Strife, God of... well, Strife, was hiding in the corner of the Corinthian Temple of War, waiting for the last worshippers to leave. If he was going to win this bet, he needed to get Ares with absolutely *no* witnesses, and he only had until midnight before Cupid opened the vortex again.

"Bastard," he thought. It was bad enough that he had to convince Ares that he was this world's Strife, back from the dead, but he had to fuck him! Sometimes he thought that maybe his beloved Cupid, the almighty God of War and stud muffin extraordinaire, might be just a little bit insane, but he wanted to win the bet. Two weeks of Ares, the *very* talented God of Love, naked and chained to his bed - he had to win!

As the last of the priests left the temple, Strife walked over to the altar. There was less than an hour left before midnight, and he still had no idea how he was going to do this.

"Draped over the altar? Nah, I want to fuck him, not him me. Leather? Ooh yeah!"

With a thought he was dressed in black leather, tight and oiled, showing off his muscles (what muscles he had - Cupid preferred him 'slender'). He looked about as masterful as he was going to get. Now all he had to do was get Ares here, convince him his nephew was back from the dead and desperate for him, then persuade him to let that same nephew fuck the big, manly God of War.

"Piece of cake." His mind was lost somewhere in the image of Ares bending over before him - black leather round his knees, big dripping cock. He took a deep breath, pulling melting limbs, and mind, back in order.

He was interrupted by the door opening behind him, and in walked Ares! OK, so Strife wasn't quite sure why he was *walking* into his own temple, but he was running out of time, so....

"Hi there, big boy." He leered invitingly. Ares looked surprised, but that was to be expected. Strife walked over, swaying seductively, and ran a finger down the brown leather tunic covering his chest. Not as nice as the black leather he usually wore, but it worked.

"I'm back. D'ya miss me?" The God of War was looking very fuckable. He'd have to tell his own Ares to take a look. Red hair! It was far sexier than the blond curls his uncle had been sporting last week. Strife decided to jump the explanations, and leaned forward to kiss Ares.

"I wanna fuck ya," he whispered into Ares' ear, before capturing a lobe between his teeth. Ares seemed overwhelmed as he answered.


Within seconds, the God of War was bent forward over the altar with trousers around his ankles. Strife's fingers pressed roughly into his arse, stretching and oiling the muscle before his cock pushed in. As he set up a furious pace, bouncing the larger God violently against the marble beneath them, his thoughts were smug. He couldn't understand why Cupid had thought this so hard - Ares was *easy*.

A couple of minutes later Strife came. He pulled out and stepped away. As he adjusted his clothes, pulling the leather back into place, he bumped into Ares, standing behind him.

"Oh, sorry." He couldn't believe he'd won the bet. Cupid would....

Slowly he turned back to the altar and looked at Ares, just pulling himself back up, and Ares standing just to his right.

"Oh fuck. Ares?"

"You'd better have a very *very* good excuse for fucking my lover."

This was definitely the *real* God of War. The leather was black, the voice was mean, and the look on Ares' face was making his knees tremble. Strife did the sensible thing and ran. If he'd stopped panicking for a second he might have wondered why he was running, instead of just disappearing, but Strife was gibbering.

As he reached the door of the temple, a hand descended on his shoulder and spun him. Faced with a very large, very angry God of War, Strife started praying. Behind Ares, a vortex started to form.

"I have a reason, Unc, honest!" He just needed a second. "It's like this. I had a bet with Cupid."

Ares stepped back and crossed his arms over his massive chest. A puzzled frown was forming.

"By the way, how did you get out of Tartarus?"

From behind the God of War came another voice. "Ares?"

As Ares turned back to the guy he'd just fucked, whoever he was, Strife took his chance. Ares finally noticed the vortex behind him, just in time to watch it collapse behind the escaping God.

Strife fell to the floor in front of Cupid's throne and looked up to find his lover bent forward over the arm of his throne, tears of laughter running down his cheek. A mirror beside them was still showing events in the alternate universe, and he crawled over to sit at Cupid's feet and watch.


"I'm sorry, but I thought it was you! OK, so you came way too fast, and your cock was kind of puny, but...."

"You thought it was me!"

"Well, it was you last week when it was Joxer, and when it was Herc, and when you did the centaur thing."


The images in the mirror faded and Strife looked up to see Cupid grinning down at him.

"Pay up."

Images of a naked Ares tied to his bed, covered in chocolate sauce and ice cream, faded to might-have-been. Strife pulled himself up and walked over to the altar in the middle of the room.

"Hang on. You're not dressed quite right." Strife's lovely leather clothes disappeared, replaced by a schoolgirls outfit, the obscenely short skirt barely covering frilled knickers. Strife leaned over the altar and wiggled his frilly rear in the air as he sang.

"Oh mighty Cupid, God of War.
spank me 'til I scream for more.
And when I beg and call your name,
and moan and quiver in my pain,
fuck me up and tie me down
and spank my arse all over town."