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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