Disclaimer: These characters belong to Renaissance and MCA/Universal and this in no way intends to infringe on any copyright thereof. We promise to give them back after we've played with them!

RESISTANCE

Part 2

By Mel


The blond prisoner's eyes radiated defiance as the vicious blow caught him across the side of his face and he tasted blood. He had been dragged on board, stripped of his clothes and doused in freezing seawater to remove the thickly coating mud from his body. Then, still dripping and clad only in a ragged pair of loose pants he was forced to kneel at the captain's feet.

The captain was a tall well-formed man with greasy shoulder length black hair and cold dark eyes. As he was supervising the stowing of his human cargo, one of the prisoners stumbled falling heavily to the deck. "Keep them on their feet. They won't fetch a good price if they're damaged," he yelled angrily. Turning his attention back to the shivering man at his feet he lashed out again, sending his captive sprawling across the deck. "What's your name?" he snapped. Iolaus rolled onto his back, licked blood from his split lip and declined to answer the question. "It doesn't really matter who you are," growled the captain. He snapped his fingers and two men leapt into action. "Take him to my cabin."

The captain's quarters were large, almost palatial compared to those on the ships Iolaus had previously sailed in. To one side a silk draped, sumptuous bed filled half the room and exotic brightly coloured tapestries adorned the walls. His fascinated inventory, of the luxurious cabin was rudely interrupted by the owner's arrival.
Iolaus was hauled before the captain. "Before I'm done you'll be begging to fulfil my every desire." He grabbed a handful of the hunter's tangled hair, tugging it painfully until he was forced to look into his tormentor's eyes, which were presently examining him with undisguised lust.

Shuddering with revulsion, Iolaus renewed his struggles against the firm hold of the sailors on either side of him, as a myriad of ugly possibilities entered his mind. In desperation he raised both his shackled feet and lashed out vigorously at the leering captain, catching him squarely in his midsection and doubling him over in agony. Twisting furiously to his left he was able to loosen the restraining hold on his arms and he swung his manacled wrists at the nearest man's head.

The other sailor, a huge bear of a man with arms as thick as the hunter's legs, swung a powerful fist, landing a shattering blow across the blond man's shoulders and throwing him across the cabin. There was a sickening thud as the hunter's ribs connected violently with the edge of a sturdy wooden table and he crumpled to the floor in agony.

Gripping his bruised midriff, the captain yelled for reinforcements. "Get him on his feet and over that table or I will have you flogged," he barked. Burly sailors grabbed the writhing hunter, twisting his injured arm behind his back and pinning his chest to the table top. The room swam frighteningly as the pain from the reopened wound in his arm combined with the excruciating pressure on his injured ribs, threatened to push him into unconsciousness. One of the shackles on his ankles was unlocked and several hands battled with his flailing feet, eventually tying them to the table's stout wooden legs before similarly securing his arms. Leaning over his now completely immobilised and vulnerable prisoner the captain pushed down forcefully against the hunter's back, grinding his damaged ribs agonisingly into the table.

Refusing to give the hateful man any satisfaction, Iolaus gritted his teeth. Rivulets of sweat trickled down his face, dripping onto the table's rough surface and he fought down the rising waves of nausea, which assaulted him. Even when his tormentor dug his fingers viciously into the filthy blood stained bandage on his arm he stubbornly withheld an agonised cry.

The captain laughed. "Ahhh, a brave one. Good, I like a challenge, I'll enjoy breaking you," he hissed.

A sweaty, callused hand ran over the hunter's smooth back. His skin crawled at the disgusting touch and he prayed to awaken from the hideous nightmare. The sailors had prudently departed, leaving their captain alone with the helpless hunter to use him as he pleased, which for the present involved making the blond man suffer for his earlier actions. Rough hands grazed over the curve of the hunter's spine, down to the dip at his lower back where their progress was interrupted by the waistband of his loosely fitting pants. Hooking his thumbs under the edge of the thin material the captain eased the garment over the blond man's hips, releasing it to pool at their feet. He grinned wickedly when the exposed pale buttocks quivered beneath his roving touch.

Temporarily releasing the delicious flesh, the sailor undid his broad leather belt, sliding it free. Folding the thick strip in half, he flexed it aggressively, a hand's length from the hunter's nose. "I am a man of my word, and I give you my word that if you give me any more trouble, you will look back on what happens today as a sweet memory compared to what I will do," he growled.

"Burn in Tartarus," Iolaus spat and fixed his gaze stubbornly on the table. Refusing to meet his captor's cold eyes, he focused instead on his mental preparation for the approaching ordeal. His immediate future didn't bear thinking about. There was little doubt that this man meant to cruelly abuse him. To make matters worse he was aware that by now, Hercules would know of his capture and the hunter was certain his friend would be beside himself with worry. His heart thudded wildly in his chest and his knees trembled as anxiety for his friend, mingled with apprehension and helpless frustration in his mind. He flinched as the edge of the leather belt slipped between his buttocks, rubbing back and forth against his anus until the soft puckered skin burned painfully from the friction of the rough material. Closing his eyes, Iolaus concentrated on shutting his mind to the uncomfortable sensations. He would get through this somehow
.
The whistling of the leather belt through air heralded the imminent arrival of the first painful blow and the hunter braced himself for the impact. Stiff leather bit painfully into flesh and he flinched despite himself as pain and shock coursed through him. The second stinging lash arrived and he gritted his teeth. Resting his forehead on the rough wooden table, he concentrated on pushing the pain away. Several vicious strokes later his buttocks were marred with fiercely burning red welts. The increasing effort of remaining silent under the relentless onslaught left him trembling.

A wicked grin fixed on his unshaven sweat glistened face, the captain grunted with exertion as he wielded the leather strap enthusiastically. He watched in rapturous pleasure as his helpless prisoner jerked with every stinging impact and steadily increased the power behind the strokes until the blond man, unable to hold back any longer, uttered a strangled sob of pain.

Dropping the belt onto the boarded floor, the captain fumbled with the fastenings of his pants and, hastily releasing his burgeoning erection, he approached his shaking victim. Grabbing the cheeks of the blond man's arse and pushing them forcefully apart, he thrust his hips forward, spearing him brutally.

Iolaus couldn't help himself. He screamed and tried desperately to convince himself that his body hadn't in fact been torn in two by the violent intrusion. As the searing, pounding invasion continued he clenched his fists and prayed for oblivion. His knees threatened to give way and tears of pain and humiliation escaped from his tightly shut, eyes.

A cry of ecstasy rang through the cabin and the rampant thrusting mercifully ceased. His whole body seemed to throb intensely while he waited in shivering trepidation for his tormentor's next move. Relief flooded through him when the captain called for his men to take the prisoner away and he had never been so grateful to be thrown into a stinking cell.

When he hit the damp floor of the cell and pain assaulted him from every nerve ending of his battered body, he came close to passing out. The agonising waves gradually receded to a manageable level and eventually, he opened his eyes. To his surprise he discovered he wasn't alone in his prison. A boy of no more than eighteen, crouched in the far corner of the cell, regarding him fearfully. "Hi," the hunter croaked and summoned up a weak smile. "Are the beds here as comfortable as they look," he quipped feebly.

As Iolaus watched, the young man's lips quivered slightly and the corners of his mouth turned up in a tentative smile. "I'm afraid so," was the shaky reply.

"I could use some help here," Iolaus stated, attempting painfully, to sit up.

After a brief moment of hesitation, the boy shuffled across the floor and placed an arm around the blond man's shoulders to help him up. When his ribs protested painfully, Iolaus folded his arms across his chest and groaned.

"How bad are you hurt?" asked the young man solicitously.

"Just some bruised ribs and a sore arm," the hunter lied. "Thanks for your help. What's your name?"

"Petros," replied the boy. "My grandfather and I were captured a few days ago. The captain had me put in this cell by myself but I don't know why."

Petros was a handsome youth and Iolaus had little doubt of the captain's licentious intentions but he kept his thoughts to himself. "As long as we're going to be cell mates, we might as well get acquainted," he suggested. "My name is Iolaus, but I'd just as soon you kept that between us."

The boy gasped. "The Iolaus?" he asked. "Friend of Hercules?"

The hunter nodded, secretly pleased at the boy's reaction.

"My grandfather has told me stories of you and Hercules," he explained excitedly. "You're quite a hero. I'm honoured to meet you Iolaus."

Iolaus grinned and accepted the boys outstretched arm. "Thank you Petros. I wish we could have met under better circumstances."

"Are you thirsty?" the youth asked eagerly. "I'll get you some water," he offered and crawling across to a bucket in the corner of the cell he filled a small cup. Returning to the hunter he held out the brimming vessel. "It tastes pretty disgusting but it hasn't made me ill yet," he said.

Accepting the proffered cup gratefully the hunter gulped the water down. "Thanks," he muttered, closing his eyes as the room began to spin.

Placing a gentle hand on his hero's arm the lad asked worriedly, "Are your ribs hurting?"

Iolaus fervently wished it were only his ribs that pained him. The cheeks of his arse burned fiercely, his arm was throbbing mercilessly and hot pain lanced through his body from his cruelly violated anus with every slight movement. Hiding the full extent of his suffering from the boy he replied, "I'll be okay when I've rested a while."

The young man nodded and leaned back against the wall. "The floor is damp but you can rest your head on my leg if it would be more comfortable," he offered.

Smiling gratefully, Iolaus manoeuvred himself painfully into a semi-comfortable position and rested his head on the boy's leg. "Thanks," he sighed. His eyes closed, but sleep wouldn't come. His mind whirled with thoughts of Hercules and fear gripped his heart when he imagined what the future might hold. He was afraid for Petros. The boy was unaware, of the ugly fate awaiting him at the hands of a cruel and ruthless man.

As the hours passed the hunter began to toss restlessly as pain and exhaustion battled for supremacy in his abused body. He missed Hercules desperately but refused to consider the possibility that he might die without seeing his lover again.
As Petros observed the blond man's suffering, a host of confusing feelings swarmed through his mind and body. More than anything, he wanted to hold his tormented hero in his arms and soothe away his pain. To press his lips against golden skin and feel the warmth of his body. No, it wasn't right to have these feelings. He took a deep shaky breath and frantically directed his thoughts to other things. Eventually the welcoming arms of sleep enveloped the pain filled hunter and his young friend watched over him.


Both men were shaken rudely awake by rough hands grabbing and dragging them from the cell. They were hauled into the captain's cabin where the dark haired man waited with an evil grin fixed on his face. Lust filled eyes roamed over the hunter's well-muscled body. "You will submit to me," he said and snapped his fingers.
Petros gasped in terror as the tip of a wickedly sharp blade pressed against his throat. "If I snap my fingers again the boy will die," explained the captain.

Iolaus regarded him sceptically. "How do I know you won't kill him anyway?"

"You have my word. As long as you co-operate I won't touch the boy."

The idea of willingly submitting to this vile man's abuse filled him with revulsion but if he refused, his young companion's life would be forfeit. At least this way the boy would be spared the agony and humiliation of a violent sexual assault. Iolaus conceded with mixed emotions and resigning himself to his fate, he stood quietly while his leg irons were removed. Grinning in lustful anticipation the captain indicated the table and issued a command to his slave. "Over there, you know what to do."

The last thing Petros witnessed as he was pulled roughly from the room, was the blond man, his head bowed, crossing reluctantly to the table.

Some time later the pale hunter was returned to his prison where he fell to the floor and curled into a trembling ball.

Petros was at his side instantly. "Iolaus are you okay?" he asked desperately. "Did he hurt you? I know what he did. He was going to do that to me if you hadn't come along wasn't he?" the boy blurted out.

Iolaus lifted pain filled eyes. "I think so," he gasped.

The boy's eyes glittered with tears. "Thank you, Iolaus. I'm sorry for what he did to you. Does...does it hurt?" he asked shakily.

Iolaus sat up painfully and closed his eyes until his world ceased its sickening spinning. "It's a bit uncomfortable," he muttered through clenched teeth.

"I'm not a baby, Iolaus," snapped Petros angrily. "I can see you're in pain. I want to help, please don't lie to me." Squaring his shoulders the young man glared at him determinedly.

Acknowledging the lad's spirit, the hunter placed an arm around slim shoulders and squeezed. "You're right, Petros, I'm Sorry. It does hurt and he thrashed my backside with a leather belt earlier so sitting down is a bit of a trial at the moment," he fidgeted uncomfortably on the hard floor as he spoke.

Petros was stunned. "Ooo, that does hurt. My grandfather laid his belt across me once and I couldn't sit down for a week. You're very brave Iolaus," he said in awe.

Squirming in pain and embarrassment the hunter tried to change the subject. "What happened to the rest of your family?" he asked.

"They died when I was very young, of a fever, I don't really remember them," he said glancing worriedly at his friend's pale face. "You should lie down, Iolaus. It would be more comfortable. Lie against me, it's the least I can do after what you did for me today." The boy patted his shoulder invitingly.

Iolaus was too tired to protest so he rested his head against the lad's shoulder and tried to get comfortable.

In an effort to direct his thoughts away from the interminable pain of his injuries, Iolaus asked the boy about his capture. Petros described the fierce battle in his small village and how he and his grandfather had been lucky to escape with their lives. There had been around fifty men and their leader was a ferocious warrior with a huge scar across his torso. They had been put on board the ship, which had then sailed to another place where supplies were unloaded and more prisoners brought on board. Some of the prisoners had been given duties on board the ship, including his grandfather who had put to work, scrubbing the deck. The boy's eyes filled with tears as he spoke of the old man, whom he clearly missed very much. Taking his young friend's hand, Iolaus squeezed it fondly but he could find no words of comfort to offer. Petros continued to speak of things he had overheard about their final destination. They were allegedly to be taken to a slave auction on an island somewhere. They would be sold or traded for supplies. It sounded like an extremely lucrative business.

Iolaus was able to put a few more pieces of the puzzle together in his head. His guess that there was only the one group of raiders was probably correct. They weren't interested in conquering, only in taking prisoners for profit. The fact that they moved from place to place, never staying in one area for very long and rendezvousing with the ship in a different location each time had given the illusion of a larger threat. Iphicles had reported seeing three ships in one week but had probably assumed that the ships arrived, delivered their supplies and left. In reality they had most likely seen the same ship three times as it collected its human cargo.
Somehow he had to get his information to the king but he couldn't even begin to imagine how he would achieve such a seemingly impossible feat. He shifted uncomfortably against his young friend's shoulder and moaned in distress when hot pain coursed through his tortured body. Slim arms encircled him, pulling him closer and Iolaus accepted the warmth and comfort with gratitude. His eyes drifted shut, his mind filling with thoughts of Hercules, of better times when they had laughed and loved together.

The hunter was dragged from the cell and taken up on deck to where the captain stood at the ship's wheel. It was dark and the deck was deserted but for the captain and his escort.

Indicating the space on the deck between himself and the ship's wheel the captain ordered, "On your knees."

Iolaus suffered the ensuing abuse stoically but he was barely conscious when he was hauled below decks to the stinking cell and the waiting arms of his worried young companion.

The hunter moaned and trembled in pain and Petros cradled his blond head in his lap. The young man's eyes filled with tears and impulsively he leaned over the blond man and tenderly kissed his lips.

Iolaus drew back in surprise and regarded his young friend questioningly.

The boy's face coloured. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, turning his emotion filled eyes away. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Why not?" asked the hunter softly, "It's the best thing that's happened to me since I was brought onto this wretched ship."

Petros regarded the hunter with undisguised adoration. "Can I ask you something?" He asked shyly.

"Go on, I'll answer if I can," Iolaus replied.

"I know that what that wicked man does hurts you, but it doesn't have to hurt like that does it?" the boy asked curiously.

Thoughts of Hercules flooded through the hunter's head as he replied to the boy's question. "No," he whispered sadly.

Petros blushed furiously, "I'd like to find out," he said.

"I hope you do, Petros," Iolaus replied and rolled onto his side. Mercifully he slipped quickly into exhausted oblivion.

Petros stroked the hunter's golden hair. "I'd do anything for you, Iolaus," he whispered.

**********************

"You had better not be wasting my time, old man," the captain growled at the elderly prisoner cowering at his feet.

"No sir, I swear I have information, valuable information to trade for my grandson's freedom," replied the old man.

Gripping his grey streaked hair firmly in a callused hand the captain glared threateningly at his fearful captive. "Don't attempt to bargain with me, tell me what you know or die," he stated simply.

Trembling in undisguised terror the man spewed out his information. "The blond man you bought on board, I know who he is. His name is Iolaus and he is the best friend of Hercules, the king's brother."

*************************

Waiting on the sun drenched deck for the arrival of his prisoners, the captain idly ran the long length of a leather whip across his hand. When the blond man and the boy were shoved roughly to their knees before him he approached and without warning landed a vicious blow across the hunter's face.

Sprawling on the warm deck, Iolaus grunted in pain as his injured ribs protested loudly at the rough treatment. "What was that for?" he gasped.

"I warned you what would happen if you refused to co-operate," The captain grated.
"But you withheld an important piece of information from me so our deal is off," he glared meaningfully into the hunter's blue eyes, "Iolaus."

Fear gripped the hunter's heart but he tried desperately to keep his emotions from his eyes, "Who?" he asked, innocently.

Laughing, the captain replied, "Nice try," and snapped his fingers.

Sunlight flashed on steel, a sharp intake of breath and a horrified gurgling cry filled the air. Iolaus jumped in shock as Petros slumped to the deck, his life blood pumping hotly from his open throat. Cursing the rough ropes binding his hands behind him, he fought to reach his dying friend. The boy's eyes were wide with terror as his life pulsed out of him, in a hot sticky stream. Leaning over, the hunter pressed his lips against the young man's pale cheek and whispered, "Gods, Petros I'm sorry. Forgive me." When he lifted his head, lifeless eyes stared back at him.
Trembling with emotion, the blond hunter clenched his fists, his mind whirling with furious thoughts of bloody retribution. Cold blue eyes met the captain's dark gaze and his voice shook when he spoke. "You will pay for this," he vowed.

The tall man answered unemotionally. "When will you learn, little man, that there is no justice here, only my will." He turned away, tossing the leather whip to the nearest sailor. "Flog him until he passes out," he commanded coldly.

Iolaus had other plans however and as several pairs of hands reached for him he moved with lightening like speed, sprinted swiftly across the hot deck and threw himself into the foaming sea.

Land was clearly visible to port and the hunter had estimated from the position of the sun that they were heading north along the coast. All he had to do was swim to shore but he'd never make it with his hands secured behind his back. His golden head broke the surface of the churning water and rapidly filling his lungs he pointed his body toward the shore, kicked strongly with his feet and wrestled with the now sodden ropes around his wrists. After what seemed like an eternity, the ropes came free from his bloodied wrists and with relief he struck out for the land and blessed freedom.

The approaching shore was a welcoming sight to the exhausted hunter. His legs were heavy with fatigue, his injured ribs ached intolerably as his laboured breath wheezed in and out of his tortured lungs and he could hardly bear to lift his injured arm. Glancing along the rock-strewn beach he searched desperately for a safe place come ashore, but none were visible as the strong tide propelled him inexorably onwards. Powerful waves lifted his weary body, tossing him helplessly towards jagged rocks. A mighty force swept him up and something solid impacted his side, wickedly jarring his injured ribs. When he opened his mouth to scream, water rushed down his throat and oblivion reached out to pull him into its swirling depths.

*************************

Black paled to grey, the ground lurched and jolted, there was searing pain with every breath and what was that smell? Rotting vegetables. His stomach lurched violently.

The elderly couple perched on the front of the battered wagon turned in unison as distressed retching and moaning emanated from behind them. Climbing over the seat the man knelt beside the convulsing hunter and placed a kind hand on his shoulder. "That's right,son, get it all out. A stomach full of sea water will do you no good," he stated.

Clenching his fists against the shooting pain, Iolaus prayed for release, as his heaving insides determinedly expelled their salty contents. When the ordeal was finally over he curled into a foetal ball, shivering uncontrollably in the chill sea breeze. The rough blanket the man draped over his body stank of sweaty horse, but he didn't care, he was grateful for its warmth.

White hair and twinkling blue eyes in a brown weathered face swam into view when he ventured to open his eyes. "Where am I?" he croaked weakly.

"On your way to our farm. We found you washed up on the beach. Nearly got yourself drowned," he explained. "Where ever did you come from?"

"Ship," said Iolaus.

The elderly man lifted the hunter's bloodied wrists and frowned. "I'd guess you weren't an honoured guest on the vessel," he surmised. "You got a name, son?"

"Iolaus."

"Now where'd I hear that name before?" he scratched his white head while he thought.

"Hercules," Iolaus mentioned hopefully.

The old man snapped his fingers. "That's right, you're the big guy's partner. Do you hear that Sara," he called to his wife. "We found us a real live hero." Patting the hero's shoulder comfortingly he chatted on enthusiastically. "I've got good news for you son. Hercules is less than a day from here with the king's army. As soon as we get you fixed up I'll send word to him."

Iolaus could have cried. At last something was going his way. "Thank you...I don't know your name," he said.

"Call me Dan and that grey haired old love up there is my wife Sara," he said smiling fondly at the woman. "Are you ready to go on now son? I'm afraid the ride will be a bit bumpy."

Iolaus nodded and Dan climbed back up beside his wife and the wagon lurched forward.

***********************

Iolaus yelled and almost leapt off the bed as Dan's fingers probed his injured ribs. Sara gently pushed him back against the soft feather pillows and laid a cool damp cloth across his forehead. "Easy there," she said soothingly. "My Dan knows what he's doing,"

Dan smiled wryly as he patted his wife's shoulder, "My competence had nothing to do with how much that hurt, my dear," he observed the blond man's pale face with sympathy, "I'm done for now, son. Breathing may be a little painful for a while and you should lie still for a couple of days at least. When you're ready to get up I'll strap those ribs for you."

Iolaus was really starting to like Dan even if he was threatening to keep him in bed for two days. "Thanks," he said sincerely. "Both of you."

Taking his hand and squeezing it fondly Sara smiled and said, "Rest now, Iolaus and I'll bring you some broth in a while and we'll see if you can hold it down." Managing a weak smile the hunter squeezed the woman's hand in return and closed his eyes.

Tossing a small roll of parchment onto the table, Jason sank down wearily on a chair opposite Hercules and reached for a goblet of wine. "That was delivered just now," he said, drained the cup and refilled it. "The messenger said it came from that village just north of here, I forget its name...Hercules are you okay?"

The demigod's face had paled and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the parchment in his powerful hands. "It's Iolaus," he said quietly. "He's in the village, he's hurt but he's alive, Jason."

"That's wonderful news...hey, where do think you're going?" Hercules had risen to his feet and was preparing to leave but his friend intercepted him. "Hercules, it's the middle of the night, Iolaus will still be there in the morning."

"I have to go to him, Jason. The road to the village is a good one and if I leave now I can be there by dawn," He pushed past Jason and headed for the door.

"We'll be heading that way in a few days anyway. You may as well stay with him until we get there," Jason suggested resignedly.

Turning in the doorway the demigod smiled gratefully, "Thanks, Jason," he said.

"See you..." Jason winced as the door slammed in the big man's wake, "in a couple of days."

*********************

His lathered mount's hot breath formed vaporous clouds in the cool morning air and the big man in deference to the animals exhaustion, dismounted and led the beast the last half mile to the small farm. The sun had barely crept above the horizon and Hercules was surprised to see the elderly couple bustling around their yard at such an early hour.

The demigod raised a hand in greeting and the two old folks hurried to meet him. "You have to be Hercules," Dan said and held out his arm in eager welcome. "You must have ridden all night to get here."

"I did," the big man gripped the others arm warmly as he replied. "How's Iolaus?"

Dan frowned as he answered, "Sleeping finally. He has badly bruised ribs, at least one of them is cracked I think, his wrists are skinned and his arm is festering a little so he has a slight fever." The old man deliberately failed to mention the multitude of ugly marks and bruises he had observed on the blond man's buttocks and thighs when he had undressed him and helped him to bed the previous day. "He needs to rest and eat to regain his strength. I'll take care of your horse and my wife can show you where your friend is resting."

Handing over the reins of his exhausted mount Hercules smiled gratefully. "Thank you for taking care of him...I didn't catch your name."

"Name's Dan," the old man said over his shoulder as he lead the horse away. "And the other old'un is my wife Sara."

Sara smiled up at the demigod as she lead him into the house, "I never thought you'd be so big," she commented.

**************************

Iolaus tossed feverishly, periodically muttering pleas to some unseen tormentor. As he regarded his friend's battered and bandaged body, the demigod's heart twisted with concern. "What did they do to you?" he whispered.

Dan shuffled quietly into the room and placed a fresh bowl of cool water beside the bed. "You should get some sleep too Hercules. I could make up a pallet on the floor for you," he said, wringing out a cloth and gently soothing the hunter's fevered brow.

Shaking his head, Hercules reached out and took the cloth from the old man's hand. "No, I'll stay with him, thank you Dan."

"Very well," the elderly man patted the demigod's broad shoulder. "We will be close by if either of you need anything," he said as he left.

The hunter awoke to a familiar scent and the reassuring feel of a hard body against him. 'Please don't let this be a dream' he prayed fervently as he opened his eyes and glanced down at enfolding gauntleted arms. "Herc," he sobbed, his eyes filling with tears.

A strong hand moved up and tenderly pushed damp golden hair from his brow, soft lips lightly brushed his salty cheek and a deep resonating voice spoke close to his ear. "I'm here, Iolaus."

"Oh gods, Herc," the hunter choked and turned to press his face against soft leather covering a strong shoulder.

His own tears flowing freely, Hercules tenderly soothed his weeping friend until he had cried himself out and lay quiescent in his strong arms. "Sleep now, my love," he whispered. "I'll be here."

A while later Sara looked in on the two men and standing in the doorway she silently beckoned for her husband to join her. The lovers lay together on the bed, powerful arms protectively encircling the smaller form, golden hair splayed across the large man's broad chest, a shining halo around a serenely peaceful face.

"They are beautiful together," the old woman sighed.

The old man hugged his wife affectionately, "Just like us," he said cheekily.

Sara kissed her husband's wrinkled cheek. "You silly old goat," she laughed.

Dan chuckled and patted his wife's behind as they moved away from the door. "If I were ten years younger..."

Iolaus only allowed Hercules to feed him the first time and thereafter the demigod knew better than to argue when the hunter insisted on managing on his own.
Gradually, Iolaus began to speak of his ordeal but he avoided the details of the violent abuse he had suffered. He cried openly when he described, with bitter regret, the cruel fate of his young companion.

He imparted his knowledge of the slave trading and Hercules described how he had followed up the hunter's hunch about the raids. Every report from the raided villages had described the same group of men. Jason and the demigod were planning to ambush the warriors on a road to the coast. The trick would be to pick the right one at the right time.

On the third day of his recovery Iolaus was set on getting up so Dan bound his injured ribs as he had promised and lent him some clothes.
"I can dress myself, Herc," the hunter muttered irritably as his friend hovered over him. When the demigod announced that he was going to wait outside with more gracious company, Iolaus sagged with relief. He wasn't ready to talk about the abuse he had suffered and if Hercules saw the marks on his body there would be no way to avoid it.

Easing himself down beside his partner in the shade of a tree, Iolaus looked up sadly into the big mans face, "I'm sorry I barked at you, Herc," he apologised, placing a hand over his chest where his amulet had always rested. His voice shook slightly, "I would have liked to have my own clothes."

"It's okay, my friend, I understand, but you've never been any good at hiding things from me and I know you are hiding something from me now." Hercules placed a comforting arm around the smaller man's shoulders. "I won't push you to tell me, Iolaus but I want to help. I love you."

Iolaus looked away, "I know, Herc, maybe later," he muttered.

That was the best he was going to get, so Hercules let the matter drop until when they were retiring for bed Iolaus stubbornly refused to allow Hercules to help him undress.

Sitting quietly on the edge of the bed the hunter unfastened the front of his shirt with trembling hands. Hercules finished shedding his own clothing and sat down beside him. The demigod was exasperated. "Iolaus, you've pushed yourself too far today and I can see you're in pain, why won't you let me help you?"

Dropping his hands to his lap Iolaus lowered his head, and Hercules waited patiently while the hunter wrestled with his pain. Raising his head and meeting the demigod's eyes uncertainly Iolaus nodded his blond head. "Okay, Herc," he murmured.

The big man gently eased the shirt over his friend's head. "Stand up," he encouraged gently. Iolaus obeyed, standing motionless as Hercules unfastened his pants and lowered the rest of his clothing so he could step out of it. "Turn around, Iolaus," Hercules instructed. The hunter turned, swallowed nervously and held his breath in anticipation of his partner's response. Long moments passed. The thudding of his own heart the only sound, then a softly spoken voice, "Come here."
His entire body trembling with tumultuous emotion, the blond hunter walked into his lover's arms, leaning into his fierce embrace with overwhelming relief. The demigod's voice shook with emotion as he asked, "Who did this to you?"

"I don't know his name," the hunter replied. "In all the time I was onboard the ship, I only ever heard him referred to as 'The Captain'." The demigod's powerful hands whispered, tenderly over the marks and bruises marring the hunter's abused body and the smaller man trembled in growing need. He gazed up trustingly into his lover's face, "Make love to me, please," he begged.

Hercules was uncertain. "I couldn't Iolaus, you need more time to heal..."

Shaking his head the hunter replied, "But I still need you, Herc."

The bigger man could feel his lover's need pressing hotly against his thighs and his own organ filled rapidly in response. Before Hercules could reply, arms coiled about his neck, legs wrapped around his waist and a hot tongue shot between his lips, thrusting deeply, urgently probing the moist recesses beyond. His own tongue responded enthusiastically to the ardent advance clashing purposefully, savouring his lover's delicious sweetness. Gently, the bigger man lowered his blond companion onto the edge of the bed and tearing his mouth from the passionate kiss, he put his lips and teeth to work elsewhere. Nipping and teasing hot flesh and firm brown nipples he moved busily across his lover's golden chest while his actions were rewarded with gasps of delight. He pressed his lips softly against the bandage over the hunter's lower chest and out of consideration for his painful injury, urged Iolaus to lie back and surrender completely to his loving touch.

"But, Herc, what about you," the blond protested.

"Iolaus, as long as you are safe and here with me I have everything I need, now hush and let me do this for you," was the demigod's emotional reply.

Doing as his lover requested, Iolaus closed his eyes and a myriad of blissful sensations flooded from his groin as soft lips seductively enveloped the tip of his aching shaft. A moist warm tongue moved sensuously over his taught pulsing length, eliciting moans of rapturous pleasure. Hot lips slid inexorably lower, the teasing tongue in unceasing flickering motion. The weeping tip of his throbbing shaft brushed against the back of his lover's throat and he thrust his hips convulsively. The hot mouth slipped smoothly over him, suckling, sliding up and then drawing him in. Wave after wave of glorious sensation rose from his groin as the attentive mouth moved fluently. His hands twisted in the crumpled sheets, his knuckles turned white. The thorough lips and tongue increased their pace and his breath came in short, ragged gasps. Hips bucking, head thrashing from side to side, he climaxed ecstatically, his pulsing member pumping a hot salty stream into his lover's throat.
A powerful hand jerked urgently over another aching organ and semi-divine ejaculate splashed across the rough wooden floor.

His chest heaving painfully with exertion, Iolaus gripped his injured side but his mouth was still curved in a blissful smile when Hercules flopped onto the bed beside him. "That was wonderful, Herc," he sighed.

Carefully, the demigod lifted the hunter into a more comfortable position before lying beside him and gathering him tenderly against his chest. "You're in pain, aren't you?" he said with concern.

Iolaus snuggled contentedly against his lover. "As long as I'm safe and here with you, I'll be fine," he whispered.

***********************

"Well there's nothing wrong with your appetite at least," Hercules joked as Iolaus helped himself to a third plate of eggs.

"You said I needed to get my strength back...what was that?" Iolaus lowered his spoon and listened intently. "Something's wrong, Herc." He rose hurriedly from the table, knocking his chair over as he ran for the door with the demigod at his heels.
To their horror, Sara was sitting in the dirt with her husband's bloodied head in her lap and more than a dozen heavily armed and mounted warriors encircled the small yard.

After only a moment's hesitation, Hercules crossed the short distance to the elderly couple and dropped to his knees. "Dan?" he asked anxiously.

The old man grabbed the demigod's arm urgently. "Don't let him do it, Hercules," he begged.

Misunderstanding, the demigod grasped the man's hand affectionately and said, "I won't let them hurt you or Sara, Dan."

Dan shook his white head weakly. "No...Iolaus," he gasped and turned his eyes towards the mounted warriors.

Frowning, the demigod looked up, his puzzlement turning to concern as he observed his partner. Iolaus stood beside the horse of a man who appeared to be the warrior's leader, a man with a wicked scar across his chest and stomach.
Rising to his feet, Hercules watched in growing dread as his friend lowered his head and nodded. "Iolaus?" he called. Ignoring his friend's hail, Iolaus raised his blond head, reached up with one arm and the scarred man grabbed the hunter's bandaged wrist, pulling him up onto his horse.

The demigod charged forward in horror but halted in mid stride as his partner's voice cracked through the air. "Hercules, NO!"

"Iolaus, what are you doing?"

"One man for a whole village, Herc. There are thirty more armed men beyond those trees." He nodded towards the wooded area nearby. "Nobody else will be harmed if I go with them." Regret, sorrow and fear waged war for dominance in the hunter's eyes as he spoke. "You have to let me go, Herc."

His face a mask of disbelief and pain, the demigod sank to his knees, his anguished cry ripping through the air as the men rode away. "IOLAUS!"

Forward to Chapter Three

Back to Chapter One

Return to Slash Fiction

Return to Home Page