As usual, all disclaimers apply (like, these guys belong to MCA/Universal/Renaissance, etc., etc), and as we've taken them out, we promise to put them back all safe and sound ... eventually !!!


STORM FRONT

by Queenie


It was hot.

No, it was more than hot. It was blisteringly hot ... and stifling.

The opalescent sun, surrounded by and trapped within a fuliginous haze, hung in the sky like some pendulous charm, casting shafts of crystalline light through the increasingly opaque cloud, the frosted prisms spearing through tree branches and hitting the ground, where they formed strange, shifting shadows beneath the foliage.

The air was perfectly still. A peculiar, muted, heavy kind of silence which muffled birdsong and animal noises, so that their buoyant cries went unheeded. The sweltering temperature and the overwhelming humidity spoke of more inclement weather to come, and the darkening storm clouds on the distant horizon lent credence to the prediction.

As the dark, ominous looking clouds approached, slowly enshrouding the hazy blue sky, a rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, a portent of what was to come. Brilliant flashes of fork lightning lit up the undersides of the ponderous cumulus as they slowly devoured the sun, eating it up inch by inch until it was completely hidden behind their cumbersome mass.

They hung onerously over the landscape for long, long moments, their ebony expanse eliminating all light, pushing at the shadows with darkness. The air had become torpid and laden with foreboding. The impending storm promised to erupt at any moment ...

The cabin lay nestled in a clump of trees, their branches overhanging the small structure, bestowing upon it a form of shelter from the prevailing winds which were prevalent during the winter months. It was normally unoccupied, although weary travellers would utilise it when they were too exhausted to journey any further or the weather was too inclement for them to carry on that day. It was in use at the moment, its sturdy construction promising a haven from the oncoming storm.

The two men had been travelling for some considerable time. It had been a rough few days. First, a well had dried up in the village through which they were passing and they had felt obligated to help secure more water for the villagers from a small stream which flowed nearby. This had involved a diversion of the water flow, and building the damn in order to accomplish this had taken some considerable time and effort, not least because the village children insisted on helping. Then the next town at which they had arrived had pleaded for them to rid their countryside of a giant who was plaguing them. It had turned out to be Typhon, who had actually been on his way back home after a foraging expedition when he had fallen and twisted his ankle. His pleas for assistance had, however, been misinterpreted by the townspeople who had seen only a very big man and a potential threat to their children. All had turned out well after he was introduced by the two men and eventually taken to the townspeoples' hearts. The next village had complained of a band of thugs who came to town, revelled and then stole all the girls overnight. It had been discovered that they were merely a band of ex-warriors with no place to call home, who had camped outside the town, intending no harm. The unattached village females had not been blind to the brawn and good looks which the ex-soldiers had in abundance and had visited them of their own free will ... another misunderstanding.

Thus it was two extremely grateful and immensely relieved heroes who trudged into the clearing that afternoon, took one look at the hut and decided there and then that a bit of R&R was called for - and was definitely deserved!

The hut had few amenities, but one of those did include a soft pallet, which came complete with fairly clean blankets and a couple of pillows. It was an unspoken but strictly followed rule that whoever used the hut should ensure that it was left clean and tidy for the next occupant, and both men were grateful for that precept.

They had no sooner entered the hut than the taller man had taken the shorter one in his arms, practically squeezing the life out of him at the same time as his mouth threatened to draw all the breath from his lungs in a heartfelt, passionate kiss. Tongues danced and wound together, each striving for dominance and neither gaining the upper hand, as large paws travelled down the slim, sturdy body, stroking the smooth skin, tweaking the brown nipples on the broad chest and venturing forth onto the twin globes concealed beneath a pair of dark leather pants.

By the time they broke apart, both of them were gasping for breath as the very air outside seemed to hold itself in abeyance in preparation for the storm which was about to break forth.

"Iolaus ..." Hercules sighed, and moved in again, stealing into the hunter's mouth, their tongues duelling, pushing further and further down into each other's throats. Small whimpers rent the air, as, outside, the clouds surged and rolled, and the turbulence built in slow, deliberate waves.

The hunter was not idle during the plundering of his mouth, nor was he oblivious to Hercules' hands on his body as the small sounds bubbling from him bore testament. His own hands were sliding down the demigod's bronzed form, fingers nipping, small palms delicately searching out his lover's most sensitive spots, teasing, squeezing and rubbing.

A flash of lightning split the clouds in two as the couple parted again, breathless, exhaling heavily, their hearts beating furiously, bodies quaking with pent-up desire. "Oh gods, Herc .." gasped Iolaus, standing perfectly still as the demigod slowly divested him of his purple jerkin, then his hands reached for the hunter's belts and inadvertently brushed past his semi-erect cock, trapped in the confines of the leather - and the hunter practically came off the floor with a muffled squeak.

Hercules smiled lasciviously and licked his lips in anticipation. A tidal wave of lust was running through him at the prospect of taking his lover - it never ceased to amaze him that Iolaus always managed to provoke this reaction within him, no matter now many times they made love, had sex, fucked, or whatever anyone else wanted to call it. He had had a few lovers, but this man was special. No-one else had ever been capable of making him feel this way. It was extraordinary. Iolaus was extraordinary - and sexy, and sensual, and generous and loving and ... Hercules stopped thinking as his trembling fingers finished unknotting the belts and he slid his large hands inside the hunter's pants to cup the stirring cock within. He smiled hotly as he rolled the leaking pre-cum between his finger and thumb, then sent his hand questing forwards, reaching for the hunter's anus, past his scrotum - that furred sac which he so wanted to take in his mouth, roll his tongue over and taste - and finally reached his destination.

A crack of thunder ripped through the still air, its echo shuddering through the small hut and enveloping the two lovers.

Iolaus was standing almost on tiptoe, only Hercules' steadying arm behind his back holding him upright. Tiny sounds were escaping from beneath his sensuous lips, sounds of desire, sounds of need. He bucked as his lover sent an investigative finger into his burning anus, and his knees turned to jelly. Impatiently, he tore at his pants, pushing them down in order for Hercules to gain easier access. His boots were the only remaining impediment and he could not, would not bend down to remove them - not with that delicious finger up his ass, making him squirm, teasing him, sending jolts of craving through his entire body.

Another, louder peal of thunder ripped through the stillness, booming out over the landscape, the windows of the small hut quaking with its ferocity. The echo seemed to go on forever, as Hercules plunged another two fingers inside his writhing lover, his heart rejoicing at the sounds that Iolaus was making, and the convulsions of the slight, malleable body. The hunter was beyond coherent thought now, riding down on those thrusting fingers, attempting to take them further in, so that they filled him. He was clutching onto Hercules for grim life now, small, delicate fingers digging into the hero's forearms, making red indentations on the skin, nails digging in far enough to draw blood. Neither of them noticed.

Hercules pumped his fingers in and out of the heated orifice, twisting upwards and outwards, finding the prostate time and time again until his lover was a writhing mass of twisting gold in his arms, his breath emerging as a series of gasping squawks and sobs.

The tempo of the storm was increasing, as thunder boomed out in regular intervals and occasional bursts of light lit the billowing clouds from deep within their bowels.

He pulled his fingers from Iolaus with a jerk, holding his lover close to his own body, feeling the tremors coursing through the small frame, the heart beating so fast and furiously that it was threatening to erupt from the tawny chest. Iolaus' breath was laboured and his hands were still digging into the taller man's arms - it was the only way he could keep from collapsing to the floor.

With a sudden twist of his arms, Hercules swept his beloved from his unsteady feet and carried him, unprotesting, over to the bed, where he made short work of removing the rest of the hunter's clothing. He divested himself of his own whilst the hunter was trying to regain his equilibrium, and then settled between the other man's upraised knees, pushing at the creamy white thighs in order to rest more comfortably. He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on the bruised and reddened lips, then moved round to take one earlobe into his mouth, pulling at the gold ring which pierced it, whilst his hand moved to stroke the hunter's enlarged and purpling cock. As he massaged the foreskin, his other hand searched out his lover's tight testicles, stroking them, feeling the impending storm raging through the golden warrior.

"I'm going to make you come, Iolaus," he vowed to the gasping blond. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Herc ... " It was barely even discernible as a sentence, but the hunter was aching for his lover to do just that. Every part of his body was on fire. The small embers, once lit, had quickly built to a conflagration and he was being slowly devoured within the heat of their flames. "Oh gods ..."

Outside the storm was building in intensity, its ferocity barely unleashed, its promise not yet filled. An explosion of thunder filled the air, reverberating through the countryside, its cataclysmic roar rolling over the silence and forever vanquishing it.

Meanwhile, Hercules moved his lover's strong, slim legs upward, bending them as far as they could go. He could see the tight opening behind the gold-furred sac and felt all his blood disappear from his body and into his cock, which now stood, huge and erect, waiting to enter its willing home. Slowly, so slowly, he spread his own droplets of leaking fluid around the engorged head and bit back on a scream as his fingers massaged the helmet. Not yet! Not yet! Then he eased down incrementally and moved toward his partner, and with a feeling of pure exultation, pushed his mass inside, past the first ring of muscle, the next, until he was fully sheathed, thrusting as far as he could go, hearing the muffled howls emerging from Iolaus' lips, which he was biting furiously in order to contain himself. It was to no avail, however, as the demigod merely pushed again, hitting the prostate over and over and the hunter screamed.

Another explosion filled the room, but the two protagonists ignored it, intent as they were on their own tempest.

Iolaus' hands were once again clasped around Hercules' forearms as his lover filled him, ramming himself home again and again, his fingers slowly working away on Iolaus' oozing shaft. Their mouths met, which effectively silenced Iolaus low moans, which were all he was capable of uttering any more, and Hercules tongue went halfway down his throat. The demigod's hand was skilfully milking Iolaus' bulging penis for all they were worth, and his other hand was stroking the hunter's scrotum carefully, squeezing, grasping, feeling the imminent climax.

Outside, the thunder had become virtually continuous, frenetic, as it built to a crescendo.

Hercules twisted one last time in Iolaus, and smiled as the hunter screamed for all he was worth. Warm, sticky fluid erupted from the head of the hunter's cock, spewing forth in a shower of creamy foam, sloshing onto his stomach and chest, dripping down the demigod's hand. He continued pumping the hunter until Iolaus cock was dry, then thrust harder and faster himself, his tempo increasing with every passing second, driving further and further in, reaching his crescendo moments later, a stream of ejaculate spouting forth into the hunter, flowing through him, flooding his grateful body.

A bolt of pure white lightning tore through the bulging black mass outside, illuminating it, sending slivers of semiopaque light into the miasma.

For a moment, time seemed suspended, then, with a heavy exhalation, Hercules fell onto the bed beside his exhausted lover, pulling himself out of the blond warrior, his semen dripping out of the reddened hole, and running down the now flaccid cock in pearly streams.

With a roar of thunder and yet another jolt of lightning, the clouds burst open and let loose their load, the rain falling in huge drops, gushing out of the black sky, lashing the ground, a cascade of water to re-moisten the bone-dry earth.

As they lay, satiated, for the moment, Iolaus and Hercules listened to the sound of the storm and smiled. Then the demigod took his blond lover in his arms and Iolaus, looking like the cat which just got the cream, went willingly. As the rain continued to drive down, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

FINIS

Return to Main Page

Return to Slash Fiction Page