Reconciliation
By Sandman


I am in the forge taking a break from my work when I first hear him. He isn't at my door yet, but my hunter's senses make me aware of the quiet pad of his feet as he approaches. I deliberately don't turn to the door, leaving my back towards him, facing the heat of the roaring forge instead of him. I steel myself for his entrance. It is a moment I thought might never come; I have both anticipated and dreaded this.

The door opens with only the whoosh of wood against sand. I can smell his scent, sweat and cinnamon. The footsteps stop a few feet from the door. He pauses, standing in silence. I answer him with my back and silence of my own.

"Iolaus, I'm sorry." He proffers the words with a hesitation between my name and the apology as if he is having a little difficulty speaking. The air in the sweltering forge is not so thick with steam as words unsaid, waiting for expression.

I don't turn. I have been waiting for this moment for quite some time now, months actually and still don't trust myself to do the right thing. I can feel the sweat dripping in rivulets down my back. My muscles feel tight and sore, more from the tension of the moment than from working the forge all these months. I feel his eyes on the filthy flesh of my back; hear a shuffle of his foot against the dirt floor. He takes a couple more steps forward.

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

I can picture him there, honeyed hair hanging loosely as he tilts his head down to me, relaxed stance like a panther, yet every muscle at the ready for action. He is wearing the same brown woven leather pants and two light yellow shirts as always. I never did figure out why he had to wear two shirts.

I stand as silent as I do when I'm hunting, waiting for my prey. I know it's there, feel it, smell it, hear it, but can't pounce yet. This is how I feel now, with Hercules at my back. I need to choose my words carefully. I can't let my heart come bubbling out my mouth like I usually do. It's been too long.

He takes a couple of steps closer, now within arms reach of me. "Iolaus." He speaks my name plaintively this time, not louder, almost a hoarse whisper. I can feel his pain without even looking at his face.

Truly contrite, I think to myself. As well he should be. He's come back to the fold to beg my forgiveness, I think. My damp hair is stuck to my head, dirty and stinking after the hours of work I've put in today. I'm not a pretty sight, but then there has been no need for cleanliness. I've been alone for so long.

He reaches out finally, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Iolaus." A whispered prayer.

I turn now to face him, slowly and deliberately. It's hard not to show exactly how I feel. It's hard to even know how I feel. Mixed up really. Angry and sad, maybe even a bit betrayed, yet overjoyed to hear his voice, feel his touch, smell his scent. I remember his taste and try to push it out of my mind.

"Hercules," is all I say.

I can see that he wants to wrap his arms around me, but holds back, shaken by my lack of emotion. He's not sure of himself, of US right now. His eyes lock onto mine, steely blue and questioning. His grip is tight on my shoulder but I don't flinch. To be honest, I relish the touch of his rough hand. The pain of his tight grip on my shoulder helps me to ignore the knife in my heart.

"I'm so sorry, Iolaus." He says it again. His voice is shaking. His eyes are searching mine now, waiting for something to make it easier for him. I will not give it.

I set my jaw firmly and tip my head up, lips tightly sealed. My breathing is hard. I am determined that Hercules will be the one to make the first move. My anger must show in my eyes, because I'm having trouble keeping it down. I am not a self-contained man.

"You were right Iolaus. I made some big mistakes because I didn't listen to you." He's shifting now, foot to foot but keeps his eyes on mine; giving me that sincere look he does so well. This isn't coming easy for him. And I'm glad of it.

"She didn't love you the way I did," is all I can say. My throat is dry and tight but I won't let myself swallow for fear of giving full voice to my anguish.

He hangs his head now, loosens his grip on my shoulder. I think he might be trying not to cry. He can't seem to speak and won't look at me.

I can feel my anger bubbling up, trying to force itself out my throat like the vomit of a person who has swallowed spoiled meat. I fight against it. This is Herc and he looks like he's hurting as bad as I am. I don't want to hurt him, only make him understand what he has put me through.

"Herc." My voice cracks finally. "I tried to accept her, I really did even though she tried to kill me, even though she caused you to lose your strength. Even though she was nothing more than a puppet for the gods, I stood by your side." I can't stop now. The months of repressed pain cause my words to shoot forth as if borne on Hermes's sandals, a message from my heart to his.

"But when you left me, after I helped nurse you back to health, faced the gods with you and believed in you when no one else did, you hurt me more than you can ever know." I feel my anger spewing forth, my muscles tight. My hands are balled into fists. I think my body is shaking as I lean forward, speaking tightly into his face.

He still doesn't lift his head. His hair moves slightly with the shaking of his shoulders. "It wasn't about you, Iolaus," he manages to choke out.

"Of course not," I spit. "It never is. I gave you so much of myself and then you LEFT me!" I can feel myself breaking down. My whole body is trembling. Suddenly I feel cold in spite of the heat of the forge. The words are out before I can stop them. "Just like Skorous!"

I whirl away from him so he can't see my tears. My chest is heaving as I gasp for air; trying not to let the sobs of pain out. Not here, not now. Not after holding them in for so long. Abandoned again.

"Iolaus!" This time I hear his pain. He reaches out for me, wrapping his strong arms around me, squeezing across my chest so tightly I can't take a deep breath. I try to shake him off, but of course I can't.

"By the gods Iolaus, I never meant to do this to you!" His voice is a sob. I stop struggling finally and let him hold me. I think it will do us both good. He puts his face on top of my head. I feel his warm tears, his soft cheek. "I never meant to hurt you he whispers against my hair.

His lips are brushing lightly against my head. "But you did," I answer hoarsely. "It hurt like Tartarus when you walked away saying you wanted to be alone. But when you stayed away for so long with no word." My voice trails off. I need to get control of myself, but can't seem to. I feel like the dam has broken and all my pain is flooding out, waiting to drown Herc. "I thought you'd left me for good," I finally manage to choke out.

He's kissing the top of my head now, squeezing me harder and pressing himself against me as if to show me he's here, not leaving; couldn't get much closer. Like before Serena.

"I'm not Skorous," he answers with conviction.

My whole body is shaking, cold as I sob silently with my back to him. I haven't cried so freely with him since we were children, since Skorous's torture. It's something we don't talk about and I'm not going to start now.

His arms are warm and comforting, looser now so my heaving chest can fully expand. He strokes my chest lightly with a hand, trying to calm me. I draw strength from his iron hard body. Turning, I face him. Finally I say it.

"I missed you, Hercules."

It's as simple as that. We've been together for so long, that absences are associated with times of pain for me. Anya's death and my journey to the East, then Deineira's death and now Serena's. Herc is my comfort. I need him. I love him.

He drops to his knees now, head against my chest. "I'm sorry," he offers like a prayer. I feel his jaw muscles against my abs, his belly against my cock. His arms hug my waist like he is afraid to let me go for fear that this time it will be me walking out on him. He's wrong, I'd never leave him. All these months I'd thought that if he ever came back to me he might be contrite, but never had I pictured him on his knees apologizing.

"Herc," I breathe out his name with awe at his humility, that a demi god would kneel to me, a mortal.

"I love you, Iolaus," He drops his head, his lips dance across my belly. His tongue flicks across my navel and I feel a stirring in my groin. "All the time I spent away I thought about you, about how I'd hurt you, about whether you could ever forgive me." He tips his face up and I gaze down into the deep blue of his eyes and know I could never NOT forgive him.

"Months of pain," he whispers, sending feathery breaths against my skin. I slip my fingers into his hair. "I'd been so arrogant, so unfeeling. All along you only wanted what was best for me. You even let me go to her. You pushed your needs away."

I slide my fingers through his silken hair, pulling it away from his face and tilting his head up towards me. He reaches for my hand and kisses my fingers.

"I had to get my head together, Iolaus. How could I have made so many mistakes? In seeing only my own needs I hurt so many people! I caused the extinction of the golden hind I'd come to save, and then caused Serena's death." Herc gulps for air as if the next admission actually hurts him. "And you're right; I abandoned you, first emotionally then physically." His eyes squeeze closed, shuttering away the pain. You're right about something else too." He speaks the next words as if scourging himself. "I'm no better than Skorous."

My breath catches involuntarily in my chest. He has just pulled the knife out of my heart. My knees feel weak.

"No Herc," I whisper as I pull him up onto his feet. "You are no Skorous. He never loved me enough to do what you've done today." I feel the tears drop from the corners of his closed eyes onto my chest. It is a small connection, there so transiently, but more binding than any contract. "I should never have said that. You are forgiven."

My hands are still entangled in his hair and I use this to my advantage. Taking control, I pull his face to mine, my lips locking on his with a fierceness that I thought I'd never feel again. His mouth is willingly mine and I plunder it, prying open his lips with my tongue, reveling in his small gasp as he feels me touch that sensitive spot on the roof of his mouth just behind his front teeth.

I can't seem to stop, and he is unresisting. I've felt empty for so long, I partake of him as a starving man would sustenance. His tongue is thick and strong, dancing with mine. His taste is mild, sweet like melons and refreshing. He answers my passion with a grind of his body against mine. His scent is spicy and alluring, calling my cock to firm attention.

"Hercules," I whisper to him. His name rolls off my tongue like a benediction. With swiftness I usually reserve for capturing prey I slip off his shirts together. My hands are small and nimble and I can do marvelous things with them. Hercules knows this and places them against the lacings of his pants.

I have done this so many times I don't even need to look. My hands trace the woven map like a blind man reading, finding the knotted laces, loosening them in one move. My left hand unclasps his belt while my right pushes the trousers down, off his hips, over his thighs. My hands are free to steeple around that magnificent cock pointing in splendor towards Olympus. I begin the slow even strokes I know he loves.

"Iolaus" he groans. He cups my face in his hands tipping it up so I can see his ecstasy. He is like clay, his pleasure being formed by my strokes, the press of my body, and the heat of my breath against his throat. I let my tongue slide down his neck tasting the salty flesh I'd both longed for and despised during these many months of abstinence.

The hair on his chest is dark and soft, a light carpet of fur as comforting as my winter cloak. My tongue tip travels lightly across his pecs, finding a bronze nipple, already erect. I latch on like a hungry child too long without his mother, sucking, caressing the mini erection between my lips. Between my palms his cock weeps pearlescent tears of joy at this bittersweet reunion.

I slide my mouth down, over the ridges of his abdomen to the crater of his navel. He trembles under my tongue like a rabbit before my arrow strike. He laces his fingers in my hair and silently urges me downward. I slide my hands along his cock in time with his breathing, now ragged and urgent.

"Iolaus, can't wait!" His words are clipped short by the need in his voice. His hands tighten in my hair and he pushes against my hands. I drop down further, sliding my tongue over the tip of his burning cock. He's moaning now and I feel his leg muscles tremble like the wispy smoke of a windblown candle. I take his swollen member into my mouth quickly, for his time is short.

Sucking, I let him push himself further in. My hands move to his hips to control his thrusts. My own cock is so hard I could come in my pants, which I've yet to take off, but I won't. I'm saving it for him. His spicy scent and the sounds of his moans growing louder spur me to stronger actions.

I slide my hands back across his ass now, feeling the tension of the muscles as they contract, pushing his cock deeper. I swallow now, taking his whole length and he can bear it no longer. I feel the warm spurt; taste the salty seed of his communion offering. He sings out my name louder, pitch rising with each pulsation of his cock, "Iolaus" over and over like a hymn of celebration.

I feel the slackening of his muscles, the tension dissipating like the smoke of an incense stick. He falls to his knees, easing out of my mouth, untangling his fingers from my wet hair. His arms are around me again so tightly I can't move, but I don't want to now. His head rests against my shoulder. I feel the heat and moisture of his breath against the side of my neck. This is so right; I wonder why we ever let this stop.

He lifts his head and I see his eyes shining with love. He moves his lips to mine and I think my codpiece will burst right off. His tongue is deep in my mouth tasting us together. I press in urgency against him.

"I'm not forgetting you," he whispers, his breath tickling my ear. He flicks a pointed tongue across my ear lobe and nips at my earning. He knows this excites me. I won't be able to stand much more of this. It has been too long.

Slowly he lowers me down onto the hard packed dirt floor of the forge never stopping his relentless assault on my ear. He settles me with care and pulls his arms away from my back, reaching to unclasp my belt. His fingers are big, clumsier than mine and he fumbles, brushing his hand across my codpiece stopping there to enjoy the heavy fullness of it. I squirm and press against him.

"Herc!" I groan. He unlatches the belt finally and after what seems like eons manages to loosen my codpiece and slide my leather pants off. He tosses them in a heap near his own discarded vestments. My cock springs out like an arrow from a too tightly strung bow. Its head is red, weeping and well out of the foreskin. The time for slow languid release will come another day. Right now I want him to drink from this, my chalice of forgiveness.

His hands take a too leisurely journey down my belly and I press up urgently at him. "Come on!" I supplicate, raising my arms and thrusting forward. He knows what I want and complies wordlessly, slipping like fragrant oil down my belly, over my hips and anoints my cock with his mouth.

I thrust forward, feeling the brush of his teeth and the press of his tongue on the length of my shaft. His mouth is cool and moist, quenching the fire of all my anger. His lips are strong, encircling and massaging. I no longer feel the hard grit of the floor beneath me; no longer hear the roar of the forge's furnace or the hiss of the steam. I have risen, floating now on a cloud of redemption from the purgatory I had sentenced myself to without Hercules.

"Hercules!' I announce my completion with the rhythmic incantation of his name. Never have I allowed myself such a swift release from the turgor of my desire. I feel him swallow my offering, his throat providing a final stroke to my pulsing cock.

He pulls me up into the cushion of his arms. I lean boneless against him as he kisses my head over and over, breathes my name softly. I can feel his heart pounding against my ear. His chest rises and falls with each breath, each whisper of my name, as if the name itself is the breath of his life.

This is where I want to stay, where I want to live and die. This is what makes each day worth rising for and each night worth waiting for. As if in answer to my thoughts he whispers.

"I will never leave you again, Iolaus."

End