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!
by Queenie
Hercules was sad.
No, scratch that. He was miserable.
He thought about this for a minute. No, miserable didn't cover it. What
he was was downright depressed.
The day was beautiful. The sun, drifting high in the lapis lazuli sky, cast
its warming glow over the lush, verdant land below, her iridescent golden
rays seeking out the shadows and edging through them, sending teasing prisms
of friendly light into every corner. There was not a cloud to be seen, except
for one or two lazily drifting wisps which floated by every now and again,
communing with the sun, mellowing her radiance with courtly bows, before
disappearing into the horizon, dissipating as they did so.
But melancholia had crept over him, and nothing he did or thought about
could dispel it.
Iolaus.
It was all Iolaus' fault, really.
No, he reflected, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought; that wasn't really
fair. After all, it wasn't Iolaus' fault that they had each received two
entirely separate invitations for the same day. The hunter had been invited
to the celebrations in Farbia, whilst the son of Zeus's message had requested
his presence immediately in Matadaia.
He didn't even remember Matadaia very well.
That was a lie. He did remember; he and Iolaus had battled a monstrous,
three headed serpent there (and Iolaus had almost gotten himself killed
defending his friend from the lashing, poisonous tongue of the immense snake)
- he had just been feeling very peevish when he and Iolaus had realised
that, although each invitation had been intended for them both, neither
of them could be in two places at the same time. Thus, after much discussion
and debate, they had reluctantly concluded that splitting up and visiting
the two towns individually was the only solution. That way, both places
would have the presence of at least one of their heroes and everyone would
be happy.
Apart from Hercules.
Iolaus, once he had gotten over the disappointment of not being able to
share a party (and its inevitable denouement) with his best friend, had
seemed almost cheerful at the prospect of being parted from the demigod.
Hercules, on the other hand, had brooded about it. Until Iolaus accused
him of sulking and there had followed a friendly argument, then a tussle,
followed by a night of searing, indescribable lovemaking beneath the stars.
Indescribable.
Their sex that night had definitely been that. Indescribable, insatiable,
incoherent and completely wild and abandoned.
The latter description fit Iolaus to a tee. Wild and abandoned, exquisite,
astounding, beautiful both inside and out. Hercules' golden lover. The hunter's
perfectly formed, muscular body hid a wellspring of strength - both physical
and of the heart. The sun's radiance came nowhere near touching that of
Iolaus. He shone from within. He possessed an aura which was impossible
to define and equally impossible to ignore. All who met him were overcome
with him. He left no-one untouched by his burning, crystalline presence.
There were so many facets to him - and Hercules relished the fact that it
was his prerogative and his alone to discover each and every one of them,
slowly, so slowly that it would take the rest of their lives.
It seemed to the demigod that there had never been a time when he had not
known Iolaus. They had been together, in one way or another, for most of
their lives. Their friendship was legendary; their love for each other famous
and their willingness to risk their loves for each other was admired and
widely praised in many a bard's story. The extent of their love was, however,
if not a secret, something which they did not broadcast to the world at
large. Neither of them was ashamed of what they had found together - an
extension of their friendship, as natural as breathing, something to be
savoured, cherished and indulged in as often as possible! - but it was such
a private thing, an aspect of it which, perversely, only increased its allure,
adding to the fun they had when they were together, wrapped around and within
each other.
After all these years together, Hercules and Iolaus should have known everything
about each other - particularly as they had always shared the smallest confidence,
the most intimate secret. But lately, the demigod had discovered that there
were depths to his golden warrior that even he had never plumbed, and that
only added to the excitement and thrill of their union.
So, he was still learning about his beloved hunter, and each new discovery
only increased his ardour and his love.
Unfortunately, as the strength of his feelings and need for Iolaus grew
with each passing day, so did his loneliness seem ever stronger without
him. There had been a time when he had almost welcomed the occasional solitude,
using it as a time for reflection, for silent admiration of his surroundings
- which almost always contained some element of beauty - and for meditation,
locating that peaceful place within his soul and renewing his inner self.
Now his inner self was constantly restless without that bright, burning
presence beside him. The peace which he had always found alone could now
only be located when he was with Iolaus, and the abundant attractions of
Greece paled in comparison with that beautiful, sweet face and the tinkling,
joyous sound of his beloved's laughter. Solitude was no longer an option
- merely something to be endured. Without Iolaus, he felt incomplete, bereft
... depressed.
This was getting him nowhere, he mused, admonishing himself for his own
lack of fortitude. He would go to Matadaia, enjoy the party they were throwing
for him and he and Iolaus would meet up again in a week.
A week.
It might as well be a lifetime.
His depression did not only not lift. It deepened.
******
Iolaus was in ecstasy.
No, 'ecstasy' wasn't quite the right adjective. 'Ecstasy' was what he felt
when he was lying in the arms of his lover, engaged in hot, passionate sex,
or basking in the afterglow of that incredible act.
Hercules was an amazing lover, he reflected, wistfully, his mind wandering
for a moment or two, as memories of various steamy nights spent under the
stars or in a soft bed with his best friend and partner drifted lazily by,
eliciting a soft sigh of utter contentment and painting a dreamy smile on
his mobile features.
Hercules.
Iolaus inwardly hugged himself at the memory of their last night together
before his journey here. They had made love with feverish intensity, their
passion scaling heights previously unexplored, even for them. Afterward,
they had lain entwined around each other, basking in the euphoria which
had allowed them to descend gradually from their simultaneous, molten orgasms.
Neither of them had wanted to be the first to let go and so they had remained
thus all night, remaining awake to whisper sweet endearments to each other,
tease one another and make love again, slowly, languidly.
They had finally fallen asleep as dawn crept over the distant mountains,
her soft light suffusing the clearing in which they dozed with a fine mist,
splintered only by the warming rays of the sun as it peeped over the snow-covered
peaks beyond which Iolaus was to travel that day.
He had left his beloved demigod sleeping there, beneath Helios' golden gaze,
turning as he reached the trees to take one last, lingering look at the
man who was life and breath to him. His eyes swept lasciviously over the
deeply tanned, muscular form, and his own body yearned for the touch of
those strong, talented hands, the feel of the soft, well-formed lips, and
that pulsating, beautifully formed cock. Ruthlessly, he had quelled the
desire which was rising within him and, reluctantly, turned away and left.
The smallest hint of sadness crept into his gentian blue eyes at this memory,
threatening his heretofore unsullied feeling of well-being. He comforted
himself with the thought that within days, he would be with Hercules again,
partaking of those sweet tasting lips, surrounded by those strong, loving
arms, locked into the protective embrace where he felt so safe and loved
and cherished ...
'This is dumb, Iolaus,' he chided himself, sternly, shaking himself out
of his reflective mood to focus on his surroundings. 'You're at a party,
you're having a great time, and you can't possibly be missing Hercules after
only two days!'
His heart, however, told him otherwise. He refused to admit it to himself,
denied its persistent little voice, but it knew better. A part of it had
been left behind during his journey here. It had remained with the slumbering
demigod, in safekeeping, awaiting their reunion.
He wasn't sure at what stage in their long relationship he and Hercules
had fallen in love with each other. However, once they had realised how
they felt, they had wasted no time in showing each other. It had been a
learning experience, for sure - but both were incredibly eager pupils and
willing to undergo extra homework to ensure that they knew all there was
to know.
He could never get enough of his demigod - and Hercules was his. Just as
surely as Hercules considered him, Iolaus of Thebes, his own. They belonged
together; had been destined so from birth, and were never usually apart
for longer than a few days. Their hearts and souls had touched as boys and
it was then that they had realised, if only on a subconscious level, that
they had found their other half.
It was miraculous, really, that, after all this time as both friends and,
lately, lovers, they had never grown tired of each other. Sure, they had
had their arguments and disagreements but, even as mere best friends, there
had existed deep within both of them a place which needed its soulmate to
survive, to draw breath. Now, as both best friends and lovers, that place
within was only ever appeased when they were together, fighting back to
back, travelling side by side or curled around each other, it made no difference.
Very occasionally, when he had been bored or merely contemplative, he had
allowed himself to wonder at the fates which had drawn them together. What
made them so invincible a fighting team, what it was that made it possible
for them to practically read other other's thoughts during battle or making
love. He knew others had wondered. He had overheard whispered conversations
on many occasions, regarding the partnership of Hercules, a demigod, son
of Zeus, king of the Gods, with a mere mortal. He had been asked the question
himself once, by another warrior, whose back he had been guarding during
a particularly vicious battle. They had returned to the camp late one night,
exhausted, bruised and cut, carrying on his shield the body of a dead comrade.
Hercules had been waiting anxiously for his friend's return and had appeared
beside them, shadowing Iolaus as though he was determined not to let him
out of his sight again. Which wasn't, thought Iolaus, somewhat ruefully,
far from the truth.
They had held a vigil over the dead warrior, although Iolaus had felt the
exhaustion coursing through his bones, seeping away his strength and resolve
and yet unable to make the move to return to his own tent. Hercules had
come for him. He had entered the tent, shaken his head in silent concern
at the greyness of the hunter's face and, wrapping a nearby blanket around
his shoulders, had persuaded him back into their quarters where he had tended
to the numerous small wounds and ensured that Iolaus had eaten before practically
tucking him into bed and watching him sleep.
The hunter's fellow warrior had been witness to some of this, watching in
amazement as the son of Zeus took care of his partner and, he had admitted
to Iolaus, feeling a pang of jealousy that the blond warrior should have
someone so famous as a friend who thought nothing of tending to the needs
of a 'mere' mortal. "You're very lucky," he had told the astonished
blond warrior. "I don't know of any other Olympian who would deign
to do something like that. A hero, looking after you - you must feel very
honoured"
Iolaus had been about to respond to this when a deep voice from behind him
had forestalled him. "I'm the one who feels honoured," Hercules
had said, laying one proprietary hand on said blond warrior's shoulder.
" Iolaus is my best friend. He and I are a team; we're partners. We're
not 'demigod' and 'mortal'. Our friendship wouldn't work if we thought of
each other that way. He knows me and all my faults and accepts me as a person,
as I am, and for that, the true hero here, at least in my eyes is and always
will be Iolaus."
That had been as close to a public declaration of love as Iolaus had ever
heard from his friend's lips, and the memory still remained with him to
this day, warming him whenever he felt the chill of loneliness enter his
soul.
Speaking of loneliness ...
No, he didn't feel lonely, he reminded himself, very firmly. Just because
he was here alone, at a party, not partaking of any of the delicious food,
which was set out in a vast array and had been pointed out to him by more
than one of this generous hosts, did not mean that he was feeling lonely.
Funny, though, he mused, how you could feel lonely - especially in a crowd.
Especially without the one person who meant everything to you.
Determinedly, he shook himself out of his introspection and turned to the
beautiful young woman beside him. She was gazing up at him with big, doe-brown
eyes, her face bathed in a beatific smile, and she had pressed her firm,
soft body against his own. Her left hand was moving sensuously up and down
his abdomen, tickling his belly button, and wandering around the rim of
his pants. He could feel the merest trace of arousal beginning and gulped.
Before he could say anything, however, one of his hosts joined them, and
whisked him away from his amorous companion to introduce him to the rest
of the guests.
Iolaus didn't remember much after that. The whole event became an amorphous
whirl consisting of plates upon plates piled with every delicacy imaginable,
numerous tankards of ale and other alcoholic substances forced into his
hand at every turn and women throwing themselves practically at his feet,
together with a sea of faces, all congratulating him and thanking him profusely
for saving their town - together with Hercules, of course!
The event continued for days. The people of Farbia were renowned for their
hospitality and infamous for their parties. Strong men had been known to
run from them, eventually - screaming. Iolaus, always a party animal, was
stronger than most. He lasted until the last drop of wine had been drunk,
the last piece of food consumed. Then he wended his way wearily to the local
inn, where he had booked a room which he hadn't actually seen since his
arrival there, and, struggling up the stairs, made it to the bed and partly
undressed before collapsing into an exhausted heap.
Which was where Hercules found him a day later.
The demigod had actually finally enjoyed the celebrations in Matadaia. The
people of the small town were generous and pleasant and knew how to throw
a good party. Although they obviously weren't as well versed in that particular
art as were the people of Farbia, he reflected, as he had walked through
the streets, laden with the wilting detritus of the festivities, stepping
carefully over the drunken and sated bodies strewn everywhere, hoping that
one of them would not be his friend.
The innkeeper - who was remarkably untouched by the whoopee which had rendered
everyone else in town insensible, gave him directions to his friend's room,
and he practically bounded up the stairs. Outside Iolaus's room, he stood
for a moment, hesitating before going in. He suddenly realised he was afraid
- and just as suddenly admitted to himself what he was so afraid of. What
if Iolaus wasn't alone?
It was perfectly feasible that his lover may have taken advantage of the
very obvious, very ample opportunities presented to him here. Hercules swallowed,
hard. What was he going to do if this turned out to be the case? For long
moments, he prevaricated, his hand frozen on the door, aching to open it
and be with his beloved hunter once more but truly afraid of what he would
find when that time finally arrived. Eventually, inevitably, he quelled
his fear and trepidation and cautiously pushed it open, finally remembering
to breathe again when he saw the lone figure sprawled inelegantly across
the barely rumpled sheets.
Grinning, and with an evil glint in his eye, he moved closer to the bed
and carefully moved the smaller man to one side. Then, divesting himself
of his travel worn clothing, he knelt next to the slumbering form, drinking
in the sight of his lover as though Iolaus was the very air itself.
"I've missed you," he whispered, reaching out a hand to brush
it lightly over one pronounced cheekbone, then allowing it to travel down
the corded neck, lingering on the tawny chest and finally, tracing the muscles
of the firm abdomen until it reached the waistband of the leather pants.
There was no response from the supine warrior, so Hercules became a little
bolder. Iolaus had already removed his tunic and boots before falling onto
the bed - they lay in three pathetic, crumpled heaps on the floor - and
the demigod could feel the heat coursing through his blood at the mere sight
of his golden lover. It wouldn't take much to ignite that heat, and turn
it into a raging furnace. Slowly, delicately, he worked on the hunter's
belts, casting them aside to lay beside the bed once they were removed,
then he silently unfastened the leather pants and, holding his breath, eased
them down the firm, sturdy legs until, finally, they joined the rest of
the clothing.
He sat back on his haunches for a moment to survey his work. The golden
warrior was wondrous to behold, his angelic face, surrounded by the tumbled
mass of tousled burnished curls so peaceful, a slight smile in evidence
- Hercules wondered if Iolaus was dreaming about him. The perfectly formed
bronzed body lay completely open to the son of Zeus, and he licked his lips
lasciviously, the fire within him sparking as his eyes travelled down the
broad chest, through the firmly muscled abdomen, coming to rest on the thatch
of tight blond curls wherein was nestled the prize which would be his within
the next few moments.
With a sigh born of need and contentment combined, he leaned over the compact
form, anchoring his hands on either side of Iolaus' fine hipbones, and gently
laved his tongue over one ear, sucking it tenderly, pulling on one of the
earrings which pierced it and tracing a route round the outside, eliciting
a soft moan from the man beneath him.
When this failed to waken the warrior completely, he continued his ministrations
by travelling further afield, finally coming to rest on the left nipple,
and sucking hard on that, worrying it between his teeth and pulling, pulling
until it stood, firm and wet and erect from his attentions. Then he moved
across to the other side and repeated the procedure.
This had the desired effect. Iolaus moaned again and squirmed slightly,
his hands lifting off the bed to clutch at the arms which were levering
up the demigod. Licking dry lips, he tried to open bleary eyes, failed,
then his eyelashes fluttered a second time and finally, he was able to focus,
somewhat blearily, on the figure above him, his senses focusing somewhat
more immediately on what that figure was doing to him.
"Herc..." he whispered. "Mmmm..."
"Hi," said the demigod, smiling down into that beloved face, his
soul rejoicing as he gazed into the sleep-fogged azure eyes, to find an
echo of that joy sparking within. "Miss me?"
Iolaus shook his head, closed his eyes and smiled. "Nope," he
lied. "Had a great time without you."
"Liar," came the gentle accusation. "But that's okay. I didn't
miss you, either."
"For two guys who didn't miss each other we're doing awful well at
reuniting," remarked the warrior, gasping as Hercules' tongue drifted
lower down and found purchase in his bellybutton. "Oh, Herc ..."
Hercules was too busy to respond to this as he probed deeper and deeper
into that sweet aperture, then he deserted it for pastures anew, re-acquainting
himself with the musky, sandalwood scent of his lover's groin, and running
it lightly up the side of the now straining erection.
Iolaus threw his head back and closed his eyes tightly, sensation sweeping
through him and he felt Hercules own bulging penis rest against the inside
of his thigh, moisture seeping from the tip of it and running down his skin.
"Please," he begged, gripping the demigod's forearms tightly,
and wriggling his body around to meet the throbbing cock. "Herc ..."
"You can be so-o-o impatient," Hercules reprimanded him, sliding
back up the warrior's writhing body to plant several small kisses on the
fine-boned jawline and freeing one arm to run a loving finger down the side
of his lover's flushed face. "But then again - I did start this, I
guess ..."
"Yeah ... you did," Iolaus agreed, his chest heaving, fighting
for breath, his eyes open again, although glazed with desire. "Gets
to the point where a guy can't sleep in his own bed without someone coming
in to molest him ..."
"You're not enjoying it?" demanded the demigod, grinning slyly,
his hand disappearing between them to grasp Iolaus' cock and stroke it,
running the tip of one finger through the pre-cum and playing gently with
the slit.
Iolaus' voice suddenly deserted him and he grabbed the sheet beneath his
bucking body. He had missed this. Gods, how he had missed this. It seemed
that for the last week, he had been only half-alive. And now - now he was
whole again. The touch of his lover's hands and tongue were driving him
crazy with need and he knew it was only a matter of time before the flames
within him devoured them both. Gods, he was close. He was so close.
Hercules' own fire, ignited by the mere touch of his hands on that silken
skin, had already become a raging inferno, and he was riding the apex of
flames so high that he wondered if they would consume both him and Iolaus.
He could feel his lover cresting beneath him and knew that he could wait
no longer, either. Removing his hand from that turgid cock for a moment,
he slipped his wet fingers behind the tight scrotum, running them lightly
over the sac, and found the warm, sweet place he had been seeking. Thrusting
one finger in, he allowed the muscles to become accustomed to it and relax
before sending another one to join it. Then, unable to wait any longer,
and knowing that his lover was on the brink himself, he hoisted up the slim
hips, and, smiling as the strong, slender legs locked themselves around
his waist, thrust his bulging penis into the hunter's anus, pushing, pushing
until he felt the muscles contract and guide him in, then squirmed around
until he heard the stifled scream from his beloved hunter, telling him that
he had located that for which he had been searching.
Then pure sensation overcame them both as Hercules thrust in and out, pulling
out, pushing in, further and further each time, his hand returning to its
task of milking the warrior's penis, pulling in rhythm with that he was
doing within the lithe body beneath him.
It didn't take long, although it seemed like an eternity to the two lovers.
The heat built between them, flames licking, incandescence burning through
to their very souls, until finally, they both orgasmed together, milky white
semen spurting up from the penis which Hercules held into his hand, whilst
his own shot upward into the willing body of the golden man beneath him.
Afterward, they lay entwined on the bed, Hercules using the edge of a sheet
to lovingly wipe the remaining traces of his own fluid from Iolaus' abdomen
and chest.
"Have a good time, did you?" Iolaus asked of his best friend as
he curled into the demigod's embrace.
"Yeah," came the sated reply. "What about you? Enjoy it?
Missed it, didn't you?"
"Uh? What?" The blond warrior lifted his head from the comfortable
pillow of Hercules' chest. "Missed what?"
"This!" Hercules looked down at him in exasperated affection.
"Oh." Iolaus grinned. "I was actually talking about the party,"
he clarified. "Did you have a good time?"
The demigod narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?" he demanded.
His lover shrugged. "Well, I did," he said. "Brilliant party.
They
certainly know how to celebrate here. Went on for days. Could sleep
for a week."
Hercules growled. But inside he wanted to sing for joy. Gods, this
was what he wanted - this man, this body, this teasing. How had he ever
managed to survive without it? Aloud he said, "Well, you can't sleep
for a week. We have a message from Anarchia. They have a problem for
us to sort out. We leave tomorrow."
Azure blue eyes stared up at him, disappointment evident in their
iridescent depths, but there was laughter lurking there, too. "Aw,
Herc..." Iolaus whined. "I don't wanna go slay another monster
or fight
another warlord - I'm exhausted! Can't we stay here for a few days -
go later? Pleeeaassee??"
The wheedling tone enticed a bubble of laughter from the demigod. "No,
we can't," he said. "I promised."
"And you can't go back on your promise," Iolaus sighed. "After
all,
you're Hercules. What would people say?"
"Are you getting at me?" Hercules sounded ever so slightly peeved,
and
Iolaus squinted up at him, searching that much loved face for signs of
real annoyance. Not finding any, he nuzzled back into the demigod's
shoulder and sighed heavily.
"No," he said, around a yawn. "I wouldn't get at *you*, Herc.
Cos I
*have* missed you, you know. Party wasn't the same without you.
No-one telling me I shouldn't drink so much, shouldn't eat so much,
shouldn't dance with so many women, shouldn't ..."
"Okay, okay, I get the point!" interjected Hercules, laughing.
"But -
you *did* miss me?"
"I just said so, didn't I?"
"Well, good - because I missed you - drinking too much, eating too
much, dancing with too many women, picking fights with strange men ..."
"Hey!" Iolaus thumped the demigod in the ribs, although there
wasn't
much force behind the blow. "I never pick fights with strange men!"
"What would you call Aranus, or Marcheus, or Sanatogus, or ..."
"Now look ..."
Their argument looked set to carry on all night - but Hercules decided
to put an end to it - whilst he was ahead! - by the simple expedient of
leaning down and thoroughly kissing the blond. As their lips met and
their tongues entwined, Iolaus forgot all about their conversation,
instead concentrating on plundering his friend's mouth for all he was
worth, and, when they finally came up for air, he sighed again and
hugged Hercules closer.
"Sleep," he begged. "If we're going to Arachnia..."
"Anarchia.." Hercules corrected him.
"Arachnia, Anarchia, whatever. If we're going there tomorrow, we need
to sleep."
Hercules grinned. Truth be told, he had been enjoying their easy
repartee - that was something else he had missed, although he would
*never* have admitted that to Iolaus - he would never have heard the
last of it - literally!!! When Iolaus got his teeth into a conversation
he was like a bull terrier - he never let go, although at least the
demigod had found some rather unique ways to keep him quiet for a few
moments.
Glancing down, he noticed that the blond's eyelashes were fluttering
closed despite his best efforts to stay awake. "Go to sleep, Iolaus,"
he whispered, tightening the embrace in which he held his friend and lover.
"You know, I don't care if I *did* have a good time at my party - the
best party I could ever have is with you."
Finis