"In nature there are neither rewards nor punishments - there are consequences."
     R.G. Ingersoll
 

After a hard day meddling in the destiny of virgins, lovelorn fools and adulterers, finding a large, dark war god in your temple and on your throne is not a relaxing experience.

Cupid knew that his already shitty day had just become infinitely worse. He strode into the main hall of his temple, noting  from the silence that his priests and priestesses had wisely abandoned the entire temple to the intruder. Pity he didn’t have the same option. He stood and glared resentfully at Ares.

"I’ve been meaning to have a little chat with you, Cupid."  The last word was drawled insultingly.

The love god looked blankly at the black leather clad figure lounging insouciantly on his throne, one long lean leg thrown casually over the armrest. From what he knew, Ares spent most of his life pissed at somebody or something. Still, Cupid couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he’d done this time.

Ares waited patiently, throwing and catching a razor sharp dagger in his right hand. Sunlight streaming in through the high temple windows turned the base metal to glistening silver. "The bet with the alternate Ares, remember. You can’t have forgotten Cupid, God of War, and his interesting ideas about punishment?"

Oh. That. Cupid remembered all right. He remembered who had come out with a sore ass and bruises in places he didn’t know he had. He remembered who had promised to help but ended up aiding and abetting the opposition. He’d tried to forget the thrill of being dominated by Ares and the alternate universe’s god of war, his own double. He’d repressed the lust-filled dreams of sex and pain and pleasure. Over it. Done. Forgotten.

Yet he shivered slightly despite himself. Ares’ sharp eyes noted the movement and his mouth curved in an exceedingly self-satisfied smile. He grasped his dagger by the blade and threw it with a quick, businesslike flick of the wrist into a nearby tapestry, spearing its central character right in the eye.

"Time to finish up our unfinished business. You pulled me into your little games, Cupid. Seems to me that you need a lesson in respect."

"But I’m the one who got his ass reamed!" protested Cupid hotly.

"True," conceded Ares. "Doesn’t mean you escape your punishment, though."

Cupid shivered again. His cock was definitely starting to take an interest in the conversation. Damn, it was like being a teenager again with all the insecurities and lack of control of his own body, at the mercy of glands and hormones. He’d had a dreadful century as a teenager.

"I think you deserve punishment, not me!" His words sound weak, even to his own ears. He stood up straighter, pulled his shoulders back and spread his crisp, white wings behind his torso, aiming for intimidation. His green eyes flashed challengingly at Ares.

Ares snorted. "You could try it, wing boy. But you’d probably need your mummy’s help." He snickered at his joke.

Disdaining further argument, Cupid lunged for the war god, hoping to catch him unawares. He’d always hated living in his mother’s shadow. For one heady moment he thought he’d succeeded in catching Ares off guard, then the war god dematerialised just as he reached the throne, leaving him to crash painfully into unyielding wood and metal. He backwinged frantically to recover his balance and spun around to see Ares reappear only an arm’s length away.

"You’re a born submissive, Cupid. The sooner you admit it, the happier you’ll be," taunted Ares. "You were meant to take up the ass from real gods."

"Sure thing, Ares. Know any?" shot back Cupid.

Ares smiled wryly, acknowledging the comeback. "Well, let’s see. Strife would have whipped your ass without even trying. Now that he’s dead, perhaps it’d be a more even match." Ares sighed thoughtfully, head tilted at an angle, his eyes unfocussed as he considered the match. "Nah. He’d still walk all over you."

Yet again, the taunt hurt. So much of Cupid’s day to day work had been spoiled by the intervention of the now deceased God of Mischief. They’d had an ongoing feud, using mortals as the chess pieces in their never-ending struggle. He liked to think they’d been about equal, but in his heart he knew that Strife had walked all over him in their contest.

He knew it was the wrong thing to do. Knew Ares was taunting him purely to make him lose control of himself. Ah, fuck it.

Cupid launched himself at the war god again, expecting Ares to play his little vanishing trick again. But it didn’t happen. Ares stood still, falling backward to the floor as Cupid’s enraged weight hit him, sending the air in his lungs rushing out with a grunt. They ended up eye to eye, sprawled on the cool stone floor. Surprised but game, Cupid pressed his attack, grasping the other god’s wrists and pinning them beside his head. He couldn’t resist rubbing himself against Ares’ leather clad body. The heat and strength of that gorgeous hard body beneath him sent more blood rushing into his cock. He arched his wings over the pair of them, and kneed Ares’ legs apart, inhaling his unique smell of leather and musk, blood and sweat. Enjoying the spoils of victory while they lasted.

"You’ve got me….now what are you going to do?" Ares might have been chatting about the weather for all the concern he showed. He was relaxed, unworried. "Show me how it feels to be you and take it up the ass, eh?"

Even lying captive on his back, Ares never lost his cool. Cupid hated him for his self-possession. "That’d make me as bad as you, Ares. I’m not like that."

"Oh, but you are. You just don’t admit it."

Cupid stared in Ares’ dark brown eyes, wondering if it was true. Did he secretly want to prove himself by overpowering the war god: force him, hurt him, fuck him. Was it an invitation? The mere idea of burying his cock deep inside the arrogant war god sent a jolt of molten desire through his body and he stared at Ares’ torso, unable to meet his eyes.

"You want me… take me." Ares laid down the challenge bluntly.

Cupid wanted it. He wanted to fuck Ares until he lost that sarcastic facade, make him groan and pant and moan for him. Not just because he was angry or to get even, though revenge was a damn strong motivation. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Take or lose it forever. He concentrated for a second, disposing of their clothing. No time for a leisurely disrobing. He needed to be inside Ares before he lost his chance.

Golden skin to bronzed skin, he oiled his cock with a thought and positioned it in the cleft of his buttocks and pushed slowly into the soft heat, feeling the god’s ass grip him tightly, unable to believe that Ares was really letting him fuck him. He closed his eyes and pulled his hips back ready to push in again, harder this time.

Ares jackknifed beneath him, throwing Cupid off balance, causing his cock to rebound painfully against the other god’s hip as they struggled for supremacy. They wrestled, each trying to gain the upper hand, until Ares’ experience overcame Cupid’s enthusiasm and he found himself in the very position he’d had Ares in a few minutes before.

Cupid tried to buck the weight of the god off him but Ares clung tight, his erection stiffening as Cupid twisted and fought. Cunningly, he lifted his weight for a moment and as the younger god tried to surge upwards, he flipped him over to lie face down on the cold stone floor, one hand between the wings, the other holding the back of Cupid’s neck in a grip of steel. Cupid considered giving him a mouthful of feathers but that would be more annoyance value than a serious tactic. He felt the head of Ares’ cock leaking against his ass cheeks. Down to business. No doubt about, he was about to take it up the ass from the older god. Now it was just a question of how much it was gonna hurt.

"Take your punishment like a god…if you can," taunted Ares. The bastard hadn’t even broken a sweat from the tussle noted Cupid, twisting his head around to keep an eye on him.

"Will that help?" panted Cupid. Despite his previous experience, he really didn’t think he was into pain. He felt the head of the cock penetrate his tightly clenched asscheeks. It hurt like hell. He willed himself to relax, not to make it easier for Ares but in the interest of less pain. But all that achieved was more cock filling him quicker as Ares took advantage to drive deeper into his ass. He fought to free himself once more, certain that he couldn’t stand anymore. Ares’ low cynical laughter at his exertions spurred him to greater efforts.

"No, no it won’t help at all. But I’ll certainly have more respect for you in the morning, godling; if that’s any consolation."

Ares thrust his cock in harder, deeper, enjoying the heat, the tightness, the struggles of the god underneath him. "Tell me how much you want it. How you need my cock in your ass, teaching you what happens to insolent little gods. Teaching you who your master is."

He leaned forward, his beard tickling Cupid’s ear as he whispered hotly, "Beg me for more."

"Not a chance, Ares." Cupid panted, holding back against the urge to do just what the other god demanded. "You’ll have to force me all the way. I’m not begging you to rape me, you pervert. I had enough of that when you and the other Cupid decided to play God of War sandwich with me as the filling "

Ares disdained to reply in words. In fact, he didn’t even appear to be listening, licking Cupid’s sweat-soaked back in long, tingling swipes. Cupid willed himself to stay tense, to fight the erotic sensations. He opened his mouth to protest again when Ares bit him gently on the shoulder just above the wing and the protest turned into a moan of encouragement.

"Careful, Cupid. That sounded like you’re enjoying what I’m doing to you. " He nipped again, slowly pushing himself into Cupid’s ass again, angling his hips to hit that special spot, as his teeth broke the skin’s surface. He licked the bright droplets of blood pooling on the surface with enjoyment. "You taste good. You feel good. Why are you fighting me? Instinct? You want it. You want it bad."

"Not fighting," gasped Cupid as the feeling of Ares’ hard cock penetrating him over and over drove him wild. His hips pushed back, desperate for more sensation. He needed to be fucked, and to be fucked hard. They could argue about consent later. "More."

"Slut," said Ares affectionately. He pushed his weight off Cupid’s upper back, braced arm muscles rippling with the exertion. "Put your hands above your head, crossed at the wrists."

Cupid hesitated, unsure.

"Now!" Ares’ voice lashed him into obedience. Thick rope appeared, wrapping round and round, securing wrist to wrist. "Next time I give you an order, obey without hesitation."  The ‘or else’ was unspoken but understood. He withdrew from Cupid’s ass and stood, leaving him empty and needy.

Cupid rolled over and stared up at the dark god standing over him. Ares grabbed his bound hands and yanked him to his feet, fondling his chest, cock and balls casually as he did. "Over against the wall, bitch."

He walked over and rested his back against the wall, hands still tied in front of him, the tiles behind him cool on his fever hot skin. Ares followed. Appearing displeased with the younger god’s pose, he placed his forearm across Cupid’s throat, half choking him. One of his hands snaked down to stroke his captive’s cock roughly. Cupid closed his eyes at the sensation and pumped his hips in time with the motion. Ares released the pressure on his throat and slid bonelessly down to his knees and took Cupid’s straining organ into his hot mouth."

"Oh, god."

Ares sucked harder and Cupid dared to bring his bound hands down to caress the soft dark curls away so he could watch the erotic sight of the war god’s full, pouty lips and tongue stroking his cock. The coolness of the mosaic behind him contrasted with the liquid heat of Ares’ talented mouth. Cupid was mesmerised, his hips moving unconsciously to counterpoint the rhythmic sucking. Even with Ares on his knees before him, he knew that he had no control. The thought was exciting.

Ares reached behind and rammed one finger, then two into Cupid’s ass. Panting, the young god forgot himself and tried to force Ares to take him deeper so he could fuck his mouth. The mouth stroking his organ drew back, teeth scraping the surface painfully. Cupid could happily have screamed with frustration.

"Turn around."

Cupid spun round, desperate for more.

"Spread your legs."

He complied quickly and was rewarded by Ares’ hard body pressing against his back. He could feel the hard cock pulsing against his cheeks, the broad chest against his back. The war god’s hands encircled his chest, scratching him, twisting his taut nipples cruelly. He growled and was answered by a deep rumble from Ares as he thrust his cock back into Cupid’s ass, hammering it home. It hurt like hell, but Cupid needed it, wanted it, loved it.

Over and over, Ares slammed into him, harder and harder, growling, biting, clawing at him, whispering obscenities in his ear.

Too much sensation. Cupid came, his semen jetting against the wall, spurting from his overexcited body. He could feel Ares’ cock ramming deeply inside him as the war god filled him with cum, his hands tight enough to bruise on Cupid’s hips, marking his possession.

He sagged inwards, enjoying the weight pressing him against the wall, the sounds of their hoarse breathing filling the too quiet temple. A hand smoothed the sweat soaked strands of his short blond hair, surprising him with its tenderness. He felt a strange emptiness when Ares finally withdrew and walked away from the wall.

Cupid turned, unsure of what happened next. Unsure of what he wanted to happen next.

"Consider yourself punished, love god," Ares was watching him with a quiet intensity. The self satisfied smirk, the taunting were gone. In their place a self-assured, satisfied god. Cupid couldn’t for the life of him summon the energy to say a damn thing.

Seemingly satisfied with the lack of response, Ares turned and gathered his power around him, ready to leave. But not without a few final words.

"I’m guessing you’ll know better than fuck with me again, Cupid." He leered at the blonde god. "You know the consequences."

Cupid inclined his head, not committing himself. Yet in the depth of those green eyes, there was a hint of rebelliousness still.

"Or if you should decide to *try* and get equal….you can try it any time you like. My temple is always open to you." His eyes narrowed and he fixed Cupid with a piercing stare, lips curving in a sensuous smile. "But no whimpering like a child when you get punished for your presumption."

He faded from view. "Oh, and bring your own rope next time."

End