AresJoxerCupidStrife - Carrie

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11/Epilogue

Title: Lust, Blood and Strife.
Author: Carrie.
Fandom: Xena/Herc.
Pairing: C/S.
Rating: NC-17.
Status: WIP.
Archive: If you like it, you can have it. Just let me know.
Feedback: Sure. .
Warning: Uhm, *I* don't consider anything worth warning,
but I could possibly be wrong.
Disclaimer: Not mine. =|
Notes: Thanks to my beta, Moj.
Summary: What if Cupid was originally supposed to be a War God?

+Chapter I+

The first godly child of the second generation of the Olympians.
He would be the heir to the throne of War, and second in line
for the throne of Olympus. With such potential responsibilities
he'd have to learn, Cupid should be taught discipline.

Aphrodite screamed and continued panting furiously. "Just a few
more pushes," Hera encouraged. "Come on."

He needed the training expected to produce a specific character
and pattern of behavior, especially training that would produce
moral and mental improvement. Olympus would need a good leader
in the future. Someone with controlled behavior resulting from
disciplinary training, self-control.

Scrunching up her face and concentrating, not even thinking
about the wrinkles she could be provoking, she pushed harder.
Her baby was almost born and soon this would all be over with.
Ares, at her side, was holding her hand, being supportive and

"How much longer?" he asked his mother.

Maybe they were expecting too much from someone so
young who would never see either throne for, hopefully,
many years. None-the-less, the child had to take his place
in the pantheon where he belonged. But where did he

"Don't worry, Ares. Only a few minutes longer and we should
have a new little godling on our hands," she smiled and focused
her attention on Aphrodite again.

Aphrodite had wanted him to be in the House of Love.
She loved children and was delighted when she found
out she was going to have a child. Not too keen on
the diapers and whole baby business of it, but to have
a child of her own to raise her own way and develop
into a fine, studly looking, young man was something
she had really wanted to do.

"Oh, here he comes! Push, dear, push." Hera held her hands
out ready to receive the child.

Ares had not been as thrilled to have the responsibility
of helping to raise the boy, but had soon changed his
opinions on the matter. He became eager to have his
son borne and to see what kind of man he would grow
up to be. He wanted to teach him things and have
him be a worthy and worldly educated person to someday
take his place.

Panting heavily and squeezing Ares' hand to death, Aphrodite
pushed one final heave and out came her new baby boy.

Zeus' idea's were a bit different. He thought a child's
place should be with its mother. But, of course, that
was conflicting to the way his own children had been
raised. Seeing his legitimate and abused children
grow up the way they grew up was proof of that and
he honestly felt he should have a good start with the
first of the new generation under his rule. If he got in
good with the first, maybe the rest after him would
follow. He couldn't undo the past and make sure that
his children wouldn't tell Cupid awful tales about him,
but he could work and try his best to change his ways.

He cried loudly and wiggled in Hera's hands. She materialized a
small blanket and wrapped him in it. She held him up and gently
cradled him against her body and stood up from the end of the
bed. Slowly carrying him to his mother's side, she realized the
Goddess of Love had fallen asleep.

Not wanting to be completely contradictory and
have several I-told-you-so looks at him for the rest
of his life from ever disapproving siblings, he wouldn't
let Aphrodite take full care of the child. Cupid would
split time with his father and mother. After he was a year
old, he would be given to the House of War to become a
warrior and his father's heir. A male Love God wasn't exactly
a clear vision in his mind, rather confusing, he thought.

Turning to the father of the child, Hera looked him in the
eyes and handed the child over into his arms. He smiled
down at Cupid before dismissing his mother so he, the child,
and it's mother could rest.

It had already been stated, unofficially, that this child would be
raised in the House of War. A vocation was not yet determined,
though. Ares would be watching to see where his new son's
potential laid. He knew Aphrodite didn't want to part with the
boy, but it was their father's decision, ultimately, where Cupid
would be placed.


"Ares!" Eris growled out, "You take this brat when I'm done
with this." Her lips drawn up into a snarl, her teeth gritted
together as she pushed to free the child from her body.

Ares sat in a chair, one leg thrown over the side, while he watched
his twin give birth to her son. The parentage was unknown of
Eris' child and he knew that if the father did not claim him, then
the child would go to its mother's house. Which would be Ares'
house, which would give him another godling to look after.

He grinned an almost hysterical grin as he imagined how
he thought he'd do at the parenting thing. Knowing that he
wasn't completely rotten at it since having had Cupid around
him for the last couple months, he was rather happy to have
another baby around. Imagine that, the God of War being
a welcoming father figure. Ares was sure the rest of his
family would think he'd gone crazy for the next little while,
but that was fine with him.

He was rather amused by his thoughts when his mother
stood ready to take the child from his twin. Eris kept
on pushing and pushing, her face flushing a deep red,
until she felt a give and the baby slid from her.

The Goddess of Discord let out a heavy sigh, relieved
that she wasn't in pain any longer and that she didn't
have to worry about having a child obstructing her
lifestyle. Her breathing slowed until she was calm and
regained her normal pale complexion.

Hera knew she was impatient and didn't like an audience
in her less than flattering moments and was taking the
hint from the unconscious glares she was getting sent
her way from her eldest daughter. The Queen of the
Gods had already taken the child and had given it to
her son. With a look at her daughter she shook her
head before flashing out of the room.

Eris sat up slowly and tenderly in the bed. She lifted a
hand to brush some hair from her face, and looked up
to meet her brother's eyes. She knew he was already
aware of what she was going to ask of him. Not that
she didn't want to best care for her son, but she also
knew that she couldn't give it to him herself. "You'll take
care of him," she stared at him, a look of regret already
coming to her eyes. "Won't you?"

Ares nodded, got up and sat back down beside his sister,
letting her hold her son. "Of course I will," he said as he
put an arm around her and held her close to him. He knew
she was just doing the best she could for her son, short
of becoming an entirely different person. Mother and son
could reconcile later on in life when the boy would
understand how things were and why he was raised the
way he would be. Ares kissed her temple and looked back
down at the second new godling on Olympus.

He felt his sister's body let go of a lot of tension when
she sighed for the second time, this time out of joy. Ares
guided his sister to stand and moved in front of her. He
sighed. She never was one to want to take a break from
things, but knew she needed to recuperate, though. He took
the baby from her arms and cleaned her up before she laid back
down on the bed, one last look at her son before she went to

Two births within the span of a few months and Ares now
had two children to raise. He'd have help, of course, but
it wasn't as if a Love Goddess could do too much to help
raise a godling that was to have a vocation in the House
of War. But, who would help him with the second? Sure,
the boys would grow up together and be spending their
childhood together, so, they'd be baby sat together.

He wasn't sure if Eris would be around for her son's primary
years. He didn't want a negative influence on the boy, it
would only make him harder to control when he was older
and rebellious, and Eris might turn things in that direction
if she had a big hand in the parenting. Either way, he was
charged with the responsibility of raising his twin's child. Ares
flashed out of the room with a little Strife on his hands.

+End Chapter I+

+Chapter II+

The God of Mischief stood in the middle of the clearing, two
armies charging towards him on both sides. Of course, they'd
just pass right through him, no harm done. But he liked the
small thrill he got from standing 'in the way'.

As they got closer he wiggled in anticipation and glanced
back at his uncle, who was off to the side, but still
marching onwards with his chosen side in this particular
war. Ares grinned back at him and Strife giggled and
stepped out of the way of a sword thrust, attempted to
spear through the chest of an opposing man, but instead,
hit a shield that blocked the blade. He grinned and walked
his way through the field of warriors. Blood was shed and
there were many deaths.

His uncle was still on the edge of where all the fighting was
taking place, he'd stopped to take a man out of battle
so he wasn't injured any further, just a bit outside of the
clearing under some trees. He was returning to the battle
to add some more of his handiwork, when Strife appeared
beside him in a flash of blue light, smiling and radiating
mischievous vibes.

Ares shook his head at his nephew and continued on his way
into the fray, Strife followed him, giggling in spurts all
throughout the way. Strife drew two daggers out of mid-air
and began to work along side the God of War. Throughout
the battle he only actually killed two men himself, any others
he injured were taken care of by the troops in the armies. With
their jobs done, back to Olympus the two War Gods went.

Ares, to his temple to finish up the paper work of the war, then
most likely to be back down to Earth monitoring the rest of
it. Strife, to wherever Ares' next job for him was, or to
bumble off creating some mischief in any desirable place
he thought needed it.


"Another day, another battle," Ares said to his son. He
flashed on his armor and transported himself and his son
down to the battlefield and into the center of the fight. One
side had had a chance to retreat already, but they hadn't
taken it. Oh, well, Cupid thought, more fun for me.

Cupid grinned maliciously and flashed himself deeper into the
middle of everything. Eagerly sliding the blade of his already
bloody sword across the throats of a few men, blood spilling
out through their fingers as they clutched at the sudden
wound to their jugulars. Moving on to another area, Cupid
targeted the stomachs of other men, spilling their insides
out onto the muddy ground. He stood straight and swung
his blade in a graceful arc as he severed the head from a man.

Being splattered with blood across his face as the dismembered
head did a flip in the air before falling to the ground with a
sickly splat in the mud, Cupid had an almost evil look cross
his face as he breathed roughly, chest heaving. He'd worked
up a sweat and he took a moment to catch his breathe and
look around for his father. Catching Ares' eye across a throng
of warriors he grinned at him before turning back into the
battle. Ares smirked at the raw, untamed fury in his son's
eyes and went back to his own fight in the battle at hand.

Cupid felt alive in the middle of the battle as he slit flesh, spilled
blood and made it a chore for Death to clean up after him. He
could feel his light blonde hair slicked down with sweat on his
forehead. He was hot, so very hot.

He felt a rip in the air and a displacement of a part of his
body as a tip of a sword was stabbed through a now blood
spotted, white wing. It was a wonder they weren't dyed pink
by now. Much to his mother's dismay, pink wings just wouldn't
be right. Especially not for anyone who belonged to the
House of War.

The God of Bloodlust turned at the man who'd dared to
stab him in the back, or wing, as it were. He raised his
sword and paused as he watched the man cower in fear,
sinking to his knees and begging for mercy. Cupid didn't
think to show him any as he let his blade fall, killing the
man. Cupid continued his slaughter, through to the
other side of the clearing, filled with more young soldiers.

Of course, there were the older ones, but they didn't have
such a fever of bloodlust in them as the young ones did. He
loved the feeling he got when he stepped into a training
camp of his father's, they were usually filled with cocky
young men wanting to get into battle. Or a war, like this
one, with many fresh faces, a lot from the camps, actually,
Cupid noted.

If he came upon a scared man, no matter what side he
was on, Cupid couldn't stand to have such a man in an
army he held any sort of presidence over. He didn't get
anything out of them. Sure, he could send them back
home to their families, but he'd at least injure them to
make them see their lesson. If they had the guts to
come back into another war, if they lived through this
one, Cupid would give them respect. But, not if they
fled like a coward, where's the fun in that? He didn't
get any charge from that. Cupid came out the other
side of the battle, bloody and sweating.

He was facing his father, who was leisurely keeping a
fight going with one of the leaders of the other army,
Ares saw his son and quickly dispatched of the man.
Ares liked to participate and have a hand in his wars
and Cupid liked his job and the activities it included. That
was one reason why he enjoyed joining in his father's

Cupid thought a lot of his father, the God of War. He
hoped he could make his title feel the same way his
father's did. Make people fear him and respect him,
he didn't care if he was hated for it. They got along
well and Cupid wasn't showing off or trying to play
up to the God of War, he just loved the sensation
he got from killing the men of an opposing army. And
if there wasn't an opposing army of men to kill at the
time he felt like it, he'd find some ugly mortal who
had committed a crime and kill him in new and whatever
inventive ways Cupid could think of, he was good at that.

In the end stages of his training for war, Cupid still
had to make a round or two with his father in any
main wars. Ares motioned for Cupid to lead the
way through the battle. Ares just didn't have the
same edge he had, Cupid thought, as his father
let him lead through the fighting.

Cupid had ambition, he was motivated and
enthusiastic. Not like his cousin Strife's enthusiasm,
but a different kind. More ambitious. He saw his father
as more laid back and carefree. Sure, he realized he could
be majorly underestimating his father. He was the God
of War for a reason and Cupid tried not to get ahead of
himself or forget that and think he was the best out
there. Close, but still not. No one said he couldn't
work at it though.

Cupid stopped thinking and paid attention to his
work. Slitting throats and spilling intestines all through
the throng of warriors, showing his father what he was
good at, hoping he could live up to his father's expectations
of a great warrior.

+End Chapter II+

+Chapter III+

Ares thrust his cock into the young man beneath him. Bent over
his altar, legs spread. Ready and willing to please his God. It was
a good battle, the man's first. His first kill was in this battle and
what a pleasure he must find it to now be an outlet for the bloodlust
filled, horny God of War.


Cupid flashed into the Halls of War and breathed in sharply. The
musky smell of his father was in the room, of course it would smell
like Ares; it was his bedroom, after all. Cupid was hoping his father
would be here with some young mortal worshipper of his.

Fucking him silly into the mattress of downy feathers his bed was
filled with. But, no. Ares wasn't here. Cupid sent out his power and
searched Olympus. Cupid frowned, his father wasn't there at all. Not
fucking his mother, not fucking any other slut up here either.

"Hmm," Cupid said. He must be down in a temple of his doing the
deed then, Cupid thought to himself.

He adjusted his stiff cock in his pants and flashed himself out into
the sitting room where he felt a presence in the temple, other than
himself. Strife. His cousin was sitting, lounging on a chair in the
parlor of Ares' home temple.

"Heya, Cupe," Strife grinned and flashed a goblet of wine into his
hand and took a drink. His eyes darting down to Cupid's tight,
bulging pants and back up to his sweat slick hair.

A bead of sweat rolled slowly from Cupid's hairline, down his
forehead, onto the bridge of his nose. Climbing around to the side
of his nose, down his cheek. His cheeks indented where his lips
had pushed them up and the sweat slipped down and ran across
Cupid's smiling lips as he got an idea.

A lusty, seductive smile was plastered to his face as his hair was
to his head with the fore mentioned sweat. He looked at his cousin.
Not his face, of course, but down his body. He'd seen him many
times, naked, in his life but not since they were old enough to
jerk off, or since they'd stopped sharing baths.

"Uh, Cupe?" Strife questioned. He'd set his food he was snacking
on and his drink on a table beside the chair. He saw the lust in
Cupid's eyes and, duh, in his, sticking out prominently, pants.

Strife felt his own cock harden and tilted his head and looked at
Cupid. He'd always thought his cousin was *very* attractive, but he
was usually too busy to pay any attention to Strife. But when they
did have the time to spend with each other, when Cupid wasn't off
murdering people, they had a good time.

Cupid had started to walk slowly towards Strife. He was the on the
other side of the room so he had at least half a minute before Cupid
got to him and was about to do... whatever it was Cupid wanted
to do to him. Strife had quite an idea from the look in Cupid's eyes,
but he'd rather it be a surprise, so he stopped thinking about it.

"Want some wine?" Strife offered, gesturing his thumb towards his
goblet of wine.

"Nah," Cupid said shaking his head slightly. Coming upon the chair
Strife was sitting in, much like his father's posture for sitting in
chairs, his leg was thrown over the side. Making the growing bulge
in his pants ever more noticeable.

Cupid drew his sword from it's sheath on his back, between his
wings. It was half red and silver. Silver, the metal the sword was
forged with. Red, the stains of blood Cupid never seemed to wash
off his blade.

With a lecherous grin, Cupid made two fast swipes with his sword
and Strife barely flinched, as he didn't know what his cousin was
slashing at. All he knew was that the sword was pointed at him.
Maybe just flashy show of his ability.

He soon found out though. Cupid bent down and flipped the slit
material from the top of Strife's pants down, letting the Mischief
God's hard cock lay proud against his stomach.

"Well," Cupid said, grinning. "You horny little slut, Strife."

Strife giggled and stood up, flashing his clothes off with a thought.
Cupid grabbed him and turned him so Strife's back was against
Cupid's chest, his sword at his throat. Cupid always thought Strife
was missing a bit of the common logic sense, this just proved
he was right.

"Cupe," Strife said a little panicked, "What're ya doing?"

"You were being a bad boy, weren't you Strife?" Cupid asked,
flashing his pants off and pressing his rock hard cock against
Strife's naked ass.

As much as Strife would want Cupid to fuck him, he sputtered and
tried to wriggle free from his grip. Cupid held him firm. Strife's vain
attempted to get loose only served to rub his backside on Cupid's
cock, exciting him even more.

"You were being a horny, little slut weren't you? Eying my cock
when I popped into the room? Go on, say it," Cupid prodded Strife
with his cock to emphasize the last two words.

"I... I...," Strife stuttered, his struggles to get loose weakening.

"Say it," Cupid warned by pressing his blade a little more harder
against Strife's neck, drawing a bit of blood.

Strife yelped in pain and blurted out, "Yes! I was bein' a slut."

"A horny, little slut," Cupid reminded with a small nip to the back of
Strife's neck.

Cupid flashed them into his bedroom and threw Strife onto the bed.

"A horny, little slut, yes," Strife said when he landed and settled
himself on the bed in a sitting position.

Cupid, getting his first clear glimpse at Strife's naked body, took the
sheath off his back and put his sword in it before he tossed it
aside. "My, my," he grinned. "You are a hot little thing, aren't you?"

Cupid got onto the bed and sat in front of his cousin. Strife opened
his mouth to say something; Cupid presumed it would be some
smart ass comment, now that his sword wasn't going to do any
damage to him.

Cupid prevented Strife from saying anything by pressing his open
lips against Strife's, filling his mouth with his tongue and stifling any
noise he'd make other than moans of pleasure.

Strife's tongue darted back into Cupid's mouth and he leaned back,
pulling Cupid with him and instinctively spreading his legs. One
arm of Cupid's was around Strife's neck and the other found a
resting place between Strife's legs.

Cupid oiled his fingers quickly, he may be a bloody ruthless killer
in a battle but he wasn't that way in bed. He slipped a finger into
Strife's ass slowly. Their lips parted, "Oh, yes," Strife purred, turned
on even more by the invading digit in his asshole.

"I was being a horny slut, alright. I was bein' your horny, little slut,"
Cupid grinned and moved to kiss Strife again, their tongues dancing
together with passion and lust.

Cupid pulled away and leaned back to stand on his knees in front
of Strife, his cock sticking out proud and hard.

"Well, let's just see how horny you are," he whispered down at his
cousin, lying on the bed. "Get on your knees on the floor beside
the bed."

+End Chapter III+

+Chapter IV+

"Get on your knees and show me just how hot you are," Cupid
continued. Strife got off the bed and onto his knee's beside it.

Strife faced Cupid's cock pointed straight at his mouth.
"Oh, Gods," Strife said in awe, "It's so big."

"Have you ever sucked cock, Strife?" Cupid asked with the lust
shining in his eyes.

Strife shook his head tentatively. "Well, it's time you learned. Open
your mouth and lick it," he ordered.

Without hesitation, Strife obeyed, opening his mouth and letting his
tongue make contact with the head of Cupid's cock. His hand was
quick to find his own cock, he'd fantasized about this for years, he
wasn't going to waste the chance to be with the sexy God before

Thinking of being taken hard by the God of Bloodlust, Strife let a
hand settle on his cock and stroked it slightly, while staring at the
pre cum oozing from the tip of Cupid's rock hard cock. Strife lapped
at the head and slowly opened his mouth and moved it over the
head of Cupid's cock.

"Open your mouth wider," Cupid commanded, grabbing a hold of
Strife's wild black hair. "Now, suck on it, Strife. Suck it good."

Cupid opened his eyes and looked down, he reveled in the sight of
his cousin going down on him. "That's it, Strife. Suck my cock,
make me cum in your mouth."

Strife couldn't fit all of Cupid's cock in his mouth so he let his other
hand come up and grab hold of the remaining length of Cupid's
cock. Gripping him, Strife pumped his fist around Cupid's cock as he
sucked and licked on the head.

Strife felt Cupid's cock throb and felt it being forced deeper into his
mouth. Cupid had his hands twined in Strife's hair and was pushing
himself into his mouth. Strife's lips hit the hand that he was stroking
Cupid's cock with so he let that hand drop.

"That's it, Strife, let me fuck your mouth. Mmm, that feels so
good," Cupid praised Strife. "Oh, Gods!"

The gag reflex was about ready to kick in when Cupid groaned
loudly and humped his cock into the back of Strife's mouth. He felt
a hot splash in his mouth and then it being filled with a slightly salty

His instinct was to swallow and when he did, Cupid's swollen cock
drove deeper into his throat cutting off his breathing. Cupid's cock
pulsed again and Strife swallowed another shot of Cupid's hot cum.

"That's it," Cupid said again. "Swallow my cum. Swallow it all."
Cupid was in Elysia. Strife's throat was clamped on him like a vice,
pumping every drop out of him. He gripped his head, forcing his
cock deeper, shooting another load down Strife's throat.

Strife's nose was rubbing into Cupid's blonde brush of pubic hair,
and Cupid's balls slapping at his chin. His throat was stretched
painfully, causing him to grunt and almost choke on Cupid's sperm.

He wanted to breathe but he couldn't, caught instead by his
cousins lust, his pulsating cock shooting load after load of cum
down his throat. He decided that all he could do for now was
swallow and ride out the storm.


Cupid was lost. He'd almost never felt anything so good, it was
almost better than a massacre. Tightening his grip for one last
push, he forced his cock in with one last savage thrust and shot
the last of his load down his cousin's throat, feeling him swallow in

Strife had weathered the storm, though his throat felt sore.
Uninjured so far, but sore, as Cupid pulled his cock out of Strife's
mouth. He gasped in a breath, savoring the lingering taste of the
God's cock and its contents.

"Oh, Gods, that was so good," Strife said as he licked his lips.

"We aren't done yet, cuz," Cupid grinned. He stepped down off the
bed and guided Strife to a standing position. He started at Strife's
slender neck and strong shoulders, licking and massaging lightly.

Working his way down to his chest, taking a perky little nipple in
his mouth and flicking his tongue over it. He slid his hands down over
Strife's stomach as he straightened himself and stepped behind his

Keeping his hand on Strife's stomach he drew little circles around
his belly button. He felt small goose bumps rise up on Strife's flesh
and he smiled. Cupid sank to his knees and ran his hands down
over the Mischief God's smooth ass. Noting just how perfect it
looked at eye level.

He stood abruptly and bent Strife over the bed, shoving a foot
between his legs and spread them apart. Strife was breathing
heavily as Cupidstood, hovering behind him.

"Spread 'em," Cupid ordered.

Strife didn't hesitate. He turned his head and rested his shoulders
and head on the bed as he reached his arms around to his ass,
spreading the cheeks.

Cupid's cock throbbed at the sight. He leaned down and ran his
tongue along the crevice, lingering at the small hole into Strife's body.
Poking the tip into it he felt Strife tense. Strife moaned his approval,
though, pushing back slightly onto Cupid's probing tongue.

"Ooo, Cupe," he moaned, being almost overwhelmed by the tender
touches from the violent God. Savoring the feel of the darting tongue
that was about to be taken away.

Cupid abandoned his anal tongue probing and pushed Strife down
onto the bed more. Pushing him flat onto his stomach, his cock
rubbing the sheets and wetting a small trail of pre cum on them.

Cupid smiled down at the compliant body on the bed. He got on his
knees between Strife's legs and spread them out a bit further. Strife

Cupid spread Strife's ass cheeks himself, this time, and slowly
slipped a finger into Strife's ass. "Oh, that feels so good," Strife
said, getting a bit more confident in speaking.

"Do you want Cupid to make it feel even better?" He asked, pulling
his finger out and Strife heard him spit, presumably onto his hand or
straight onto his cock.

"Yes, Cupid, I want you to fuck me," Strife confessed, "I want to
feel your cock in me."

Cupid moved in for the kill. The thought of Strife wanting him so bad
had his cock raging. Hard and ready, he held it in position over Strife's
hole, a drool of pre cum topping it off on the head of his cock.

Cupid let the head rest against Strife's asshole, rubbing it in a
circular motion, spreading the spit and pre cum over the hole.
Poised at the entrance.

He leaned forward starting to sink the head of his cock into his
cousin. Strife closed his eyes and moaned loudly moving his hips
as much as he could, back towards Cupid's intruding cock.

Cupid smiled at the prospect of 'deflowering' his dear cousin. He did want
it to be pleasurable for them both, but it seemed he quickly lost
sight of that. The God of Bloodlust closed his eyes and let out a low, deep
moan as he plunged forward.

Strife was in so much pleasure, when, all of a sudden, SLAM. Cupid had
thrust his whole cock into his relaxed hole. He wasn't ready for that. He
instinctively tensed all his muscles, squeezing around Cupid's cock in the

The pain was a lot to take at once, but Strife managed. He'd taken a lot
of beatings in his life and he supposed this was not much different.
Although, he thought the mood had changed from the cock thrust harshly
down his throat; now it was just thrust into a different hole at the same

Strife let out a strangled gasp and snatched his arms forward to hold his
head up. He clasped the sheets tight between his fingers, knuckles turning
white from the strength of his grip, "Aaahh!"

"You want it?" Cupid asked as he pulled back and thrust in just as hard.

A couple more thrusts and Strife hadn't answered. "Hmm?" Cupid urged.

Strife, in too much pain, though it was slowly fading, ground out an,
"Uh huh," as he was pushed forward by Cupid's momentum, being drawn
aware of his still hard cock rubbing against the bed.

"You want Cupid to fuck you, Strife?"

"Oh, yes," Strife gave in and gasped out, it still did feel good, buried
under the burning pain.

"Then say it," Cupid commanded, pulling his cock back slightly.

"Fuck me, Cupid," Strife said with more ease.

"Shout it!" Cupid growled.

Strife writhed beneath him and tensed his muscles, closing tighter
around Cupid's cock as he thrust deep into him again. His breath
coming in short, hot gasps.


+End Chapter IV+

+Chapter V+

Slowly his eyes opened and he saw a dark blur. A few blinks and it
was a light blur. A couple more and everything started to focus and
he frowned. Where was he? Strife sat up and winced. He realized he
was naked and in the next minute, last night came flooding back to him.

He smirked. He did enjoy last night even if he had just been Cupid's
play toy. And Cupid wasn't here. He looked around the room and didn't
see his cousin anywhere, or even in the temple, when he sent out his
power, looking for him.

He shuffled to the side of the bed and winced again. He tilted to the
side and brought a hand to his ass. He felt a wetness and quickly
brought his hand away and looked at it. Blood. His blood. "Guess he
*was* a bit rough," Strife admitted.

He focused his power on himself and healed as much as he could
to his battered body. His throat was a bit bruised and felt sort of sore,
but that was ok. He could stand a little pain through out the next couple
days, before he was fully healed.

Strife thought about last night and decided he'd like to stay away
from Cupid for a while. That kind of sex play was a bit too rough for him,
at the moment. He wasn't exactly as experienced as his cousin was and
didn't really want to go through it again so soon. He didn't even know
what Cupid wanted. Maybe it was just a one time thing, since Strife
really doubted Cupid would want to have some sort of relationship
with him.

Strife stood up slowly and stretched his back out, testing to see how
bad his pain really was. Not too bad, he thought. He flashed on
some clothes and left Cupid's bedroom.


Appearing in his uncle's temple, Strife saw the God of War sitting
on his throne, looking rather upset. Brooding was a normal thing for
Ares, but this just didn't quite look right to the God of Mischief. "Hey,

Ares hadn't even realized he wasn't the only one in the room
anymore when Strife called to him. He looked up and registered the
sight of his nephew before his expression turned from worried to
worried with a touch of anger.

Pushing himself up off his throne he stood and rapidly made his
way over to Strife, "Oh, Gods, Strife. Are you okay?" Ares gently
grabbed hold of Strife and turned him from side to side, looking for
any injuries.

"Huh?" Was all that Strife could eloquently get out at his uncle's
strange behavior. Getting him to stop feeling him up in a weird
helpful way, Strife pushed Ares back a bit. Holding onto the God
of War's shoulders, Strife looked at him questioningly.

Ares sighed, he knew he was being a bit over protective and caring
at the moment, but he couldn't help it. "This morning I sent Cupid
off to a war so you wouldn't have to see him when you came to."

Strife listened and repeated his uncle's words in his head over a
few times before he looked confused and felt a bit embarrassed
at having his uncle see him in whatever position he had been, and
with Cupid, no less. "Uhm," Strife said, "I'm not quite followin' ya,

Ares looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. "Have you seen
yourself? Did you not notice the blood on the sheets, the bruises
on your body?"

Strife looked at his uncle in a bit of shock. Yeah, he'd realized
that Cupid had been rather rough, but he didn't think it was
anything to panic about, he was a God, it isn't like he was
permanently going to be scarred by this, unless he wanted
to be.

He materialized a mirror and angled it towards himself. Checking
the places where he knew there to be some sort of bruising. He
looked to his neck, "Shit," he didn't realize that Cupid had been
so rough. On his neck there were several bite marks and one
big bruise. His ass felt rather sore but he wasn't exactly going
to drop his pants, bend over and look at it in the mirror in front
of his uncle. Instead, he focused his mind on himself, searching
for the marks he'd received from the God of Bloodlust.

"Oh..." Strife said quietly as he counted the places where he'd
spilt blood, gotten bruised, bitten and slapped. He barely even
remembered half of how he would have gotten them. Maybe
Cupid had continued having his way with him after he'd passed
out, he thought.

Ares closed his eyes and shook his head, hoping that when he
opened them, this would all have been a bad dream. The look
of confusion and almost betrayal Strife had on his face made
Ares solidify his decision. Cupid had gone too far; taking out
his lust on Strife would be fine and dandy as far as anyone
was concerned, if it didn't involve such violence. Again, if
the violence was a mutual liking, then that was a different
story. By the look on Strife's face, Ares did not believe
it was a mutual thing.

"He's gone too far," Ares exclaimed, "I'm going to do something
about this." The God of War turned and began to make his way
back into the private chambers of his temple, hearing Strife
calling out things to him as he walked away.

"But, Unc, no!" Strife exclaimed. "He didn't mean any of it as
an aggressive type thing, he was just horny. Don't punish him!
It wasn't his fault."

"He can hate me for the rest of his life, if he wants," Ares
called back, ignoring his nephew's pleas, "but it's for his
own good and for everyone else's that this happen now,
before it's too late." Ares flashed out of view, leaving a
dumbfounded God of Mischief standing there, gaping in
confusion as he stared at the spot where his uncle had
been standing.

+End Chapter V+

+Chapter VI+

Ares appeared in his father's temple and walked his way
to the door of Zeus' study. Knocking on the door rather
loudly to demand his father's attention, Ares heard his
father call for him to come inside.

Zeus pushed aside his papers and leaned back in his
chair as he watched his eldest son open the left double
door to his study, shutting it behind himself. Ares stalked
up to his fathers desk and sat down frustratedly in a
plush chair. Zeus raised an eyebrow at Ares and tried
to think of the reasons Ares would be upset and come
to him. The two of them had actually been getting along
quite well recently and they both left things in the past
and could focus and work together better now because
of it.

"Well," Zeus asked, unable to pinpoint anything, "What
is it?"

"Cupid." Ares said. "His overzealous love for his job. He
is unable to differentiate between work and his
personal life, and leave his title behind."

"But that should be a typical thing for young gods to
go through," Zeus said, confused, "He'll learn."

"No," Ares stated firmly, "He's too old to be messing
around like this. He has the lust part down pat, but
he goes a bit too far with the blood. He's brought
it into his personal life and hurt a family member."

Zeus pieced together the information and slowly
understood what his son was talking about. "And
what do you suggest we do?"

Ares shrugged helplessly, "Well, we were torn on
where to assign him in the first place. I think that
it's obvious we chose the wrong home."

"You're saying he should have been instated in the
House of Love?" Zeus looked back upon his mistake
and frowned, he knew he should have done the
right thing and not cared about his own image. If
he truly wanted to change his ways he would have
sucked it up and let Aphrodite have her son with her.

"He is half Love and half War. Lust and blood, he
would need to balance them to be sane with his
current alignment, which he's shown he cannot
do, yet." Ares explained.

"His lust will carry him through as a Love God," Zeus
said and Ares nodded, "But his lust for blood will
always remain inside him, even if I change his god

Ares sighed, he knew what had to happen and how
it would hurt Cupid to find out what they'd decided.
"It may have some nasty side effects with switching
him this far into his life and with how attached he is
to his god hood." He didn't want to lose his son, but
if it was the only thing left to do to control him, so
be it.

+End Chapter VI+

+Chapter VII+

Ares looked back on his son's life with his soon to
be former godhood. Cupid would get insane with it,
not being able to stop himself from bloodily murdering
hundreds of innocents. Ares couldn't even restrain him
and was injured fairly badly the first time he'd tried to
stop his son. Cupid had just gotten more worked up than
he already was and had ran off to the southern most
part of Greece to instigate his fury in many battles.

Ares sat in his throne, his nephew leaned up against
the armrest. They'd been discussing what was going
to happen to the God of Bloodlust and Strife had felt
bad. It was all his fault that this was happening. Ares
tried to convince him otherwise, but he still felt bad.

Ares had summoned Cupid several minutes ago and they
were still waiting for him. Strife didn't really want to be
there and had tried to make up excuses to leave more
than a few times. Ares had made him stay put. Cupid
was going to need support after he got done venting
his anger at his father.

The God of Mischief didn't really think that Cupid would
be too happy to cry on his shoulder about this, and was
about to try and leave again when he was interrupted
by a flash of blood red light and he swore it was thick
enough to drop in big gloops on the floor, leaving sticky
puddles of blood. Cupid must have been working up
quite a sweat.

"Dad." Cupid acknowledged his father and having been
called there. He made eye contact with Strife but he
never said anything. Strife didn't know what to make of
that, neither did Ares, having caught the look his son
gave his nephew. At least Cupid wasn't ignoring him.

"We need to talk," Ares started and sat up straight on
his throne. Cupid just stayed standing in front of him,
waiting. His hair was wet with perspiration and had
stuck together in sharp strands around his head. His
sword was at his side, not bothering to have put it in
it's sheath.

Strife was watching it warily, more specifically a drop
of blood that was making a slow slide down the edge
of the blade, showing just how fast Cupid came from
committing murder to an important meeting with his father;
the blood hadn't even had time to set.

Cupid waited patiently, a virtue that many had thought
was lost on him, making him seem eerily still. As if he was
planning some sort of gruesome torture if Ares said
something he disliked. That also made Strife nervous,
knowing that Cupid wasn't going to like what was said one
bit and he didn't really want to stick around to be part
of the bloody pile of flesh on the floor when Cupid was

Ares sighed before he continued. "I can understand it
with mortals, but when you turn on your own family..." he
trailed off, leaving the room silent. Cupid continued to
be still, waiting for the blow. Strife didn't think he knew
exactly what was coming, but when Cupid shifted his gaze
up to meet Strife's eyes again, he knew he might be in

"No," Ares resumed and reassured himself, "it's alright. I've
talked to Zeus. Your tendency to cause mass carnage
wherever you tread has made the decision for you. Cupid,
you will be transferred to the House of Love."

Strife flinched when Cupid shifted his stance abruptly and
regripped his hand on the hilt of his stained sword, almost
afraid of what Cupid would do if he really did turn his
energies on his family. Cupid turned his back to them and
took a few steps before turning back around and stepping
aggressively towards his father, "You betrayed me!"

"Your own son! You conspired behind my back," Cupid
said through gritted teeth before taking a deep breath
and visibly trying to calm himself. It was obvious he
knew his father's words had held some truth. He just
couldn't comprehend why no one had said anything
earlier, he was just trying to do his damn job! If someone
had a problem with it should have been approached
and worked on, not ignored or solved by going to

Something dawned on him then; Ares was once like
this. When he was younger he was the same way
Cupid was now. Bloody and vicious, not stopping
at any obstacle if he had a job to do. "You couldn't
deal with a little competition, could you?" He said
it quietly, it was a deadly sounding tone from him
yet you could still sense the lust in the background.

"I am heir to the Throne of War after all,"
Cupid said, making it clear he hadn't forgotten his
birth right, "Your throne."

Ares sat back and steeled himself as his son
ran his mouth, spouting off obscenities, threats
and reasons why this was being done. He knew
there had to have been ways to solve this without
going this far, but Cupid was stubborn and
might not have changed. It might be too much
to change his godhood now and change it back
when he learned control. Ares wanted to stand
up and say things he may regret, but this had
to be done. He stayed sitting and waited for
Cupid to make a move on him, or return to his

Cupid had turned around again, his wings were
twitching every so often. A sign that he was
extremely ticked off. He took another deep
breath before turning back around and coming
even closer to the throne and its two occupants.

Ares had his sword sitting in his lap, invisible,
waiting for Cupid to thrust his own at him, if he
was going to. As for Strife, well, he'd hide behind
the throne if Cupid made any attack on them. Ares
would protect him; he always would. Strife's eyes
went wide as Cupid stalked towards them, his hand
gripped on his sword and his eyes trained on his

One step away from the throne was as close as
Cupid came before he turned and looped an arm
around Strife's waist and pulled him down to the
ground. Cupid landed on a knee and had his sword
up to counter his father's blow. He knew Ares
wanted Strife and would want no harm to come
to his nephew.

"Cupe, man, it wasn't my fault! I didn't say shit! I
didn't want it to be like this!" Strife babbled out
hurriedly as their swords clashed over their heads
before all he saw was blood red and he couldn't

+End Chapter VII+

+Chapter VIII+

Strife had almost gone into shock at the things
happening so rapidly around him; he began to
hyperventilate and decided to just hold his breath.
But, he couldn't hold it any longer, he gasped
for breath and opened his eyes. Strife blinked
several times before he registered what he was
looking at; he tensed. "Please don't kill me?" he
asked, hoping desperately that his feeble attempt
at striking a chord with Cupid's mercy would work.

Belatedly, Strife took a chance at glancing away
from Cupid to find out where he was; Cupid's
bedroom. He was in Cupid's bedroom with Cupid's
arms wrapped around his chest as he laid stiffly
on the floor with his top half hauled up onto Cupid's

"I won't," Cupid said, his voice was surprisingly
soft. The God of Bloodlust's staring down at him
calmly really disturbed Strife, as if he weren't
fearing for his life already; he didn't think he had
a chance at all, already being restrained by said

"You know, everyone else knows, or would have
thought you'd have castrated me, hung me up by
my ears and whipped me to death before ever
understanding that it wasn't my idea to turn you
in, and change your job," Strife said in one long
breath, still trying to avoid being hurt in any way.

Strife was very tense and Cupid could feel it; he
unclasped his hands and half guided his cousin to
sit up. Knowing that if he didn't get a little push,
he'd continue laying there in fear. Strife sat
cautiously on the edge of the bed and he inhaled
sharply when Cupid stood and took a seat right
beside him, their arms touching.

"I know, Strife, I could see it in your eyes," Cupid
said, "You were practically projecting your feelings
to me, you radiated sympathy." Cupid turned his
head to look at the God of Mischief.

Strife swallowed hard and looked back at Cupid,
"I'm sorry..." He wanted to do something to make
it better, he didn't know how Cupid was really
feeling about it all, though, so how could he possibly
fix anything.

"Don't be," Cupid interrupted him, "It's just meant to
be, I guess." Cupid moved his gaze from Strife's
mouth to his eyes, looking deep into them. Strife
felt strangely safe now, despite being in the presence
of a very volatile deity, and he matched Cupid's
deep stare.

Strife was almost hoping that Cupid would lean in
and kiss him, but he wasn't expecting a show of
so many soft emotions from his cousin in one
night. Cupid straightened his head, closed his
eyes and sighed as he brought his hands up to
rest his face on them. Strife was slowly becoming
sure of himself, and of Cupid, and he tentatively
moved an arm around and rested it over Cupid's

"Cheer up, huh?" Cupid scoffed, it was a bit muffled
by his hands, and Strife couldn't contain the smirk
tugging at his lips. "I mean, look at all the stuff you
get now."

"Like what? Love?" Cupid looked up again, and Strife
saw the pain shining in his eyes. Suddenly he knew
what Cupid was afraid of; love. He'd never been in
love and hadn't had much if any association with it
before in his life. Knowing how much of a perfectionist
Cupid was, he was afraid of screwing up.

Strife didn't know what to say, so he turned to a
physical response, rubbing his hand soothingly on
the shoulder it was resting on, and pulling Cupid
over towards him in a friendly half hug. "Okay, but
shit, look at all the things you're good at already,"
Strife said, almost cringing at his own optimism. He
knew there was a fifty-fifty chance of Cupid accepting
his new role in the pantheon.

Cupid almost pouted and Strife had to hold back a grin
at the silly expression showing up on the older god's
handsome features. It wasn't a look that too many people
would ever pasted on the Son of War's face.

"Like what?" Cupid asked again, hating that he needed
reassurance. Lately, though, he'd been feeling like he
wasn't all there, like he needed something solid to hold
onto. Strife was his best friend, even though he'd never
told his cousin that. He didn't have anyone else to turn
to, and didn't want to.

Strife had to think for a minute; he knew Cupid would
ask that, but he still didn't carry on with his thoughts
at the time. "Well, you're sexy," Strife said, starting
with the most obvious things in front of his face. "Shit,
look at your name; Eros! That's eroticism. Think about it,
you've already got your persistent sexual excitement,
sado-masochism; the pleasure of pain, man."

The pain shifted behind a cloud of lust in Cupid's eyes and
he looked up at Strife again, remembering what happened
between them the other night. Cupid wondered if Strife really
had enjoyed it, or had he been too rough? Blinded by his
lust and hurting his cousin; maybe this really was all his
fault, maybe he didn't have control. Strife hoped he was
helping, "See, it won't be so bad."

"No one really thinks I'm all that gentle in bed, but I am,"
Strife took a moment to add his own feelings into the
conversation. He saw pain course through Cupid again
and he saw also saw guilt at his words. He didn't want
Cupid to think he had any regrets from the other night,
so he continued, "I mean, I do have a thing for
a bit of rough play and bondage..."

Cupid raised a hopeful eyebrow.

"But not all the time," Strife added hurriedly, seeing
Cupid's look and not wanting to stir up any part of
him that he wasn't ready to deal with again right now.

"I do enjoy the gentler side of things; cuddles, kisses..."
Strife's voice became quiet as he watched Cupid look at
him with something more than lust in his eyes.

Cupid almost leered at him, almost thinking to himself if
he could be more like Strife he wouldn't be where he was
now. Something inside him felt like wanting to break
Strife of his liking of those things, though; his darker
side. He saw Strife tense again, and he realized he was
happier when Strife had calmed down, so he stopped
and smiled. Maybe those things weren't that bad. It wasn't
as if he'd ever really had anyone to try them out with, though.

Strife smiled back. Maybe Ares was right, Cupid did
need someone who was able to be supportive and whatnot
right now. He didn't have anyone else; he wasn't close
to his mom, and obviously he and his dad weren't on
too good of terms right now.

Strife knew Ares was going to try and get to them as soon
as he could, but Strife thought he should let Ares know that
everything was alright. Cupid might still get a little flare of
dominance or sadistic tendencies, but it was alright. He
needed someone to help him, and Strife wanted to be there
for him.

+End Chapter VII+

Part Nine

Mostly all of the gods, major and minor, were already gathered in Zeus' main audience chamber. All there in attendance to the ceremony about to take place: for Cupid to be renamed the God of Erotic Love and Passion. Ares was standing, arms crossed, beside his twin at the front of the room, watching the rest of their family.

"Where's Strife?" Ares asked his sister, eyes looking over the crowd. Eris shrugged. Ares sighed and took a step back to lean against the wall.

Aphrodite minced through the crowd, goblet full of wine in hand. She seemed to be looking for her husband, Hephaestus. Cupid let his eyes dart across the room to find his step father, and found him speaking discreetly with his uncle Apollo about... something. He didn't know the two had ever really spoken, but what did he know about the older gods' relationships? There was centuries of goings ons he had no idea had even taken place.

They might be working on something together, or Hephaestus could have been commissioned to make some tools for Apollo. Who did he thought made the strange impliments the Sun God used? Duh. Cupid scoffed at himself and let go of the flap of curtain he had been peeking out of, to the rest of the room.

Cupid wasn't really looking forward to this. Everyone already knew he was being transferred, but why did they have to have a ceremony? Couldn't they just send out notes to everyone? He was supposed to focus on the lusty side of himself, just minus the blood. How was he supposed to do that? Nothing else inspired lust in him other than fresh, spilt blood.

He sighed and flashed on the rest of his formal attire: his wrist bands and necklace with a pendant of his symbol, hanging, made of solid gold. The white leather of his skirt was trimmed with gold fringes at the end, gold strips around his belt, and golden wool, said to be from the golden fleece itself, woven into his harness, alternated with the normal black wool, albeit of the highest quality. It had been a present from Athena, and he really did like it.

He hoped he didn't have to go fo the traditional pink that ran so freely in the House of Love. He was quite happy with his red, white and gold, thank you. Although, he thought his mother would approve of that, as much as he knew her, he was sure she would try and slip some pink, or blue into his quarters at some point.

He sighed again, and looked at himself in the pool of water in the bathing chamber he had used to get ready, before leaving and waiting to be transported by Zeus to be presented to the pantheon. Cupid felt a hand on his bicep, and he swung around quickly, ready for hand to hand combat if needed, since his weapons had been taken away for the ceremony. He relaxed when he recognized his closest cousin. "Hey."

"How's it goin' back here?" Strife asked, thankful he hadn't got a fist swung at him. He leaned back against the nearest wall, looking at Cupid's clothes. Strife decided his cousin looked positively delicious, but he kept that to himself. Even if Cupid needed all the reassurance he could get right now, Strife couldn't bring himself to say it. Things were still a bit too weird between them.

"Fine," Cupid sighed out. "Except for the fact that I'm about to become a pussy Love God." He scowled at the wall beside Strife's head, thinking of how he had managed to get himself into this mess. He didn't quite regret it, but he had to. Strife hadn't been hurt too bad, just a few bruises, right? And, he never said anything about it. Cupid had been told that his father was the one who had orcestrated all of this. His father. Ares wasn't in Cupid's good books at the moment.

"Yeah, well, don't underestimate your ma, Cupe. She's a pretty cool woman." Strife said, and then thought about that. 'Dite was cool, but she did get a little bit flaky at times. Admittedly, she'd probably get on Cupid's nerves fairly quickly, but as her son got to know her, they'd get along better. Hopefully.

Cupid shrugged. He'd never really gotten to know his mother, but if Strife knew her more than he did, he had no reason not to believe him. Cupid looked up and saw Strife scrunch his face up unattractively, before he said, "I gotta go. Ares is yellin' for me." He lifted an amused eyebrow and grinned at Cupid.

"Okay," Cupid said. Zeus was about to start the ceremony, and Strife needed to go, so he could take his seat in the audience. The God of Mischief steeled his nerves as he stepped over to his cousin before he left, and gave him a brief kiss on the lips.

"Good luck," Strife offered, just before he was gone in a sparkle of dark blue. He needed to get out of there before he panicked and ran away instead of flashing away with dignity. He hoped Cupid wasn't mad at him for it.

Cupid was a little stunned. Strife kissed him. So, it wasn't a deep, hot and fiery kiss, but it was still a kiss. On his lips, too, not his cheek. That had to mean Strife wasn't mad at him, right? Maybe with his new love powers he'd be able to just find out, instead of playing around like this. He heard Zeus speaking faintly on the other side of the curtain, and was brought out of his thoughts.

"Not long now," Cupid said to himself as he continued to wait for his appearance to be summoned.


Zeus took his place at the podium on the raised dais in front of the seating arrangement that had been designed into his audience chamber. He held up his hands to quiet his family. "My brothers, sisters. Children and grandchildren. You have all been called here to witness a change in allignment of one of Olympus' key gods of the younger generation."

"Heir to the Throne of War, second in line for the Throne of Olympus, son of War and Love." Zeus gave a mental warning before he flashed the young god to the dais to be presented. "Eros," Zeus gestured to his right.

Cupid appeared to his grandfathers side, standing tall and regal, given the proceeding title. Most of his family new that he wasn't this formal, and he was sure they'd just think he was playing up to Zeus, but he didn't care.

He wasn't sure where to put his hands, though. Without a weapon to grasp, it was making him a little nervous. No sword hilt to rest his hand casually on, making him look dangerous and sexy at the same time. He opted for waiting a moment before crossing his arms, hearing the leather of his wristlets creak under his muscles. That made him more than pleased, and formed a look on his face that was too hard to stop when he'd received several admiring glances from the audience at his form and stature.

Cupid supposed he looked a bit menacing, but most would have thought that he would look like that either way. At least he commanded respect for his abilities, and would get minimal jokes cracked at his expense for his lesser position.

"With the elevation in death for his previously alloted vocation, it has been decided by a majority of The Twelve, and consenting parents, that Eros be transferred from the House of War, to the House of Love."

The old goat babbled on a bit more, making himself the center of attention for as long as he could. When he was drawing near the end of his speech about responsibility, Cupid felt a pull at his senses and was more aware of the symbol hanging around his neck as it took on a sudden weight.

"Cupid, son of War, God of Bloodlust, heir to the Throne of War, son of Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Ares, God of War. I Zeus, King of the Gods, officially alter your godhood and symbol to that of Erotic Love and Passion. You will now be a member of the House of Love, officially recognized, and more commonly refered to as the God of Love."

Zeus laid a hand over top of Cupid's and a golden glow heated Cupid's skin, starting at his hands and spreading up his arms. It travelled down and back up his body, and over his wings. It seemed to drip almost palpably off the tips of his pristine wings, and he took a deep breathe as it felt to be sucked into the necklace he wore.

"Behold. Cupid, God of Love."

There was a little applause from the crowd and Cupid bowed his head respectably to his relatives, mostly elders, but a few younger gods, as well.

Zeus continued talking, naturally, after Cupid had been addressed to his seat between his parents. Strife leaned forward to grin at his cousin from a couple seats down, and got a grumble in response. Zeus went into the technical details of the transfer, explaining how Cupid technically still had his old godhood. From the amount of energy being directed at him, it wouldn't have been good to overload either Ares, Discord, or Aphrodite with the extra if Cupid's ties had been severed immediately. It would take a day to fully transfer from one to the other.

Zeus trailed off into an entirely different subject, and most people just stopped listened, or had already began to stand and mill about, resuming their mingling from before.

Part Ten

The transfer went off without a hitch, with only minor amounts of withdrawal for Cupid. In the next few weeks, Aphrodite had quite a time trying to keep Cupid calm. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. At worst, he'd accidently killed a few people at an orgy when he'd gotten carried away. He'd insisted that drugs in their systems would help get things going, but he'd got carried away, much to his mother's horror.

He couldn't recall ever seeing her that angry, and it was a different experience. Cupid was accustomed to hearing his father yell, though usually it wasn't directed at him in particular, but his mother? That was a completely hallowing thing to be witness to. By the end of the day, she'd chewed him out on every thing that he'd done wrong, without holding back even the slightest bit. Then, she'd simply sent him back to his father.

Ares shook his head and Cupid felt like his father had wanted to slap him across the back of the head. He had to ask, though, and open his now seemingly big mouth. What he heard wasn't exactly what he was expecting, but it eventually sunk in, hitting him in the gut like a knee to the groin. The orgy had been celebrating his initiation into the House of Love.

It didn't take long for Cupid to become angry, and he did the first thing that came to mind. In a burst of angry and menacing drips of blood that didn't disappear, simply stained into the carpet and turned pink (which annoyed him greatly), he materialized in front of his cousin. The transfer hadn't taken his personality. Just as Aphrodite could appear in a shower of rose petals, so could his father if he felt so inclined.

Strife stopped, dead still, not even feeling the urge to laugh at the pink, or at the very least, avert his eyes from it. It looked utterly wrong, vibrant pink spots on the dark stone floor. "Uhm," he said, but he'd seen that look on Cupid's face before, and he had no idea what to do. The common sense to flee seemed to run out the door without the rest of him.

"You know," Cupid began conversationally, though his voice was dark. He was walking towards his cousin in a way that could only be described the way a predator would stalk up to his cornered prey. "I still have my true godhood. It hasnt been completely drained yet. You heard didnt you?"

Strife hadn't responded at all, simply realized he'd been walking backwards, away from Cupid, when his back hit the wall, feeling the cold stone even through the thick tapestry that hung over top of it. "They're slowly taking it away, supplementing me with love," Cupid said, voice less hard now, drawing out his words as he lifted a hand, running his fingers down Strife's cheek.

Strife felt his heart speed up, his body tense, and he was unable to stop it. There was something about Cupid holding him there, despite knowing exactly what the blonde was capable of when he had a reason to be in a rage. Strife couldn't blame him, either. It was a big change to go through, and, to be honest, Strife would be damn well surprised if no one else was expecting something like this to happen; for Cupid to fly off the handle.

Cupid stroking along Strife's jaw, tracing the contours of his cheek, the bone and tissue under neath the skin. "Don't worry," he said nonchalantly, knowing full well that Strife was scared shitless. "They'll restrain me if I use my power before it's successfully finished the transfer." Strife nodded dumbly, cursing himself for not doing something, but he supposed he didn't want to.

'If I wet my pants, I'll never live it down,' Strife thought, and his eyes were drawn back to Cupid's face, forced to stop searching for an escape route and to look into the green eyes. Strife stared back, wishing he could cry out, strangely out of all people, for his mother. He knew the closest he'd get was Ares walking in the room, but he wasn't sure he wanted that. Cupid scared him, and he wanted to be in a not so helpless position, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

"Of course, they'd be too late," Cupid said, much more cheerfully, which gave Strife a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I'd already have flexed it," he said, and Strife felt a bit of energy tingle in his wrists when he heard the words. He fought the little bit of courage he had to roll his eyes and say, 'duh,' and Cupid continued, interrupting his death wishes, "and you'd be already laying in a pile of bones and blood on the floor," his voice tapered down, looking away again.

"But DAMNIT," Cupid swore through his teeth loudly, making Strife jump. Oh, how he desperately wanted to melt through the wall. Strife still couldn't move voluntarily, even when Cupid drew back his fist, giving Strife no more than one second to wonder if he was going to be pummelled to death before he slammed the first into the marble, right beside Strife's head. Then, it was deathly silent.

"Why did this have to happen to me?" Cupid asked quietly, his body still pressed against Strife's. Cupid stepped forward to lean his head down over Strife's shoulder. Cupid tried valiantly to let his anger and frustration drain out of him, knowing he would be unable to get anything across to his cousin if Strife was fearing for his life.

Strife still felt like it was partly his fault. Fuck, it was his fault; none of this would have happened if he'd just kept his mouth shut. Yet, Cupid wasnt blaming him. He'd heard on the Olympian grapevine that Cupid was originally supposed to be a love god anyway, or so his mother had told him. But then, even if she heard it from someone else who was quite accredited to providing correct gossip, it wasn't wise to blindly believe everything Discord told you.

He never doubted his cousin didnt have compassion, but it was buried under so much confliction it was hard for Cupid to ever access it, or not often, at least. Strife tentatively lifted his arms to settle them around Cupid, who was close enough to accept it, and depressed enough to let it happen. Cupid rested his hands on Strife's hips, not able to wrap his arms around the dark haired god, and wondered if they could go somewhere else and talk about things more. He didn't want to open himself up to anyone, and he trusted Strife.

"You just need to control your temper, Cupe," Strife said, patting his cousin on the back and gently pulling him back so he could look at him. Hopefully the murderous rage was gone from them now, replaced with... well, anything that was a lot safer than that. "Not everything is about violence, and it can't all be solved by it either." Strife grinned to himself at what he'd just said. If Hercules could hear him now... but, that wasn't the point. Some things could be solved by it, but not everything, and not things like this.


"He'll grow into it," Ares said begrudgingly, staring out of the window in his sister's parlour. She'd called him over, and he'd bit his tongue on the decor upon the pleading in her call. "He might not ever fully forgive me but he will adapt to his new duties."

"He just needs to control his temper," Aphrodite said to her brother. She looked up at him, worry and sympathy in her eyes. He knew what it was there for, and knew exactly what she was thinking. Cupid had been the only child between them that had stayed in the House of War, and she knew it was hurting him to let Cupid go, even if he'd never admit it.


Aphrodite had been right in the middle of a speech on the do's and don'ts of when the right time to hit a person with a spell was, when she turned from watching their subjects to find her son looking off into the distance, a totally grumpy look on his face. "Hey, sweetie, try to pay attention?" she said, turning to him and looking at him sternly, hands on her hips.

He'd been learning quickly, but he lacked a lot of special touches. The Goddess of Love spent a lot of her day tagging along with her son on his duties, making sure he was doing his work properly. She tried not to smother him, but it was nice to have another baby back under her wing. It'd been too long, though she kept her distance. She had to admit she could push a bit too hard sometimes.

"This isn't hard at all; anyone could do it!" Cupid said, mimicking his mother's stance, though it screamed aggression, as opposed to pouty frustration.

'Dite raised an eyebrow, "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Cupid responded, challenging his mother, since that's just what he wanted right now. It was boring enough for him to sit around, or hide in bushes and occasionally zap some mortals. "At least give me a challenge."

"Now, I've got a job for you..." Aphrodite got a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes as she began to work her magic to mend her brother's wounds. Cupid had stopped and listened, a smirk growing on his lips as each moment passed with more thoughts flitting through his mind about how he would go about acheiving this particular challenge. Payback time.

Deep down Cupid hoped he would forgive his father. After all it wasn't Ares' fault; it was his own. It took him some time to realize that, and after a couple weeks of watching his father in his spare time, he felt differently about the situation. Cupid would try to be civil, but it was going to be hard, especially now that he was on an opposite side of the spectrum.

He was starting to warm up to the idea of being Love, plus it was a major role, a step up from his old position under his father; now he was an equal to him, though his mother was still superior. He had been given his new crossbow that Hephaestus had made for him. It had a different feel and handle to it, but it was a welcome challenge. Cupid looked forward to adapting to his new weapon.


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