By Valentin

Disclaimer: The auther does not own the characters from Hercules: the Legendary Journeys. Those characters belong to MCA/Universal and were used without permission. No copyright infringement intended and no money was made.

"Ares!"

The god of war fastened his trousers leisurely as Hercules hurtled into the dimly lit cave. "Well, brother. You finally found us. Did my clues overtax you? Not having Iolaus there to help track the seven swans must have been a real disadvantage. I had other plans for him, though."

Ares showed his teeth in a vulpine smile. "Welcome to the party. I hope you don’t mind; we started without you."

"Where is he?" Hercules demanded. Thrusting Ares aside, he ran to a curtain at the back of the cave and tore it away.

Iolaus was stretched prone on tumbled sheets, chained to the low platform on which he lay. Ares waved a hand and the lamps flared, sending Iolaus’ motionless, nude body into high relief: an alabaster icon of reluctant carnality. His slightly parted lips were swollen, his neck and thighs marked by Ares’ mouth. Sweat gleamed on his skin, and semen pooled between his spread thighs. The four gold rings that held his wrists and ankles were a mocking reflection of the fifth that flashed in his ear.

"Iolaus," Hercules said. He started as Ares’ low voice came from just behind him.

"I do good work, don’t I?" he said appreciatively. "It seems that a god’s attentions were a little more than Iolaus could handle. Never mind; he’ll wake up soon. If that’s what you want."

Hercules swung around; his hands bit into Ares’ bare shoulders. "What did you do to him, you bastard?" he grated.

Ares stared mockingly at him. "Bastard, little brother? On the contrary. Our father is married to *my* mother, as I recall." He pulled easily out of Hercules’ grasp and strolled to the platform, running his hand down Iolaus’ unresisting back to cup his genitals. The warrior made a sound, stirring, and his eyelids fluttered. "What did I do to him? I would have thought that was obvious. Still, if it’s details you want..."

His hand shot out and closed around Hercules’ wrist as the demigod reached to twist a golden chain from its mooring. "He got here long before you did. His clues were a little easier, not enough to make him suspicious. In fact, he was too busy congratulating himself on his cleverness to see the trap he was walking into. So in a way, this is his own fault."

He released Hercules’ wrist and placed a hand negligently on Iolaus’ buttock. "I really have to thank you. I might never have come to appreciate his potential if he wasn’t always trotting at your heels. But you wanted to know what I did to him, didn’t you?"

Hercules stared as if hypnotised at the hand that was now stroking Iolaus’ thigh. "He’s very responsive to touch, did you know that? Perhaps not. Well. When he arrived, the first thing he wanted to know was where you were. He’s loyal, your little dog. I almost hated to shatter his illusion that you’d show up in time to rescue him from me."

Ares’ hand left Iolaus’ thigh; he moved to stand behind Hercules again, his breath hot against Hercules’ neck. "I had such a hard time deciding how I wanted him. If I chained him face up, I could play with that magnificent cock. On the other hand, face down has its appeal, too. As you can see."

As he spoke, his hand slithered across Hercules’ hip to test his growing hardness. Hercules sucked in his breath and stepped backward, but Ares’ other arm circled his chest to slide under his tunic, pinching a nipple roughly.

"Shall I tell you how his skin tastes? Do you want to hear about the sounds he made when I took his cock into my mouth? Do you want to know how my cock felt, sliding into his ass, brother? He’s like fucking a volcano."

Hercules breathed harshly; his eyes were riveted on Iolaus as Ares unfastened his trousers and took Hercules’ rigid cock into his hand.

"Mortals were made for the pleasure of gods, Hercules." His hand tightened around Hercules’ cock, and the demigod’s head went back as his brother‘s teeth sank into his neck. "Or would you rather watch me have him again?"

Hercules turned and pulled Ares roughly against him, swooping on his mouth in a savage kiss that was more punishment than pleasure. Ares tore his shirt from his shoulders, running his hands over his back to clutch his buttocks tightly, grinding their hips together. "Fuck me," he snarled into Hercules’ ear, and Hercules pushed him against the cave’s stone wall, tearing his trousers away and slamming into him in a single brutal movement.

Ares’ bestial howl could have been passion or pain. He reached for his cock, milking himself in savage rhythm with Hercules’ frenzied thrusts. He came with a hoarse shriek, sinking back against Hercules’ shaft as the demigod emptied himself into his brother’s depths.

Hercules wrapped his arms around Ares’ waist, steadying himself against the god’s shaking body, and rested his forehead on Ares’ shoulder. They stayed like that, Hercules rocking gently, mechanically into Ares’ slick sheath, until Iolaus’ voice came from behind them.

Hercules hurriedly drew his trousers closed and went to the platform, breaking the chains that held Iolaus to the bed. He stood up, still wearing the heavy gold rings like some primitive ornaments, and approached Ares, his face expressionless. Reaching up, he twined his hand in Ares’ hair and yanked his face down into a hard kiss.

When he released Ares, he grinned.

"Little dog, huh? Next time," he announced, gently sliding his hand inside Hercules’ trousers, "somebody else wears the chains."

THE END