Cupids

This is an entry into Literotica's 2025 Valentine's Day Contest. Thank you for reading and if you reach the end and liked the story, please take a moment to vote, and/or leave a word or two. It's highly appreciated.

And yes, Cupids in a real place and that's the correct spelling. Newfoundland is filled with unusual place names. This is just one of them.

February 13 - 9:25 pm Newfoundland Standard Time (NST) (UTC - 3:30)

The stranger landed on the outskirts of town in the middle of winter and sighed. He didn't like the cold, but when hiding from family, it was best to go where they would never look. Too many times before, when he'd gotten in trouble, he'd been predictable. They'd found him on a beach or somewhere tropical.

Not this time. This time, he would lie low until it all blew over, and the family either forgot about what he did or forgave him for it.

He looked around at the snow, rocks and trees and determined that being naked was not the best option. He wasn't cold, but wandering around with no clothes on in freezing temperatures would draw attention. Attention was bad. He concentrated, and a red silk shirt formed across his torso, showing off plenty of his chest. A pair of black linen pants and stylish black boots followed. A tanned overcoat and grey cashmere scarf were the final touches. He briefly thought about a hat and then shuddered.

He loved his reddish-blonde hair. And there are limits to how far he would go to disguise himself.

The stranger walked down the middle of the road, the snow disappearing as he walked so the slush wouldn't ruin his boots. It was small magic—nothing his family would detect.

He paused by the sign welcoming him to town and smiled. It was always nice to find places named after him. The rest of his family had plenty of cities and towns named after them, but he only had a few. There was always so much happening that he never had time to visit them, but it was the perfect spot to lay low for a while.

Just a couple of days until tempers cooled. What could go wrong in a couple of days?

The god of desire walked towards the Town of Cupids, in the Canadian province of Newfoundland, smiling and whistling a song not heard on Earth in over 2,000 years.

February 14, 3:05 am Eastern European Time (EET) (UTC +2:00). Generally speaking.

"I...will....kill....him!" Zeus roared. His voice was never quiet, but it was louder than usual given his current humiliation. Above Athens, thunder cracked the sky, making people pause and look up.

"Oh, calm down, husband," Hera said, shifting uncomfortably. "We all have our grievances with the little shit. He hasn't pulled a stunt like this in who-knows-how-long."

To be fair, Hera pretended to be mad more than she was. Cupid's little stunt might have humiliated her husband, and the rest of the Pantheon to a lesser degree, but she was an old hand at humiliation by this point. It was nice to see him have to wear it for a change.

Besides, as humiliations went, a dozen men pleasuring her after a rave in Athens was hardly the worst thing that had ever happened to her, not by a longshot.

"My humiliation exceeds all yours!"

Hera should know better. She thought it should be tattooed on her wrist to look at it whenever she felt the urge to be sarcastic to her husband.

"He was a perfectly nice goat, husband. I'm sure the two of you will do an excellent job of ruling Olympus together," she said.

The look on her husband's face would have been hilarious, except she knew what was coming next. Hera braced for the cost of her words when Aphrodite appeared in the throne room.

Aphrodite was used to her father's rages. It's all she had known her whole existence. Every day, he raged at some or another. But even by his usual standards, this was the worst in a while.

"You summoned me, Father?" Aphrodite asked.

"Where is your shit of a son?" Zeus said, lighting crackling around him. Hera looked uncomfortable, probably fearing her husband's temper. Aphrodite merely fussed at all the static electricity making a mess of her hair.

"No clue," she said. Her father didn't look happy with her answer. "This is his time of power. Valentine's Day approaches. He always gets a little crazy at this time of the year. Hence, his little....adventure with some of us."

Zeus came down from the throne and walked towards her. Aphrodite kept her composure. She had a healthy degree of respect and fear for her father. On paper, today she was as powerful as he was. In reality, the power of love could only do so much against a narcissist with lightning bolts.

"You have until the end of today to find him, my little goddess. My rage needs an outlet. If not him, then someone else will do," he said, making it clear who he would take it out on.

"At once, Father," Aphrodite said and then quickly removed herself from his presence. She appeared at her home in Cyprus. She had many homes, but the one closest to her place of birth would be best for the task at hand. She walked through the courtyard and appreciated the perfect beauty of the fig trees and her favourite oak tree. The flowers remained in bloom all year round. Nearby, a path led to a grotto.

Aphrodite stopped by a mirror in the house's entranceway and fixed her appearance. She hated being around her father. Aside from his arrogance, the lightning wreaked havoc with her appearance. A goddess of beauty always had to look her best.

"Tell me you had nothing to do with this, Sister," Hermes said, appearing in the living room. For a god of speed, he had a gift of being late when dealing with their father's rages. Then again, he was also a god of cunning. It didn't take much of that to avoid Zeus when he was in one of these moods.

Hermes moved quickly around the room, unable to stand still. Aphrodite sighed. Although he was always pleasant to look at, he was a coward regarding their father.

Well, so was she, but she at least had the dignity to hide it better.

"Our son is capable of creating mischief without needing me to whisper suggestions in his ear," she said. He looked skeptical. "Very well, by Horkos I played no direct role in his latest mischief."

Hermes paced, doing damage to the rug. Aphrodite made a noise. The rug was beautiful, of course. Everything in her home had to be. And she could fix it, but it was the principle of the thing. Damaging a host's property was rude, even for a god.

"A goat. I mean, funny, but what was Eros thinking?"

"That Father could use the humbling," Aphrodite thought, but did not say.

"At this time of the year, he prefers Cupid," she said. Hermes rolled his eyes. "But none of that matters. We have larger problems than what he did. I can't find him."

Hermes finally paused.

"He's your son. How can you not find him?"

"He's our son," she said, which was theoretically true. It had been a sizable orgy with a lot of wine. Hermes was one of several suspects along with Ares and Hephaestus. She picked him as the boy's father because he was pretty and didn't have anger issues. It was a decision she had cause to regret more than once over the millennia. "He's not in one of his usual hiding spots. His usual idea of being clever is hiding on a beach on Lesbos. I've looked at every beach and bar in Greece. He's not there," she said.

Hermes vanished for a moment, then reappeared, shaking his head. Aphrodite went and poured herself some strong Greek coffee. She wasn't in the mood for wine. And she guessed she would need the energy to deal with her wayward son.

"If Cupid's walking among mortals, he should stand out," he said.

"Sure, except Valentine's Day is sweeping around the world. Love and desire are everywhere. Cupid is never more powerful than he is right now; otherwise, he would never have gotten away with what he did.

"It also makes him almost impossible to find. The only way that happens is if he makes a mistake. Fortunately, he makes them all the time, so we'll spot him when he slips up."

Unspoken was that Cupid hadn't tried something like this in a long time, as best as she could remember. The problem with being a god is that they are very of the moment. Great at remembering things thousands of years ago; not great at remembering last week.

If Cupid laid low for a few days, his grandfather might forget and move on to something else that triggered him. The problem for Aphrodite was that if he didn't turn up, she had no doubt her father's rage would find other targets.

She didn't mind a little bondage now and then, but didn't fancy being chained to a rock in Tartarus for a few centuries.

"I'll check some mortal cities like Paris and New York. Perhaps he's there," Hermes said and vanished before she could say anything.

She fixed her hair again and walked through her ornate house, passing mirrors and artwork. The mirrors showed how beautiful she was now; the artwork showed how artists interpreted her beauty over the centuries.

Finally, she reached the only locked door in the house. A key appeared in her hand, and she entered a surprisingly sparse room. Inside there was only a comfortable chaise and what seemed to be another mirror. The edges were ornate and gold. But the surface was black, reflecting nothing at the moment.

Aphrodite could find anything with enough energy, focus, and time using this mirror. The problem was, she didn't have the time to search everywhere. Europe was still a mess. She could ask Athena for help but didn't fancy the smug look on her sister's face when she did. Plus, Athena might have plans for her son. That was quite the train she had run on her at that club.

Love and lust were sweeping the world. This was the best time of the year for her - not because she was powerful, which was nice and all, but because it felt good. So much of the year belonged to others or was dreary and sad.

Days of love and desire always put her in a good mood. But her son took advantage of this day more than she did. He was almost as powerful as she was. Or at least powerful enough to obscure her view.

"I love you, son. But please make a mistake before father finds a new and creative method of punishment," Aphrodite thought.

February 13 - 9:55 pm NST

If she were honest with herself, Dr. Lisa Bartlett knew she was acting like an idiot.

"One more thing to add to the list," she thought.

It felt like a long list these days. The latest addition was driving through a snowy night in her well-loved 25-year-old pick-up back to Cupids from St. John's while simultaneously crying and plotting revenge on her now ex-boyfriend.

Older items on the list included: being born, liking boys, attending Memorial University, deciding an Archeology degree would lead to stable employment, and falling in love with her professor when she was a TA. A new addition came a few hours ago when she surprised him at his office wearing a sexy schoolgirl outfit.

Because nothing will make you feel more stupid and embarrassed than giving someone a gift of something they already have. Or were using, as was the case, when Lisa caught one of his students sucking his cock.

Lisa always knew Dr. Kevin Parsons had an eye for younger women. It's how they ended up together when she was a 24-year-old TA and he was a 42-year-old archeology professor. But he was charming and told stories about digs he worked on that were irresistible to an impressionable young woman.

But that was five years ago. When they started getting serious, Kevin swore those days were behind him. And Lisa believed him because she was, as her long mental list attested to, a complete fucking idiot.

Dr. Lisa Bartlett, Professor of Idiocy. She wondered if she could get tenure for that.

Lisa was so focused on beating herself up that she forgot to add one more thing to her list - being a shitty driver.

Which is how she nearly killed the idiot walking in the middle of the road.

"Jesus Christ!" she screamed when the man suddenly appeared in her headlights through the blowing snow. She yanked the wheel hard left, tires sending a spray of snow and slush flying, then back to the right again. She didn't hear the thump of a body, but that's because the high-pitched grinding noise of the truck swiping the guard rail drowned everything else out. She gave the wheel another hard yank, overcompensating for hitting the guardrail. That sent the pick-up into a spin.

The next 10 seconds were spent cursing and screaming until the truck finally came to a stop.

She sat in the truck, taking deep, rattled breaths, clutching the steering wheel so hard she couldn't feel her fingers. Her eyes remained closed. Opening them meant looking at something worse than a dead moose on the side of the road. There was no way she missed that guy. Not a chance.

Finally, Lisa opened her eyes, mentally prepared to see a smear on the highway.

Instead, the most gorgeous idiot she'd ever seen was standing in the truck's headlights looking at her inquisitively. He didn't even have snow or slush on him.

So, not dead. This was good. What was bad was Lisa was in the exact mood to kill someone. With her ex not within arm's reach, he would have to do. She tried opening her door only to discover the impact with the guardrail had fucked it up. Lisa contemplated kicking it open but realized she might be unable to close it. Instead, she unclipped her seatbelt, stumbled over the passenger seat, opened the door, and marched towards the stranger.

Lisa wasn't entirely sure what she would do when she reached him. She was 5'5" on a good day and in pretty good shape. Plus, she'd taken defence classes after an...incident on campus during her first year.

Weighing against her was the guy was over six feet tall. He was wearing ridiculous clothing for Newfoundland winter, but was in great shape. Oh, and she was still wearing a transparent white blouse with a lacy red bra underneath, an obscenely short tartan mini-skirt, and thigh-high stockings. Her only partial saving grace was the old North Face coat she was wearing and her winter boots. The wind cut through her stockings and blew up her short skirt, forcing her to keep a hand on it so as not to make a complete spectacle of herself. Well, more of one.

Kevin once told her she could make her presence felt when she wanted to. Lisa was about to make her presence very felt.

"You absolute friggin' idiot! Are you trying to die or get someone killed? What the fuck are you doing walking in the middle of the road at night in the snow!?" she yelled at him, poking him in the chest repeatedly to emphasize her point.

The man looked down at her and smiled. She was sure it was the kind of smile that liquefied the panties of most women, but not with her mood tonight. Right now, she wanted to smack the ever-living shit out of him.

"I was walking into town," he said. It was not a Newfoundland accent, that was for sure. Greek, maybe?

"In the middle of the night? In February? Dressed like you're on your way to a party? I still have no goddamn idea how you're not dead," she yelled. Lisa noticed he finally winced a bit when she said 'goddamned' for some reason.

"I am sorry to have scared you. I am....new here. I saw the town's name on the map and wanted to visit," he said.

"Cupids? You wanted to visit Cupids because you saw it on a map?" Lisa asked, not believing what she heard.

"Yes," he said. "It seemed like a good place to go for Valentine's Day."

With that, the wind went out of Lisa's sails. She was dressed like a slut, arguing with a strange man in the middle of the road. Tomorrow was Valentine's Day and she would be very single and alone in Cupids. It had seemed like a good idea when she bolted from Kevin's office. She needed to hide, and her late parents' old house in Cupids could provide shelter while she pondered her humiliation.

But now she felt the familiar waves of being a complete idiot settling onto her again. She was exhausted and didn't want to be here anymore. He wasn't dead. He was stupid and lucky, but not dead. So, just another typical male.

Lisa turned around and walked towards the pick-up.

"Have fun with your hike then," she said. "I'm going home and seeing if I have enough money to cover the damage I caused to my pick-up avoiding your dumb ass. Then I will drink enough to hopefully pass out and avoid fucking Valentine's Day."

"You don't like Valentine's Day," he said, his voice sounding hurt. He was also following her. Lisa stopped and turned to face him. A part of her was saying that it was very dumb to argue with a strange man in the middle of nowhere. But Lisa was very good at ignoring the voice of common sense at this point in her life.

"Oh, it's a great day. Flowers, chocolates and cheesy cards. Maybe a nice meal. But, you're wearing uncomfortable lingerie and the goddamn idiot passes out before getting you off. What's not to love?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Hopefully it would get through to the beautiful idiot.

The stranger looked hurt. Maybe it was the cursing, but he seemed sad that she didn't like Valentine's Day.

"It is a day of love, romance, and desire," he said. "What can be better than that?"

"Fuck that," Lisa said and marched back to her truck. She assessed the damage and sighed. Easily four figures. The last thing she needed, what with having to start looking for a new place to live.

As she looked at the damage, the strange man walked past her, continuing his journey in the middle of the road. She stared in disbelief. Maybe he had a death wish or something.

Lisa should leave him alone. Let him have his death wish. Just because she didn't kill him didn't mean someone else wouldn't have a crack at him soon enough.

She sighed and lowered her head.

"Get in," she called out to him. He stopped and looked at her.

"If I get up in the morning and find out someone ran you over, I'll feel bad about it. So get it. You're staying at an AirBnB or something in town, I s'pose?"

The man shrugged his shoulders. She shook her head. She'd drop him off in town and that would be that. He could figure something out. No more dealing with him.

He walked over to the pick-up and waited for her to crawl in. Lisa tried not to think about the fact that she was showing off her ass to a stranger. The panties matched the bra, after all. Or that she was letting a strange man into her truck. He was an idiot, but it felt like he was a harmless one.

"Do you have a name or anything?" she asked.

He paused for a moment and then smiled.

"Asterios," he said, getting into the truck. "You can call me Asterios."

Lisa shook her head and started her pick-up. After a few cuts to get it pointed in the right direction, she headed into Cupids.

February 14 - 12:42 am NST

Roger Smith woke up, slid out of bed, and went to the bathroom. Although barely awake, he instinctively avoided all the creaking spots on the wooden floor.

His 75th birthday was coming soon. As much as he might wish otherwise, getting up to take a piss two or three times a night was a regular thing. Roger hadn't slept through the night in at least 10 years without having to go a couple of times.

Half-awake in front of the toilet Roger finally noticed that despite the pressure in his bladder, nothing was hitting the toilet. When he looked down, he saw the reason why.

His cock was hard. Not a little hard, rock hard.

That hadn't happened in at least 10 years. Well, at least not without some pharmaceutical assistance prescribed by Dr. Woo. He reached down to touch it. Jesus, he hadn't been this hard since his 20s. What the hell?

He was still looking at his cock, trying to figure out what to do with it, when he heard Emily call out.