Disclaimer: I don't own them. Strife lives in my head and keeps giving me these ideas.
Summary/Warning: This is incredibly hokey and stupid. I have no idea what I was thinking but I decided to inflict ….um…..share…that's it share…this with you.
Through a Clichéd Glass
By Lady Frisselle
"Strife please…I need you," Cupid pleaded with the god above him. He was so going to flip over and take control if Strife didn't do something soon.
"Anything you want Cupid," Strife replied huskily.
He leaned down to kiss Cupid and then (A train entered a tunnel; waves crashed against the rocks; flowers bloomed).
Sated, Strife dropped down next to Cupid. "Cupie, not that I didn't thoroughly enjoy that and want to do it again as soon as possible but. . . At the end there did you see those fireworks things from Chin going off?"
Cupid sighed. "Yeah…. Mom warned me that this could happen."
"What do you mean 'This could happen'?"
"We're in a scene written by a writer who was afraid to describe sex. Those images were what the readers saw instead of your gorgeous butt screwing me into the mattress."
"Oh…." Strife paused. Suddenly Cupid found himself laying on top of his lover who was grinning up at him. "Let's do that again and see what images we get this time."
(Planes come in to land; butterflies burst out of their cocoons…..)
THE END