Target Practice; Strife's Revenge; Sweet and Sour
By Kitkat
Strife's Revenge

Strife ambled aimlessly through the battlefield. It was one of his favorite places to think.  He replayed the previous day over and over. The love of his life, Thamiris, had rejected his for some mortal king. He couldn't even kill the guy, cause he was Herc's brother, and that would have pissed Mr. goody two boots off, and that could be trouble. He could still hear the woman's heartless words. "You?!? No way, dough boy. Now Iphicles, that's a man with such a great ass, you want to thank his mother."

Once again, Strife felt the rush of anger, and immediately went to Iphicles' chamber in Corinth.  There he found Iphicles, thrusting deeply into Tham, her moans of pleasure burning Strife's ears.  Strife yelled loudly, sending a jolt of power toward the bed, lifting Tham up and into an energy force field.  He stalked over to the bed, his eyes never leaving the face of the frightened king. Strife wanted to rage, to let this mortal know how much he needed Tham, and that Iphicles could not have her loveliness.  Instead, he pounced and stuck his tongue as far down Iphicles' throat as possible.  Strife ripped off his clothes so that their erections could touch.  Thrusting quickly against each other, reaching a frenzy until Iphicles shouted, "Strife!" and came.  Knowing that he had brought the other man to ecstasy, and not just a little proud for outlasting this so called stud, Strife also came to orgasm. Without a word to either of them, Strife dressed and returned Tham to the bed.  He walked out despite both their pleas to stay.  As he began his trip back to Olympus, he could still feel the hard body of Iphicles writhing against him.  He thought to himself, "That must be why Uncle Ares favors Corinth so much."

Target Practice

Young Strife looked sadly at the scroll before him. He had tried his best, yet the teacher had still failed him.  The word, 'unimaginative' was spelled out in bright letters.  He didn't understand why as a god, he needed to be taught anything, but his mom insisted, and he was afraid of her.  He looked at the other pupils, who also had just received their work.  Discord, waved her paper around for all to see, her frantic movements reminding Strife of a chicken.  Persephone went on and on about how she just had to tell her mother about her wonderful grade. Strife's eyes then landed on Cupid, who just smiled softly as their eyes met. Strife looked away quickly as he felt himself blushing under his pale skin.  Thankfully, the class was over for the day.  Strife ran out of there as if Cerebus were chasing him.  He stopped to rest against a tree, only to discover that Cupid was sitting calmly in the tree waiting for him. "I read what you wrote, it really wasn't bad. It's just that you write the way you speak, and most of the other gods have trouble understanding you."

Strife smiled brightly at Cupid. "Um, yeah, thanks."

"Come on, I know something that will make you feel better."

They walked out into the field, where a bow and arrow waited for Strife.  He grinned as he saw it, maybe some target practice would take him mind off that stupid teacher. Then he saw the target. Rolling back and forth on a small cart, was the teacher, with a big bullseye strapped to his ass.  Strife let out a hysterical giggle as the teacher struggled with the obviously unbreakable bonds. Cupid kissed Strife's still smiling lips quickly, "See, I knew this would make you feel better."

"You, um, yeah, you like kissed me, dude!" Strife said.

"Yes, I did, and after we fix Mr Know-It-All here, I'm going to teach you some new tricks that he couldn't physically manage" Cupid answered.

"Why don't we just skip the target practice, then" Strife asked shyly.

"Well, hot damn!" Cupid exclaimed as the two gods left the field, leaving one very unhappy teacher wondering just how imaginative his two pupils were going to be.


Sweet and Sour

I sat at the desk, going through my email while I ate some egg rolls. Of course, being the world class klutz that I am, the small cup of sweet and sour sauce spilled and dripped all over my shorts and down my legs. "Just perfect" I said aloud, "now I have to go take another shower."

"Not necessarily" said a strangely familiar voice behind me.

I slowly turned my chair around to face the God of War himself. "Ares?"

"Oh, so you do remember my name? With all the time you've been spending with that nephew of mine, I thought you had forgotten me."

"No, of course not, it's just that um, Strife's been helping me out." I said softly.

"Well, I  could help you now..." his words trailed off as he slid to the floor crouching between my legs. "this sauce can get awfully messy if you don't clean it up properly."

Any answer I could have made was instantly forgotten as Ares' tongue began to wipe away any of the sticky sauce from my leg. Slowly he climbed higher, alternating from leg to leg, giving small nips here and there.  When he reached the backs of my knees, he paid extra special attention, even though there was not a drop of sauce there. Not that I was going to tell him that.  As he reached the hem of my shorts, he looked up at me, smiled and said, "It might have leaked through, these shorts must go."  In a flash they were gone, along with the rest of my clothes.  My thighs were being tongue bathed by a god, the little part of my mind that still worked kept repeating.  Now the bites were becoming a bit more insistent, and I knew they'd be marked in the morning. Not that I cared. His hands roamed freely over my nipples, hardening them almost to the point of pain.  Then his tongue touched my clit, and any and all but the most basic brain functions ceased. Ares tongue-fucked me in a relentless rhythm. As my climax flowed out of me, he lapped it up like some large cat with a bowl of cream. Exhausted, I leaned back in my chair as Ares rose before me.  I was so tired, as I closed my eyes, I heard Ares say, "Welcome Back."

The End