“I put a lot of thought into it this year,” Strife said,
dragging a
finger absentmindedly across the hearts and arrows motif carved into
the windowsill.
“Told you, dude, you don’t have to do anything
special.” Draped over
the arms of the overstuffed blue chair, wings dragging on the floor,
Cupid shrugged with complete unconcern.
“You’re just saying that because I screwed things up the
past couple --
okay, the past four years.” Strife dug his fingernail under a
chip of
gold paint on one of the arrows, watched the paint buckle, then pop
off, dropping to the floor by his boot. “But I get it now, Cuz.
I’m
totally down with it, this whole birthday present thing.” He gave
Cupid
his best “trust me” smile -- and got a raised eyebrow in
return.
“Yeah, okay, can’t blame you for being skeptical.” He
flicked off
another paint chip. “But I got it cold this time. It just...took
some
thinking, you know? Had to wrap my mind around some different shit. I
mean, if it were me, I’d be all over getting a
bucket
full of my
enemies’ heads. Or a bouquet of still steaming hearts. Or a dozen
new
blades baptized in the blood of a dozen sacrificial virgins. Or a blood
pudding decorated with eyeballs ripped from the leaders of the Persian
army. I mean, before I really put some serious thought into this, I was
going to surprise you by decorating your temple with hearts woven from
fresh entrails and hung from defleshed spines -- now that
would’ve been
tight.” Strife paused for a moment, smiling happily at the
vision
that conjured, how awesomely wicked it would’ve looked,
especially
hanging around Cupid’s bed. But then he saw the slightly green
tinge
Cupid’s normally beautifully tanned skin was taking on, and he
shrugged
the idea away with a small sigh of regret.
“But, like I said, Cuz, I get it now. It’s not about what I’d
want to
see, it’s all about what you dig, right? If I wanna lay a
present on
you, it has to be something you’d think was the shit. I
have it
right
this time, yeah?” He gave Cupid an expectant look.
Cupid’s eyebrows were still raised, but the skepticism had been
replaced by surprise. “Uh...yeah, actually.”
“Cool.” Strife grinned. “See, I knew I was
onto something. I
mean, I
couldn’t figure out why all that seriously wicked stuff would
make you
hurl, but, I guess both of us can’t have good taste.” He
shrugged,
dropping his hand away from the windowsill, resting it on his hip.
“Sucks, but hey, I wouldn’t be so into you if you
weren’t kind of
weird. Normal is boring, know what I mean?”
“Oddly enough, yeah,” Cupid said dryly, giving Strife a
smile tinged
with more than a hint of amusement.
Strife couldn’t see the funny in anything he’d said, but he
didn’t
bother thinking about it too hard, either, dismissing it as another
example of Cupid being strange. “So, now that I’m with it,
I thought up
something really special for you this year. You’re gonna love
it.” He
grinned in anticipation.
“You’re sure about that?” Cupid’s normal color
was back, but now he was
casting wary glances around the room, as though he expected something
slimy or sharp to appear.
Strife clucked his tongue reprovingly as he walked towards the chair,
putting a slight sway in his hips as he moved. “You
shouldn’t be so
untrusting, Cuz; might hurt my feelings.”
That pulled a grin from Cupid, the familiar playful gleam sparking to
life in his eyes.
“And if my feelings get hurt,” Strife stopped near
Cupid’s feet,
resting his hand on a canted hip, “well, then you might not get
your
present.” He lowered his tone. “You do want your present,
don’t you,
Cupid?” Not giving Cupid a chance to answer, Strife used a small
trickle of power and his black leathers vanished, leaving him standing
there naked. Mostly naked, anyway.
“Well, happy birthday to me.” Cupid leered as his gaze
fixed on the
bright red bow Strife had tied neatly around his cock and balls.
“So, you do like your present this year, huh?” Strife
grinned back.
“I don’t know.” Cupid’s clothes disappeared in
a cascade of gold
sparkles. “I think I’d better unwrap it to make sure.”
Cupid could move damn fast when he wanted to. Before Strife could so
much as blink, Cupid was up and had a good grip on him, hands wrapped
tight around his wrists. Strife raised a questioning eyebrow, but
Cupid just grinned -- and flopped back down in the chair, yanking
Strife down right with him. Strife sprawled on top of him,
high-pitched, delighted laughter bouncing off the walls. Laughter that
quickly vanished into moans, gasps, and cries. And much, much later
there were quiet sighs and wordless murmurs. And a ribbon cast aside,
flung mangled and sticky over the windowsill.