The Witch on the Western Mountain
by Arianna

It had been a great Solstice festival, one of the best ever.  A week of games, plays, singing bards, storytelling, and parties.  Wine and ale had flowed freely, and Iolaus, in particular, had thrown himself into the celebrations wholeheartedly.  Unfortunately, the one problem with a week long festival was that one was never completely sober when one began imbiding again the next day.  So, Iolaus was happier and happier as the week progressed, floating by the end of it to tell the truth. Hercules, on the other hand, tended to more spartan habits when it came to spirits, and so he was more than able and on hand to help his buddy back to their inn the last night of the festival.  Good humouredly, Herc had extricated Iolaus from the latest tavern, and was assisting him down the alley, one hand firmly gripping his buddy's arm so that Iolaus did not trip over his own boots and fall ignominiously on his face.

"Yoo're a good buddy, H-Herc," Iolaus said happily as he wove his way through the night.  "I don't know...wha I'd dooo withou yoo."

"Well, you're a good buddy, too, Iolaus," Hercules agreed goodnaturedly.

"No...no...I mean somethin' diff-differnt," Iolaus said solemnly, peering up at his friend.

"What would that be?" Hercules enquired, as he steered Iolaus into the inn and toward the stairs.

"What?  What would...what be?" Iolaus asked, confused, as he stumbled on the stairs.

Herc steadied his buddy, grinning as he shook his head.  Iolaus was going to have a whopper of a headache tomorrow.  "Nothing, buddy, don't worry about it," Hercules responded, as he steadied Iolaus against the wall with one hand, while he opened the door to the room they were sharing with the other.

"'kay." Iolaus agreed solemnly, nodding.  Then, continued, "I wush shayin, I tink, tha I mean' somethin' else...."  he frowned, trying to remember.

Hercules steadied him into the room, and sat him on the bed, kneeling to pull off his buddy's boots.

"I 'member!" Iolaus said, bright-eyed, as he looked at Hercules.  "Wanna tell yoo, I love yoo...."

Chuckling, Hercules said, "Well, I love you, too, my very drunk friend. Now, it's time you got some sleep."  The demigod pushed his buddy back onto the bed, and covered him with a blanket.

"Beautiful...." Iolaus murmured, not really caring that he could see two of his best friend in the flickering light of the single candle under the window.

Herc turned to sit on the edge of the bed to pull of his own boots. "What's beautiful?" he asked, only half paying attention.

Iolaus struggled to bring one hand out from under the blanket and rested it on Herc's back.  "Yoo," he murmured, sleepily, but with an unmistakable note of tenderness in his voice.

Hercules froze, then felt Iolaus' hand fall away.  Twisting around, he saw his buddy had fallen asleep, his mouth a little agape, the blond curls tumbling over his forehead, the look on his face innocent. Unaware.

Hercules studied his friend for a long moment, not really surprised by what had just happened.  It wasn't all that unusual for Iolaus to get sentimental and mushy went he'd had too much to drink.  But, the next morning, he never had any memory of it, more concerned with his headache than what he might have said or done the night before.

Herc shrugged, ignoring it as he always had.  Well, except for that one time, many, many years ago, when he'd had too much to drink as well, and had begun to respond to Iolaus' amorous overtures.  But, Iolaus had fallen asleep that time, just about as fast as he'd fallen asleep tonight.  Only the next day, he'd seemed embarrassed, getting out of the room they shared early, returning only when it was time to leave.  Herc
figured he had some memory of the night before, and had gotten a response he'd never intended to seek.  The demigod didn't know for sure because they'd never talked about it.

Hercules just made damned sure he never drank that much again.

Finally, Hercules laid down quietly beside his friend, listening to Iolaus' deep, even breathing.  The demigod wondered, not for the first time, why Iolaus sometimes acted like that.  Hercules knew, or at least was pretty sure, Iolaus hadn't been with a man sexually since those dark days when he'd done whatever he'd had to do to survive on the streets. Iolaus never talked about it much, believing Herc might well despise him
for what he'd done, and had allowed be done to him, and Herc never asked, embarrassed as always to hear the more intimate details of another's encounters.

He'd always believed, though, that Iolaus equated being with men as a kind of slavery, and that the very idea brought back unwelcome memories, memories that were best left deeply buried.  Certainly, he never picked up on the propositions he frequently received, giving back a 'you wish' comment or look, before turning away.  No, Iolaus never seemed the least bit interested in ever pursuing a sexual relationship with any man. Except, every once in a while, when he was dead drunk, he'd make a pass at Herc.  It confused the demigod, but since Iolaus never seemed to remember, he'd let it go, writing it off as a mild aberration of Iolaus' essentially sensual nature.

And, true to form, his buddy had no memory of telling Herc he was beautiful the next day.  He moaned a bit about his headache, but suffered mainly in silence, knowing it was his own fault.  They hadn't had a clear idea of where they'd head next, but a scroll caught up with them...a crier calling Herc's name as they ambled down the street.

Hercules frowned a little as he read the missive, which appeared to have been following after them for some time.  Iolaus leaned in to read over his friend's arm.  "A witch?" he said, his brows arching up under his blond curls as he turned to look up at his buddy.

Herc nodded thoughtfully as he rolled up the small scroll and stuck it in his belt.  "A village elder has asked for help against the spells of an evil witch.  Scroll says the village is south of here, deep in the Peloponnese."

Iolaus frowned as he thought about it.  "How deep?  Not the 'deep' part, where nobody, not even the gods go?  The place they say is populated by fairies and elves, trolls and witches?  The place where nobody ever comes back from?

"That'd be the place," Hercules agreed with a grin as he started more purposefully out of town, heading south.

"So, we're going then?" Iolaus enquired, not sure he liked this idea a whole lot.

"Uh huh," Herc replied.  Looking over at his friend's troubled face, he laughed.  "Come on, Iolaus...you don't really believe in fairies and trolls do you?"

Shrugging selfconsciously, Iolaus shook his head, "No, not fairies and trolls...but, I'm not sure about witches.  I've never really wanted to find out.

"Can't be much worse than gods or monsters," Hercules responded philosophically.

"No...I suppose not," Iolaus agreed, rubbing his temple.  Man, this was a wicked headache.

**

They had entered the area of myth and mystery about two hours before, tramping through the virgin woodland, listening to the sounds of the forest, hearing nothing that caused any alarm.  Stopping in a clearing near a stream for a drink, the sudden whoosh took them by surprise.

Hercules found himself caught by giant claws, and borne high above the trees before he'd quite known what was happening.  Shouting, he pounded on the talons around his chest, but they seemed impervious to his blows.  Looking up and around he made a face at the ugly beast that was bearing him further into the enchanted forest.   It looked like nothing so much as a giant bat...and smelled like one too.

He could hear Iolaus screaming his name, and he cast a quick look below, to see his buddy trying to pace them, but falling farther and farther behind.  It was rough country, steep.  There was no way Iolaus could keep up with the monster.  Herc pounded again on the scales, and lunged trying to reach the creature's body, but to no avail.  Sighing, he figured he might as well settle down and enjoy the scenery, such as it
was.

Within minutes, he felt himself grow sleepy, and fought the sensation, knowing it wasn't normal.  But the feeling of lassitude grew, overwhelming him such that he could barely remain conscious, hanging limply now in the monster's talons. Something's...not right,' he thought dully, feeling a peculiar cold, that seemed to numb him from the
inside out.

It was about an hour later when the very nearly blind creature flew straight into a gossamer net that floated in the air, anticipating its arrival, designed to entrap it and cause it to crash to earth.  Herc gave a startled yell as they plummeted helpless toward the trees below, entrapped by the almost invisible, indestructible threads, but the
weariness was so great, it overwhelmed him and he was already unconscious before he hit the trees.

**

Iolaus had followed the monster, desperate to keep up.  Gods, what was that thing?  And what did it want with Hercules?  Nothing good, he'd bet.  It was tough going, but he ran, jogged, climbed, ran some more, keeping to the direction the creature had taken, trying to spot it whenever he reached a bit of clear high ground.  Dimly, he heard Herc's yell from further to the south.  Alarmed, he pushed himself harder. What in Tarturus was going on?

Within twenty minutes, Iolaus found the carcass of the dead monster, broken and twisted by its fall from the trees.  With a sinking heart, he found the place Herc had lain, fresh blood still spattered on the ground.  Herc's blood...the monster's blood was green.  He quartered the area, looking for sign.  What he saw gave him pause.  Teeny, tiny footprints all around where Herc had lain...and then, it was if his friend had been partially lifted, his heels still dragging on the ground.  Well, the good news was, Herc was probably still alive...otherwise, he wouldn't be bleeding.

Iolaus followed the telltale signs of blood splotches through the bush for another half hour.  When he got to where he was going, he wasn't entirely sure he could believe what he was seeing.  It was a sunlit meadow, bright with multicoloured delicate flowers, and little tiny women and men were buzzing about using wings that blurred almost to invisibility when they were in motion.  'Like hummingbirds,' he thought.  But, they sure weren't birds.  'Teach me to decide something doesn't exist,' he grumbled to himself.

It took him a moment to spot Hercules, lying unconscious on a flower-covered bier.  His heart caught, terrified, as he raced straight into the glen toward his friend, and collapsed on his knees by his side.

"Herc!" he called out, as he reached to test for a pulse, sighing with heartfelt relief when he found one.  Herc's pulse was strong...but, there was no denying he was deeply unconscious, his breathing heavy and slow.  Ignoring the fairies, Iolaus rapidly checked his friend for injuries, glad when he found nothing more than scrapes.  If he wasn't so
deeply unconscious, Iolaus would have figured there was nothing wrong with him.  Looking up with a frown, he challenged the fairies which had fallen silent and still when he'd raced into their enclave, watching him.

"What did you do to him?" Iolaus demanded.

"It's the spell," one ethereal fairy said with a musical tone, light as air, as she flitted closer to him.

"What spell?" Iolaus returned sharply, then shook his head, "Doesn't matter...take it off."

"We cannot," the fairy continued, alighting on a blade of grass beside him.  "The wicked one cast the spell, trying to draw him to her, that she may feast upon his energy, his life force."  The fairy paused a moment, and looked toward the unconscious hero.  "He's very strong...it would give her unimaginable power."

Iolaus frowned, not following this at all.  "Who's the wicked one? Where is she?" he asked, casting his eyes around the clearing.

"Halfway up that mountain she lives.  In a cabin.  Behind it is the place where she conducts her rituals and sacrifices...where she practices her evil," the fairy explained, with a gesture toward the mountain to the west.

"If she put the spell on him, then why is he here?" Iolaus demanded then, not trusting them for all their delicate beauty and the sense of peace and safety this clearing held.

"We watch her, to try to foil her plans.  If she gets too strong, she'll destroy us all.  We think she sent for him, to trick him into coming to her.  When watchers saw her pet carrying new fodder, we spun the web of entrapment to rescue him.  The monster crashed to the earth and died. Your friend was unconscious, but we think of the spell, not of injury. Our Queen is trying to fight it, to intervene in the power the wicked
one is directing toward him, calling him to her...but, it is difficult."

Queen?  Iolaus looked about the area again, and spotted the delicately lovely creature, her hair flowing in ebony waves to her feet, her gown irridescent in the sunlight.  She was holding her hands over Hercules, as she hovered in the air above him.  But, she seemed too pale, and even a little translucent.

"What's happening?" Iolaus asked softly, worried.

"She is trying to hold back the spell, shield him.  But, it is too strong for our power.  She can block it but for a few hours more...and even then, it might well kill her.  After that," the fairy looked away, her expression a mixture of weariness and fear, "well, after that, his soul will be drawn to the witch.  And he will be unable to resist.  She
will destroy him...and then us...and then what lies beyond our realm. She will have the strength to move out and attack mortals directly.  No one will be safe from her."

Iolaus tore his eyes from Hercules to gaze up at the western mountain. "How can I stop her?" he asked.

The fairy turned to look up at him, sadness in her eyes.  "You cannot stop her.  She would simply kill you instead."

Iolaus looked down at the fairy, impatient.  "I just have to slow her down long enough for Herc to come out of the trance.  How hard can that be?  After that, he can follow me and together we'll be a match for her."

"You don't understand.  He is a powerful prize.  I do not comprehend how it could be, but he seems more than mortal...there is an energy...."

"He's half god," Iolaus explained, looking back down at his friend, resting a hand on his arm.

"Oh...no!  She must not have him...her power would be too vast...." the fairies wailed in sudden terror.

"Then, tell me how to stop her!" shouted Iolaus above their high pitched keening.

His fairy pulled herself together, wiping tears from her face.  "To distract her from such a prize, one must offer a better, more attractive prize.  One that is easier, and still satisfactory to her need.  If you are to do this, you must go to her, and offer yourself freely as her sacrifice, to do with as she pleases, with no resistance.  You are strong...and brave.  Your spirit would attract her...perhaps enough to have her leave off trying to draw your friend.  As great a prize as he is, it must take almost all her power to try to draw him near.  And, she would perhaps believe he would come after you...so that she might yet have him, as well."

"Fine," said Iolaus, preparing to stand, but the fairy laid her hand upon his, her touch like that of a feather.

"Wait, please...you must understand.  You'll have no hope of survival. You are going to a terrible, very painful death," she cautioned, wanting him to fully understand what price he'd have to pay to free his friend from the enchantment.

Iolaus swallowed, caught by her urgent sincerity.  She truly believed what she was telling him...and it could be the truth.  Turning, he gazed at Hercules, memorizing his features a last time.  Hercules was caught by the spell, clearly unable to resist it, and Iolaus had no way of breaking him out of it, or of knowing if he could stop him once the protection of the Fairy Queen was gone.  His eyes, lifted to the courageous Queen, who was growing ever more translucent, risking her own existance for his friend, and to protect her kind from a power that clearly terrified them.  He had to stop this, before it was too late.

Gently, he leaned forward and kissed his friend's forehead, one hand resting lightly over Herc's heart.  "Tell him where I've gone...tell him I understood what I was doing and that I judged his life worth mine. Tell him to remember the laughter."

Iolaus stood then, and without a backward glance, he set off to the confront the witch on the western mountain.

**

She was ugly, he'd give her that.  A shrivelled, shrunken, toothless hag...the epitomy of everything he'd ever heard evil witches looked like.  She even had a wart on the end of her crooked nose.  But, it was her eyes which caught his attention, eyes that burned with a deep and abiding evil, dark, bottomless.  She radiated an aura which repelled
him, bringing to mind human sacrifice, blood drunk under a full moon, and unwholesome laughter eerily cackling in the night.

"What do you want?" she demanded after he'd pounded on her door, demanding entry.

"I want you to leave my friend alone," Iolaus said belligerantly, taking a step back to give himself some maneuvering room, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Brave talk from a gnat," she spat, stepping out of the dimness of the cottage, her eyes narrowing in the brightness of the sun.

Iolaus drew his sword, feeling vaguely ridiculous in doing so when only confronted by a wisened old woman who stood no taller than his shoulder.  But, he felt the danger waft off of her being, like waves that raged toward him, threatening to drown him.

"Let him go!" Iolaus ordered.

"Or what?  You'll kill me?" she sneered, flicking a finger at him.  His sword was ripped from his hands, flipping in the air to rest with its edge against his throat.  He threw up his hands, to drag it away, but it was immovable... and, when he tried to step away from it, he discovered he couldn't.  His feet would not obey him.

Deciding on a different tack, Iolaus took a deep breath.  "Look, maybe we got off to a bad start.  My name is Iolaus, and I would appreciate it if you would leave off trying to enchant my friend."

A contemptuous smile distorted her face as she lasciviously looked him over.  "And, what would you offer me in his stead, Iolaus?"

The blond warrior forced himself to relax, letting his hands fall to his sides.  "Myself," he said, "as a free gift, without reserve."

She took a moment to walk around him, poking at his ribs, feeling his arms and his legs, reaching to grip his crotch.  "Hey!" he objected. "Do you mind?"

"I thought you said you were offering yourself without reserve?" she countered, squeezing.  "I might accept if you mean it...but, if you do not, I will send a spell to shatter your friend's mind now...he'll never awaken."

Iolaus closed his eyes against her hideousness, willing himself to relax.  If he made this vow, he'd keep it...he'd allow her anything. His memory holding the image of Hercules, unconscious in that bower, he nodded.  Then opened his eyes.  "Do as you will with me...but release my friend," he said quietly.

Standing back, she studied him a moment more, but her hunger and need were great.  This one would serve her well, and fulfill her most urgent needs, granting her the power she so badly needed to find other fodder. She turned her eyes toward the east, uttering some unintelligible phrases and waving her right hand in a gesture of negation.  "He is free," she said, then turned to the cottage.  "Follow me."

The sword fell to the ground at his feet, and he discovered he could walk again.  Steeling himself for whatever might come, he followed her into the darkness.

She led him through the dim cluttered interior, and he stopped looking at what he was seeing after he'd made out two shrunken heads, three skulls and a piled of dry, almost powdry decaying rats.  Swallowing against the bile that rose in his throat, he kept pace behind her, until they came to the back, stepping out into a place of unholy sanctuary.

It was a courtyard walled with stone around a massive marble alter, which was decorated with round brass tokens the size of shields, embossed with demons dancing amidst flames.  There was nothing alive in that cold enclave.  Just marble and stone, and brass.

"Strip and lay yourself upon the alter," she commanded.  "Now."

'This is not going to be fun,' he thought, as he peeled his vest from his shoulders, kicked off his boots, loosened his belts and undid his codpiece, to shove his pants off his hips.  He left his belongings piled in the corner, laying his amulet on top of his folded vest.  Turning, he caught her eying his body, and he could not repress a shudder.  There
was a hunger in her eyes as she licked her dry, cracked lips, and her fingers clenched and unclenched in eagerness to touch that golden body.

"On the alter," she repeated, her voice catching in her throat, her breathing increasingly rapid and harsh as excitement built within her.

"Right," he muttered, moving to the massive slab.  As he boosted himself up upon it, he noted the sturdy metal rings bolted into its surface. Touching one, he heard her say, "For those who are less willing."

He nodded, understanding how that could be the case, and hitched himself to the centre of the unholy alter, where he laid down on his back. Dreading what was to come, he had to steady his breathing, as he let his eyes roam the clear blue of the endless sky above him.

He caught a whiff of her foul breath as she leaned toward him, again running her hand down the length of his body, humming a little as she did so.  She was mad.

"Pretty," she murmured, "very pretty."

"And, all mine."  The last was a hoarse growl of predatory ownership. She grabbed his penis, squeezing hard, and somehow she was there on the alter with him, as if she had levitated in the air, her mouth coming down to suck him greedily.

Closing his eyes, trying not to wretch, Iolaus thought cold slime had a more appealing touch than what was consuming him now.  He held himself rigidly, refusing to give in to his primal urge to throw her from his body.

Lifting her face, saliva dripping from her lips, she snarled in that incomprehensible tongue...but whatever she'd said, as much as his mind did not understand, his body did.  In that moment, he was rock hard, his penis standing rigid and throbbing, full and aching with that fullness.

Cackling like a maniac, she hefted her heavy skirts, and threw a leg over him, settling down upon his shaft in one swift, famished gesture. "Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!" she crowed, feeling him fill her coldness, drawing the warmth of his being into herself, feeling the ice shatter within.  THIS was what she had needed...this and one more thing.

Iolaus had gasped at the icy cold which had enfolded him, sickened by the sight of her on him, riding him.  He kept his arms pressed tight down against the marble surface of the alter, his hands fisted, his breathing ragged with disgust.  He tilted his head up and away, so that he could only see the sky, clean, clear and bright above him.

He didn't see her fumble at her bodice, drawing out an odd implement. The long tip of an antler hewn to deadly sharpness, still one sharp hook growing from it's side.  Hollow, slightly curved, about six inches long.  She wrapped one hand firmly around the weapon, laying another hand on his chest, leaning forward, revelling in the feeling of him inside her, undulating with the pleasure of it.  It had been so long...too long.  And none had ever before been willing.  There was a greater excitement in this...a conscious man, who laid rigid beneath her, loathing her, yet allowing her access to whatever she wanted of him.

The cold touch of her wisened, calloused hand on his chest and her hoarse, mumbled imprecations, drew his eyes back, and they widened as he saw her lift the sharp horn high, like a dagger.  She was going to kill him while she rode him...and he was glad his torment would be so blessedly short.  He'd had no doubt that she'd meant his death...but, he'd not thought to escape this obscenity so soon.  Mindful of his vow,
aware that breaking it could destroy Hercules, he kept his arms still by his side, waiting for her to murder him.

She saw him watching her, and gave him a gape-mouthed grin, a travesty of pleasure and anticipation.  And, then, she plunged the horn into his chest, causing him arc and cry out with the agony of it.  Had it been made of ice, it could not have been so cold, freezing him from within.

"Oh gods," he whispered hoarsely, when he realized he was still alive. He brought his eyes back to her and gagged at the sight.  She was drinking his blood, guzzling it while she moved her hips upon his shaft, squirming as she ripped at her clothing with one hand.

He raised his arms, wanting to throw her off, wanting it to end.  But, her eyes caught his, and the warning in them was clear.  'Stop now and your friend dies...."  Rigid with revulsion and agony, he held his arms away from her, allowing her to do what she would.

As he watched, she began to transform from the old crone into a raven haired nubile beauty, but the illusion was marred, destroyed by the wanton evil and hunger in her eyes.  She arced back upon him, pumping hard, painting her face and her breasts, and then her belly with his blood, which continued to well up through the horn she had planted into the centre of his heart.

She shuddered with one orgasm after another, feeling his warmth fill her, revelling in the heat of his blood.  Suddenly fierce, she lashed out at the arms he still held up, but away, pounding at him, bruising him with her fury.  She pulled herself from him, and she stood, kicking his ribs, stomping on his stomach, his shoulders, tearing off her robe
and flinging it to the ground on the far side of the alter.

Iolaus was bruised by the blows, but not seriously injured.  He'd suffered worse physical beatings.  He laid and looked up at her, wondering why he was still alive.  He felt cold, so cold, as if everything inside was turning to ice.  And with the cold, came a
lassitude.  He was aware, and the agony was as sharp as ever, but it seemed to matter less.  His eyes travelling to his chest, to the blood spilling out of the horn, he realized he was growing lightheaded from blood loss, and laid back, closing his eyes, praying for unconsciousness to claim him.

Still starved for warmth, for the power of his life force, she fell upon him and ravished him, licking the blood from his chest, sucking deeply to pull more from his body.  Keening with frenzied desire, she again impaled herself upon his rigid shaft, riding him hard, driving herself down upon him again and again...and again.  But, the greatest
fulfillment for her came when she rode and sucked at the same time, filling her being with his warmth, his life.

**

Hercules woke from his stupor with a shiver, feeling cold, as if he'd been held in the grip of an ice monster.  Dazed, it took him a moment to get his bearing...and when he did, he wondered if he was still dreaming.  Fairies danced jubilantly around him, dipping and swirling in the air, irridescent in the light of the sun.

Danced, until one by one, they realized why this being was now awake...and remembered the other golden one who had gone to do what must be done.

They dropped, saddened, onto the earth, silent, no longer singing.

One, a little larger than the others, with ebony hair falling below her waist, landed near his face, where she could see deeply into his soul. "I am Ruanthan," she said quietly, "Queen of these fairies."

"Uh...hi!  I'm Hercules," the demigod responded, pulling back a bit and sitting up.  "What am I doing here?"

"We brought you here to try to save you from the witch's power, but she was too strong for me.  I could not break you out of her spell.  She would have destroyed me, and then you...and then the rest in only a little more passage of time," the Queen explained.

"Then, how is it that I'm awake now?" Herc asked, mystified, still trying to figure out what was going on.

"Your friend came," the Queen answered, looking away.

"Iolaus?" Hercules asked, an eager tone in his voice as his eyes raked the clearing, frowning when he saw Iolaus' pack near him, but no other evidence of his friend's presence.  "Where is he?"

Another fairy stepped forward, calling up to him, "He went to free you from the spell, by offering himself in your stead.  He said to tell you he knew what he was doing, your life being worth his, and he said you should remember the laughter."

Herc had listened with a growing sense of disbelief and then horror. "HE WHAT?" the demigod shouted, enraged, as he lunged to his feet. "Where?  Where has he gone?  What's happened to him?"

"He's gone to the lair of the witch of the western mountain," said the Queen, gesturing toward the mass of stone behind her.  "She will draw life and warmth from him, until he's but a frozen shell."

"Show me," demanded Hercules, determined to rescue his friend.

"It is already too late," the Queen informed him compassionately.  "You would not have been freed, else."

"SHOW ME!" Herc thundered, grabbing up Iolaus' pack and racing through the clearing, toward the western mountain.

The Queen bowed her head, preferring to save this being the horror he would see.  But, it was his right.  And, perhaps, his power was such that he could deal with the witch.  She had no way of knowing as she'd never met a demigod, or even a god, before.

Acquiessing, she flew ahead, soon overtaking him, and leading him to his destination, the other fairies streaming out behind them.

**

It was taking too long to get there, Hercules fumed, as he raced as quickly as he could go on the steep mountain paths.  How long could Iolaus resist her?  Gods...how much farther?

Finally, they entered a small, overgrown clearing, a ruin of a cottage a hundred feet away.  "Through there, and out to the back," the Fairy Queen directed.  Needing no more, Hercules lunged ahead, hearing an odd, eerie keening coming from somewhere beyond the weathered building.

Racing through the cottage to the courtyard in the back, Hercules froze in horror at what he saw.  Iolaus, on an alter...a nubile woman riding him while at the same time drinking his blood from something she had driven into his chest, his blood dribbling down her lips and smearing over his body.   Her body painted with his blood.  His buddy pale as a ghost and limp, lifeless...gods, she was killing him!

With a roar of frenzied rage, Hercules lunged across the courtyard and grabbed her around the waist, picking her up and flinging her into the stone wall of the courtyard.  She screeched in fury, diving back toward him.

"Witch, Herc," Iolaus gasped out in warning, terrified she would enscorcle his best friend, or worse...kill him outright.

As fire flamed from her fingertips, Hercules ducked and tore one of the round brass ornaments from the side of the alter, then held it in front of him as a shield...its shiny surface reflecting the fiery magic back at the harridan.  She ducked, the bolts blasting holes in the stone, and lashed out again, screaming imprecations.

Iolaus tried to sit up, tried to help, but was too weak.  "Spell," he choked out, desperate that Herc understand.

Hercules took the shield and threw it at her like a discus that grazed along the side of her head, cutting a deep gash, staggering her and cutting off the spell she'd been weaving.  Hercules grabbed another impromptu shield and advanced toward her, knowing he had to destroy her before she destroyed them.  Once again, she lashed out with the fires of hell, and he again deflected them, this time from such a tight angle she
could not evade...and she erupted with a hideous scream into a flaming torch.  Driven by her evil, even in extremis, she launched herself toward Iolaus, intending to immolate him with the last of her fire, robbing him of what little remained of the life she had begun to suck from his being hours before, that she might still live, while he would
be nothing but cold ash.

Hercules leaped between them, guarding his buddy's body with his own, and grabbing up the robe she had discarded, he tossed it over her, momentarily blinding and confusing her.  He grabbed her, the cloth already smoking and pitched her high up onto the mountain, where she could burn against the stone, and her ashes could be blown away, scattered beyond recollection.  Her screams diminished in sound as she
flew further away, until they finally ceased altogether.

Hercules turned then, to see to Iolaus...and what he saw made him want to weep.  Iolaus's skin was a deathly white, except where it was dark and mottled with bruises from her abuse.  His eyes looked sunken and dark with shadows.  He lay smeared with his own blood, naked and too weak to move, his life force nearly spent.  Hercules could see blood still weakly bubbling from the hollow dagger she'd lanced into his heart, spilling what was left of his life over his body to run down his sides, onto the alter and from there, dripping slowly to the ground.

But, Iolaus' eyes were alert, haunted by sorrow that Hercules had had to witness this horror and degradation, this destruction of his being. "Take it...out," he whispered, his voice but a breath of air.

Swallowing, Hercules laid one hand on Iolaus' ice cold, bare shoulder, and with the other, he grabbed the weapon and with one smooth motion, pulled it free.  Iolaus arched and could not resist the scream that cut up through his throat as the barbed hook tore through his body.  When it was free, Hercules recognized it as part of an antler, sharpened to a deadly point, the barbed hook as sharp as the tip.  Revolted, he threw it away and gathered Iolaus into his arms, to lend warmth, strength...knowing it couldn't be enough.

"What have you done?" Hercules whispered, tears spilling over his cheeks as he drew Iolaus close against his chest.

"What he had to do," the Fairy Queen, Ruanthan, said sadly, "To save us...to save you.  He offered himself freely, a more worthy and rich sacrifice than one which has to be chained.  It was the only way to distract her from enscorcling you, and stealing your force, Hercules."

"No," whispered the distraught demigod, "no...there must be something we can do to save him."

"Too late, Herc...s'all right," Iolaus mumbled, finding it hard to stay conscious, feeling as if he was almost frozen solid, aching with cold, numb and drifting.  "Least she...didn't get...my soul....thanks...to.." his voice faltered and faded, as he went utterly limp in Herc's arms.

"You can't let go, Iolaus....IOLAUS!" Hercules screamed, as he saw those dazzling eyes fog with confusion...with encroaching death, until Iolaus' heavy lids blinked once and closed.

Desperate, Hercules again raised his eyes to the Fairy Queen, who was floating in the air on the other side of the alter, her wings holding her in place.  "Please...you have magic...surely you can save him....I beg you," he pleaded, his voice thick with tears.

Gazing from Hercules to Iolaus, she shook her head slowly, sharing his grief for this fine, courageous man, who had given everything he was to save his friend.  "If there was someone here who loved him, who could fill his being with the passion and strength of that pure love...perhaps.  But, we do not have the capacity to love as mortals do, much as we would save him if we could," she replied quietly.

Hercules swallowed,  distraught, his voice a hoarse whisper, "But...but, I love him.  I love him more than life itself.  Why isn't that enough?"

Her eyes were full of compassion as she gazed into the grief-stricken eyes of the demigod.  "You love him as a brother, as a friend, Hercules.  In this, it is not enough.  His body has been used and debased by the foulest evil, his very life forced drained from him, sucked from him.  To live, he must be given the passion of love, his body worshiped, filled with the seeds of love, seeds which hold life, to restore life to him...as much as you love him, it is not in that way."

Hercules gazed down at the man who meant more than life, more than the world, more than anything or anyone.  His heart was breaking, his soul shrieking in terror at losing this being that was the best part of himself.  Her words echoed in his mind, mocking him, mocking all the lies through all the years, mocking the pretense of what he showed the world, of what he had shown to Iolaus.

"Don't I?" he whispered, then.  Without lifting his eyes from Iolaus' face, he said clearly, "Leave us...please...leave us now."

Comprehension, mingled with something like hope, lit in the Fairy Queen's eyes as she studied him.  Lifting one hand, she expelled the others who had been flitting about the courtyard, aching with grief for the dying man.  "Remember," she said softly, as she too retreated back into the cottage behind them, "you must touch all of him...love must
replace the stamp of evil....and you must fill his being with your passion and strength...with your love."

Hercules laid Iolaus gently back down onto the alter, only too aware of the bitter chill of his partner's skin.  He ran his hands through his buddy's unruly curls, his fingers and palms touching every part of his best friend's head, his ears, stroking the hair back from his forehead. Fingers traced the planes of Iolaus' face, then Hercules bent to kiss
first one eyelid, then the other.

Then, lips moving to Iolaus' ear, he whispered, "I love you, Iolaus...I have always loved you...let me show you now how much."

His tongue snaked around and into Iolaus' ear, then his lips grazed along his friend's jaw, until they found Iolaus' lips, half parted in his semi-conscious, not yet aware state.  Herc covered those beloved lips with his own, his tongue snaking into Iolaus' mouth to caress his tongue.  Iolaus moaned softly in response, his eyes flickering open, dazed, not understanding but feeling the tingling warmth of tenderness wash through him.

"Herc?" he murmured, trying to understand what was happening, wondering if this was a dream.

"Shhh, my beloved, let me do this for you...let me love you as I have always wanted to love you, completely, without reserve," Hercules whispered back, holding those incredible eyes with his own.

Awareness dawned, and Iolaus shook his head weakly.  "No...you don't want...me...that way...." he gasped.  He could not ask Hercules to do this for him...not when he knew Hercules had never loved him in that way.  Better that his friend should let him slip away than act against his very nature.

Hercules bent to nuzzle the hollow of Iolaus' throat before responding, his hands stroking his buddy's shoulders, arms and hands, taking care to touch all of Iolaus' too cold skin, leaving a trail of warmth behind his touch.  Lifting his head, the demigod murmured, "Yes, Iolaus...I do want you this way.  I'm sorry...I always have.  I know this isn't something you want," Herc's voice caught, "but, you'll die without this love...my love.  Please, Iolaus...let me do this...please.  I can't live without you...not whole...not sane.  I need you too much."

Something sparked in Iolaus' eyes that Hercules did not understand, only knowing it was life driving away the shadows.  Iolaus nodded once, little more than the barest movement, all that he could manage.  He wished he was not so weak, there was so much that he wanted to say, but breathing itself was an effort that stole the only energy he had left. "Need...you," he finally managed to murmur.

Hercules blinked back tears that threatened to blind him, swallowing against the lump in his throat.  Iolaus would allow him to do this...allow him to love life back into Iolaus' wasted body.  He let out a shuddering breath, then moved his hands to caress Iolaus' chest, taking care around the gaping wound which still bubbled with each of his
buddy's ragged breaths.

"Not as much as I need you," Hercules replied, as he bent his lips to Iolaus' throat, licking and kissing each patch of skin, leaving a trail of life and warmth where he'd found only a deathly chill.  Then, his tongue washed Iolaus' shoulders and chest, tasting the sharp metallic bite of his best friend's blood, laving him clean, delicately teasing
the buds on Iolaus' chest, lifting them rigid in response.

His head dipped further, to nuzzle the hollow of Iolaus' quivering abdoman, his tongue dipping into his buddy's navel, his hands stroking lovingly along the sides of Iolaus' body, delicate then firm, tentative, then demanding.  Hercules moved further, stroking Iolaus' hips, his thumbs tracing the arc of the bones while his fingers moved along the
sides of Iolaus' narrow hips, reaching in their length to warm the rounded globes of his buddy's buttocks.

Then, down, along Iolaus' legs, kissing, licking, until Hercules reached his best friend's toes, where he sucked gently, then with more demand. Then, back up around the arch and the delicate bones of each ankle, while his fingers massaged the pads of Iolaus' feet.  Up further, to his buddy's knees, bending them gently, and lifting, to allow his tongue access to the hollow of each knee.  Rubbing his hands along each leg from top to bottom, gently massaging each part of each leg.

Desperate with his love, overwhelmed with his fear for Iolaus' life, wanting to give all he was, Hercules drank in the sight of Iolaus' beauty, inhaled his scent, aching with the right, the need, to touch him with tenderness, while he watched his friend's face, finally seeing evidence of a light blush steal across that alabaster skin.  Iolaus' eyes were on him, watching his every move, wonder in his eyes and something else Hercules didn't understand...a look that went beyond gratitude and touched on grace.

Iolaus felt the warmth steal back into his body, a warmth he'd thought he'd never feel again.  The soul deep cold within him was beginning to thaw, his breathing less ragged, a sense of wellbeing stealing over his body.  Herc's touch was so gentle, so...loving.  Each caress a separate act of love that called life back to his body, brought forth a
resonating response from his heart, strengthening it, allowing it to begin to heal.  The agonizing pain receded, replaced by a sensuous ache, a quivering within his soul.

His cock, which had gone limp when the witch had been immolated, stirred in answer to the warmth, the love, but he was yet too weak for any further response.  Hercules saw the tentative physical reaction to his ministrations, and smiled softly, one hand coming to cover Iolaus, and gently stroke him, as Hercules murmured, "Shhh...you don't need to do anything.  Let me be everything to you, for you.  Let my love heal you."

Herc bent his head, to let his tongue stroke along Iolaus' penis, down toward his balls, where he paused, then lightly licked each jewel before taking one, and then the other, into his mouth, to warm them, and lave them with his tongue...gentle, not demanding, touching, sucking, licking...kissing.  Then, his tongue moved back up to lave all of
Iolaus' penis, delicately stroking around it's tip, and across it's slit, flicking gently, while Hercules held Iolaus' penis with a kind of reverence.

For reverence it was.  The Fairy Queen had said Iolaus needed to be worshiped by a pure and limitless love.  This man, this body, this soul, was all Hercules had ever worshiped in his life.

Iolaus moaned softly, lost in a fog of pleasure as Hercules lips enveloped him, and drew him into that moist warmth, sucking gently, not demanding, just loving.  Iolaus managed to lift one hand, letting it drift to Herc's head, fingers tangling in his hair, overwhelmed with the sensations, the warmth building to heat, filling his being, cracking the ice that had reached deep within.

Hercules slowly pulled his mouth back and away, his hand again coming to cover Iolaus' cock, to keep it warm.  "I need to turn you over...I have to touch all of your skin to warm you," he whispered quietly.  Again, Iolaus gave a single weak nod of acknowledgement, incapable of words.

Hercules quickly stripped off his own clothing, then crawled onto the alter to lift his buddy against his chest.  While one arm supported Iolaus' shoulders, the other hand stroked his back, lightly, then with a firmer touch, again massaging gently, bringing warmth back to skin grown cold against the marble upon which Iolaus had been laying.  While his hand explored Iolaus' back, Herc bent his head to nuzzle the side of
Iolaus' neck, his breath hot against his friend's icy skin.

The demigod bit back his own surprised moan of pleasure when he felt Iolaus' fingers encircle his own rampant erection.  Too weak to do more, Iolaus gripped Hercules, warmed still further by this clear evidence of Herc's desire and love for him.   "Need you," the blond warrior whispered against his lover's throat, with breath that was still so icy it chilled Herc's soul, terrifying him.

"I don't want to hurt you," Hercules whispered hoarsely, suddenly afraid.  Iolaus was so weak, so badly hurt, not ready.

"Been hurt..." Iolaus murmured, "Need you...your heat...inside.  I'm so cold...."  His breath bringing the chill of ice to the air, he shivered unconsciously, frightening Hercules further.

"I know, buddy," Herc said quietly, soothingly.  "Let me lay you back down, until I can get you ready for me."

Gently, Hercules laid Iolaus on his side, and lifted one of his knees up toward his chest.  Hercules massaged Iolaus' buttocks, marvelling at how they fit his hands perfectly.  Then, with his thumbs, he spread Iolaus' cheeks, bending his head to lick down along the crack, down along the tender inside of his friend's legs, again taking care to lick and kiss every part of Iolaus' skin.  Herc's tongue circled Iolaus' entrance, teasing softly, then continued down to lick at the base of his balls.

Hercules moistened his fingers with his own precum, then licked again at Iolaus' anus, his tongue slowing forcing a way inside...just a little, just enough to alert his friend that more was coming.  Raising his head, one hand on the small of Iolaus' back, he said softly, "Relax, we'll take this slow and easy...."

One moistened finger stroked then slowly eased its way inside, and again, Hercules was frightened by the depth of the cold he felt within his best friend's body.  Gods, what had she done to him, to draw away all his warmth, his heat...his life force.  As Iolaus relaxed, Hercules slipped in another finger, then a third, still taking it slow, letting
his buddy's body relax against the invasion.  His fingers stroked in and out, then in again, further, feeling their way, bringing their own heat.

Iolaus groaned softly, lost in the pleasure of Herc's touch, feeling a sudden jolt of sensation that shot warmth through his being, as Hercules stroked against the hidden gland.  "More," sighed Iolaus, "again...."

Patiently, ignoring his own growing need, Hercules stroked and caressed, feeling Iolaus' muscles relax under his hands, until he judged it was time.  Iolaus was still too cold, too weak.  Herc was holding him to life with his touch, but more was needed...desperately needed if Iolaus was yet to live.

"Okay, buddy," he murmured, as he withdrew his fingers, drawing a muted groan of protest from Iolaus, "you're ready for me...and the gods forgive me, I want you."

Hercules eased himself up onto the alter behind and beside Iolaus, and once again drew his friend up into his arms, so that Iolaus' back was against his chest.  "Just let me do everything, Iolaus...just let me love you," he murmured, his voice thick with the passion he felt for this man in his arms, and with a terrible  fear that all the love he
could give might not yet be enough to replenish Iolaus' strength, his life.

Supporting Iolaus' back against his chest, Hercules reached his arms around his friend, letting his hands trace their way to Iolaus' hips. Gripping Iolaus securely, Hercules lifted him, and shifted his body so that Iolaus sprawled over him, one leg on either side of the demigod's body.  Then slowly, soooo slowly, Hercules lowered Iolaus down upon his
throbbing erection, the tip of Herc's penis finding the portal to bliss, slowly finding it's way home.

When he felt Iolaus stiffen against him, in unconscious protest to his size, and the pain he knew he had to be causing to the man he only wanted to give love, Hercules paused, biting his lip against his own need and increasing sense of urgency.  So close...soon.  When Iolaus relaxed, Hercules lowered him further, and further still until Iolaus'
buttocks rested against him, his penis buried in Iolaus' body.  Hercules held Iolaus there quietly for a long moment, letting his buddy get used to the feel of him inside.  Then, the muscles bunching in his arms, he began to lift Iolaus, stroking Iolaus upon his shaft, slowly, with infinite care and boundless love.  Iolaus arched weakly against his chest, as he stroked past that place of hot pleasure.  Then down again, not quite so slowly.   Herc's breath was coming hard in his chest, his own heart pounding with his need, with his love for this precious burden in his hands.

Through endless moments of time, each increasingly lost in the other, Hercules eased Iolaus along his shaft, up, down, up...until Iolaus pushed down, wanting more, needing more.  "Faster," he breathed, his breath catching in his throat, his heart pounding more strongly, beating to the rhythm of life that was anchoring him still to this world with
love.

Almost blind with his own need, feeling the heat of his passion build in his belly, Hercules pumped Iolaus upon his erection, harder and faster....and harder still, until he was no longer aware of where one of them started and the other simply was...one being united within the infinity of the moment...locked into an escalating sensation of passion and power, heat and life, love without end, pounding now, urgent in their need, Iolaus arching back more strongly to get all of him, a cry of passion rising from his lips, his eyes locked on a shooting star that blazed across the heavens as heat built and blazed through his body. Driving out the chill of death, blazing, building, a sweet ache of exquisite agony building and blinding him until the world felt as if it was blazing with light, stars jumping in the sky, exploding as Hercules exploded within him, filling him with life, heat, power, strength and infinite healing love.

"Hercules!" he gasped in exquisite pleasure, feeling the pulse of love, of life, fill him...and feeling his own being come alive again with warmth, blossoming with life, needing now to give love in its own right.  "Touch me," he whispered, a tone of pleading in his voice.

Without leaving Iolaus' body, Hercules let his buddy settle back against him, and moved one hand to cover Iolaus' penis, smiling with relief and filled with joy to find it strong under his fingers, and demanding of being loved.  Gently, Hercules turned Iolaus upon his shaft, to cradle Iolaus safely in the crook of one strong arm, while he lowered his lips to Iolaus' erection.

As he licked and nuzzled, he felt himself grow again within this incredible man.  And then his lips consumed Iolaus, his mouth swallowing him, taking him into a place of moist, hot, demand.  Sucking, his tongue stroking across Iolaus' slit, tasting him for the first time, and revelling in it.

Iolaus was fully aroused, his hips arching up to Herc's mouth, wanting to be consumed, swallowed whole...his motion stimulating further the erection within him, filling him, stroking himself now against Herc's penis, as his own body filled Hercules' mouth.

They lost themselves in a hot frenzy of being, sensations cascading through them, jolting them to the core of their souls, united as they had never been before, burning with need and love.  Herc's free arm came around under Iolaus' knees, to give him a foundation to thrust against, strength filling him, driving away the lassitude of death, filling him with urgent, desperate life.

They moved together, Iolaus crying out in wordless passion, his being overwhelmed with a pleasure that ripped through him, more, and more, building to a pinnacle he'd never known before, had never thought to know...Hercules thrust up into him, impaling him as he thrust into Herc's mouth, exploding, screaming hoarsely in incoherent ecstacy, once again feeling life flow into him, filling him, even as he filled
Hercules.

Hercules collapsed onto his back, pulling Iolaus with him, still unwilling to part from this being who was everything to him.  He cradled Iolaus upon his chest, one hand coming up to rest palm down over the wound in Iolaus' chest.  Iolaus felt the heat of that touch, felt it sear his skin with love and Hercules felt his buddy's heart leap under
his hand, then pound with irresistable strength and power.

Tears slid from Hercules' eyes, losing themselves in Iolaus' wild curls, as he trembled with relief, shaken to his core to feel heat under his hands, not that deathly cold.  To feel life.  A sob burst from his chest, as he held Iolaus tight against him, burying his face against Iolaus' hair.

"Shhhh," Iolaus whispered, his arms crossed over Herc's, his hands gripping his buddy's arms.  "It's alright now...everything's alright."

"I was so afraid," Herc choked out.  "So afraid of losing you...all my life, so afraid of touching you.  Gods, Iolaus...if you'd died, and never knew...I love you...I've always loved you...I'm sorry...I've always wanted you, wanted to...."  Hercules voice cracked and broke. He'd spent his life hiding this truth, terrified that Iolaus would not ever want this from him, would turn away, as he'd turned away from every other offer, scorning the men who had wanted him.  Now, Iolaus knew...gods, Herc hoped they could live with this...that it would not destroy everything else they'd had.  He hoped that having once loved Iolaus with all his being, with everything he was, that he could push it
back and away again, deny himself this fulfillment.

Because, though Iolaus had needed this, and needing accepted it, he could not ever want it again.

Iolaus braced the soles of his feet on either side of Herc's body and lifted himself slowly away from Hercules' penis, regretting it's loss, as if something vital to his being was leaving him.  But, he needed to do this...Herc needed him to do this.  When they were separate once again, Iolaus turned to roll over in Hercules arms, lying now chest to
chest, his hands cradling his lover's face, his eyes blazing with his own love.

"I love you, Herc...more than I will ever have the words to express," he whispered as he lowered his lips to those which had brought him back to life, which had showered him, bathed him with love...worshipped him. His tongue darted out, to dance against Herc's, to fondle and enchant, and they breathed life into one another.

At first, Hercules laid as a man shocked, disbelieving, sure Iolaus was only trying to give him comfort. But, as he felt Iolaus' loins stir against his body, responding and reacting out of the love he was feeling, Hercules felt as if something exploded inside his chest, and gasping, he wrapped Iolaus tightly in his arms, holding him close against his chest.

When he could think, speak, he whispered brokenly, "I didn't know...I thought you didn't want...."

Iolaus smiled softly, his eyes dark with passion, as he murmured in reply, "I didn't know...I thought you didn't want....and, whenever I got drunk enough to get my nerve up...you'd just put me to bed."

His eyes widening with awareness, not knowing whether he wanted to laugh for the absurdity of it, or weep for all the opportunities lost, all those possible moments of love which could never be recaptured, Hercules' lips sought Iolaus', hard and demanding, as his hands roamed freely over his love's body, cupping his buttocks, and pulling him close against his own growing need.

"Hmmm," Iolaus murmured against his lips, "I think it's my turn to do a favour for a friend."

Lifting himself, he turned to touch Hercules' rampant erection.  "Gods, Herc," he whispered in awe, "you are magnificent!"

Reverently, he wrapped the fingers of one hand around Hercules' penis, while with the other, he lightly tickled and teased Herc's balls, eliciting a groan from his friend.  Smiling, he lowered his head, to lick hard along the length of Herc's penis, then brought his tongue back up to circle and tease at the slit, winning another moan for his efforts.  He took Herc then, swallowing him deeply, enveloping him in tight, hot wetness.  He almost choked in surprise at the finger that invaded him, sliding knowingly to the spot that drove him wild.  And, then they found their rhythm again, joined in a terrible, undeniable ecstacy of sensation, rocketing to impassioned heights, until Herc burst
within his mouth, crying out with the force of his release.

Iolaus smeared Herc's cream on his own cock, then shoved playfully at his friend.  "Come on, Herc, roll over...we're not done yet."

Feeling it was impossible to be more sated, Hercules yet complied with his buddy's demand, pulling his knees up to his chest, opening himself, vulnerable as he'd never been to another being.  Mindful of the recent pleasures he had known, Iolaus massaged Herc's buttocks, then spread them, tracing a hot trail with his tongue to Herc's balls, flicking them, then back to his buddy's entrance.  His fingers wet with Herc's cum, he slipped one in, feeling Herc flinch a little in reaction.
"Easy, Hercules...I won't hurt you," he promised.

But, Hercules was ready for him, more ready than either of them could have expected.  Iolaus easily slipped in a second finger, then a third, stroking, searching, until Herc's head reared back as he groaned with exquisite pleasure.  "Must be the place," Iolaus murmured to himself, pleased to be able to give Hercules such sensuous enjoyment.

Iolaus drew his fingers out, unable to wait any longer.  He positioned himself, then, gripping Herc's buttocks, he slip himself in, slowly, to the hilt.  "Gods, Iolaus," Hercules moaned, "fuck me...fuck me hard."

Rocking his hips, Iolaus drew himself almost all the way out...but tantalizingly slowly, seeking again that... 'Yes!' he thought, in triumph, as Herc arched and pressed back against him, drawing him back in hard.  Rocking with an increasing pace, driving himself inside, meeting Herc as he thrust back against him, the frenzy of union built
again.  Iolaus pounding himself into that delicious tight warmth, Hercules feeling the fullness of his friend deep within, they writhed and moaned with blind, almost mindless, pleasure.  Feeling himself on the edge, Iolaus thrust deep, then leaned onto Hercules, reaching around him to grasp his friend's hard erection, pumping it in time with the rhythm of his hips, until, unable to endure more rapture, they both
exploded, releasing the terrible tension, bursting with the love they felt for one another.

Sated, trembling, Iolaus eased himself from Hercules, who rolled to gather Iolaus into his arms, to cradle him tight against his chest.

At peace, the heros slept.

**

The next morning, blissfully sore, stiff from spending the night on the marble slab, they made slow, gentle love, then finally dragged themselves off that alter, once a place of evil, now blessed with the purity of honest, true love.

Dressed, they went down the mountain, catching glimpses of fairies, smiling that those tiny beings had held a watch over them.  The myths said no one had ever left that place of enchantment, but these heroes of legend walked from that forest stronger, more whole, than they had entered.

As they ambled along, Iolaus teased, "Hey, Herc...I heard there's a festival in Lamia next week."

"Really?" Hercules grinned down at him.  "Want to go?"

"Is the sky blue?" Iolaus returned with a sunny smile.

Herc looked around at a world made beautiful by that smile, and nodded. "Okay," he agreed, "just promise me one thing."

"Anything," Iolaus responded, meaning it.

"Don't drink so much...I don't want you falling asleep on me like you usually do...."

Iolaus giggled as he gave his buddy a sideways bump with his hips. "Hey, we might never sleep again...."

"Fine by me," chuckled the demigod, looping an arm around his buddy's shoulders.  "Sleep is definitely not what I had in mind."

Finis