"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.

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.

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.

Zeus (never his favourite god) had ordered him to 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 a constant itch between his shoulderblades, accompanied by the belief 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.

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

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."

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.

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 thick oil, 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.

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 re-appeared 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 his 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 ivory 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 into the obliging softness of his captive and ride him hard…

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.

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.

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

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.

Strife howled, his entire body jerking upwards as 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, then 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, panting and satiated.

To be continued…
(ya didn't think I'd leave it there did ya? 
Cupid still has to get him some!)