The Love of War

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters of this universe except Jessie. They belong to Renaissance Pictures. I am writing this for all you readers and my own satisfaction.

WARNING: I be one kinky girl, (I think you’ve all figured that out) and the following chapter will have male/male interaction along with the BDSM that you’ve all been privy to in the previous chapters.

NOTE: I have glossed over the whole ‘dead’ thing with Strife for now. I don’t think that he would be quite as easy going if he had been brought back from the dead. I might get into it in later chapters.

The Love of War, Chapter 13

Strife, the God of Joy flashed into the privacy of his own room so that he could pout in private. Cupid was interested in another mortal woman. And, she was a spirited mortal woman who had a generosity of spirit that Psyche had lacked. It just wasn’t fair! What was wrong with the God of War? Couldn’t he see that Strife was *right there* and completely willing? Why did he keep going to mortals?

Granted, there was a certain lack of commitment when a god joined with a mortal. After a few decades, the lover kicked off to Apollo’s domain and you could move on. Sure, if you really felt for the mortal, there was pain. But, you knew that going in. It was only when you tried to change their fate that things started to get sticky. Psyche was the perfect example, the relationship was over and now Cupid would have to see her all the time for centuries ahead. Psyche purposely scratched at Cupid every chance she got, and he could look forward to millennia of that from her. Strife wouldn’t be like that. He kicked one of the pillows onto the floor.

He just had to face facts; he kept getting pushed aside for women. Women did have different parts, different areas to be explored. He enjoyed females for their own sake. There was nothing like pillowing your head on a soft, female breast after a delightful interlude.

But, Cupid, he couldn’t contain a small shiver at the thought of the Champion of Olympus. Strife wanted to be the focus of the intense concentration of the God of War. When Cupid focused on something, it took an act of the Fates or Bliss on a sugar high to distract him.

He could share from time to time. He had no problem with the idea of importing a female from time to time to spice up their love life. If they ever got one, that is.

Now that mortal, Jessie, was here, and once again, Cupid’s attention was diverted.

Strife had been interested enough to go to the Halls of Time to view her battle with the bandit scum at the Big Bad’s place. She had killed all three, swiftly, and with no hesitation. She had also almost been sick. He saw her drag them off and count out the money for the Ferry Man. Then she had cleaned without comment or prompting; a thoughtful woman. Then, he had seen her first day on the road and how she had unsaddled and brushed her horse before seeing to her own bath.

He thought more about that spirited mortal. Jessie seemed to be a good sort. She was the kind of person that cleaned up after herself and missed her pets. She saw to her horse before she saw to herself. She didn’t have the feel of someone who enjoyed killing, but she hadn’t shirked from it either. He knew that there were people who enjoyed killing and yet could still miss their animals, but Jessie wasn’t one of them. One of those wouldn’t have given the Fare to her fallen enemies.

The pillow went sailing across the room again. It limply slid down the wall to list off to one side, as though silently protesting the rough treatment it was getting.

She also had an unconscious grace to her movements. She moved like a warrior, with smooth power and economy of movement. Those blue eyes of hers were filled with lively intelligence and humor.

Strife supposed that if he had to lose Cupid’s attention to another mortal, at least Jessie was worthier than Psyche had been. In fact, if Cupid hadn’t staked his claim, Strife would have propositioned the woman himself.

Strife threw himself on his bed and glared at the ceiling.

It just wasn’t *fair*!

Ares frowned as he viewed his nephew in the mirror. Great, just great; Strife was pouting. The God of Joy knew about Jessie and Cupid. How had he figured it out?

Realization dawned. Ace, it had to have been Ace. The God of Thieves was an terrible gossip, and the fact that Cupid now owed Ace a favor was too juicy a tidbit to keep to quiet. Word must have sifted back to Strife, and now his nephew had figured out that Jessie was with Cupid.

In fact, if Ares was any judge of expressions, the two of them were boinking like bunnies at this very moment. It could be hours until he could safely peek into the House of War and not get an eyeful of filial sex. Cupid had looked hungry and way too smug.

Ares sighed and blanked out the mirror. He’d have to get Strife into the mix at the House of War. He had to get his nephew to think of Jessie as less like a pleasurable interlude that Cupid was having and more as a potential spouse. Three bonds were rare, but accepted as long as all participants were okay with the arrangements.

He just didn’t want to think about Eris glaring at him from across the breakfast table for the next couple of centuries. And, he didn’t want Strife moping around the orgies either.

Hmm. Maybe he could tweak a daydream? It certainly had worked with Cupid. Granted, Ares didn’t have quite as gentle a touch as Eris, but Strife didn’t require the subtlety that Cupid did. The God of War was a lot more naturally suspicious than the bouncy God of Joy. He could probably slide a scene into Strife’s head. Then, he just had to throw all three of them together, and bang! Pregnant Jessie with two devoted husbands and little Bliss would have stable parents. And, the prophecy of the Fates would be filled without any of them having to die.

Speaking of the little imp; Ares could hear the shrieks of laughter from the other room where Demos and Phobos were tickling the little godling unmercifully. The twins had been both shocked and delighted when he’d told them that Bliss would be with them for an entire week. They had immediately started building a fort with pillows and sheets in the middle of the orgy room. The sunken floor and durable fabrics were perfect for that sort of thing. The ‘no girls allowed’ rule had been amended when Eris had come in with ice cold milk and warm oak cakes.

He touched the mirror. The black glass should have melted with all the use it was getting lately. He hadn’t spied so much on the younger generation of his family since the kids had started puberty.

He’d go talk to Hephaestus about the dream for Strife. His younger brother was a big softie and Ares could talk him into helping. Or, he could just send the dream that Cupid had to Strife. No, he’d better not do that. If Cupid and Strife compared dreams and they realized that Ares had been matchmaking between the three of them, there wouldn’t be a place on Olympus that Ares could hide.

Maybe he could just suggest to Strife that the God of Joy just seduce the God of War? Cupid favored boldness after all. And, his eldest might be entranced at the thought of his cousin actually taking a direct approach. Ares would send Strife over when Jessie was sleeping and Cupid was nice and mellow with post coital bliss.

Yeah, that could work.

Ares grinned as he headed for his nephew’s bedroom.

On the other sided of Olympus, Aphrodite was sitting in her study. The Queen of Olympus was sitting at her desk, idly tapping her fingers on the open scroll that was unrolled before her, not really seeing the petition because her mind was on the mortal currently residing in her eldest son’s house.

Mortals were so frail. Why did everything rely on one? She looked out the window that was above her garden and across the Heights to see the temples of her family. Why did a mortal mean so much? And would this Jessie indeed be their savior?

Aphrodite felt guilt roll in her stomach. She hadn’t told the whole prophecy to Ares, she just couldn’t. It would be too much for her brother to manage, and she just couldn’t share the whole burden with the God of Love. The knowledge of how close the Twilight was would be too much. The thought of losing their children and divine grandchild would drive Ares mad with dread.

She thought of the dinner that she’d just had with Ares and Bliss. She thought of how Bliss’ little wings had flapped so excitedly at have both his grandparents with him at the same time.

Great Gaia, how could she bear to lose them?

No! This *would* work! The Fates were never wrong. She just had to concentrate on that. Jessie *would* save them. She had to.

Aphrodite continued to look out the window, not noticing that she had clenched her fists so hard that blood was dripping onto the unrolled parchment.

When Cupid had finally slipped from the bed, Jessie had been exhausted and semi-comatose. He stood by the bed and looked down on the sprawled mortal woman. Her hair was stiff with sweat and stuck to her cheeks. Her lips were partly opened and she had finally drawn in enough breath to stop panting. Her thighs were sticky with his seed and her own secretions. She could probably do with a bath.

Cupid leaned over and scooped the Jessie into his arms. She gave a pitiful little moan, but she slid one arm around his neck and snuggled into his chest. The other arm swung limply as he padded down the hall to the bathing room. He could have just flashed them both over, but he wanted to savor the feel and the smell of her limp with his attentions.

He entered the bathing room and swept the room with a tiny wave of power, lighting it with dozens of candles. He fanned his wings and waded into the pool with Jessie still in his arms.

She stirred when she felt the water lapping at her toes and fingertips. He sat down on the sunken bench with her on his lap. He conjured a platter of food and a large goblet of chilled pomegranate juice. He cupped the back of her neck and lifted the goblet to her lips. She drank half of it down with the first gulp. Cupid smirked and refilled it with a thought.

“I still have a stitch in my side, but I’m getting the feeling back in my fingertips.” She whispered without opening her eyes.

“That’s good.” He massaged the back of her neck.

She cracked open one eye.

“You look smug.” She grumbled.

“What a coincidence; I feel smug.”

She closed her eye and let her head loll back until all of her hair was under the warm and scented water. Then she brought it back up and promptly set it back on his shoulder. He nudged her lips with the rim of the goblet, silently urging her to take another drink.

“I can do it myself.”

“Raise your hand.”

Her right hand slowly surfaced and she held it out. It was trembling visibly. She sighed and let it fall back under the water.

“Now, you look even smugger.” She snorted softly.

“I could help it, but I don’t want to,” he smiled. “I’ll just sit here and revel in the smugness.” He once again raised the goblet to her mouth and she obediently swallowed.

She’d be doing a lot of swallowing this week.

When she had drained the cup, he set it on the rim of the pool. She blinked up at him owlishly, but didn’t move. Her eyes did widen a bit when a soapy washcloth floated over the pool. Cupid plucked it out of the air and began to rub it down her chest and belly. The soap on the washcloth didn’t dissipate in the water, but stayed foamy through every swipe of his hand. He ran it down her right arm and laid it over her shoulder while he took her other arm from around her neck. He turned her so that her she was resting back against his chest. He soaped and scrubbed her other arm and let it fall under the water. His left arm slid around her waist while he used the other one to soap and stroke her breasts. The inside of her thighs were next. He rubbed the evidence of their previous interludes away with a firm hand. That cloth covered hand was now running down her belly and between her legs to massage her swollen flesh. He paid exquisite attention to every crevice and fold.

“Aahh,” she groaned.

“I want to make sure that you’re clean.”

“If I get any cleaner down there, you’ll be able to eat off of it.” Jessie moaned and then she gasped as she realized what she had said.

“What a good idea!” Cupid grinned.



Jessie wanted to smack herself upside the head, but she couldn’t raise her arms to do it. Could a woman actually die of too many orgasms? It was a good thing that she had a healthy heart, otherwise she’d be dying for the God of War, and it wouldn’t be in battle.

Cupid stood up in the pool and laid her on the tiles next to it. She braced herself for the first touch of cold floor on hot skin, but it never came. What a thoughtful guy; he’d warmed the tiles for her. Her knees were on the edge so that her feet dangled in the water. He spread her thighs and reached for the platter. She rolled her head over a watched him pick up a dish of cream and a small pot of honey. He had probably put them there to dip the fruit in, now he obviously had other plans for them.

She bit back a moan when she felt the first slide of his cream covered finger. He painted the lips of her labia with the cool sweetness. Then he lazily dipped his fingers in the honey. After collecting a good amount of the amber liquid, he drizzled it over her aching flesh. His eyes held hers as he licked the left over honey and cream from his fingers with long swipes of his tongue. Her belly clenched with each pass of his tongue, she knew that he was mimicking what he was about to do to her. Anticipation tingled in her nerves.

“I thought that dessert came at the end of the meal.” She said breathlessly.

“Why wait?” His eyes held hers captive as he slowly came forward to start eating his ‘treat’. A choked cry came out of her throat at the first touch of his tongue. Her back arched and she felt the hardness of the tiles when both of her hand slammed down. She twisted helplessly, but Cupids strong hands kept her hips anchored to the floor.

He took his time. He licked, nibbled, and stroked every crevice of her flesh with his tongue. She distantly heard a splashing but she couldn’t tell if it was from her feet or his wings. Both were still in the water. Cupid seemed intent on removing every bit of cream and honey from between her legs. Her back arched again and she pressed her heels against the side of the pool, as if trying to draw herself completely off the floor. He slid his arm across her waist, pushing her down.

“Oh please, oh please, oh please-, “she chanted. She slid her hands into his silky hair, whether to press him against her or try to pull him off, she didn’t know.

Cupid’s chuckle vibrated against her clit. She screamed at the sensation. He pulled her hands from his head and anchored them next to her hips and kept attending to his feast. He continued for a few more moments while she twisted and trembled in his hands. His head rose from between her legs.

“Look at me, Jessie.” He instructed.

She obediently opened her eyes and gazed at the god. His lips were shiny and she knew it wasn’t from the honey. He kept their eyes locked as he leaned over and slid his hands under her shoulder blades, lifting her off the floor. Her eyes couldn’t seem to move from his as he lifted her back into the pool and turned them around so that he was once more seated on the bench, only this time she was straddling his thighs. Her hands gripped his strong shoulders for balance. He ran his hands down her back until they rested on her hips. His smile turned positively wicked when he lifted her up and then pulled her down on his hard flesh. She knew her eyes were as big as saucers when his cock slid between her swollen tissues.

“Please. Please, my Lord,” she begged.

“I am pleasing, Precious. I’m pleasing us both,” He stated arrogantly, circling her hips as he bore her down.

“I can’t,” she whimpered. “I can’t again-“

“Oh, but you can. In fact, you will. Right. Now.” He slammed her down on his cock. She heard her climatic screamed echo against the walls of the bathing chamber. She felt herself falling forward onto his chest. Blackness swam before her eyes, and she gratefully sank into it.


Cupid sat for a moment while his shaft softened inside his mortal. When Jessie didn’t move at all for several minutes, he gently tugged her away from his chest. Her head lolled forward and her hands slid limply from his shoulders. He put one finger under her chin and raised her face up, but her eyes didn’t open.

“I fucked her unconscious.” He snorted and shook his head. Then, he flashed them both back to his bedroom. He dried them both with a thought, gently placed Jessie on the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She was holding up a bit better than he thought that she would. He thought that this would have happened about three hours ago.

He conjured his favorite pitcher and goblet set. The silver set had been a wedding present from Uncle Morpheus; it kept the beverages inside magically cool and fresh, no matter how long they sat there. It was the only wedding present that had survived his rage at Psyche’s desertion. He filled them with peach nectar and left them where Jessie could see them when she woke. He did not, however, leave her any clothes. She could just stay naked for now. Then, he clothed himself in his leathers and went to his study.

Maybe now that he had had her couple of times, he could concentrate on his job for a while.


Ares paused and looked at his favorite nephew. The kid was lying across his bed, clutching a pillow to his chest, scowling at his ceiling. A picture of Joy, he wasn’t.

“What’s wrong, Strife?” As if he didn’t know.

“As if you didn’t know,” Strife pouted. “*He’s* with another woman.”

“Yeah, kid. I know.”

“He’s even leaving Bliss with you for a whole *week*! He’s never left his son with anyone for that long, not even you! Not even at his busiest has he not kept Bliss with him.”

“I was kinda shocked myself.” Ares admitted.

“And all for a *mortal*!” He groaned and flopped over onto his stomach.

“She’s a pretty exceptional mortal,” Ares pointed out. He stepped into the room and leaned against a bedpost. Strife was acting like a teenage girl who just found out that her crush was with someone else. Ares was finding it a very entertaining.

“I know that she’s exceptional, that just makes it worse!” Strife buried his face into a pillow.

“You know, you could work this to your advantage.”

“How?” Strife’s voice was muffled by the pillow.

“Go over and jump him.”

“And have him think that I’m horning in on ‘his’ mortal? Unc, I like my guts on the inside, thanks.” He raised his head up from the pillow to stare at his uncle.

“I said jump ‘him’, Strife. Him, not them,” Ares pointed out. “He *is* the God of War, you know. I think that he would respect a ‘frontal’ assault.”

“What if he doesn’t go for it?” Strife asked curiously. Just going after Cupid might not be a bad idea. But it might not be a good one, either.

“Strifey, even if he doesn’t throw you down and screw you senseless, he’s less likely to use you for target practice when he’s nice and mellow with afterglow.”

“Um…” Strife was mulling over the idea.

“You want him, right?”

“Yeah,” Strife admitted.

“You find Jessie attractive, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. The mortal was both thoughtful and lovely. And, she had a nice set of breasts with a great ass.

“You could share him, right?”

“Yes, I like women too.” Strife nodded.

“Just think; Cupid would never believe that you would have the balls to just go over there and proposition him. Even if he doesn’t go for it, at least you’ll know where you stand, and you might get his respect too.”

“You think that he might go for it?” Strife was warming to the idea.

“I don’t think that the thought of having both of you is going to bother my eldest.” Ares kept a straight face with difficultly. No, Cupid didn’t have a problem with it at all, judging from his reaction to the dream that his nephew’s mother had sent him.

“Both of us,” Strife mused. Granted, he’d never thought of having to share Cupid sexually, but if he had to, Jessie was an acceptable alternative to this standoff with the God of War. Cold dips in glacier fed streams were getting old.

“I’ll do it, then.” Strife rolled off the bed and to his feet. He straightened his tunic with a firm tug and prepared to flash to the House of War.

“Judging from the tide of lust I’m getting right now, I don’t think going over right *this* minute is a good idea.” Ares held up a cautioning hand.

“Oh.” Strife wilted a little.

“Why don’t you get something to eat? You know, build up your strength.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, kid. I have a feeling that you are going to need it.”

Strife teleported himself in front of the massive ebony doors of the House of War. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulder in preparation. A couple of centuries of infatuation were hopefully going to be resolved tonight.

He had spent the time waiting for the ‘all clear’ from his uncle indulging in a little primping. Strife had carefully combed his hair and rearranged it to a more orderly tumble of curls. He’d rubbed in some sandalwood oil that Hathor of Egypt had sent him so that the seductive scent surrounded him. He’d created a new set of cream colored leathers that almost mimicked Cupid’s usual black ones. He had also made them just a *little* tighter than he usually wore them to show off his physique and the bulge in his trousers.

He ran a nervous hand through his hair, upsetting the careful arrangement he’d worked so hard on. Was this going to work? Uncle Ares thought so. It was time to find out. No more procrastinating. He set his shoulders and tugged the door open.

He could have just flashed here, but it was a gesture of respect to walk into another god’s home on your own two feet. Strife definitely wanted Cupid’s respect. He also wanted his cock, his mouth and those sword calloused hands all over him.

And then there was Jessie. She certainly had an appeal all of her own. As tall as he was, with that incredible mane of chestnut hair, and legs that went on forever. Her mouth certainly had a lush ripeness to it. It would look great wrapped around his cock. Cupid and Jessie together were enough to make Strife’s head spin like that time he’d been drinking with the Minotaurs.

Strife could feel the laces on the front of his trousers start to strain. If he got any harder, he’d start to have trouble walking. He tried to adjust himself as he walked down the hall to Cupid’s study. Hopefully, the God of War would be trying to work while his newest plaything was catching up on her rest. Strife wasn’t sure if he could walk farther than the study as aroused as he was. In fact, if he got any harder, he’d have to flash. And the thought of having to flash such a miniscule distance was more than a little embarrassing. He lengthened his vest to cover the bulge.

Cupid would be first, though. The God of Joy wasn’t naïve and it would *definitely* be better to get Cupid alone first before he even got *near* Jessie. He really wanted to survive the night and tripping Cupid’s possessive streak about the chestnut haired warrior wasn’t a good way to do that. The trick would be getting Cupid possessive about *him* before he got near the woman in the Champion of Olympus’ bed.

He continued down the hall towards Cupid’s study. He walked past the trophy room, with all its captured banners and other assorted things that the God of War collected to commemorate his victories. Past the Weapon’s Room with its dizzying array of polished metal implements of death and destruction, past Bliss’ playroom with it toy soldiers, stuffed animals, marbles, and straw archery targets. Strife thought he caught a glimpse of arrows sticking out of the wood paneling in odd places. Well, the little one *was* the Godling of Mischief. He probably took aim at different things other than boring straw targets. He walked past Harmony’s work room with all it deadly instruments of her own trade, poisons, stilettos, garrotes, and etcetera. If he wasn’t careful, Strife would lose his ‘happy’ buzz around all this gory stuff. Bliss’ rooms seemed to be the only places in this house that weren’t dedicated to death at the end of some sharp, pointy object.

Of course, he had yet to see the bedroom.

Ah, there it was; his destination. A room that was crammed floor to ceiling with maps, parchment and Cupid’s massive desk. Strife knew that the desk wasn’t massive because Cupid needed to reinforce his ego, it was large by necessity. It was usually covered with whatever current battle that Cupid was overseeing. The desk’s huge proportions were utilized all the time. That desk was currently occupied by the God of War.

Strife halted for a moment to gaze at the focus of his infatuation. Cupid’s wings were folded along his back and the back of his working chair was extremely narrow so that it fit between his shoulder blades supported him without ruffling his feathers. The arms of the chair were situated a bit farther up than most chairs, again designed for the snowy wings sprouting from his back. Cupid’s blonde coloring was accented by the black leather that he was wearing. A map was unrolled in front of him and another was pinned to a frame next to the desk. A slight frown marred his face, but Strife wasn’t fooled. Cupid’s overall air was one of satisfaction.

“What do you want, wimp?” Cupid asked without raising his head.

Alright, that wasn’t the best greeting that a nervous and infatuated god could get. It was, however, standard between the two of them. Cupid was a badass and Strife…. wasn’t. Strife did note that the tone was relaxed and even. The Big Bad wasn’t going to blast him for interrupting.

Ah, afterglow was working its magic. Strife tried not to feel miffed about that.

“I needed to talk to you about something.” He replied. Hopefully, talking wasn’t the only thing that they would be doing. His belly clenched with nervousness and arousal. Luckily, the front of his vest now covered his groin. He didn’t need the overly aggressive god in front of him guessing at his thoughts. At least, Strife didn’t need him guessing just yet. He could do this. Strife walked around to stand next to his crush.

“What do we need to talk about, Strife?” Cupid turned his chair to face his cousin. Those incredible green eyes of his looked up from a face that had featured in his fantasies for centuries.

“Well..umm..Oh Stars take it! This.” Cupid’s lap made a good target for a lustful god. Strife dropped his butt onto the black clad thighs, wrapped his arms around Cupid’s strong neck, and laid his lips on the God of War’s mouth.


*****Hee, hee, hee. I know. Bad Author! Bad Author! I deserve a spanking! (Pretty please?) I’m wicked and cruel for pausing here. But, as you’ve probably guessed from previous chapters, wicked is something that I’m doing pretty well. (At least I think that I’m doing it pretty well according to the reviews.) There’s more to come. (And come, and come, and come……)