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jaye_voyRequest From: Jubilee
Prompts: Cupid God of War/Strife
Note: Set in a “Hercules: The Legendary Journeys” AU where Cupid is the God of War.
Disclaimer: Hercules: The Legendary Journey characters belong to Renaissance Pictures et al.
Feedback: Always welcome, positive or negative.
Archiving: Not without permission.
***
Strife fidgeted. He couldn’t help it. Today was *the* day, one he’d waited just about forever for.
He’d been minion, toady, lackey, general whipping boy (though Thank Zeus not literally) for the God of War for so long he’d almost forgotten why he’d signed up for this good-for-nothing gig.
But of course the moment Cupid stalked into the temple all Strife could think was “Oh, yeah, right.” The bastard did it to him every time: the wings and the scowl and the blond and the muscles and the leather and the weapons and the whole “Fuck with me and *Die*” God of War vibe that had Strife caught between pissin’ and creamin’---and ready to scream either way.
But then he couldn’t fidget, couldn’t even *blink* as Cupid went from a stalk to a saunter, hips rolling as he headed over to Strife. Cupid’s leather pants were tight, but not near as tight as Strife’s were feelin’ right at that moment.
“So...you still wanna be my sidekick?” Cupid’s scowl had shifted to a smirk. When he folded his arms Strife’s eyes nearly popped as he watched the pecs and the biceps and he hoped he wasn’t droolin’ ’cause he couldn’t get his jaw to come back up from the floor.
But then Strife remembered how he didn’t wanna just be the skinny no-name doin’ Cupid’s dirty work. He crossed his own arms, but only got an eyebrow lift. He finally managed to pull his tongue back in and took a deep breath before sayin’, “Yeah, but I want a godhood---and I’m not talkin’ a pissant job title like God of Subtle Insults, either.”
He didn’t even see Cupid *move*. But suddenly Strife was leaned into a crescent moon with Cupid’s one hand in his hair tuggin’ his head back and the other on his chin wrenchin’ his mouth open for Cupid’s lips to clamp tight over his. He sucked all the air outta Strife’s body before Cupid let his tongue go in and around and up and down and just about anywhere he damn well pleased.
Strife saw stars, but maybe it was just the light reflectin’ off all the shiny pointy things Cupid’s temple was decorated with. He thought maybe he needed to breathe soon, but couldn’t work up too much anxious as Cupid’s teeth started gettin’ in on the action.
Then Cupid’s hand slid from Strife’s jaw to squeeze his oh-so-fuckin’-hard cock through his now-way-too-tight pants. And all Strife could do was not-moan and thrust his hips and clutch at Cupid’s arms and just come and come until he was shudderin’ and all the stars blasted into those pretty Chin fireworks.
A sword’s-edge gleam lit in Cupid’s eyes as he pulled back and slowly licked his lips. For a moment his smirk turned knife-in-the-guts nasty, but then he leaned in and scraped his teeth slow from the corner of Strife’s jaw up to his ear, breath battle-hot against it as Cupid murmured, “How about, I dunno, God of...Strife?”
Strife still hung limp in Cupid’s hands, but he got enough of his scrambled head together to croak, “Deal.”
END
Prompts: Cupid God of War/Strife
Note: Set in a “Hercules: The Legendary Journeys” AU where Cupid is the God of War.
Disclaimer: Hercules: The Legendary Journey characters belong to Renaissance Pictures et al.
Feedback: Always welcome, positive or negative.
Archiving: Not without permission.
***
Strife fidgeted. He couldn’t help it. Today was *the* day, one he’d waited just about forever for.
He’d been minion, toady, lackey, general whipping boy (though Thank Zeus not literally) for the God of War for so long he’d almost forgotten why he’d signed up for this good-for-nothing gig.
But of course the moment Cupid stalked into the temple all Strife could think was “Oh, yeah, right.” The bastard did it to him every time: the wings and the scowl and the blond and the muscles and the leather and the weapons and the whole “Fuck with me and *Die*” God of War vibe that had Strife caught between pissin’ and creamin’---and ready to scream either way.
But then he couldn’t fidget, couldn’t even *blink* as Cupid went from a stalk to a saunter, hips rolling as he headed over to Strife. Cupid’s leather pants were tight, but not near as tight as Strife’s were feelin’ right at that moment.
“So...you still wanna be my sidekick?” Cupid’s scowl had shifted to a smirk. When he folded his arms Strife’s eyes nearly popped as he watched the pecs and the biceps and he hoped he wasn’t droolin’ ’cause he couldn’t get his jaw to come back up from the floor.
But then Strife remembered how he didn’t wanna just be the skinny no-name doin’ Cupid’s dirty work. He crossed his own arms, but only got an eyebrow lift. He finally managed to pull his tongue back in and took a deep breath before sayin’, “Yeah, but I want a godhood---and I’m not talkin’ a pissant job title like God of Subtle Insults, either.”
He didn’t even see Cupid *move*. But suddenly Strife was leaned into a crescent moon with Cupid’s one hand in his hair tuggin’ his head back and the other on his chin wrenchin’ his mouth open for Cupid’s lips to clamp tight over his. He sucked all the air outta Strife’s body before Cupid let his tongue go in and around and up and down and just about anywhere he damn well pleased.
Strife saw stars, but maybe it was just the light reflectin’ off all the shiny pointy things Cupid’s temple was decorated with. He thought maybe he needed to breathe soon, but couldn’t work up too much anxious as Cupid’s teeth started gettin’ in on the action.
Then Cupid’s hand slid from Strife’s jaw to squeeze his oh-so-fuckin’-hard cock through his now-way-too-tight pants. And all Strife could do was not-moan and thrust his hips and clutch at Cupid’s arms and just come and come until he was shudderin’ and all the stars blasted into those pretty Chin fireworks.
A sword’s-edge gleam lit in Cupid’s eyes as he pulled back and slowly licked his lips. For a moment his smirk turned knife-in-the-guts nasty, but then he leaned in and scraped his teeth slow from the corner of Strife’s jaw up to his ear, breath battle-hot against it as Cupid murmured, “How about, I dunno, God of...Strife?”
Strife still hung limp in Cupid’s hands, but he got enough of his scrambled head together to croak, “Deal.”
END