Atonement
By Sandman

I am coming to the end of one journey and the start of a better one I hope, one where I'm back with Iolaus. I have just passed through one of the hardest six months of my life, and it began with Serena's death. I walk the path to Iolaus's forge and reflect on all the mistakes I made, the biggest being leaving Iolaus.

I couldn't leave like I'd planned.alone in the night. Iolaus's pain was already too evident, but I couldn't bring myself to say good by either. In the end I simply told him I was taking a walk and needed to be alone. I gave him a hug, turned my back on him and never returned. I supposed that he started to get concerned when I hadn't returned by sunset. It was too late by then; even with his superior tracking skills I'd given him the slip.

I've been gone for six months, six months of torture, of trying to exorcise my demons but I can't. I NEED Iolaus. And so I come here, my journey ending at his forge, the one place I know he'll be. . .his refuge.

I walk quietly, slipping up to his door unseen. I'm not as stealthy as he is, small pebbles crunch under my feet. No one else would have heard me, but I know Iolaus will. I have been angry many times, but never frightened. . .until now. I must face Iolaus, atone for the pain I've caused him, a moment I've both dreaded and eagerly anticipated. No retribution from the gods could hurt me as much as Iolaus's rejection would. I need to do this, I've been away too long.

The door of the forge is ajar and I can hear the sounds of hammer blows abruptly stop before I even reach out to pull it open. As the aperture widens I see him there, standing with his back to me. The steam rises in clouds around him; the flames of the forge seem to engulf him as backlit, he arises like a phoenix from the flames. He is dripping in sweat and an unfinished sword lies on the dirt floor where he dropped it on my entrance.

He stands with back tense. I see that he has lost weight, and the always firm muscles of his shoulders and arms are larger than I last remember. I suspect he has been smithing for the entire six months. His hair hangs in damp and dirty strands at a length longer than I've ever seen it. He is shirtless, bootless and his leather pants are dirty and torn. That he has suffered much because of my thoughtlessness is evident. My heart rends. He wears the pain I've caused like a leper's skin, covered only by a cloak of anger.

I take another step into the forge and say the words I've needed to say for a long time, "Iolaus, I'm sorry".

The words catch in my throat. Given voice they seem so insignificant. I meant much more, but words fail me. He still doesn't turn to me and I don't blame him. I watch the sweat streak through the dirt on his naked back and wish I could hold him, take back the last six months. I take another step closer, but he remains rigid, back still toward me.

"Iolaus." I pause. "I'm really sorry."

I know he's heard me. He stands as still as when he's hunting, the only time he's motionless. I wonder if he's collecting himself or simply ignoring me. His anger is evident. I'm hurt, but I deserve this, even more actually.

I step forward two more paces. I'm within arm's length of him now. I can smell his sweat; see it glisten in the light of the forge's flames. I catch a light scent of sandalwood. I want to beseech his forgiveness for every wrong, every pain I've caused him. Six months of anger and self pity, and yes, fear that Iolaus will be next to die have caused my spirit to wither inside. I need to atone, receive his forgiveness and partake of the communion that only Iolaus can give me to be whole again.

"Iolaus." I'm not sure if I say it or simply think it. All I know is that there is nothing I want or crave more than him right now. He is the answer to all my prayers, which gods don't hear, and only this mortal can grant. I reach out to him and grip his shoulder.

He turns slowly to face me. His skin is slick under my hand, muscles hard. I want to hug him, hold him but his face is unexpectedly emotionless. My heart drops. I had expected anger or happiness, but not this. The Iolaus I left behind was labile, sometimes volatile, sometimes mellow, bubbling over with ideas and information. Yet he stands before me now with no more expression than the sword on which he was hammering.

"I'm so sorry, Iolaus". I search his face. My hand suddenly feels heavy on his shoulder but he bears it without a flinch. I want him to say something, do something. . .anything except stand there silently assessing me. Iolaus doesn't usually stop to gather his thoughts. I feel my muscles turning to jelly. My breath catches in my chest.

He tips his head up, lips becoming a tight slash across his handsome jaw, roughly shaved chin jutting. He isn't making this easy. Perhaps my greatest fear will be realized. Perhaps he has taken enough from me. Perhaps I have been damned and there is no reconciliation.

"Hercules," is all he says. Even with his grim facial set there is a softness in his eyes which invites my confession. I hope I haven't pushed him so far that he can't say "all will be forgiven." His eyes fix on mine and I look for a sign that things can go back to what they were before Serena. There is an opening, albeit slight.

"I'm so sorry Iolaus." My voice shakes. My body feels weak with this self admission of guilt. I lock my steely blue eyes onto his azure blue ones, the softest spot he presents. He waits like the great hunter he is, for me to come to him.

I shift, suddenly aware of my own frailties. Here before me is the one person who loves me above all others, who would willingly defy the gods and sacrifice himself for me, intervening where any other mere mortal would fear to tread. I cannot allow his pain to continue.

"You were right," I confess, penitent before him. "I made some big mistakes because I didn't listen to you." I mean everything I say, but there is so much more. I see his strength and realize that without him I am only half a man, and not even a good mortal one at that. He answers me in a way I never expect.

"She never loved you the way I did."

Did. The word hits me right in the solar plexus. Unexpected and past tense. I feel as if my breath has left me, my heart has grown wings and flown right out of my chest. My vision blurs, eyes wet with tears. I let my hand slip from his shoulder and hang my head. I want to fall to my knees, fight to stay erect. Can't speak or I will be weeping like a hungering baby.

"Herc." I hear the words that follow in a fog as if sinking deeper under water each second, and not fighting it. He is righteous in his anger. He stood beside me in all ways and I left him. Never listened to his warnings. Paid no heed to his intuition which has been almost flawlessly right. He did nothing wrong, yet I walked away on him as if what we had, our friendship, our bond greater than brotherhood was no stronger than a weathered twig crushed as I trod my life path.

I cannot see his face, but through a blur of tears I see the tight balls of his fists. I have never been so wrong. I have spent six months of my life alone in the countryside trying to find the peace which has eluded me for years and failed to see that it, or rather he, has walked beside me for most of my life.

"It wasn't about you," I choke out, unable to finish. How could it be, when I had been so self absorbed?

"Of course not, it never is!" he spits out before I can continue. He is trembling, whether in rage or helplessness I can't tell, only that he is suffering. I hear the words "you left me!" spoken with such anguish that I want to fall prostrate before him, let my tears wash his feet show him my true repentance. Then he speaks the words that gut me.

"JUST LIKE SKOROUS!"

He whirls away from me and I lift my head to see him buckled over, leaning on the edge of the fiery forge, gasping for air and losing his fight for control. His breath is coming in spurts and his body shakes with the tension of holding himself erect.

I have injured him so! Never, ever, did I mean to do this! I, his best friend, am being compared to Skorous the tormentor. I hear the pain and abandonment in his voice. I can't bear it! I rush to him and wrap my arms around him.

He is like a tornado in my arms, fighting and twisting, sobs mingling with the crackle of the flames before him. His skin is hot from the fire, but he seems unaware. I pull him closer to me; feel the tight bunching of his muscles against my chest and arms. I let him fight until he tires. I know he hasn't given up. Iolaus never gives up. The warmth and strength of his body next to mine are a comfort I have longed for, yet denied my self these months and I silently rejoice that my arms are finally around him. My friend and my lover.

"Iolaus!" I whisper to him as his struggling subsides. I pull him closer to me, resting my face on the top of his head. I am crying and the tears fall onto him, anointing him with my love. I don't care if he notices. I whisper his name over and over, feeling the beautiful hair against my lips, tasting his sweat, smelling the scent that is Iolaus.

"By the gods Iolaus, I never meant to do this to you!" I'm sobbing now like I haven't in years. My lips move against him and I taste the mixture of his sweat and my tears. I need to say more but have to get control. Can't talk and cry. I feel like choking on my pain and guilt but instead manage to whisper. "I never meant to hurt you."

He stands quietly now, leaning back against my chest, his firm buttocks against my thighs. I loosen my grip on him a bit so he can move if he wants. He doesn't, choosing instead to keep our bodies tightly together. "But you did," he answers hoarsely. Now it's his turn to cry and he fights it. His body is trembling as he tells me how much he missed me, how much pain I caused him. Finally he says it.

"I thought you'd left me for good."

I hold him closer, kissing his head, stroking his chest lightly with one hand and brushing the tears from his cheek with the other. So abandoned! Iolaus has never gotten over his father's torture, the belittling and the eventual abandonment. I think it's colored everything he's done. He trusted me and I, too, abandoned him. Left without a proper good bye. But one thing is for certain.

"I'm not Skorous," I affirm.

His body is shaking, cold in spite of the heat of the forge. He sobs silently, leaning heavily into me now and I respond by leaning into him as well. I don't want to stop kissing him. I love his smell, the feel of his compact body and taste of his lips. I realize now that it is through Iolaus that I'm truly whole. Not a half god, but a full man, so much more than any Olympian. I feel his muscles bunching in my arms and he turns his head up and meets me eye to eye, cindered face still damp with tears. The forgiveness is offered freely.

"I missed you, Hercules."

I gasp and fall to my knees, wrapping my arms around his trim waist, cheek against those tight abs of his and belly against his cock. I don't want to let him go, want to cleave to him, draw his strength, unite to become as one being and feel the power that is Iolaus.

"I'm sorry," I whisper like a prayer against his belly.

"Herc." He says it so softly I almost miss it.

"Iolaus, I love you!" I respond with my lips against his firm belly. My breath feathers against him, raising the flesh in tiny bumps. I feel his cock growing hard against my chest as it pushes against his codpiece. I have dreamed about this moment for months now, desired him so. I slip my tongue against his navel and taste the flesh I have denied my self for so long. I want to tell him how much I missed him, needed him. I tip my head up and lose my self in his azure eyes. I'm babbling, asking his forgiveness, acknowledging his sacrifices for me.

I feel his small hands in my hair, pushing it away from my face as if drawing back a curtain and he tips my head up a little more. I reach for his hand; bring it to my lips and start kissing his fingers, pressing each one against my mouth, feeling the small scars and calluses his smithing has caused. I love his hands, small and talented; they can do so much more than mine.

"I had to get my head together," I babble between kisses. I confess my mistakes, gulping for air as I realize the enormity of what I have done to him. "You're right, I abandoned you." I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to look into his caring eyes. I barely hear what I'm saying; know only that the words are spoken directly from my heart. I say finally what I've come to realize these past few minutes.

"I am no better than Skorous."

"No Herc," he whispers using his full strength to pull my up on my feet. "You are no Skorous. He never loved me enough to come back."

Forgiveness, final and complete. I weep silently, my tears falling in heavy droplets against the golden flesh of his smooth, strong chest. We are connected, bound together by a love stronger than brotherhood.

"You are forgiven."

I barely hear the words before he is pulling my face down to his, gripping my hair hard. He meets me, mouth already open and lips pressed firmly over mine. I can feel his tongue strong and agile probing in, a dance around my mouth to become reacquainted, then a caress to that sensitive spot on the roof of my mouth. He hasn't forgotten! I gasp, enjoying the control he has taken over me.

His taste is like honey and I answer him with a flick of my own tongue towards him. He presses his body in answer against me. I feel one arm release my hair, slide down and lock onto my shoulder to hold me firmly in place so he can continue his plunder uninterrupted. His sweat slicked chest presses against mine like a small boulder wet with early morning dew. I grind my pelvis hard against his thigh, feeling his cock against my pelvis coming to firm attention.

"Hercules," he whispers against my lips. His eyes are open, heavy lidded and capture my own eyes, drawing me into their depth where Elysia awaits. My name spills off his tongue with the smoky smoothness of a wine offering.

I don't want to wait. I take his small and nimble hands and place them against the lacings of my pants. Those hands, so talented, so strong so capable of giving both delicate and rough pleasures, unlace the tangled bindings of my leather trousers without so much as a glance, swift and sure as the justice offered by the gods but with mercy and love instead.

In one swift move he slips the binding leather trousers off and tosses them in a heap next my two shirts he somehow removed while we were kissing. His touch is light and delicate, capable of disrobing me before I'm even aware. He captures my mind into a single act of passion and then plunders me. I love this about him, his ability to do so much at once, high energy that spills over even into lovemaking.

His hands clasp my cock as if in prayer. "Herc," he whispers into my ear, lips moving like the wings of a dove in flight. His breath is soft, warm as the first kiss of a summer solstice. This may be as close to Elysia as I ever get; not a visitor, but an all encompassed resident, cradled in the love of my savior. He begins the slow, gentle slide up my already weeping cock.

"Iolaus," I groan and reach for his face. I want him to see the power he has, the ecstasy I feel at his touch. He slips a warm wet tongue promisingly along my neck, down across my throat. His mouth is against the hair of my chest, lips feathering across to a nipple, already achingly erect. My cock throbs beneath his stroking hands, slightly quicker and more urgent now. I want to come now, must wait, and accept the full offer of forgiveness, before offering atonement.

He latches onto a nipple hard, biting and sucking, tongue teasing it like a small cock. I am moaning now, unable to stop, wanting to scream his name to the world, let every god on Olympus know that I am back and I am loved, powerful and strong. I will live for this man always. His mouth continues its journey, a downward descent to the realms of my deepest pleasuring, seeking to exorcise all. My breath comes in hard spurts. I am desperate for his redemption. I lace my fingers in his hair, guiding his questing mouth with urgency to its goal.

"Iolaus! Can't wait!"

He slips his tongue over the tip of my cock, stroking it with those firm lingual muscles, and then before I can even think he has taken me. I moan so loudly that I'm sure all of Thebes can hear me, but I don't care. I am ascending on the warmth and welcome of Iolaus's mouth. I rise through the mists of my love as he swallows me. My sex fogged brain knows only this, that Iolaus's mouth is warm, wet and all encompassing. I'm vaguely aware of his hands slipping across my ass, grabbing me and pushing me deeper. I can't stand much more.

"Iolaus!" I scream over and over. "Iolaus! Iolaus! Iolaus!" I am throbbing deep within him and he accepts all I have to offer. His throat strokes my cock as he swallows. I feel as if I have fallen off the edge of Olympus and straight into his heart.

Spent, I fall to my knees, grabbing him and holding him so tightly I'm surprised that he can even breathe. He gently places his head against my shoulder, his breath warm and moist. He lifts his head finally and I see his eyes shining with love. As I look into his face I realize that he would forgive me for almost anything, that his love for me is infinite and all encompassing and that I am not worthy of him.

How I love him! I move my lips to his, taste his honey sweet lips, feel his full codpiece heavy with need. My tongue slips into his willing mouth deepening our kiss.

"I'm not forgetting you," I whisper against his ear, slipping my tongue into his golden earring, and then nipping at his ear. I remember how excited this used to get him, before Serena, before my abandonment. He trembles, pressing his needy cock hard against me. Gently I lower him to the floor, nipping at his ear, toying with his earring.

His breath is coming in pants as I settle him into the hard packed dirt floor of the forge. I reach for his belt, fumbling, my large hands not accustomed to the fine art of undressing Iolaus quickly. I make a note to myself to practice this. It seems like eons, but finally I have him naked before me in all his golden glory. I toss his leathers uncaring where they land. His cock stands firm and tall, ruby head well out of the foreskin and weeping tears of forgiveness. This, I realize, is my chalice of redemption and I will drink from it freely.

"Herc," he groans, writhing in need. "Come on!" He raises his arms and thrusts his pelvis forward in supplication. I comply, slipping my tongue over his belly, my hands over his hips and onto his ass. My mouth meets his needy cock as I kneel over him.

He thrusts into my welcoming mouth and I make sure he feels my teeth, my tongue against his cock. I suck him hard, intent on his pleasure, on my atonement, on our reconciliation. This is an act far greater than mere sex. It is about unconditional love.

"Hercules!" he screams. I feel him throb as I swallow him deep into my throat. "Herc, oh Herc, oh Herc!" His familiar use of my name is all I desire. His forgiveness is complete.

I pull him up into my arms, a soft bundle of boneless friend; all love, caring and desire. I hold him close, gently cradling him in my arms. "Iolaus," I whisper against his hair. I feel the frantic beat of his heart against me as we press close, cleaving as if one.

This is where I belong. Where I can be most powerful. Without him I am nothing. Together we are invincible. He is what makes life worth living. When he dies I will be shattered. Immortality is not a gift, it is a curse. But today, now, I have Iolaus.

"I will never leave you again, Iolaus," I whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head.

End