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.

"'S'right, 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 CupidCupidpleasefuckme... "

"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 decor 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' sonofabitch! 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!!"

index