The Love of War

WARNING: This is the alternate universe, where Hercules, not Ares wears the black studded leather outfits and its Hercules who gets to see Xena and Nebula naked on a regular basis. This chapter also has a bondage scene in it. If that isn't to your taste, I would suggest that you don't finish my story.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The word 'fuck' did not come into use until the Crusades. However, since this universe is full of modern language anyway, I didn't stop from using it. And, there really is a temple to Sekmet outside of Las Vegas.


The Love of War, Part Three

She should let it bother her because she should never kill carelessly. It should always bother her a little. When it didn't bother her anymore, she should worry.

Demetrius returned with a bundle of rich, maroon colored fabric. He set it on the bench next to her Danish.

"Dinner will be ready when you're finished." Years of being a soldier allow Demetrius to keep a blank face at the sight of the woman who was young enough to be his granddaughter, wet and naked. She was a real beauty with that wet hair streaming into the water. And she didn't have the air of a woman who knew she was lovely, which to his mind, made her all the more attractive.

"Thanks, Demetrius. I'll be out in a moment." She smiled and he felt the room get a little brighter. Thoughts that he knew he was too old to entertain went through his mind. Damn, he hated getting old.

Jessie watched the old priest leave the room and got out of the pool. The bundle had a towel to dry off with and a floor length tunic. She bundled her clothes, including her underwear and went over to the mirrors on the far side of the room. She ran the comb that she found there through the snarls in her hair. The only time that she could get a comb through her curls was when it was wet. After the dint of much yanking and smoothing, she plaited her hair into her usual post-bath braid. She looked at herself in the polished copper mirror. Not bad. Was it her imagination, or were her boobs a little perkier? It just might be imperfections in the mirror. She slid the tunic over her head and looked again. It suited her. She grabbed her clothes, knife, sandals and Danish, and left the room in search of Demetrius.

She headed into the main room. The doors were now closed and the room was lit by torches and braziers. The altar was a large rectangular block of black stone at the base of the feet of a statue of Cupid with a sword in his hand. It was polished to a high gleam and the flickering firelight seemed to make Cupid wink. She should leave an offering. She always did at the temple to Sekhmet outside of Las Vegas. And she was about to share the hospitality of one of His priests.

What to offer? She didn't think that the God of War would want a Danish. She didn't have anything else but herself and she wasn't about to consecrate herself to War. Then a thought occurred to her. Jessie took her new knife over to one of the braziers and stuck the blade into the fire. She looked over at the altar while she waited. Was this a good enough offering? When Jessie was sure that she'd killed any germs hanging out on the blade, she walked over to the altar. She took a deep breath, held her left arm over the stone, and nicked her wrist. When the blood welled, she shook it onto the stone.

Cupid, God of War, Planner of Battles, Champion of Olympus, closed in on his prey. The slippery little minx wasn't going to get away this time. After an hour of chasing, he finally had him cornered. He advanced implacably on the cowering figure.

"Bliss! It's time for your bath." His son's eyes darted around; looking for another escape route, but Daddy had cornered him and was stopping him from flashing out. The tiny godling of Mischief had put this off for too long already and he knew Daddy wasn't going to let him get away again. The chase had been fun, but it was time to wash the off the finger-paints and honey. Maybe he could dart between Daddy's legs. He rushed forward, tucking his wings close to his body.

Cupid bent and caught his squirming offspring and carried the giggling godling to his bath. Little wings beat with an effort for a last ditch escape, but the God of War was wise to his son's tactics by now and kept his arms around Bliss firmly, trying to ignore the sticky substances that was getting all over his leathers. What had his son been doing on his visit to the House of Love? He looked at his child with an assessing eye. It looked like Grandpa Ares had let him in the finger-paints again, but what was so sticky?

As they entered the bathing room, Cupid removed their clothes with a thought. Then he took a running jump, still holding his now shrieking son. They landed with a splash and then they surface together. Bliss was laughing wildly and pumping his wings in the water, causing splashes.

Cupid conjured some soap and a wash cloth and attacked his son. The battle was joined. The two winged adversaries squared off with almost matching grins. Bliss was small and fast, but his father was just as fast and had the advantage of remembering past bathing battles with his own father. It was a rousing skirmish in their ongoing war, but eventually Bliss got clean. After another hour of watery play, the God of War put his now very sleepy son to bed.

Cupid looked at the peaceful expression on his son's face with a wry grin. The only time Bliss ever looked innocent anymore was when he was sleeping. Awake, his eyes were always shining with plans wild enough to turn even a god's hair gray. The opportunities for hair raising escapades were legion on Olympus and Bliss was getting more creative as he got older. Cupid grinned to think what his son was going to be capable of by the time he hit puberty. How had something so wonderful come from that conniving wench, Psyche? It must be one of the mysteries of the Cosmos that if you ever found out the answer to, it would drive you mad. He closed the door on his sleeping son and sent a mental call through his temple.

: Greagus, come here boy.:

The Dog of War rounded the corner at a run. His nails clacked against the marble floor and he almost skid into the wall. He righted himself with a minimum tangle of legs and headed to his master at a dead run. Cupid had just enough time to extend his wings to brace himself before his dog barreled into him. A rough tongue swiped him from chin to hairline in greeting and a very large body wriggled in delight at being close to his master. There was a lot body to wriggle and if not for his extended wings, Cupid would have been knocked over by his pet's enthusiasm. Cupid gave his dog praise and pets for a few moments before setting him to guard Bliss. He opened the bedroom door and shooed the dog in. Greagus turned himself in a circle a few times and then flopped onto the rug next to the bed.

:Call me if he wakes up.: The huge Dog of War blinked a few times and then closed his glowing red eyes to sleep. Bliss was safe for now.

Cupid went to his study and map room. There was a border war heating up near Corinth, the Amazon Coalition was starting to grumble and stir because the Sovereign was eyeing their southern cities with their access to the sea, and Iphicles of Corinth looked to finally break away from his half-brother. Uncle Hercules definitely had his hands full. Fun abounded all over Greece.

Cupid was just starting to concentrate on his battle plans when he felt a little scuffle in one of his smaller temples. That was odd, not much happened at that particular temple. It was small and secluded. He had put one of his most faithful followers in charge there and he had complete confidence in the man. Cupid felt the scuffle end with blood on his temple floor. No great surprise there. Demetrius was not the type of man to permit any disrespect to his god. He turned back to his battle plans, but something nagged at him. Demetrius was a solid man. He should be able to handle things, but something told him to check his small temple. It was also plain that he wasn't going to be able to keep his mind on his work. He flashed to Earth in a shower of red sparks.

Cupid entered his domain silently. Usually, he warned his priests of his coming, but sometimes it was a good idea to check up on things without fanfare or using a scrying mirror. He kept himself invisible and looked around. The main room was spotless and smelled faintly of soap. It had recently been cleaned. He stretched out his senses to feel what was going on in his house. Demetrius was the only priest currently in residence and he was pouring two cups of wine and preparing for the visitor Cupid could feel in the bathing room. A young woman strode into the main room with a bundle under her arm.

Nice. Very nice. She was tall, he noted with approval. He liked tall women, especially with curves and she definitely had them. She also moved with a muscled grace that spoke of martial arts training. Chestnut hair, he licked his lips, and pale skin to go with it. Her fat braid swung just above her hips with curling wisps around her ears. Good cheekbones and a strong chin that would age well. Her dark blue eyes were filled with intelligence and spirit, but she didn't have the feel of one who had pledged herself to him. Pity. All together, she made for a delightful package.

Maybe he should visit his temples more often.

He watched her go over to the brazier and heat her knife. Interesting. Most mortals would not have know to do that. She was looking at his altar with considering eyes. After she finished heating the knife, she walked over to his altar and made a small cut to her left wrist. Oooo, she was giving him some of her own blood! Not even his most treasured warlords did that too often. Cupid licked his lips as the red fluid of life welled. He wondered if she knew that she was making it so much easier to find her if he wanted to. He'd be able to home in on her anywhere, she wouldn't be able to hide. He watched as she turned her wrist over and shook a few drops onto the altar.

Every hair and feather on Cupid's body stood straight out and he gave a soundless gasp as he felt the power of the blood she was dropping so carelessly onto the stone. Every hair was standing out, even the ones in his groin. The sensation was odd, almost like the time he had licked Grandpa Zeus' thunderbolts on a dare. The feeling of his feathers quivering made him shiver. Not even Psyche had felt like this!

He waited for the inevitable request that came with a blood offering. It didn't come. She wasn't even praying to him, or he'd be able to hear it. He curiously extended his divine senses to read her mind. There was no request on her mind, just the hope that this was a good enough offering so that he wouldn't be insulted. Insulted!? Even his priests didn't give up their own blood very often. Only his berserkers did it on a regular basis. She didn't even worship him!

She cradled her wrist and looked around for something stop the bleeding. While her back was turned the other way, he flashed a small towel onto the table behind the altar. When she turned back, she saw it. She picked it up and pressed it to the small wound.

"I hope they don't mind." She frowned.

Oh no, precious. They won't mind at all, Cupid grinned lasciviously. Maybe it was time to jump back into the pool, so to speak. It had been awhile since he'd bedded someone that wasn't one of his followers. A powerful mortal, especially one unaware of her own power, might just cleanse his palate after Psyche’s betrayal. He felt himself harden. He followed her on soundless feet to Demetrius.

Jessie padded through the main room and into the hallway on the other side of the room. She followed the torches to where Demetrius was laying out a table of food. Cheese, fresh fruit, and a haunch of what looked to be roasted lamb lay on the table with two silver goblets. The old priest looked up at her approach with a smile. The smile turned to a frown when he saw the bloody towel around her wrist.

"I didn't notice that cut before." He went to a cabinet near the wall and got out a small jar and a bandage.

"It's just a little nick." Jessie smiled. He handed her the jar and got a basin of water as Jessie removed the towel. The bleeding had almost stopped. She wet the towel and wiped away the smears of blood on her wrist. The salve in the jar smelled of herbs when she opened it. She smeared some of the salve onto the cut and Demetrius wrapped her wrist with the bandage.

They sat down to dinner. Cupid watched the two of them eat. She carved the meat for the both of them and asked intelligent questions about campaigns, the logistics involved with supplying armies, and the lay of the land between popping bits of fruit and cheese in her mouth. She then told Demetrius how she had arrived in the area. She didn't, however, say where she was from.

Cupid's eyebrows rose in surprise at that. Where had this future lover of his come from? And watching the sensual way that she enjoyed her food was not making his erection go away.

Demetrius told her that perhaps she should go to the temple of the Fates at Delphi. There was an oracle there as well and between the two of them, she could probably get an answer. Sometime during dinner, Jessie's adrenalin crashed, and between that and the wine, she was trying to stifle her yawns without much success.

"Forgive me, Jessie. My curiosity and delight in having a new person to talk to is keeping you up."

"It isn't the company, Demetrius. I think that my 'battle high' is done for now." She yawned.

"Of course. An old campaigner like me should have known better. Let me show you to your room." He pushed himself out of his chair and motioned her to follow him. They went to the guest suite which was usually used by visiting warlords. A soft bed with plump pillows dominated the room. Most warlords that used this suite were the hard campaigners that shunned luxury in the field and they appreciated their God's priests pampering them a little.

Cupid went back to his altar. The blood was congealed, but still wet. He ran his finger through it and brought it to his lips, like a child getting the last bit of sweet cream from the bowl. He shuddered as her taste rolled through him. Power and lust tasted like spiced wine on his tongue and his cock got even harder. He couldn't wait to have her screaming under him.

A lifetime of service had given Demetrius a sixth sense for his god. He always knew when Cupid was around or watching. He had never told anyone of his ability, especially his superiors. Sometimes, his god needed to know when a general was not respected by his troops or when a high priest was keeping the best of the tithes to himself rather than passing them on to their god. So he had felt immediately when the God of War had entered His house. He also felt that the god had stayed all through dinner without revealing himself. After tucking his dinner companion into the guest room, he went them main hall and waited patiently for Cupid to show himself. Demetrius didnt'doubt that the God of War would want an accounting of the day's activities and he also knew that the god respected his thoughts and insights. He folded his arthritic hands around his still spare middle and waited silently.

Cupid appeared behind the altar and regard his follower.

"My lord." Demetrius bowed, but didn't kneel. Cupid smiled at the loyal man before. From the age of fourteen, when a young Demetrius pledged himself to the God of War, he had always greeted his god on his feet. Demetrius never kneeled. At first, Cupid had been amused by his apparent arrogance, but then realized over the years that the man before him didn't kneel because he respected the God and followed him willingly. Demetrius truly believed in his god, not just followed him because of the glory that could come from Cupid's service. Cupid valued the man before him all the more for it. Followers, he had aplenty, true believers were much more precious and rare.

Cupid conjured a throne and motioned for his priest to report. A lifetime spent in Cupid's army had taught the man to give clear and concise reports with attention to the details that the superior he was briefing would want. He told his Lord of the day's activities from the fight that brought itself into His walls to the clean up after. He told of Jessie’s surprising comments and attitudes. He added the fact that she had managed not to vomit after her first kill. Sometimes even fresh mint couldn't keep a battle virgin's stomach from heaving.

Cupid smiled at the last. Trust Demetrius to add that to a briefing. The priest knew his god well enough to tell of a noteworthy first kill that happened in His house.

"Outfit her in the morning. Provide her with provisions and a map." Cupid instructed.

"My lord." Demetrius nodded. He had also noted the erection outlined in black leather. "My lord?"

"Yes, Demetrius?" He valued the thoughts of the man before him.

"Disturbing her rest would not be a good idea." His god scowled at him. "My lord, she has never killed before and has had a difficult day besides that. It isn't as though you won't be able to find her later," he nodded to the blood that now had a finger smear through it. He wondered if the woman sleeping in the other room had realized just what she had done. Probably not. She seemed ignorant of what she had just given the God of War. If she had known, he doubted that she would have been so comfortable through dinner.

Cupid grimaced and nodded to his priest. The mortal had a point. Damnit. He rose from the throne and laid a warm hand on the old warrior's shoulder. It seemed like just yesterday that a young boy had given Him his service. Now, the man had only a few winters left in him. Whenever Cupid showed himself to Demetrius, he never failed to show him that he was valued.

"Go and get some sleep. We're done for now." His gruff voice was belied by the warmth in his eyes.

"My lord." The priest bowed again and withdrew.

Cupid thought about the woman sleeping in the other room. Demetrius was right about disturbing her, but peeking in on her wouldn't wake her. A predatory smile lit his face as he flashed invisibly from one room to the other.

Jessie didn't snore, he noted. Good, that could be annoying. She had kicked off the blanket and had stripped off the tunic before climbing into bed, so every inch and curve was bared to the deity standing by the bed. She turned over and he saw the raven spreading over the whole of her back. He licked his lips as he thought of tracing every line of that tattoo with his tongue. The black bird showed up so wonderfully against her pale skin. She rolled onto her back and threw one arm up over her head. Was she always so restless a sleeper? Then her nipples peaked. Hmmmn. What kind of a dream was she having?

Technically, he shouldn't peek. Dreams did not fall under the auspices of his godhood. But, she was here in his temple. No one could fault him for looking while she was here. He sat in the chair in the corner, closed his eyes and entered her mind.

*Jessie was dragged into an opulent tent. She was gagged and bound with a pole shoved along the small of her back and her elbows were curved around it so that her hands were tied along her middle. The position caused her chest to be thrust forward. It also insured that it would be harder for her to get loose. She was wearing a brown leather vest that laced up the front, brown leather trousers that laced up the sides, and boots. There was rope around her ankles with just enough length to allow her to walk. Her captors were holding her up by the bar so that her shoulders were in agony.

The tent was well lit by a dozen brass lamps hanging all over. Persian rugs in tones of gold and maroon made up the floor. A large mattress with a fur covering lay off to the right. A low table was towards the back and was ringed by jewel toned pillows. Reclining behind the table was a warrior in black leather, smiling in anticipation as he caught sight of her. The warrior looked like Cupid, without wings.*

Cupid grinned in delight. She was dreaming of him, sort of. Maybe it wouldn't take too long to get her into bed. He refocused on the dream unfolding.

*He came to his feet and approached her with a predatory smile. His men were holding her up by the bar she was bound around. He ran a finger down her cheek and over the gag while she struggled. He cocked his head at the soldier to his right.

"She has grown up around soldiers, my lord. She knows many words she shouldn't, and she tried to bite me." The veteran explained.

The Cupid look alike smiled. He grabbed her by the belt and nodded for the soldiers to let her go. The men complied and backed out of the tent. He dragged her over to the bed and pushed her onto it. She yelped behind her gag.

"You've been a very naughty girl. You were part of the spoils of battle. I defeated your brother, so you are mine. You ran away when I was so busy that I couldn't chase you myself. Bad, bad, girl. You are mine, and you won't get away again." His voice was a low, sexy purr. He knelt on the bed and drew a knife from his boot. He cut the lacing on her vest, baring her breasts and the ropes around her ankles. He put the knife next to the bed.

Cupid shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Leather could chafe in instances like this. There was no way that he was going to be able to just observe the dream now, not when his dream self was sexually conquering the woman he wanted to fuck. He concentrated harder and took his look a like’s place.

Jessie was under him now. The sides of her vest framed her upper body perfectly to him. Her plump breasts were bared to his eyes and mouth. She growled behind her gag. He leaned down and took her left nipple into his mouth while plucking at the right with his fingertips. Her growl turned to a moan as her nipples hardened under his mouth and fingers. He smiled around her breast. She squirmed again for totally different reasons as her body betrayed her. Then she yelped as her shifting put more strain on her arms.

Hearing the difference of the tone, Cupid looked up from her soft flesh and realized the problem. He needed to release her arms, but Jessie's mind had fabricated bonds for a reason. She didn't really want to be free. Catching sight of what was just above the head of the bed, he saw a solution to the problem. He sat up and drew the pole from under her elbows and untied her hands. He tossed the smooth piece of wood across the tent and before she could get her stiff arms to do anything, he took the leather straps and fastened them to the tent pole above the bed.

"Better, pet?" He asked mock tenderly.

She glared and pulled. The pole didn't budge, but the effort caused her chest to be up thrust again. His rich chuckle seemed to thrum against the apex of her thighs. Her traitorous nipples were still hard, one of them still wet from his mouth. She tried to kick him, but all the effort did was allow him to lie between her now spread thighs. The leather seams in their trousers were rubbing against the swollen flesh of both of their sexes. Cupid took off his vest, showing off his hard chest and abdomen. The cobblestone of his stomach seemed to clench under her wide eyed stare. He lowered his chest so that his nipples rubbed against hers. She moaned at the sensation of skin against skin. She could also feel how hard he was through his leathers. Against her will, her legs curled around his hips.

Cupid felt her long legs curl around him and buried his face against her throat to hide his gloating smile. She was his. Without lifting his head, he slid his hand down the outside of her leg and removed her left boot, tossing it somewhere into the tent, he repeated the action with her right leg. He unbuckled her belt and pulled it loose slowly. He started to nibble his way down her throat to her chest again and reached over the edge of the mattress for the knife. His fingers closed around it and he sat up between her spread legs.

"Hold still now, pet." He instructed with a smile.

She froze. He slid the tip of the knife along her stomach, over her belly button and to the lacing on her pant leg. Using the tip of the very sharp knife, he cut the laces on the outside of her leg without scratching her skin. The leather parted easily under the blade. He repeated with the other leg and stripped the off the leather, baring the rest of her body to him. He threw the remains into the tent after the boots. He paused to survey his prize. Every bit of her long, pale body was now available to him. He leaned forward, the knife still in his hands. She shrank back against the mattress.

"Ah now, pet. I'm not going to hurt you with this. Just keep holding still for me."

He slid the blade between her cheek and the leather of the gag and cut it from her. She rotated her jaw and licked her dry lips. Cupid leaned back and reached into the recesses of the tent and came back with a goblet in his hand. He took a large mouthful of the wine, leaned over, and with his lips against hers, passed the wine from his mouth to her's. She swallowed gratefully. He took another mouthful and repeated the process. He put down the goblet and licked the stray drops from her lips and chin. He liked the taste of wine on her skin, so he dipped his fingers in it, and painted it on her nipples. He lapped it off and dripped some onto her stomach. He held her eyes with his as he licked it off with long swipes of his tongue. His hands anchored her hips to the mattress and then he went lower.

The first touch of his mouth on her needy flesh caused her to arch off the mattress and tug desperately on her bonds. He nibbled, laved, and sucked everywhere but her clitoris. He deliberately ignored the hard nub of flesh until her cries got desperate. Then, he kissed his way up her stomach, pausing to pay some attention to her breasts. He circled the areola and then bit each nipple tenderly. Her shriek was music to him. He wedged his cock, still covered in leather against her mound. She whimpered and twined her legs around his hips, trying to draw him in even through the trousers.

"Are you mine?" He asked, cradling her head in his hands to keep it from thrashing. She looked up at him with a stricken expression. He kissed her, his tongue mimicking the mating rhythm. She returned the kiss hungrily. He tore his mouth from hers and looked down at her.

"Are you my pet, my prize, my possession?" He asked, rolling his hips to let her feel what could be hers if she complied. "If you say yes, I'll fuck you." She bit her bottom lip and arched against him. "Say yes, pet. Say yes and I'll make you scream like you never have before."

"Yes." It came out on a soft breath. Her defeat shown in her eyes.

"I can't hear you, my prize. What was that?" His smile was ruthless.

"Yes." She hissed.

"A little louder." He rolled his hips again.

"Yes!" She shouted. He reached between them and undid the laces to his trousers, freeing his aching cock. He slid into her wet warmth, reveling in the feeling of her clasping him. She could feel his leathers against the inside of her thighs, coupled with his long length, the sensation was incredibly erotic. He claimed her mouth again and moved his hips slowly, sliding in and out of her. She circled her hips, trying to get that last bit of friction for completion, but he wouldn't let her. He kept up with the almost lazy strokes while she groaned under him.

"Please. Faster!" She cried.

"Alright, pet. All you had to do was ask." He started pounding into her while she moved to meet him. With a swivel of his hips, he sent her over. She arched and screamed her climax. He kept up the rhythm until he came with a shout.*

Jessie sprang upright in bed. She was panting and sheened with sweat. She was also wet and ached between her legs and had the feeling of a really good orgasm. She dropped backwards and scrubbed her hands over her face. Damn. She hadn't had a dream like that in a long time. Ooooh and it had been soooo good. She slid one hand into her pussy and the other to her breast. She circled and plucked until she brought herself off.

She licked her lips, panting slightly. Why did she still taste wine?

The god sitting invisibly in the corner grinned and sucked a finger wet with wine into his mouth. Oh, yes. This one was going to be fun. He transported out.