, a reminder of the fragile connection they’d built.
The conflict in Ares’s chest surged, jealousy, fear, need, all crashing together until it became too much. Before he could stop himself, he reached out, grabbing Apollo’s shirt and pulling him close. The tension that had been choking him found its release as he crushed his lips against Apollo’s in a frantic, desperate kiss. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t careful; it was raw and urgent, an explosion of everything he’d been holding back.
Apollo froze for a heartbeat, surprised, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands sliding up to cradle Ares’s face. The tenderness in Apollo’s touch contrasted sharply with the force of Ares’s kiss, grounding him even as the storm inside him raged. Ares couldn’t help the way his body trembled, the way his breath hitched as he poured every ounce of confusion, frustration, and longing into that kiss, unable to hold anything back.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard, foreheads resting against each other. Ares’s grip on Apollo’s shirt loosened, but he didn’t let go, couldn’t let go. “I don’t want him to take this from us,” Ares whispered, his voice cracking with the intensity of everything he felt but couldn’t fully express.
Apollo’s thumb brushed along Ares’s jaw, his voice a steady reassurance. “He won’t,” Apollo promised, his eyes holding Ares’s with a conviction that cut through the doubt. “Not as long as we don’t let him.”
Without another word, Ares spun on his heel and bolted from the room—his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway, fleeing a storm of emotions he couldn’t control.
No matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn’t wash away the tempest raging within. The memory of that kiss was upon him, played in front of his eyes with colorful detail. Truth would not deny itself, and it would not depart either. He wanted more—a feeling as apparent as it was overwhelming.
Yet, the implications were a twist in his gut. Ares knew what giving in to his feelings for Apollo would mean: everything, making him vulnerable in a way he’d never allowed himself to be before. And then there were the stipulations from his father. If he let himself fall for Apollo, what would he lose? Was the risk worthwhile?
A few days had passed in a strained silence between them, with Apollo burying himself in his studio and Ares picking up extra shifts, trying to keep the restaurant running smoothly. They hadn’t spoken since that last charged moment, each retreating into their own worlds, avoiding the conversation they both knew was coming.