By Valentin, Rudy, and Wolf (Oh My!)

SUMMARY: H/I, NC17. No spoilers. Wolf and Rudy cooked up the sex, and Valentin added some helpful intro ideas. Rudy did the writing, so don't blame the blameless, here. Total PWP; don't even *think* about looking for a plot.

DISCLAIMERS: We don't own Hercules and Iolaus, and no permanent damage was inflicted on either of them. A nice, sudsy washcloth should tidy them up sufficiently for their return to gen life. Any volunteers for washcloth duty?

FEEDBACK: boyd@got.net

Enjoy!!

Hercules increased his pace yet again, a night borne breeze stealing across his body, cooling his overheated skin.

Over three weeks, since he'd last seen Iolaus. To Hercules, it had seemed an insanely long time. His body, grown accustomed in a few, greedy months to the explosive glory of his newly discovered lover's touch, chafed relentlessly under the cold burden of celibacy. Abstinence had never bothered him, previously, but Iolaus had changed that with one unexpected, horrifying, thrilling kiss. Now, Hercules' flesh shrieked constantly for the contours of his lover's body; he thirsted incessantly for Iolaus' scent, his taste, his expert hands.

Expert. A growl rumbled in Hercules' chest. Jealousy was another new emotion that had been plaguing the demigod. He'd never been jealous, before. Now, he found himself glowering at every flirtatious woman who cast her eyes over Iolaus' tempting form, at every hapless man who took a second look at the tasty blond.

Over the rise, around this curve, rushing through the narrow lane, into the forge. No Iolaus. He peered through the curtains at the moonlit room beyond. The tenantless bed was smooth. No Iolaus.

The inn.

Hercules headed across the lane, dismayed at the immediacy of his need, yet unable to slow his steps. Not for the first time, he cursed himself; he'd brought some of this burning ache on with his own unreasonable request. Before he left on his solitary mission, he'd stunned both himself and the hunter by making a bold demand of his lover. Despite Hercules' jealousy, he knew there was no fear of Iolaus seeking another's bed. But, that wasn't enough to satisfy the demigod, somehow. Perversely, he insisted that Iolaus not provide himself with sexual solace, by his own hand, while Hercules was away.

Iolaus had laughed, at first; the suggestion was preposterous, in fact, he seriously doubted that it was even within the realm of possibility. Hercules had thundered, and cajoled, and finally made the demand into a challenge. Iolaus, nettled, accepted the challenge, then knelt before his lover. His hot mouth, and light touch had reduced Hercules to a quavering mass of howling need within a few shattering moments, reminding the demigod of what he would be missing during his absence.

Hercules pushed into the common room of the inn, his eyes searching; not a flicker of gold to be seen.

The innkeeper greeted him jovially, and grinned knowingly when he asked if Iolaus had been there, lately.

"Yeah, he was in here, earlier, looking pretty edgy, too," another quick grin up at Hercules, "He's been getting testier every day, since you left. I'm sure glad you're back in town. Uh, he headed off with Eummocles; said something about working off a little tension."

"Eummocles? Where did they go?" Hercules' tone was brusque, and the innkeeper stepped back a trifle.

"To the farm. Had a work party going out there, today. Probably packing it in, about now."

Hercules left hastily, and the innkeeper barely waited for the door to close before bursting into laughter. Poor Hercules. So jealous that he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face, apparently. It was clear as day to anyone who took one look at Iolaus that the hunter was taken. Spoken for. Unavailable. Clear, to anyone except Hercules.

He grinned, and turned to serve another customer.

Hercules fumed, as he headed for the farm.

Eummocles.

Paolos' son, though the joke in the village had always been that a god must have slipped between the farmer's sheets while he was out tilling the fields. For, Paolos was not handsome, by any stretch, but his son was as beautiful a boy, then as dazzling a youth, as any had ever seen. In fact, it was Iolaus who had given the gorgeous young man the nickname Yummy; and the name had stuck.

Hercules growled, again. Eummocles had never made a secret of his lust for Iolaus; he ate the hunter with his limpid, black eyes every time he saw him.

He slowed when he saw a group of workers headed up the road toward him. They greeted him with groans, complaining that their work would have been shortened by hours, if he had shown up, earlier. They were heading into town for celebratory ale; did he want to join them? Oh, Iolaus? He and Yummy were clearing up the tools; they'd be down by the shed, unless they were already heading for town.

Hercules thanked the men with tight-jawed civility, and cut through the fields to the shed.

He had helped Iolaus build the little bamboo structure, which looked almost eerie now, washed by the harvest moon into a silvery spectre. The walls were a loose weave of bamboo strips, supported by criss-crossed rails, placed a bare handbreadth apart. Woven circles, interspersed with sturdy squares. The ceiling nearest the barn wall was a thick, close weave, slanted to shed rain. The weave stopped halfway across, and the remaining roof consisted of simple, crossed rails. The entire structure was raised on blocks, to keep the uneven floor from flooding, and it housed odds and ends of tack, seed, tools, pails, blankets, and straw. Iolaus called it 'the cage', for reasons best known to himself. To everyone else, it was simply 'the shed'.

Iolaus was there, shifting bundles of straw to the protected side of the shed, scuffling through the golden fibers that littered the floor. Sweat sweetened his smooth skin, and the taut muscles of his back, chest, and arms slid and bunched rhythmically as he worked. His movements were an unconsciously erotic dance, and Hercules' already heated blood surged within him as he watched.

He had missed Iolaus. Craved him. Gods look at him; Iolaus was the most perfect figure of a man ever to grace the good earth.

Hercules wasn't the only one who realized that fact, either.

Leaning against the open end of the cage, watching Iolaus' every move with hot, dark eyes, was Eummocles. His thick, black hair streamed over his naked back, and he had one fine hip cocked out, the tempting curve of thigh and ass boldly beckoning. He licked his full lips as Iolaus began making trips with armloads of tools, the moonlight making a silver sonnet of Iolaus' wildly disheveled hair, and embracing his lissome body gratefully.

Yummy's burnished chest rose with a lustful inhalation as Iolaus bent to shift another bundle of straw, and Hercules' own breath tangled in his throat; look at him. Just look at him. Such golden glory.

Iolaus had just finished stowing the last of the tools in the shed, when Yummy reached out, lazily hooking the hunter around the waist, and pulling him close. His smooth, brown hands cupped Iolaus' buttocks, and he buried his lips in Iolaus' hair, nuzzling the side of his face, and throat.

Hercules shook, as a dizzying cocktail of lust and jealousy flooded him. His mind was red with images of himself tearing Eummocles limb from limb, even as he saw Iolaus reach behind him, to capture the young farmer's roving hands, pulling them firmly away from his body. Iolaus shook his glowing head, and took a step back. Yummy's teeth gleamed in his dark face, and his slender hand snaked out, to cup Iolaus' codpiece.

Iolaus shook his head once more, and twisted away, laughing easily. Pushing the golden hair away from his face, he grinned at the youth, and said something. Eummocles argued with him for a few moments, running an impertinent finger over Iolaus' chest, before finally stepping away, resignation written in the set of his shoulders. With a last, wistful smile, he saluted Iolaus, and headed down the path to town. Iolaus looked after him for a moment, then blew out a huge breath, and jumped into the cage to tidy it up, before leaving.

Hercules slipped into the cage as Iolaus arranged an armload of blankets atop the piled straw, and reached out to take the smaller man into his embrace. Iolaus had not been taken unaware, however, and his leg flashed out in a backward kick, which was quickly aborted as he turned his head and realized whom he was attacking. He regained his balance nimbly.

"I thought you were Eummocles. When ..." Iolaus' voice failed him, and the blood pounded in his temples as he drank the sight of his lover, headier than mead. The cage seemed to shrink around Hercules, his awesome, breathtaking presence filled the moonlit space effortlessly. His chiseled jaw was thrust forward, with a slight belligerence. His firm lips were parted invitingly, and his pale, blue eyes burned with a dangerous light. The possessive heat of that fixed gaze ran through Iolaus' blood like flame, as Hercules wrapped an iron arm around his waist.

"He touched you," his voice rough with angry lust, Hercules placed a proprietary hand over Iolaus' codpiece, then slipped his hands over Iolaus' buttocks, grinding his body against his lover's and slathering ferocious, hot kisses along his throat, following the path Eummocles had blazed on that sweet skin.

"Hercules ..."

Hercules didn't allow Iolaus further speech; he walked him backward, pushing him against the sturdy squares of the cage wall, bending his head to ravage his lover's mouth. He invaded its maddening sweetness, thrust his tongue against Iolaus', tested his teeth against the silken lips. Their bodies clung tightly together, heated flesh merging, hearts pounding together. Hercules moaned, his hands seeking to relearn every intoxicating curve of his lover's body, until Iolaus was shuddering against him, until his own blood was roaring in his ears. Then he pulled away.

Iolaus reached forward to pull Hercules back into his arms, but the demigod captured his hands, abruptly turning him to face the woven wall, scant inches from the crossbars, and spreading his arms over his head to wrap his fingers around the bamboo rails of the cage ceiling. He jumped from the cage, to stand opposite Iolaus on the other side of the bamboo wall. Iolaus opened his mouth to protest, and Hercules placed a gentle, sensitive finger against his lips, teasing it inside. He closed his eyes briefly as Iolaus wrapped lips and tongue around it, pressing against the cage separating him from Hercules.

Hercules freed his finger, and ran it over Iolaus' nipple, teasing and tweaking until it peaked, thrusting into his touch. He returned his finger to Iolaus' mouth, and Iolaus' other nipple received the same tormenting treatment. The hunter shuddered at the caress of the cold evening air against the wet, sensitive circles, and Hercules bent his head forward, to snake his tongue through the woven wall, lapping at Iolaus' lips, tangling with Iolaus' eagerly offered tongue.

He thrust his hands through two of the bamboo circles, which were barely wide enough to accommodate his forearms, and unfastened Iolaus' belts. The evening silence was broken only by the lovers' harsh breathing, and the leathery slither of Iolaus' belts as they slipped down his shaking legs to the straw-strewn floor. The soft caress of leather against skin followed, as Hercules painstakingly withdrew and re-inserted his hands to pull the hunter's pants down until they pooled over his boots, leaving him exposed from the knees up.

Those same tormenting fingers nudged Iolaus' thighs as far apart as the restricting pants would allow, then reached through and grasped Iolaus' wrists, pulling them further apart. Hercules stood back, to survey his work.

Iolaus was spread wantonly before him, his fingers wrapped bloodlessly around the bamboo ceiling, his long lids partially veiling his avid, blue eyes. The blond head was tilted back, making a molten offering of his strong throat, and sculpted chest. His engorged cock swayed as he pushed his hips forward, imploring. Iolaus the Golden, his breathing ragged, waiting for Hercules' next move.

Hercules began, with brutally tantalizing grace, to remove his own clothing. He opened his chamois tunic, running his fingers over his chest, tweaking his nipples, pulling the blood into them until they glowed darkly in their soft nests of hair. Dropping his tunic to the dust, he slipped one hand beneath the waistband of his trousers, his breath hissing when his fingers brushed the weeping head of his erection. A flush rose in his perfectly defined cheekbones, and his tongue teased over his soft, mobile lips. The honey of his hair caressed his long neck and corded shoulders as he tossed his head, wrapping his hand around the erection still hidden from the hunter's view by thick leather, and the hunter moaned, hungrily. Hercules was normally so reticent about his sexuality; each new demonstration had to be coaxed from him. To see him touching himself, flaunting his carnal beauty with such abandon, caused a sharp tremor of desire to knife through Iolaus' groin.

Hercules removed his boots, then opened his pants with leisurely fingers, tarrying to test the smooth flesh of his hipbones, to drift a wide palm across his partially exposed cock. The pants were pushed to his knees, and he cupped his testicles in one hand, as the other slipped slowly up his hard shaft, then down. He spread his legs slightly, and rocked his hips forward, his hand squeezing, then pumping, the slick, purple head of his cock gleaming.

Iolaus gasped, thrusting his aching erection against his bamboo prison. Hercules stopped, quite suddenly, his hands stilling, his hot eyes spearing Iolaus. The hunter eased back from the woven wall, and Hercules moved once again. He removed his pants entirely, and stepped forward, stopping just inches from the cage.

The moon peered through torn clouds, her beams sifting silver threads through the golden tangle of Iolaus' hair. She danced across Hercules' implacable face, and clenched hands, and lingered over Iolaus' spread, needy frame. After a brief flicker, bathing longingly in the salty droplets crowning Iolaus' cock, she slipped slyly away.

So much beauty, imprisoned behind that bamboo wall. Platinum and gold, alabaster and ivory, sapphire and rose. Too much beauty, filling Hercules' eyes, firing his blood. This passion felt exactly like pain. Tasted exactly like loss.

He reached through the cage wall, catching Iolaus' cock and guiding it through a woven hole. Iolaus, shocked by the unexpected contact, swayed forward until his aching balls met a rough, bamboo crossbar. Trapped, he awaited his beloved jailer's whim. His breath tangled hotly in his throat as Hercules knelt, and bent his head, allowing the heavy silk of his hair to envelop Iolaus' throbbing shaft in a cool, shifting curtain of sensation. The demigod drifted his sweet, thick hair back and forth across Iolaus' cock, until the hunter felt his release gathering, transfixing him.

"Don't stop!" Iolaus couldn't have bitten the words back if he'd wanted to.

Hercules did stop, though. He leaned back, twisting his own nipple until it strained darkly against his fingertips.

Gods! What was he ...

Iolaus cried out, forcing his eyes to focus on the godlike lover kneeling before him, his impending orgasm beaten back by a brutal shock of lust that caused him to jerk, convulsively.

Hercules was circling the tip of Iolaus' cock with his rigid nipple. Iolaus hung tautly, the beat of his blood, the rush of his breath, his very life dependent upon the sensation of the hard nipple etching fiery trails around his cock.

He jammed himself against his cage, the crossbars biting into his shuddering chest, as the erect nub of flesh slid along the slit crowning the velvet head of his penis. Hercules found a shallow rhythm, and maintained it, minutely fucking Iolaus' cock.

The tip of that puckered nipple scorched Iolaus' tingling cock slit, invading him, intoxicating him. The soft hairs surrounding it brushed the engorged head of his cock like tiny fingers of fire. This was impossible; it was too intimate, too unexpected, and his arms couldn't support him, yet they did, his legs couldn't bear the molten burden of his need, yet they did. This couldn't continue, he couldn't bear it, yet he nearly sobbed when Hercules pulled away, and stood.

Iolaus saw his own pre-cum, glittering in the curls surrounding Hercules' nipple, gleaming on the nipple, itself, and licked his lips. Hercules ran his finger across the dampened hair, and teased it over the hardened nub, capturing the liquid and carrying it to Iolaus' mouth. The hunter's tongue flicked out, and tasted the salty offering, before his lips clamped over Hercules' finger, pulling it into his mouth and sucking it clean.

Hercules' eyes locked with Iolaus', which the raised position of the cage placed nearly on a level with his own, as his lover's mouth worked its magic. Without breaking eye contact, he wrapped his hand around Iolaus' shaft, pulling the hunter minutely closer. Iolaus writhed as small knots in the bamboo crossbar dug into his tightened testicles, releasing Hercules' finger when the demigod's touch left his yearning cock.

Hercules rocked his hips forward, rubbing his cock against Iolaus' with tormenting deliberation. Iolaus' strong, white teeth dug into his lower lip as Hercules thrust, gently. The need to devour each other, to unite, to scream, and claw, to rock, and moan; all that need, reduced to such an impossibly limited touch. That touch became their world. Then, Hercules stepped away, and that world collapsed.

Hercules' hands reached through the bamboo once again, grasping Iolaus' hips and pushing him backward, the hunter's rigid cock scraping lightly against the weave. He then pressed against one hip, forcing Iolaus to drop his arms, and turn. After the hunter rearranged his hands on the bamboo rails above his gleaming head, Hercules stepped back, watching as Iolaus pressed his ass against the cage, pleadingly.

Kneeling, he spread the smooth, taut buttocks open, exposing the hunter's anus. He gulped the night air convulsively, his hands tightening against Iolaus' flesh until it glowed white under the pressure, reddened ridges popping up between his fingers. Hercules fought himself, biting back the climax that threatened as he bent forward, and began licking all around that tempting portal. Licking, sucking the skin between his teeth, the tiny, golden hairs tickling his nose as he savored the delirious banquet. He relaxed his bruising grip, pulling his hands away, and slowly teased his tongue into Iolaus' body; the only contact between them was its slick thrusting in his lover's anus. Iolaus whimpered, and pushed against the restraining bamboo. The rails cut into his flesh, creating a contrasting, white pattern against the red channels left by Hercules' fingers.

Hercules circled the little bud with the tip of his tongue and pushed a careful finger against the tight ring of muscle, his moans tangling with Iolaus' as it drove into the hunter's body. Another finger joined it, and the dance began anew, as he thrust, then withdrew, so slowly, sliding over the center of pleasure within that heated channel, feeling Iolaus relax around his fingers. Tears of need were trickling down the demigod's face by the time he pulled away, and stood.

The evening breeze, bolder than the shrinking moon, made the lover's flesh his own, rippling across their bodies. Iolaus moaned as the lusty zephyr licked his thighs, and kissed his throat. His overheated body responded eagerly to the cool caresses, his sweet flesh dimpling. The breeze, inflamed by the taste of his need, raked across his sweaty skin, laughing through the soft, golden hairs which rose to its touch. At the same time, it drank wantonly of Hercules' hardened cock and heavy hair, tormenting him with a well timed gust, then melting away.

Carefully, Hercules pushed his cock through the woven wall, between Iolaus' shaking thighs. He thrust forward, and Iolaus stifled a scream as Hercules' cock pressed against the hunter's balls, pushing past them, dancing wickedly back, and forth. If Iolaus' cock hadn't been rigidly upright with frustrated lust, Hercules' shaft would have been thrusting against it. Iolaus shuddered at the thought, wondering how much longer this torture would continue, wondering how long he could possibly last, pulled taut by the horrible, wonderful tension.

Hercules' cock was withdrawn, as if in answer, and came to rest against Iolaus' throbbing anus. Pressure.

Another stifled scream, as the head of Hercules' cock was hotly engulfed. The demigod paused, then pushed slightly forward.

Such delirious delight, such a tantalizingly restricted union. Just Hercules' hot shaft, sliding slowly into Iolaus. Deeper. A mingled moan, as the bamboo bars made their presence known; only so far, Hercules, and no farther.

Hercules' eyes were riveted to the sight of his rigid cock pumping hotly between Iolaus' ivory buttocks. His awareness was pinpointed to that sight, to the sound of Iolaus' soft gasps of pleasure, to the sensation of the maddening heat surrounding his plunging shaft. His skin screamed to be pressed against his lover's body, he ached for the taste of Iolaus' sweet mouth, to bury his face in the silken tangle of his hair. His cock twitched, even as he drove it as deeply as the cage would allow.

Iolaus strained furiously, his strong fingers clenching spasmodically around the bamboo joists from which he hung. Another breeze lavished his burning flesh, and the moon drenched his glowing eyes, gilding his taut muscles. His back arched, as his greedy body opened to his lover's swollen member. The backward slide of Hercules' retreating cock was delirium, and a sobbing groan tore through Iolaus. Hercules thrust home, and Iolaus threw his golden head back. More. Again. Yours. Yours, fucking more, give me more. Yours. Take what's ...

"Take it!" Iolaus screamed the words, would have screamed for more, would have begged, but his breath failed him at another slow slide out, another hot drive in, and his body quaked as he rose to his tiptoes, pushing back against Hercules' thrust.

Immediately, Hercules stopped, pulling backward, exactly matching Iolaus' desperate efforts to impale himself more deeply upon the demigod's thick cock, denying his golden lover any participation in his own ravishment. The hunter groaned Hercules' name, and forced his rebellious body to stillness. A hot smile of satisfaction danced over Hercules' chiseled features, and he began moving again, keeping his thrusts deliberately shallow, tormenting his lover, torturing himself. Dark blood began welling from the demigod's fingers, which were wrapped whitely around the rough rails of the cage wall, and one of the crossbars snapped with a sharp, dry jolt.

As though the sound was a signal, he slid abruptly out, and Iolaus groaned, nearly falling as his knees buckled.

"Take off your boots, and pants," Hercules' voice was so thick as to be nearly unrecognizable.

Iolaus unhooked his fingers from the cage ceiling with difficulty, and shot a look at Hercules over one shoulder, his burning, blue eyes promising reprisal, and that soon. Hercules' groin tightened, as he watched the seductive movements of Iolaus' lithe body. The hunter bent quite deliberately from the waist to unlace his boots, and remove them with unearthly slowness. It took a small eternity for him to slip the leather pants down his shapely calves, during which Hercules devoured the sight of his gleaming buttocks, the sloping, muscular back, the sturdy thighs.

Reprisal. With Iolaus' colorful sexual background, and wild, willful nature, Hercules couldn't begin to fathom what form the hunter's revenge would take. He forced his breathing to slow, his overtaxed body threatening to climax just from imagining what Iolaus would demand from him in return for this night's work.

When Iolaus had finished stripping, he straightened, spreading his legs and hooking raw fingers in the crossbars above his head, once more. Hercules growled softly, and padded into the cage.

He stopped a mere handbreadth from Iolaus, and stood, unmoving, staring down into the breathtaking beauty of his lover's flushed face. He touched the head of Iolaus' aching cock with a tender finger, swirling through the pre-cum that glittered there, then squeezed the tip of his own cock, adding his fluid to the droplets of Iolaus' essence. Slowly, he brought his glistening finger to his mouth, and licked it hungrily, still staring into Iolaus' dilated eyes.

A moan sounded, and Hercules was startled to realize that the rough, desperate cry had resonated from his own chest. He tucked his hands through Iolaus' spread legs, cupping his muscular buttocks, and lifted him, holding the hunter centered over his agonizingly erect cock for a brief moment, before impaling him.

"I love you!"

Hercules' words fractured the night air, then his mouth claimed Iolaus', sharing the taste of their mingled seed with his golden lover, as Iolaus' legs clamped around his waist. Iolaus' hands released their death grip on the bamboo bars, and dropped to Hercules' shoulders, as the demigod's orgasm ripped through both of them with blinding force. Iolaus tore his mouth free, screaming hoarsely, and his own ejaculate peppered their abdomens. They writhed together, and Hercules collapsed to his knees, still pumping his seed into Iolaus.

When he could trust himself to move, Hercules lowered them gently to the straw-strewn floor, his softening cock surrendering its beloved sanctuary. He turned onto his back, pulling Iolaus close, smiling dazedly as the hunter snuggled closer still, and threw a leg and an arm across him. He nuzzled happily against the impossible riches of Iolaus' hair.

Iolaus' scent, mingled with his own, lavished Hercules' cock. The hunter's pearly seed coated Hercules' belly.

Hercules was home, at last.

THE END