Disclaimer - these characters are the property of MCA/Universal
and Renaissance Pictures and no attempt is made to infringe the copyright
thereof. We are just borrowing them and will give them back at the end of
the story!
A CHRISTMAS PIECE OF FLUFF!
By 'Quentine'
Iolaus pulled into Hercules' forecourt, brushing a lock of golden hair seductively
over one ear and unconsciously thrusting one hip forward. He groaned, a
low, gutteral sound as he watched the tall, tanned figure of the demigod
pottering about the place, the well-pronounced muscles rippling beneath
the sweat-sheened body. "Fill 'er up, Herc," he pleaded, his voice
husky with unspent passion.
"Would that be just the gallon, then, Iolaus?" responded Hercules,
moving forward to meet the smaller man, one hand reaching out possessively
for his tight waist, the other ranging slowly up and down the compact tawny
body.
"That depends on whether your number one pump is working today."
Iolaus's cerulean eyes were burning with a hunger only one thing could assuage.
He needed Hercules' engineering skills, and not just for the mere mechanics
of it, either.
"I don't seem to have had any complaints so far," came the swift
rejoinder. The demigod's hand slithered lower toward the waistband of the
other man's tight leather pants, and a hand came forward to meet and guide
it back upward.
"Hold on, Herc," said the golden warrior, his tousled burnished
hair gleaming in the radiance of the early afternoon sun. "Before you
go any further, I think I need an oil change."
Hercules licked his lips, lasciviously. "In that case, you'd better
step into my office,"
he said. "I can attend to your needs much better in private."
"I hope this isn't going to take long," said the hunter, anxiously,
gleaming white teeth worrying at his full lower lip. "I prefer the
freedom of the open road."
"'Open' was what I had in mind," said Hercules, with a wide grin.
He held out his hand, and his dearest friend placed a solitary dinar in
his palm.
"That's for later," Iolaus told him. "You could use that
to pry open my petrol cap - it needs some lubrication."
"Your big end could use some attention, as well," Hercules pointed
out, looking at him, appraisingly.
"Well, you should know," said Iolaus. "You're the mechanic!
Does this mean we're going for the full service, then, Herc?" he continued,
with a mischievous grin.
Hercules shrugged nonchalantly. "That all depends on whether you're
up for it."
"We'd better get to it, then," said the compact warrior, his pink
tongue sneaking between his sensual lips to lick at a drop of moisture as
it trickled down his finely chiselled features.
Without further ado, they padded into Hercules' barn, memories of earlier
encounters there assailing them both, and the smell of fresh straw evoking
images of other heated encounters between the two of them.
Silence ensued as Hercules sought the oil and Iolaus very, very slowly and
erotically divested himself of his clothing which had suddenly become too
confining in the oppressive heat of those four walls. The demigod meanwhile,
had found what he sought and turned around to the sight of his glorious
lover, standing, legs slightly splayed, arms folded across that wondrous
chest, illuminated in a shaft of pure sunlight which streamed through a
large gap in the wooden beams above.
His pump jumped in response and the oil dropped from palsied fingers as
he drunk in the sight of the magnificence before him..
"I think you dropped something, Herc," Iolaus pointed out, cheekily,
his azure eyes dancing with laughter. "Am I making you nervous?"
"No," came the response in a high pitched tone. "I think
it's time for your MOT."
Iolaus and Hercules moved forward at the same time, hands reaching for each
other in spiralling passion.
Within a matter of moments, Hercules was also naked and they were indulging
in pre-rutting lust on the hay-strewn floor.
"Nice bodywork, Iolaus," commented Hercules as he ran his fingers
appreciatively up and down the alabaster form.
"You're not bad yourself," said Iolaus, his own hands ranging
further and further afield as the body of his friend writhed around on top
of him. "Aren't you going to check my distributor cap?"
"All things in good time, " teased the demigod, as he administered
to the passion
indicators, tweaking them lovingly until they stood erect and firm.
"Ah ..." moaned Iolaus. "*Please* check my distributor cap!
I need it! Please!"
Hercules sighed heavily, and slithered down the lithe body, past the rigid
abdomen and onto the silken thighs, until he reached the golden upholstery
and, nestling there, in all its glory, his goal. Teasingly, he licked its
weeping helmet until he could feel that the hunter was about to spill, then,
taking the whole in his yearning mouth, sucked hard until his lover cried
out incoherently and bucked beneath him, pushing further into the back of
the demigod's throat. With an urgent cry, Iolaus erupted into the eager
haven and Hercules swallowed that salty nectar convulsively.
"You're pure ambrosia, Iolaus," the son of Zeus told him, meeting
his mouth with eager lips "Divine food of the gods. I just need to
check your engine now ...!" And without waiting for permission, he
jacked the warrior's hips up with a convenient sack of corn. Spreading his
legs invitingly, Iolaus opened himself up completely for the handsome half
god.
Hercules smiled ferally. "Your clutch seems to be in perfect working
order, Iolaus," he said, admiringly. "Let's just have a look at
that engine, now, shall we?"
Retrieving the oil from where he had dropped it, he spread it over the appropriate
tools and inserted a finger into the puckered orifice. A moan met this initial
procedure, and after a while, another well-oiled finger joined the first.
Iolaus was whimpering with barely concealed abandon, and so Hercules thrust
a third finger into that delightful hot hole, pushing, wriggling, bending,
until he found what he was looking for.
Iolaus screamed.
Hercules wasted no more time. "I'm sorry, Iolaus," he said, panting
for breath. "I can't wait." Then his fingers were replaced with
something much larger, and more satisfying, and his hands grasped the slim
hips, anchoring himself to the smaller man's glistening body as he proceeded
to fuck the compact blond warrior unmercifully.
"Herc ... please ... "
The demigod realised what his friend was begging him for and one hand reached
for Iolaus's renewed crank shaft, pumping it in time with his busy rhythm.
In, out, in out, in out. He never wanted it to stop, But it must and too
soon he felt his balls tighten and an indescribable feeling of exquisite
agony shoot through him into that waiting haven as he came and came, calling
Iolaus's name over and over again.
Reluctantly disengaging, he glanced upward to find that his partner's pump
was still primed. Grinning evilly, he searched for and found the discarded
dinar and slid it across his own essence to coat it, then, reaching forward,
inserted it into the weeping slit, eliciting a choked cry from Iolaus. Running
it slowly back and forth across the tight head, with his other hand, he
milked the turgid cock. Iolaus's beautiful eyes had rolled back in unholy
rapture, and his breath was emerging as a series of stifled gasps. One final
pump on the slick, velvety penis and the warrior's seed gushed over the
demigod's fist in a molten shower.
"Gods, Herc," panted Iolaus, in a breathy whisper. "Th ..that
was ... incredible!"
Kissing him soundly on his parched lips, the demigod winked at his partner.
"Well," he said, "next time don't leave it so long inbetween
services!"
FINIS
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