AresJoxerCupidStrife - Tosca

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Title: Screw the Roses, Give Me the Thorns
Author: Tosca
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash. B&D. Dubious Consent First Time Sex. (i.e. no morally redeeming features whatsoever. ;-)
Notes: I was in a really shitty mood so decided to a write a quick PWP B&D to cheer myself up (and kick someone else's butt).
Unfortunately the Gods of Cause & Effect came along and insisted some plot actually finagle its way into the piece. And several weeks later I'm still writing it!

I also felt like Dom-With-Wings but can never get my head around Cupid as a Dom other than in a really uncaring way, so decided to set it in the Sovereign dimension (of which I have only seen one actual episode, which didn't even have any alternate gods in it, so any mistakes are my own, please forgive).

So Ares is the God of Luuurve, Cupid is the God of War, Zeus is still the Nasty Old Goat, oops, I meant King of the Gods and Aphrodite is the Queen of the Gods. And Strife is…well, whaddaya expect? Also, this Cupid is not exactly Mr "Waiting for Consent", and his Strife is a heck of a lot more green and naïve, but hey! that's what AUs are for, right?

Screw the Roses, Give Me the Thorns

"ARES!"

Cupid bellowed as he flashed into his father's throne room, black wings quivering in rage. The slender male standing beside the God of Love's couch cast one startled glance at him and wisely disappeared in a shower of pale blue sparkles. Ares just looked at his son in resigned tolerance.

"Just what the FUCK did you think you were doing in Lesolene? I didn't spend three years setting that situation up just so you could balls it up with one of your nambypamby-loveydovey schemes!"

Cupid was almost spitting in fury.

"Sweetie, I had nothing to do with it!"

"Bullshit! The situation just reeked of your handiwork!"

"No, actually…"

The God of Love tailed off as a thought struck him. Cupid watched him narrow-eyed. He'd seen that expression before, when Ares was in one of his protective moods.

" WHO then? Who are you covering for?"

The God of War loomed over his father threateningly. Ares' eyes flashed.

"Dahling, I really don't appreciate the 'tude. Now I'm not saying the House of Love had absolutely nothing to do with it, but really, aren't you just over-reacting just a tad?"

"Overreacting?! OVERREACTING?! I'm not damnwel….no, you're just trying to distract me, aren't you?"

Chagrin flitted over the God of Love's face and settled into sulkiness.

"Who was it that just left?"

"No-one. Nothing to do with it."

Ares' quick rebuttal aroused Cupid's hunting instincts.

"WHO, Father? Tell me or I'll track him down and torture it out of him myself."

"Really! Strife was jus…"

"Strife? Who the fuck is…oh, Eris' boy? Well, it figures that maniac's kid would be just as big an idiot!"

Cupid started pacing back and forth in front of the couch, wing feathers rustling angrily as he moved.

"Three frigging years work! Wait 'til I get my hands on that little punk! I'll make him sorry he ever s…"

"He DIDN'T screw up!"

Ares thought he'd better set the record straight quickly, "Daddy Dearest ordered him to make those two meet and fall in love." "WHAT?! That…that…"

Cupid's speech degenerated into a long imprecation-laden discourse on the ancestry, morals and mental ability of sky gods who couldn't keep their fingers out of other people's business and the scatologically impossible things they should do to themselves. When he finally wound down he was still looking pissed, but nowhere near as combustible as he had when he'd first arrived.

"So, where does Strife hang out?"

The question was accompanied by an unpleasant grin.

*Bugger, I thought I'd diverted him away from Strife*

Ares rose up and slid an arm around Cupid's shoulders, murmuring in seductive tones, "Cupid, sweetie, Strife had no choice in the matter, OK? He's a nice lad, and Zeus scared the shit out of him already. Why don't you sit down beside me for a while, take a few deep breaths, and I'll make you some wine and my special honeycakes. Then I have this priestess here that can release some of that tension in a way you just wouldn't believe…"

Cupid allowed his father to guide him over to the couch.

*Oh Shit! That was jus' way way too close fer comfort!* Strife headed straight for a jug of wine. Today had been a real bitch of a day, the culmination of a bitch of a job.

First getting ordered to present himself to Zeus (never his favourite god) who'd then told him to cause the children of two kings who were on the brink of war to meet and fall in love. And to keep it quiet.

After somewhat unwisely asking why Ares as Head God of Love couldn't do it, he'd received an icy stare and the unrewarding explanation that Zeus wanted to keep the peace between Ares and his son, and he was the God of Mischief and this would cause mischief.

Strife wanted to point out he was the God of Mischief and Playfulness for the House of Love, not the God of Mischief and Trouble for the House of War, but he also knew when to shut up.

So, the past few months had been spent skulking around Lesolene fixing Antion and Melena up, avoiding Cupid who flashed in every now and then, and just generally having a really shitty time. This type of assignment was usually fun, but on this one he'd had an itch between his shoulderblades, and a premonition the axe was about to fall.

Today the pair had finally got their fathers together in peace parley and announced they wished to be wed, to their parent's initial confusion and dismay. Sense had prevailed however, and by the time Cupid had arrived (and Strife immediately disappeared) the nuptial celebrations were already being planned and a friendly festive mood had bloomed between the previously hostile fathers.

He'd just finished telling Ares about the mission and was about to ask him to intercede on his behalf with Cupid when the God of War had arrived. In a towering rage. Looking dangerous and manic and beautiful as molten gold.

Or at least he would be beautiful if Strife were into guys.

Which he wasn't.

No way.

But OK, so maybe the God of War could possibly change his mind if he wasn't so damn scary.

Now he was just waiting to see how long it took for Cupid to spot the big red target painted on Strife's back. Not long, if Cupid's ire was anything to go by.

Shit.



Cupid waited quietly and invisibly in his father's hall. He had allowed Ares to distract him with the priestess's charms yesterday, but his goal remained the same. He had been standing by this pillar for the last three hours and was quite willing to wait twice that length again for a scent of his quarry. A cloud of sparkling blue confetti shimmered beside the God of Love's couch, dissipating to reveal a figure. Finally!

Cupid carefully studied the godling he was hunting. Strife was clad in a white short-sleeved tunic tucked into skin-tight pale blue trousers. Short black boots with big silver buckles completed the outfit which was obviously not Greek in origin. Probably something taken from the future, Cupid thought. He preferred traditional garb himself, but future clothing seemed to be the obligatory fashion amongst the younger gods these days.

Loose-limbed figure - and the little bastard was tall, but not as tall as he was. Strife wasn't classically handsome as most of the gods were but had a long, mobile face, and ahh yes, as the kid grinned at something Ares said, an infectious smile, though that was hardly surprising given his demesne. His skin was pale, all milky and soft looking. *Cute firm butt.*

Beautiful eyes too - like fine aquamarines and his shoulder-length hair was dark and glossy as a crow's wing.

*All in all, quite a charismatic little package. Hmm...*

Cupid realised his original inimical intentions had taken a sudden and unexpected twist. Then again, both Strife and his offence had originated from the House of Love, so wasn't it just that his revenge fit in with that?

He turned his attention to the conversation.

"…calmed down now, poppet. You're giving yourself wrinkles over nothing."

Ares smoothed aside a loose lock of dark hair from the god sitting beside him on the couch. Strife didn't look convinced.

"Look Unc, I ain't so sure. Cupey was real pissed and I don't think one session wit' Tabitha, fun tho' that is, is that much of a distraction. Now he knows it was me an' he prob'ly won' be satisfied 'til he's got my head on a pike decoratin' his throneroom."

*Clever little shit. Not as stupid and arrogant as most of the younger brats. Good. That'll make this much more fun.*

Ares sighed.

"All right sweetie. I'll swing by 'Dite's place and ask her to have a word with the big lout."

"Thanks Unc!"

Strife leant forward and hugged the God of Love, who smiled at him fondly.

"So, like now?"

"Now?"

"Erm, yeah."

The God of Love gave a long-suffering sigh.

"Very well. I'll see you later."

Ares stood and then vanished in a shower of rose petals and glitter.

*My queue!*

Cupid stepped forward eagerly.

Strife rose and went to the food on the side table. He'd been so wound up he hadn't eaten all day and now his stomach was complaining.

He bit into one of the honeycakes, pulled a face and replaced it, hiding the bitemark.

"Ick! Much too sweet."

"Yes, he does tend to make them sickly, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, 'course ya can't really tell him that 'cos it'd upse…"

Strife suddenly realised he was talking to someone when he should have been alone. And he had a really really nasty suspicion as to whom that someone was. Turning around felt like he was swimming through honey, but yep, there was the big bad God of War right behind him, all golden hair and bronze muscles, black leather and ebony feathers, a big white shark's smile on that gorgeous face.

Cupid grinned at the abject terror that flooded the godling's visage. Fates, he loved that expression. But maybe not so much on this face.

Though a little fear was good.

A little fear was…exciting.

But he wanted to see other things there as well. Ah, the kid was just about to jump. Cupid leapt forward and grabbed him before he could flash out, flexing his power around them both to anchor him there.

The godling struggled to escape, wriggling like an eel in a trap. Oh good, he wasn't going to be one of those gutless House of Love wimps who just laid back and took it. Cupid chuckled in pleasure.

Strife froze when he heard the God of War laugh.

*Oh Fates, he's gonna gut me an hang me out ta dry.*

There was no way he was going to escape Cupid, his arms were two steel bands around him and he could feel the bandolier across Cupid's bare chest imprinting into the skin on his own chest.

"Look Cupid, I'm sorry! It were Zeus! Zeus tol' me ta do it. I wouldna done it otherwise! Honest! Please, I'm sorry! Jus lemme go and I'll make it up to ya!"

Another sinister laugh and then lips brushed his ear, "Oh, you're 'gonna make it up ta me' all right. Right now in fact."

Strife suddenly realised that all of Cupid was hard muscle. His arms, his chest, his legs…his dick. Oh shit! He started to struggle with renewed fervour as the God of War flashed them away in a blaze of red.



The pair reappeared somewhere else. Strife barely had time to register a somewhat monotonous decor of black, black and black when Cupid flung him backwards. He tensed, expecting to hit marble and had the breath knocked out of him when instead he hit soft material well above floor level. Before he had regained breath he was slammed backwards again by the impact of a heavy body on top of him.

Cupid smiled down into Strife's dazed face. Yeah, this was gonna be fun. The kid probably expected to be beaten and tortured a bit, and yeah, he was gonna torture him, just not in the way he expected. Consciousness returned to the pale blue eyes, which darted around the room before returning to him. He swallowed nervously and licked his lips.

"C..Cu…"

Cupid bent his head and inflicted a heated kiss on stammering youth, hard mouth pressing onto soft lips. He tried to thrust his tongue inside, but Strife twisted his face aside. He realised Strife was struggling still, and then a hard knee struck him in the side at the same time a fist boxed his ear.

"Dammit!"

Cupid knelt up and grabbed the flailing wrists, pinning them above Strife's head in his left hand. Strife writhed under him even more furiously and he sat on the God of Mischief's thighs to still him. This just alarmed the pinned god even further and he twisted and squirmed under Cupid, yelling at the same time,

"ARES! UNC'! ARES!"

Cupid grabbed the long pale throat and pressed down, silencing him. He leaned forward and hissed menacingly,

"I have a shield up, punk. No one can hear you. And you can't get out."

Scared large blue eyes looked up at him, and the ragged breathing got faster and more desperate.

"Damn! Don't hyperventilate you little shit! I'm just gonna fuck you, not kill you."

The words didn't seem to pacify Strife any and he continued to panic, taking large gulps of air and not swallowing any properly.

"Damn!"

Cupid reached out with his power and forced the younger god to calm. The kid was really terrified he realised, and quietened the fear some also. When Strife had regained the ability to breath again, he stroked his cheek and asked him,

"What's the problem? You screwed me over so I'm just gonna screw you a bit in return. Can't expect to get away with what you did, you know - Zeus or no Zeus. I'd never live it down."

"Please, please, don't. I neva, I, I don'…"

The young gods voice trailed off into sobs.

"You never what? You've never been with a man?"

Cupid enquired in a disbelieving tone. Strife nodded.

"Oh, come on. You're from the House of Love! Dad'll fuck anything cute that doesn't move fast enough! And you definitely qualify for the 'cute' part."

"No!" Some of Strife's spirit returned and he almost spat the words at the War God. "He don't do me!"

"Oh, and what about the rest of the time? You trying to tell me you never played 'hide the staff' with Pan or Deimos or one of the others?"

"I've never been innerested. I like girls."

Cupid contemplated the youth. It could be true. Eris had certainly kept the kid immured in her temple for the first few decades. Having the Goddess of Obsession as your mother must really suck when it came to socialisation - he bet the kid had had every girlfriend vetted in triplicate before he even got to kiss her. And Eris was still on her man-hating binge after being dumped by Strife's oh-so-mysterious daddy. Yep, he probably hadn't slept with another guy. So, a virgin. A virgin god. Oh my.

Strife's stomach contracted in fear at the look that passed over the Cupid's face. Sure he'd made a few mental comments about the buff God of War, but he hadn't meant them! Truly! He just wanted to get out from under the heavy body holding him down and run like hell. Shit, if that look meant what he thought it meant he shouldn't have told Cupid he'd never done it with a guy. Fates, he'd never check out another god again, he promised, just get him out of here!

Cupid stared down at the dilated aquamarine eyes, kissable mouth and creamy skin. He slid his hand through glossy raven locks. Oh, this was gonna be even better than he'd anticipated. So he was gonna have to take it a bit, no, make that a lot, slower than he'd expected. And he would have to get the kid off first to relax him. But do this right and he could have this neat little parcel trained for his bed just the way he liked it. He smiled to himself.

Strife's stomach twisted up even further.

Cupid snapped his fingers and a pair of manacles appeared. From the blue-black sheen Strife could tell they were Hepheastean metal.

"No!"

He shouted and tried to buck Cupid off him, to small effect. The God of War clamped the manacles around his wrists, and Strife felt the connection with his powers slam shut. Cupid dragged him up the huge bed to attach the chain to two rings on the wall. Strife wriggled and fought him all the way, gasping and sobbing, but the older god had already been heavier and stronger, and now his own godly strength had disappeared, leaving him mortal-weak.

"Lemme go! Ares's gonna get you for this! Mother's gonna go mental when sh…"

Cupid slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Are you gonna shut up or do I have to gag you? I said I wasn't gonna harm you and I meant it."

Strife bit him and he jerked his hand away with a curse.

"Then lemme outta here! I don't give a fuck if I screwed up three years work! You ain't got no right ta d…mmf mmmm mmmf"

Cupid materialised a ball gag and stuffed it in the God of Mischief's protesting mouth.

"Ah, silence. Now. What next?"

He ran a finger down the white cotton tunic plastered to Strife's chest. This was obviously not appreciated as Strife's attempts to buck him off were redoubled.

"I was trying to be gentle, you know." Cupid told the struggling god. "Screw it!"

He snapped his fingers and chains sprouted from the corner posts and wrapped around Strife's ankles. Cupid flexed his powers and the chains pulled their captive's legs wide open. Another snap and Strife's clothes and boots were gone. Cupid leant back to enjoy his handiwork.

"Oh, I like that look. It suits you."

And it was certainly a sight worth viewing. Strife's physique was even better than he'd expected, ivory skin stretched taut over smooth muscles and elegant bones. Constrained by the Hepheastean manacles to small writhing movements, his lithe figure enticed the War God, rather than apprising him of any reluctance on the Mischief God's part.

All in all, the pale figure secured in dark chains and spread-eagled on his ebony silk bed-sheets was a stimulating vision in black and white. His dick, already up and awake, was now insistent something be done to ease its aching. He wanted to just slide between those long gorgeous legs and nail Strife to the mattress right now, this very instant. Yeah, bury his steel rod into the obliging softness of his captive and ride him hard…

*Shit, control, you moron. Maybe next time. First things first.*



*Oh Fates, he's gonna…I don' wanna be…he said he wasn' gonna hurt me… oh please Fates please*

Strife's mental screaming was jolted silent by a sharp blow to the cheek. He became aware of Cupid kneeling over him again. Naked. And oh he was big and golden and scary and oh Fates he was big there too and…

"STRIFE!"

Strife blinked at Cupid, who smiled almost kindly at him.

"So you aren't interested in men, huh? I think that's a lie. I think you're just a little shy."

Cupid slowly stroked his hands up and down the bound god's chest.

"So we're gonna work on a few of those inhibitions of yours."

Strife whimpered, startled, behind his gag as Cupid started to place soft moist little kisses on his chest, then licked around his left nipple, rubbing the nub with his tongue until it peaked. Strife made a small protesting noise and Cupid looked up at him and smiled hungrily,

"See? Just a little shy."

Strife watched as Cupid returned to licking the right nipple, suckling and blowing gently on it until it joined its fellow in erection. Cupid soothed his palms down the young god's trembling sides, sliding them around and over his hips until his shaking had died down. He slid them further down and eased across the insides of the opened thighs. Strife squeaked at this and tried to jerk away but his chained ankles gave him little movement. Cupid just laughed at the abortive movements of his prisoner and repeated the action. To Strife's surprise and embarrassment his penis stirred, showing interest.

"Now that's what we want to see."

Cupid murmured and stroked his thumbs up and down the crease between Strife's legs and the back of his balls. Blood rushed southward and Strife felt his cock jerk again, rising to half-mast.

*This ain't happenin'. This is so not happenin'*

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Cupid grinned at the indistinguishable protests coming from behind the gag. He lowered his head over Strife's groin, still stroking the sensitive folds with his fingers and blowing on the stiffening penis at the same time. It was an appealing cock too, not too thick or big, just a good size, and currently flushing out to a nice hardness.

Cupid flattened his tongue against the base and slowly dragged it up to the head, then repeated the action, up the left side, up the right side, slicking the organ with his own juices. Any lack of interest on Strife's part was now denied by a full erection.

Cupid took a quick glance upwards, seeing denial and lust and shock and oh, yes still some of that delicious fear written across the chained godling's face.

"You want it, don't you, my sweet little slut? "

He smirked at the shocked face then bent over again, engulfing the length of Strife's penis in his warm wet mouth in one rapid movement.

*Fates!*

Strife screamed behind the gag and lurched upward as far as he could in his restraints.

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Heat an' moisture an' suction an' oh fates that was fuckin' amazin', he'd thought the stroking was nice if embarrassin' an' that he'd die of mortification when Cupid'd started licking him an' he'd got a woody, but this was the fricking big buff God a' War trying to inhale his dick for fuck's sake an' he was so hard it hurt, but Cupid's mouth was this soft an' moist an' touching-every-side tunnel, an' now he was slidin' his mouth up an' down him, an' sucking an' trailing his tongue down his cock an' oh none of the girls he'd done had ever felt this good an' this right, an' oh please suck harder, yes, like that, an' fates yeah, seeing that golden head bent over him with his cock plunging in an' outta those perfect lips…

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Cupid slid the other god in and out between his lips in a pumping motion. A sheen of sweat covered the youth squirming under him. Strife tried to thrust upwards into his mouth but was unable to get leverage, was in fact helplessly reliant on his captor to provide the release he craved. Cupid could feel his own balls tighten, aroused further by the helpless writhings of the fettered god, whose original objections were now swamped by desperate need. Callused hands stroked down Strife's back, then moved to roughly caress the firm cheeks of his arse, finding pleasure in the silky smoothness of the pert mounds, then slid down the valley between the cheeks. Cries and garbled words came from Strife's stifled mouth now and with a flick of power Cupid vanished his gag.

"uhh, uhh please fates please uhhh please ahhhhhh…"

The broken speech descended to inarticulate cries more as Cupid captured the surging hips and flicked his tongue across the penis head. A spurt of precum told him the godling wasn't going to hold out much longer, but then neither was he, so he deep-throated Strife again.

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That voice beggin' and whimperin' was him an' when had he lost the gag? but who cared 'cos Cupid was holding him down, an' oh that was hot, not that he needed ta be restrained any further, an' shit he was fucking him wit' his mouth harder an' faster, an' he was gonna come any second now, an' oh fates gonna spill in Cupey's mouth an' jus' too too OH FATES AHHHHH!

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Strife howled, his entire body jerking upwards as ecstatic lightening danced along every nerve ending in his body. He emptied his seed into the moist cavern of Cupid's mouth, shudders wracking his body until nothing was left. Strife collapsed bonelessly back into the embrace of his shackles, gasping and wracked by diminishing spasms.

Cupid allowed Stirfe's limp flesh to slide from his mouth, then wrapped his hands around his own penis, thrusting hard and fast into them. With just a few strokes he climaxed and came with a groan, jism spraying over the panting figure below. He collapsed to the side of Strife and panted in satiation.

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Breath and clarity slowly returned and Cupid raised himself on one elbow.

*Well, that was fun. Now for a little punishment and training. Oh yeah, and fucking.*

"Liked that, didn't you?"

He taunted mildly.

The God of Mischief stared up at him in bewildered post-coital lassitude. Mmm, he liked Strife like this - all beautiful, bruised and dazed. So that creamy skin wasn't too blemished yet, but the night was still young. He bent his head and kissed him, slipping his tongue between the parted lips. Strife whickered a bit at the unfamiliar taste of himself on a lover. Cupid ignored him, more interested in thoroughly exploring new territory. He captured the soft lips, tongue probing and dominating the yielding mouth. Oh, but Strife tasted sweet, like honey and mastic and laughter. Kissing him was definitely an activity that deserved repetition and a much more concerted effort. Along with other activities.

The power of causing Strife pleasure had both pleased and surprised him. Usually he only sucked off longterm intimate lovers and found small interest in it, but Strife's wanton and vocal submission had been intoxicating. He was looking forward to partaking of that again, but in a more penetrating role this time. If the youngster's untrained responsiveness was anything to go by, once tutored, he would be the most exquisite ride Cupid had mounted in a long while.

Anticipation was causing other areas of Cupid's body to demand attention again, so he broke the kiss off and looked down into blissed-out aquamarine eyes.

"Time to pay the ferryman, Mischief."

And before his words could sink into Strife's conscious mind, he unhooked the manacle chain and mentally unbound one ankle, quickly flipping Strife over onto his stomach and re-hooking the manacles and leg restraint.



Breath and clarity slowly returned and Cupid raised himself on one elbow.

*Well, that was fun. Now for a little punishment, training and oh yeah, fucking.*

"Liked that, didn't you?" He taunted mildly.

The God of Mischief stared up at him in bewildered post-coital lassitude. Mmm, he liked Strife like this - all beautiful, bruised and dazed. So that creamy skin wasn't too blemished yet, but the night was still young. He bent his head and kissed him, slipping his tongue between the parted lips. Strife whickered a bit at the unfamiliar taste of himself on a lover. Cupid ignored him, more interested in thoroughly exploring new territory. He captured the soft lips, tongue probing and dominating the yielding mouth. Oh, but Strife tasted sweet, like honey and mastic and laughter. Kissing him was definitely an activity that deserved repetition and a much more concerted effort. Along with other activities.

The pleasure he'd received in giving Strife gratification had both pleased and surprised him. Usually he only sucked off long-term intimate partners and found small interest in it, but Strife's wanton and vocal abandonment had been intoxicating. He was looking forward to partaking of that again, but in a more penetrating role this time. If the youngster's untrained responsiveness was anything to go by, once tutored, he would be the most exciting ride Cupid had had in a long while.

Anticipation was causing other areas of Cupid's body to demand attention again, so he broke the kiss off and looked down into blissed-out aquamarine eyes. "Time to pay the ferryman, Mischief."

Before his words could sink into Strife's conscious mind, he unhooked the manacle chain and mentally unbound one ankle, quickly flipping Strife over onto his stomach and re-hooked the manacles and leg restraint.

-----------------------

Strife was on his back in a pleasured daze one second, sightlessly face down the next. Panic sent a spike through his stupor and he raised his head from the contemplation of black silk, twisting around as far as he could. He decided he had been better off staring at the sheets.

Cupid was behind him, kneeling astride Strife's thighs. His golden body glistened with sweat, large black wings outstretched and curved slightly forward, like a bird of prey preparing to dive. His lapis blue eyes glittered in a flushed face, and the smile on his lips was only slightly less terrifying than the large erection between his legs.

"Wha..whatcha doin'?"

A small laugh, not something he usually associated with the War God, sounded.

"What do you think I'm doing, pet? We just reached the you're 'gonna make it up ta me' portion of tonight's entertainment."

Cupid leaned forward and ran his palms up and down the pale back below him. Strife shuddered, the size of the caressing hands making him feel small and weak and vulnerable. He moaned in fear and something else less recognisable, and Cupid licked his lips. Strife's stomach went liquid.

The God of War stroked down the younger god's sides to his hips and then abruptly pulled upwards. A flex of his powers and a soft bolster wedged underneath, supporting Strife's lower stomach and restricting his movement even further. Strife flushed in humiliation imagining what he looked like - manacled, arse thrust upward, spread-eagled open for Cupid's pleasure.

"Now, you're gonna be a good boy and please me, aren't you?" Cupid's words were accompanied by the fondling of Strife's buttocks.

"Please, please don'…"

"Shh, my little virgin. You just lie there and relax while I pop that sweet little cherry of yours. Try not to scream too loud."

"Ya said ya weren't gonna hurt me."

"True. Maybe I lied."

Fear made him sob once before pride caught the sound. Cupid's voice gentled, though his grip did not.

"But maybe not. It's gonna hurt at first OK? But you'll like it."

Strife turned his head and hid his face in the sheets.

"That's what all rapists say." He mumbled.

Cupid's body mass suddenly surged behind him and he tried to rear up in fear, only to find the God of War plastered over his back, midnight wings encircling him so he was trapped in a warm shadowy cavern of hard flesh and ebony feathers. Cupid's voice was a dark whisper.

"You liked it before, didn't you? You were the one screaming please please, weren't you?"

Silence was the God of Mischief's only sanctuary.

"Weren't you?"

The forceful query was accompanied by the digging of fingers into his buttocks. He stammered a frightened affirmative.

"Y..yes."

"You begged me to suck you,"

Strife felt hands delicately stroke down his buttocks.

"You'll beg me to fuck you too."

He felt his butt muscles flutter, his penis beginning to stiffen between his stomach and the cushioning silk of the bolster. An inarticulate whimper broke free of him. Cupid's husky voice murmured in his ear.

"You seem to forget, my lovely little toy, that you're here to be chastened. That was you in Lesolene, now wasn't it? You did know you were messing with me, yes? Yes?"

Thumbs sliding down the valley between his cheeks accompanied the insistent inquiry. Pleasure flickered down his nerve endings.

"Yes."

Little more than a strangled groan.

Cupid's hands returned to stroking up and down his buttocks and the tops of his thighs. The sensation of skin on skin, added to the older god's power signature layered so close on top of his own defenceless one made his head swim. Cupid gave a long lick to the spot between his shoulder blades and he cried out, the tenseness of fear injected with the tenseness of anticipation. His cock was an aching hardness underneath his body now and his breath was coming in desperate little gasps.

"And you do deserve to be punished now, don't you?"

Cupid's voice was dark syrup, running over his flesh and sinking into his bones.

"N..n..yes"
Strife changed his mind midstream, the weight on his thighs and warm breath threatening the back of his neck powerful inducements to accede to Cupid's line of reasoning.

"Good, I'm glad we got that settled" Cupid purred.

And then his ankles were no longer bound. But the sensation of freedom was forgotten at the sensation of warm slickness in his anal passage. He whimpered and tried one more time.

"Please, Cupid, don't, I don't want ta plea…ahh!"

A finger probed past his sphincter muscles, inserting itself into his passage. His body protested the burning alien intrusion and thrust it out. A rough chuckle sounded above him and the finger pressed in again. And then out. And then in. And was joined by another finger.

He whimpered in discomfort, that was too big, much too big. He didn't realised he'd uttered the words until Cupid answered him,

"Don't tense then, 'cause I'm a lot bigger than this."

Renewed panic flooded over him at the War God's words - he didn't want this, didn't deserve this, really, really didn't want this. He struggled to pull away from the digits skewering him.

Cupid gave a breathy laugh at the godling's futile thrashings. Struggling was the wrong tactic to take - predators enjoy a prey that fights a little, much more than one that gives up easily. Unseen by Strife he grinned wolfishly, eyes darkening to indigo in increased arousal.

"Oh I knew you'd be fun!"

He pumped his fingers into Strife, ignoring the squirming opposition. He waited until the godling's muscles had loosened a little, through use rather than relaxation, then added a third finger. The babble of denial from the god underneath him gained in volume and urgency,

"..kin' hurts! Get th' fuck offa me!"

Strife's begging had changed to cursing. He bucked up at Cupid, and the War God snarled like a cat at the resistance. He blanketed the chained god with his upper body. Strife writhed and kicked under him and the line between sex and conflict blurred. He twisted his hand, and was rewarded by a strangled cry and the cessation of struggle.

"'Sright, don't fight me and it won't hurt as much."

Cupid realised the younger god was sexually limp again. Damn! He'd intended to take it slow and easy on the boy after bringing him off, but his fighting had momentarily excited Cupid into impulse. The hunger to relieve himself by mounting the pale body underneath and fucking it raw warred with both the desire to punish the godling for his temerity and the objective of taming the youth to his hand.

He stilled, thinking. Instant gratification was all right, but he wanted Strife around, and around to please him, for a long time. And taking his virginity should be punishment enough. So slowly it was then. He realised they were both panting heavily, bodies unmoving, although for different reasons. He leaned forward and kissed Strife lightly on the collarbone. He could see the sparkle of tears on the long dark lashes hiding those pretty pale blue eyes, although the other god was not crying aloud. He slid his fingers out of Strife's body, using his other hand to lightly rub circles in the arch of his back.

"Shh, shh, I'm sorry."

He peppered light kisses on the pale shoulders, then ran a hand over them, up the arms to the manacled wrists and back down, trying to soothe the tense muscles.

"Let's try that again shall we? Just relax."

-----------------



Strife realised that no matter what he did, Cupid was going to fuck him.

It was just a matter of how much the other god hurt him whilst doing it. On the plus side however, the War God had a reputation for not caring for rape. Cupid also had gone down on Strife, something he never in a millennium would have believed would happen. And chained or not, Strife had cum like he'd never cum before.

Fates, he was confused and scared. And powerless. He couldn't get away, couldn't fight, and Cupid was stronger and more powerful than he was anyway. If he submitted perhaps Cupid would just get it over and done with and not hurt him too much. Healing from injuries done by gods took time and he was sore, bruised and aching already. He didn't want to be torn up. He gave an involuntary sob.

*Ain't a snowball's chance in Tart'rus a' getting' outta this one. Jus' make th' best a' th' situation.*

He drew in a couple of rough deep breaths then deliberately relaxed so Cupid would know he had surrendered.

Cupid smiled as the rigidity of the body under his suddenly subsided into bonelessness. Good, the boy had decided to submit. He had fought well, but after all, he was overpowered and defenceless. Cupid respected his resistance but continued fruitless opposition would have angered him.

He nuzzled Strife's neck and fondled the soft buttocks. Buttocks that were going to welcome him in now. He felt like a cat that had acquired both the mouse and the cream.

"Mmm, that's right. Just relax. It's gonna be fine."

He murmured reassurances into the dark hair until the stiffness of the figure was replaced in part by natural ease, then he slicked the youth's passage with oil again and slid a finger inside. Strife's breathing faltered momentarily, but he accepted the invasion without complaint. Nor did he cavil against a second intruder.

Cupid halted his nuzzling and slowly licked up Strife's neck to his ear, then gently thrust his tongue into the orifice. Strife gasped in surprise as an unexpected cold frisson of pleasure shivered its way across his shoulders. Cupid chuckled, causing more shivers, then delicately thrust his tongue in and out of Strife's ear in imitation of a different type of invasion. Strife screwed his eyes shut, focusing on the arousing sensations caused by the aural penetration rather than the one between his buttocks. He fell into a daze, concentrating only on the tonguing and sucking.

Cupid noted his godling's distracted state and stepped up the pace, twisting his fingers inside Strife whilst sucking and probing his ear harder and more passionately. The younger god started to writhe under him, moaning, rubbing his pale thighs against the War God's erection. Small drips of precum spurted and Cupid also groaned in helpless arousal. Fates, he had to have him now. He flexed his powers and anointed his cock with oil, drawing his fingers out from their moist sheath and spreading Strife's cheeks. He positioned himself at the small glistening entrance, and then with a last lick down the shell-like lobe, murmured in Strife's ear,

"I want you to breath out now."

"Uhh?" Strife breathed in.

"Breath out." He waited until the Mischief God breathed out, then grasped his hips.

"Wha..Ohh!"

Strife gave an involuntary cry as Cupid sank his cock into him. The small ring of muscle guarding his virtue had relaxed, but not as much as the intruder demanded. Cupid grunted as he pushed in, Strife's tight muscles and ass gripping his erection in a painfully pleasurable grasp. He bit his lip at the exquisite sensations of pain and enjoyment, red splashing unnoticed onto the white and black canvas below.

Strife canted his hips forward and tried to escape the invasion by pressing into the bolster and mattress but Cupid just followed his body down, pushing into him even deeper.

*Fates, the fingers were uncomf'table but this fuckin' hurts. He's splittin' me open, inch by inch.*

"Stop, stop that hurts…"

Cupid took note of, but ignored the rejection. He could feel the hot waves of power emanating from Strife's deflowerment as he slowly took him. He threw a lattice over the energy, trapping it into a slow swell. Fates, the boy was so hot and moist and velvety he wanted to sink into him forever.

"Ah, yeah, I'm ah almost there babe…"

Now he was buried entirely inside that taut virgin ass, his groin flat against Strife's tense buttocks. He paused, waiting to let the boy relax around his rock-hard penis, but Strife was whimpering in what he doubted was pleasure so he slowly withdrew. But fates, this felt good, the power and the tightness and he just had to thrust in again, slowly, slowly and yeah, Strife felt sooo good…

Strife tried to stifle his cries as Cupid removed himself from his body, but was unsuccessful. He gasped in relief as Cupid's cock left him. Fates, his back passage was too small to have the War God's dick stuffed up it. But then Cupid was spearing up inside him again, filling him up and all he could do was press down and away, reduced to mostly wordless entreaties. Cupid was groaning in his ear, desperate tones of nothing understandable, then withdrawing again. This time he knew there was no respite and he just whimpered as the War God penetrated him once more with deliberation.

On the next stroke Cupid managed to regain control of himself. Strife wasn't enjoying this and that wasn't what he wanted. He angled himself so he brushed across the godling's sweet spot and at the same time twitched Strife's mind to relax him. Not enough that he would know it was an outside influence, but enough to make Strife feel…oh yes, as the godling gave a confused whimper…to feel good.

On the fourth penetration Strife felt Cupid feather along something inside, almost pleasurably, and suddenly the tight ring of muscles relaxed, allowing the War God to drive in with less effort. And less pain. He whickered in surprise. Cupid slowly edged himself out and then propelled himself in again, this time pushing firmly against that spot. Strife cried out at the sensations that shot through the base of his spine. Cupid chuckled in his ear and repeated the exact movement, and this time the muscles guarding his passage had loosened enough there was only discomfort and then pleasure. And by the next couple of thrusts, only pleasure remained.

He drew in a shuddering breath, unsure what was happening, confused that Cupid could make him feel good so quickly after hurting him.

*Iz'is normal? What's happenin'? He's tryin' ta make m...*

And then all his questions were subsumed by the next hard offensive, direct on that previously unknown spot, which jerked his cock erect and sent jolts of arousal straight up his spine to his teeth. He cried out loudly this time, fingers clasping and unclasping the chains that bound him in lieu of anything more solidly flesh to grasp.

"Did you like that?"

Cupid's voice sounded low and growling, but still much too much in control. Strife could only gasp wordlessly in something approximating agreement.

"Yeah,"

Thrust.

"Ya like…"

Thrust.

"That…"

Thrust.

"Don'tcha?"

Movement ceased. Strife whimpered. Cupid's hands slid around his hips, over his stomach, to the almost painful erection pressed into the bolster.

"Say it."

A hand stroked up, trailing oil and desperate desire in its wake.

"Uh?"

Throaty chuckle.

"You gotta stop saying that, pretty. I'm not.."

Thrust.

"Too…"

Thrust.

"Sure…"

Deeper thrust surprising a mangled cry from Strife.

"What it means."

"Please!"

Strife managed to say. Spread his legs wider, positioned himself to receive Cupid at the best angle.

"Please what? Did you like it?"

Cupid buried himself as deep as he could, deliberately grinding into Strife's prostate. The godling screamed, jerking up and seating the War God even further into him. Cupid cried out in bliss at the tight eager warmth wrapped around him and felt his control slip several notches.

"Oh yeah, tell me you want it, pretty, tell me you want me ta fuck you."

He stilled again, gasping and at the end of his rope, but he had to dominate now, impress the boy with his supremacy now.

"Please please uhpleaseplease…"

"Say it." One hand was restricting the blood flow to Strife's cock while he breached his body with short fast strokes.

"Say you want me to fuck you."

Short quick shallow rabbit lunges, slipping in, pulling out fast, slipping in, pulling out, slipping in. Not enough to satisfy, just teasing. Strife's gasping breaths even louder than his own.

"Say you want me to fuck you."

"Say you want me to fuck you."

"C'mon, say you want me to fuck you."

"Please fuck me please fuck me Cupid Cupid please fuck me…"

"Good boy."

And then all semblance of control was gone and Cupid was thrusting deep and hard and quick, again and again, pounding into Strife like a horse thundering along at full gallop, hands pumping his rigid cock. The godling's cries were wordless now as he lost himself in the haze of sensation. Cupid could feel the power building up and up as the pale sweating body he was driving into spiralled up towards climax with him, hands clutching the dark chains as if they were a lifeline now instead of a restraint, head thrown back, eyes screwed closed, soft mouth wide and hollowed and gasping. Then Strife was screaming in completion, body arching under him, muscles clenching him tight and firm and close, power bursting in a wave through his net and suddenly they were light and heat and rapture and one white blinding howl of energy…

---

Cupid was unsure whether he regained consciousness or re-coalesced. If they had reverted to their natural forms during orgasm he couldn't say. Though he supposed it didn't really matter, the sensation was what counted. And the after-effect. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed, this replete, both mentally and physically. And his energy levels. Not the fierce joyful burning achieved from battle, but a more complicated and tactile completion. Hmm, there was definitely something to be said for deflowering virgin gods.

He stretched, enjoying the glinting red lightening that briefly glimmered over his body. Turned, dismissing Strife's manacles with a thought and rolled his bedmate onto his back. The God of Mischief was deeply unconscious, and would be for some hours he realised, as he dipped briefly into Strife's mind. The godling looked beautiful - pale skin faintly flushed, slight smile gracing his mouth, and the wanton sprawl of the freshly fucked.

In what anyone else would have labelled uncharacteristic tenderness for the God of War, Cupid stroked a hand down his lover's face. Well, that was what the boy was now. He had no intention of this being a one-time thing. He couldn't remember the last time it had been as good - with god, demi-god, demon, immortal or mortal. No matter how experienced they were. No, Strife was perfect. Feisty enough to fight him, something which never ceased to arouse Cupid, but still young and malleable enough to train to submit without being submissive.

Cupid replayed the spectacle of Strife spreading his legs and begging him to fuck him. Oh, but that was going to be one of his favourite jerk-off memories for centuries to come, he could tell. When Strife wasn't there to get him off, that was.

Hmm, he just needed something to remind the Mischief God whom he belonged to now. Cupid slowly smoothed a hand up the soft skin of Strife's abdomen, over the chest, rubbing a nipple with his thumb.

Now, there was an idea! He quickly checked his uncle was available, then flashed out in a bright flare of red.

----

Strife yawned and batted his eyes open, feeling languorous and sleepy. Still dark. Mmmm, maybe a day to lie in, he thought lazily. The thought slowly percolated through his mind that it shouldn't be dark. It was never this dark in his bedroom because the décor was too light. Therefore, this wasn't his bedroom.

"Uh?" he startled to with a surprised grunt, then winced as his body protested the sudden movement.

"You're somewhat fond of that expression, aren't you?" a low voice husked to the left of him.

He jerked his head to the side and discovered the God of War in full armour, lounging in a chair beside the bed, black wings casually outspread. He took up so much of the room by sheer force of presence Strife couldn't believe he'd slept through Cupid entering his be…Cupid's bedroom.

The night before came surging back like a flash flood.

And after it came shock and embarrassment and fear and desire and confusion and shame and anger and bewilderment and splinters of a dozen other feelings. He dragged the sheet up to his chest in a protective movement.

*Oh yeah, and what sorta defence d'ya think that's gonna be ya idiot?

He flushed.

Cupid watched emotions tumble over the expressive face and smiled, then stood up. The Mischief God froze, aquamarine eyes widening even further, tongue licking out to nervously wet his upper lip. Cupid inhaled sharply, parts of him standing to attention at that unconsciously sexual gesture. He pulled a small wrapped object from the ether and strode over to the bed, the younger god shrinking back against the headboard as he did.

Rather like a scared virgin - not that he could claim that distinction any longer, Cupid grinned at the thought. The expression did nothing to calm Strife and he darted a glance to the other side of the bed.

"Oh no," Cupid straddled the younger god's hips quickly, "We had enough of that last night."

He placed a finger under the blushing godling's chin and gently lifted it.

"Look at me."

Dark lashes blinked a couple of times before lifting to display nervous pale blue eyes.

Cupid smiled and then bent to kiss him, lips sliding soothingly over Strife's startled mouth. At first just a light caress, then a series of teasingly shallow nips until Strife parted his lips. A tongue slipped delicately inside his mouth, gently licking the softness within. Strife couldn't remember this from last night, but he liked it, yes, very much. He opened his mouth wider and Cupid's tongue gently probed inside. Cupid explored him, tonguing him carefully, the softness of the kiss converse to the arousal slowly stiffening his lower body. Through the leather armour, Strife could feel Cupid's hardness and he moaned into the God of War's mouth, pushing his hips upward so he could feel Strife's own growing interest. The kiss remained soft and wet however.

The God of War pulled away, breathing heavily.

"No, we don't have time just now."

He sat further back and studied Strife, whose face swiftly changed from lust to hurt to anger.

"Who th' fuck d'ya thin…"

Cupid laid a finger across his lips, silencing him.

"I have an overdue battle. And Father dear is getting worried about you."

"Oh."

The idea of Ares fretting had no appeal.

*Unc's sure ta know I fucked, er, got fucked by someone…bruises ouch! aside. I don't think I even wanna think about last night yet, let alone talk about it. What in Tart'rus happened?*

It was still such an immediate memory of intertwined fear, pleasure, pain and mind-blowing ecstasy he didn't know how he felt right now. Morning woody notwithstanding.

He glanced up at Cupid under his lashes and was unnerved to find the God of War watching him with the same lazy humour his favourite cat used on mice. He licked his lip reflexively. And realised, from the dilation of those lapis blue eyes, that probably hadn't been his smartest move this morning, especially when Cupid pushed him back down into the pillows and pulled the black sheets away to his hips.

"Now, you screwed up three years work, didn't you?"

Cupid's voice was a throaty purr. Strife was still caught by the look of hunger in the blue gaze, and for a moment had no idea what the other god was talking about. Then he recollected the whole Lesolene mess that started this.

"Uh, yeah?"

"And I'm afraid one night just isn't gonna pay back a whole three years."

*Oh. Is he sayin' what I think he's sayin'?*

"So I think I'm gonna be seeing a lot of Mischief for a while to come."

*Um, do I like getta choice here?*

Looked at the intent God of War.

*Uh. I guess not. Am I gonna make a fuss 'bout it?*

Looked at intent God of War who'd blown him better than he'd ever been done before, and who'd then fucked him into unconsciousness.

"Um. OK."

*Shit, was that girly whimper me? Screw this!*

Cupid watched with fascination as temper flared across Strife's face and the godling suddenly twisted under him, trying to get free. He laughed in delight, then pulled the Mischief God into his arms, kissing him hard and passionately. When Strife had stilled he pushed him back onto the pillows, smiling down at the defiant glower combating lust.

"Now, just so you remember whose bed you're warming - the only person whose bed you're warming," the latter growled menacingly "I got you a little ornament."

He dropped the wrapping off the object to reveal a small gold ring. Strife stared at it confused.

"That ain't gonna fit m'finger."

"No," Cupid smiled creamily and twisted it apart to reveal a sharp pointed end and a hollow end "But it will fit here."

And Strife watched disbelievingly as one large hand braced on his chest, and the other threaded the ring's point through his nipple.

"Arrggghh!"

He jerked frantically, trying to avoid the pain lancing through his chest.

"Ow fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Ow! Ow! Ya bastard! Shit! Ya harpy-lovin' son offa bitch! Ow! Fuck!…"

Cupid waited until the whines and swearing had almost died out.

"Looks good on you, don't you think?"

Strife tugged at the ring, which wasn't healing as fast as it should, and felt a tingle of power. He looked at Cupid warily, the caution that pain had discarded quickly restored.

"Whatizzit? Whaddidyado? Whaddoesitdo?"

Cupid laughed at the godling's paranoia. Oh yes, they were going to have sooo much fun together.

"It doesn't really do anything. It's just a nipple ring. Courtesy of Hephaestus."

Suspicion clouded darker on Strife's visage. Cupid bent down and thrust his tongue hotly between Strife's lips, melting his irritation with a series of demanding open-mouthed kisses. When he considered the godling subdued and breathless enough, he slid off him and stood up, stretching sensuously, rolling his shoulders and shaking his wings out. He saw the way Strife's eyes glinted at the latter and a curl of pleasure went through him at the notion of Strife's fingers carding through his feathers.

"Oh, but if _you_ get a little too 'friendly' with anyone, it will inform them just whom you belong to."

He flaunted a wicked grin at the stunned look on Strife's face.

"And the only one who can remove it is me."

He caught Strife's outraged yell just as he flashed out.

"Asshole!!"

end

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