Cupid and Psyche

Psyche dropped her gaze. "I learned something. From someone else."

"Care to be more cryptic, Psyche?" Cupid asked with light sarcasm, crossing his arms.

Psyche sulkily shook her head.

"Well, so long as that 'someone else' wasn't my brother," Cupid snorted, straightening with suspicion when Psyche didn't immediately respond.

"Time is running out," she said briskly, quickly standing. "We should go."

Cupid ignored her outstretched hand and stared at her. "Psyche." The tone carried a heavy warning. "Tell me it wasn't him."

"Who?" she said airily, concentrating on a stray thread in her skirt. When his shadow fell across her, she looked up with alarm and stepped back. "Cupid?"

Cupid's gaze was so intense, Psyche felt like it burned her face. "Tell me you didn't believe a lie spilling from Porthos."

"Why would he lie about you?" Psyche said testily.

"Because he's wanted you ever since I made you a deity!" Cupid exploded, reining his temper when Psyche cowered. "And you call me stupid! What did he tell you that made you dismiss me so quickly?"

Psyche's pretty face was stubborn, though she couldn't look him in the eye. "I shouldn't have to tell you that."

Cupid's grinned savagely. "Oh, Psyche."

"What?" she snapped into his bare chest, infuriated by the heat tickling up her spine from being close to him. She peeked up at him, unnerved by the way he stared down at her.

Cupid bent close and whispered in her ear. "Heaven or Hell, I'm going to have you."

Before Psyche could retort or react, he seized her hand. Startled, Psyche gasped, facing the floor on hands and knees. Naked.

"Are you done teasing me?" Cupid drawled.

Psyche glared over her shoulder at Cupid leaning casually against a wall, his eyes glued to her bare ass and exposed pussy. Standing in a huff, she dusted herself off and looked around. "This is a hotel."

"A pricey one," Cupid grinned, still ogling. He was in black jeans, a navy blazer and white t-shirt, handsome as ever.

Psyche remembered she was naked, again, and spun into a new outfit.

"Does it frighten you a little, that you won't be able to do that if we fail our mission?" Cupid inquired, stepping closer and reaching to pinch the fine material of her vibrant green dress, rubbing between his fingers. "You always had nice taste. Even two millenniums ago."

"Are we going to dinner?" she said sourly. "Or interrupting another orgy?"

Cupid rolled his eyes. "You'd deserve it if I dropped you into a real one." His brown eyes warmed then glazed over with lust. "You'd be fucked mercilessly."

Psyche smiled maliciously. "I'd enjoy it more than being with you."

The comment stung and Cupid gave a bark of laughter. "You're going to eat your words, Psyche."

"Blah blah," she retorted, feeling slightly anxious about Cupid's halo, the fact it would come off eventually and she'd be in the shit. Hera couldn't restrain him forever; Zeus wouldn't allow it. "So, what's the plan?"

"We're going to a gallery opening," Cupid sighed, taking her hand, toying with her fingers.

"Mm," Psyche said, drawing closer, her arm sliding around his neck. She stood flush against him, feeling the steady thud of his heart slowly increase as she rubbed against him. "And who are we?" she purred.

"Mr and Mrs Jacob," he smiled, pulling two glossy tickets from his blazer pocket.

Distracted from teasing, Psyche frowned suspiciously, alerted by the pleased look on Cupid's face. "What?"

"We're a couple," he explained, his smile widening. "We'll have to act like it."

***

At the gallery Psyche found herself quite diverted by the magnificent premises, so much that she quite easily fell into her old role as Cupid's wife. His arm was always around her, his hand resting high on her hip, possessive.

They were very admired. Women initially gaped at Cupid before confining their interest to furtive glances. Men stared openly at Psyche, presuming she was used to it, or even expected it, going by how she was dressed. Several guests privately amused themselves imagining the unusually attractive couple having sex.

"There are a lot of English speakers at this event?" Psyche asked curiously.

Cupid laughed. "This is a largely British collection. But if you hadn't noticed, we adapt to the climate, it makes no difference. Call it a gift of the Gods."

"Meaning...?"

Cupid laughed again. "You didn't notice that last couple spoke French?"

"Guess I never..." Psyche shook her head. "But if we fail Hera's task?"

"We'd better hot-foot it to Rome," he wryly answered.

Cupid and Psyche mingled pleasantly. Eventually Psyche became aware that Cupid had deliberately left her in the dark about the decoupling mission, wanting her to focus solely on her wifely performance.

"You are driving me to distraction in this dress," Cupid said huskily, his thumb sliding down the silky emerald material at her hip. "I didn't think it was possible for your eyes to look greener, but I stand corrected." He twirled her in his arms, tilting her chin to press a firm kiss to her mouth. "I love you most when you drink champagne."

"I don't get drunk!" Psyche said indignantly.

"But you do become more generous with kisses," Cupid mused, stealing another one.

"Cupid!" Psyche complained, turning her face from his persistent mouth. "People are looking!"

"And they're liking it, trust me," he grinned, drawing her closer, tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue. "Do you see the man in the blue suit, by the tin piece?"

Psyche's eyes darted along the room, finding the intricate arrangement of metal layers curling into the shape of a giant panther. "With the woman in a white blouse and black skirt?"

"Yes," Cupid affirmed, stroking the side of her face. "You have to lure him away from his sister and keep him busy. But no funny business."

"I w-what? I mean, how do I-?"

"Never mind that," he huskily interrupted, straightening to run his thumb across her full bottom lip. "Just do as I say."

"We're separating?" she said nervously.

"I thought you'd be pleased," he mocked, and kissed the side of her mouth. "Don't even think about running away. I'd find you in a heartbeat."

In the current circumstances Psyche found this statement somewhat comforting. Cupid pinched her chin, looked into her eyes and kissed her deeply. With a last appreciative glance at her cleavage, he wandered over to the bar.

Psyche smoothed her hands down the sides of her dress. The style was very fitted, slinky, and subtly glittered when she moved. The V-neck extended down her chest, showcasing the luscious curves of it, only stopping above her bellybutton.

The rest of her gown flowed gracefully to her ankles, the slit of her skirt rising almost to hip level. When she walked, the full length of her impressive left leg came to view, her feet adorned in navy high heels.

"There's the real piece of art," a man whispered to his friends, who chuckled in agreement.

A slight smile touched Psyche's lips as the compliment floated by, giving her new confidence in her task; they couldn't know she'd hear it. Her stride was elegant, the sharp heels barely clipping the floorboards for her light tread.

Soon she stood five metres away from the severe pair, perusing the gleaming metallic panther.

"Fucking ridiculous, Nadia," the blue-suited man quietly seethed to his sister. The siblings were both dark-blonde, with pale-blue eyes, and rather robust features.

"I know," the woman admitted, sounding exasperated. "It's baffling, but-"

"It can't be true. You love Steve," he insisted. "Last I heard you wanted more kids with him."

"I did, Chad," she sighed heavily.

"You have to think this through," Chad hissed, raking a hand through his hair. "You can't just up and leave your family for our competitor. The company would collapse, you know it."

"W-Well, Paul said he would-"

"It makes me sick," Chad muttered. "That you would debase yourself with him of all people-!"

"I'm sure his family will say the same about me," she shrugged, defeated.

"Paul's only redeeming quality in my eyes was that he's a family man. Now the dedicated Italian is going to abandon his wife and five children-?!"

"He has four children, and no one is abandoning anyone!" Nadia huffed, crossing her arms. "We're just...rearranging things."

"How the fuck could this happen?" Chad raged.

"I don't know, and keep your voice down!" she snapped, leaning forward to see Psyche serenely observing the art. "I've discussed it with Paul, and we both agree this is madness. But we have to be together."

"Talk about a lightening decision!" Chad let out a frustrated sigh. "Just wait, will you? Don't tell Steve, it'd break him. You can't turn back from this sort of declaration. I'm begging you. Wait."

"I don't have much time. Paul's seeing his lawyer this weekend," Nadia said absently. "He's not the patient type, as you know."

Chad did a double take, his jaw open. "He's going to blindside Carmella?!"

"She's not the kind of woman to take this news well," Nadia shrugged.

"Neither is her fucking Sicilian Mafiosi family! Are you trying to get us all murdered?"

"Don't be dramatic," Nadia said, lips pursed.

Psyche was still wondering how she was supposed to seductively intrude such a grim conversation. Thankfully, Nadia sighted a very compelling reason to walk away.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Chad growled. "Nadia!"

His blushing sister was already walking away, very quickly, toward a new arrival leaning against the bar, his burning dark eyes fixed on her.

Psyche quickly picked two champagne flutes from a passing waiter's platter and crossed Chad's path. "You look like you could use this," she said quietly, going for a soft approach.

Psyche's appearance was bold, her demeanour mildly alluring; gentle and inviting. Chad's distress quickly dissolved when he looked into Psyche's sympathetic green eyes, boring into him. The feelings that followed were unusual and unexpected, and he had an awed awareness that she was something exceptional. Of course, he couldn't know how incredibly correct his instinct was.

"Thanks. I need to get rip-roaring drunk," Chad grunted, accepting the glass and downing it.

"Take it easy," Psyche murmured. "Come and sit with me."

Chad felt her hand rest on his arm, the light touch startling but accompanied by warm, welcome sensations. Calm. Comfort. God knew he needed comforting.

***

"I told you not to come!" Nadia faced the bar, speaking from the corner of her mouth. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to get away. I had to see you." Paul stared, not caring who saw. "We need to talk. Upstairs."

"I've figured out your lingo, I know what that means," she retorted, pretending to read a bar menu. "My brother's here. If I go anywhere with you, he'll-"

"End up with a broken nose if he gets in my way," Paul smoothly interrupted, straightening from the bar. "If you don't follow me, I'm going to kiss you in front of this uppity art crowd and run my hand up your skirt."

"Paul! Chad-"

"Looks busy at the moment," Paul inclined his head, and Nadia followed his gaze to see her brother sitting across Psyche, looking very engaged.

"I can't...I..." she glanced down as Paul's hand covered hers; his touch made her shiver with unfamiliar desire and she knew she'd follow him anywhere.

Paul left, Nadia taking a moment to steady her breathing, before following. At the other end of the bar, Cupid watched.

***

"I don't like bullies!" Nadia pouted, her palms pushing Paul's wide chest, unsuccessfully trying to keep him from moving in. Steve would never press her; he was a gentleman, sweet. The way she liked men.

"And I hate uptight women," Paul countered, his hand sliding up her neck to force her face up. "A month ago, the thought of kissing you would make my cock shrivel. I never liked you."

"Ditto!"

"And now you suck my cock so eagerly," he teased, his fingers gently massaging her scalp.

"I don't!" she said hotly, trying to escape his arms. "You make me-!"

"Hey. Hey!" he pinched her chin. "I abide our agreement. It's my turn."

Nadia flushed with embarrassment. It was true, the last rendezvous he was every bit the gentle Casanova she wanted; he enacted every sweet affection she once enjoyed with Steve, knowing the restraint was killing him, but it was her heaven. And now it was his turn to do things his way.

"B-But anyone could walk in!" she protested.

"That makes it even hotter," he said nastily against her lips, finally releasing her to undo his trousers.

"I can't believe Carmella put up with this!" Nadia spluttered, mortified by the heat flashing up her spine at the sight of Paul's thick erection.

"Carmella is a passionate woman, she loved being under a man's control," he said absently, preoccupied with Nadia's dressed state. "Now open your shirt and get on your knees."

"C-Chad thinks Carmella's family will retaliate," Nadia stalled, slowly popping the buttons on her blouse, fiddling with the third as though it were stuck. "That they'll come after my family-"

"If you step foot in Sicily, maybe," he admitted, unconcerned, his eyes glued to her chest. "They wouldn't dare try anything here. I have my own arrangements." He began stroking his cock, his other hand beckoned her. "I won't tell you again, Nadia."

"Oh," she whined, casting a nervous glance to the closed door before easing her small breasts from the lacey bra-cups, knowing full well if she didn't, Paul would be rougher about it.

"Open wide, baby," he smiled, his breathing unsteady. "I want to fuck your sexy mouth."

Irked by the gooey mess flooding her panties, Nadia closed her eyes and obeyed, whimpering around the shaft when Paul's hand gripped her hair and forced her to take more of him.

Paul bent to fill his hand with her left breast, squeezed, pulled the nipple to a stiff peak and did the same with the other, straightening to consider the sight of her, gazing up at him with her mouth full, her tits out, nipples hard.

Nadia was surprised at the sound of her moan, the ache between her legs that she was currently stroking with her free hand. She hated giving head. Until recently.

Paul smiled as she pleasured herself, and him. "I've fallen so hard for you, Nadia," he thickly muttered, guiding her mouth in a back-and-forth motion.

In a dark corner of the dimly lit room, lying on the ground behind a couch, Cupid observed them, a sense of dismay creeping through him. He couldn't leave the shelter of the couch. It wasn't a good position, with the woman on her knees and her lover intent on watching. They were unlikely to progress to anything more, going by the way Paul was moaning.

Cupid soundlessly loaded his crossbow and aimed upward to snag them in a diagonal hit. He fired.

"Fuck!" Paul staggered back to delay his climax.

"Fuck!" Cupid swore, watching Nadia stiffen as the arrow vanished into her and missed Paul completely.

Paul was still hard, reaching for Nadia's hair. "Come here. Put your tongue out."

On her knees, Nadia stared up at Paul with new eyes. "Oh, my God." She scrambled back, scooting away from the man towering above her. "Oh, my God! Get away from me!" she cried.

"Wait...what?" Paul said disbelievingly. He shook his head. "Are you role-playing?"

Cowering into the wall, Nadia couldn't look at him. "Chad was right. I can't do this. I love my husband. I can't do this. Paul, I'm sorry-"

"If you're trying to rile me up, it's working," Paul warned. "This isn't funny."

"I have to go!" Nadia reached for the doorknob, twisting it, using it to pull herself up. Paul was against her before she could open it.

"Is this a fucking joke? Have you forgotten all the things you said? The plans we made? I've hired a fucking divorce lawyer!" he growled into her ear.

"You...You can cancel it!" Nadia squirmed, her stomach in a sick knot. She could feel her underwear was drenched, but all the heat was gone. The situation left her body cold with discomfort. "Let me go!"

"Cancel it?" Paul breathed incredulously. "No. I can't. I love you." Confused, he kissed her temple and felt her recoil against the door. She wasn't excited, he could tell. "Nadia, what happened? This is about the blowjob thing? If it bothers you that much..."

"I can't see you again!" Nadia squealed. "I don't know why I..." she stopped, conscious of Paul's hand sliding up her neck.

"Do you think it's a good idea to play these games with a man like me?" he said grimly. "If you want to leave this room, fine. If I crossed a boundary, I'm sorry, let's talk about it. But don't tell me you won't see me again. Don't you dare say that to me."

"I don't love you, Paul," Nadia whimpered, quite stupidly, given the dangerous look in Paul's eyes. "I'm done with this. I love my husband."

"You don't love me," he flatly repeated, seeing she was serious, his eyes glazing over with disbelief. "After everything you said."

Behind the couch, Cupid was furiously mouthing at his crossbow that was currently missing an arrow. "Come on, come on!" he ground out, willing the damn thing to reload. The powerful weapon was designed for sporadic use. He did not want another homicide on Hera's list of grievances.

"I'm sorry," Nadia whispered.

Paul stared down at the woman he thought about every minute of the day, the one cruelly spurning him. She looked scared; she should be. He was ready to throw away everything for her, and she'd strung him along. Maybe it was a strategic move, to take him out of the business. And she'd crawl back into her husband's bed, they'd laugh at him together. She'd never see him again.

"Paul, what are you-?" Nadia's mouth fell open. She couldn't breathe. She tried to pull his wrists and gave up; she slapped him, clawed his chest. She saw his face set in a frightening expression, his teeth grit. He was going to kill her.

"Uhhh!" Nadia drew a deep, ragged breath and leaned against the door, swiftly relieved of Paul's weight.

Shocked, he stood back with his palms raised. "I'm sorry," he said slowly, still quite shaken. "I have no excuses. I can't believe that...I should never have..." he shook his head. "I...W-We'll just go our separate ways. Not tell anyone about the affair."

"Y-Yes," Nadia hoarsely agreed, though at that point she was afraid enough to agree to anything, the outcome suited her. She slipped from the room, deciding to fix her clothes in elsewhere, not wanting to spend another minute alone with Paul.

For five long minutes Paul remained in the room, mulling over his shifting emotions, his overall mental state. Checking his phone, he stared at the screensaver for a long time; the laughing photo of him with his beautiful family.

Thankfully, the feelings from before surged back. All he wanted to do was run home and pounce on Camilla. Do wicked things to her that they both loved. How could he have wanted to let it all go? More disturbing than that, was the violence he showed toward a woman.

The despair had taken him. He could remember the searing pain of her rejection, and yet now he felt nothing for Nadia except the same dislike as before. Possibly more, now they had a romantic history.

"Gross," he muttered, disgusted with his infidelity. "I need a fucking psychiatrist."

The door snapped shut behind him, Cupid rolled out onto his back with an exhausted sigh of relief.

***

Chad's company was pleasant, but Psyche was bored. She couldn't believe she was missing Cupid's energy, his attention. Then again, of course she would; she loved Cupid. But she couldn't forgive him.

"There you are."

Chad and Psyche looked up. Cupid stood over them, looking more handsome than when he'd left her.