(Dedicated to Nymphica whose story, "New Beginning," on the same topic was my inspiration. I miss her stories and hope my efforts in some way make up for her absence.)

Whose Arrow?
by Amorette

I'm fighting, struggling, against something, something that has its teeth sunk into my side and is wrapped around my legs, something invisible and nameless and terrifying. I struggle against it, unable to get my hands around whatever it is and then wake with a start at a touch on my face.

"Easy, Herc," whispers Iolaus, one cool hand brushing my tangled hair off my face as the other tugs at the sheets wrapped around my legs. "You're all right."

Now I remember. The pain in my side isn't from the bite of a monster but from the bolt fired by one of Hera's archers. Hera tried to kill me again, and my mother, and Zeus, King of Olympus, as usual, did nothing. Iolaus, however, mortal that he was, was at my side. My mother and I wouldn't be alive if not for him.

I was exhausted by the time we got home. Mother wanted to stop but I was determined not to rest until we were all safe at her house. We rode part of the way in a cart but still, I could barely walk, leaning on Iolaus, as we staggered those last few steps into my bedroom and I collapsed on the bed. Mother and Iolaus changed the bandage around my belly. I'm the son of a god. I heal fast. The wound I had taken only a few hours before looked half healed. Now, as I yanked at the bandage, annoyed by its tight restraint, my fingers found a faint scar that would be gone within the day. There was only a burning tug inside that, like the scar, would be gone soon.

"Iolaus," I gasp as he takes the bandage away from me and tosses it somewhere.

"Who were you expecting?" he says, his voice sleepy but amused. "Maybe the daughters of Thespius."

He starts to leave, back to the pallet I can see he made up for himself in front of the banked fire, but I catch at his hand. He looks at me, waiting.

"I'm thirsty," I say, telling the truth. "Would you mind. . ."

He reaches for the pitcher on the bedside table and pours a cup of water for me. I watch him, surprised to see he is naked. He must have taken a bath--now that I think about it, I remember him saying to my mother that he'd heat water--and mother must have taken his clothes away to mend and clean them. He had spare clothes here, at her house, but must have been too tired to take the time to dig them out of the chest where they are stored. So I get to watch him, as he pours the water, then perches on the side of the bed to hand me the cup.

I sit up and drink the water gratefully. Iolaus refills the cup, takes a drink for himself, and passes it back to me. I slide over a little, inviting him to to settle himself more comfortably. He takes the invitation, pulling his feet up so he is sitting cross-legged next to me.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, taking the cup back from me for another drink.

"Hot," I say, kicking at the blankets. I'm naked, too. I hope, vaguely, that Iolaus undressed me. It's ridiculous, I know, to be embarrassed at the thought that my own mother took my pants off, but I am.

"Fever?" he asks, leaning against me, as if to use his entire body to judge the temperature of mine.

"No. Just hot."

He shrugs. "It's a hot night."

"Iolaus."

"What?"

"Am I an idiot?"

He laughs, softly and gently. "You mean, more so than usual."

"I hated Demetrius the instant I saw him. Poor mother wanted me to like him and I just couldn't."

Iolaus slides down a little, still leaning against me, and I find my mind wandering as I remember what Iolaus used to mean to me when we were younger. He pulls the sheet up to our waists, fanning it to create a cooling breeze, then smoothing it and wriggling a little get comfortable.

"Not your fault," he says as he settles. "Just that annoying, always right, half god thing of yours. Alcmene and I are used to it." He nudges me and grins, to let me know he doesn't want me to be insulted. "Can't help it any more than you help taking up so much of the bed."

I scoot over a little more as he laughs again. His body should be warm but he feels cooler than I do. Maybe I do have a fever. I twist the sheet between my fingers. I can sense he is waiting.

"I know how she feels," I say, trying not to think about Iolaus' skin touching mine. "I know exactly how she feels. How much she wants someone. . ."

"Don't worry, Herc," Iolaus says, reassuringly, as he pulls the sheet away before I tear it. "When your mother introduces you to the right person, you'll be delighted." He giggles. "Once you get over the shock."

"I hope she does meet someone, the right someone."

Iolaus just makes a sound of agreement. He's messing with the pillows, trying to get them arranged, and I'm thinking about how it used to be between us, when we shared a bed more than we do now.

When we were young, Iolaus and I were lovers. The day that first happened is one of those moments that is forever engraved in my memory.

I was fourteen, jerking off in the barn, embarrassed by the changes in my body and the inexplicable feelings that went along with them. I remember how horrified I felt when I realized Iolaus had just laid his hand on my arm. Before I had a chance to cover myself, to try to pretend I wasn't doing what I was doing, Iolaus had slid his hand down to cover mine over my cock and I found myself staring at him, open-mouthed, at his smile. I will never forget how my orgasm surged through me as his lips pressed against mine.

For a long time, we just did what Iolaus called "fooling around." Humping each other's legs, jerking each other off. I did it with Iolaus, sometimes with Jason and even, on a couple of memorable occasions, my older brother, Iphicles. We were all in the same boat, healthy and young and desperate enough to do anything short of fucking sheep.

But it was always different with Iolaus. With Iolaus, there were long hours spent kissing. With Iolaus, getting off wasn't the goal. Getting there was. With Iolaus, there was snuggling and giggling, slow caresses and breathy confessions. And then, one day, after coming several times and still feeling unfulfilled, I turned to Iolaus and said, "Isn't there more?" Iolaus obliged and showed me.

For the next year or so, we were at each other in every possible moment we could find. We were at the Academy by then and we were always arriving late for class, breathless and sweaty from our own personal exercise. We thought we were sneaky but, looking back on it, I can see the look on Cheiron's face as he shook his head. He knew exactly what we were doing. I suppose with centaurs, being a teenaged boy is even worse than with humans.

Then, as we grew older, we discovered that as much fun as sex was with each other, the opposite sex had something different to offer. Iolaus never said to me he wanted to stop and I never said it to him but our times together as lovers slowly faded, from twice a day to twice a week until we stopped completely, except for the occasional quick grope to relieve tension. And even those hurried moments had faded away.

I could remember the last time I held Iolaus, naked and breathing hard, in my arms. It was ten years ago, give or take. Neither of us were married and we had no expectation of being married. We'd gotten in a stupid argument and I'd pinned him against the wall in the barn, then silenced him with a kiss. And then. . .

"Herc?"

Iolaus' voice pulls me out of my memories. He jabs me in the ribs, then nods his head towards the obvious bulge under the sheet.

"Who are you thinking about?" he says, snickering, "And please tell me it isn't Echidna."

"You," I say, breathless, turning towards him. "I was thinking about you."

Iolaus' eyes go wide. I genuinely surprised him with that. Then he grins, a wide, delighted grin as only Iolaus can grin. As well as surprising him, I had pleased him. For all his apparent cockiness, Iolaus can still be uncertain about himself, not completely believing that he deserves to be loved.

It's been so long, I think, as he tosses the sheet back, revealing my hard cock and his, also rising to the occasion, too long, as he throws his leg over me and straddles my body. It hurts a little, where the arrow was, but not enough to stop me.

He looks at me, head tilted to one side, as he settles, combing my hair back from my face.

"What?" I ask, seeing his slight hesitation even as my arms wrap around him, pulling him close.

"What brought this on, after all these years?"

I can't answer his question because I can't explain it myself. And since I can't explain with words, I explain with a kiss.

It was Iolaus who taught me how to kiss. From soft, fluttering, gentle kisses to deep, wet, searching kisses, he was the master and I the willing pupil We are more evenly matched in skill these days but I still let him take the lead. I kiss him lightly, our lips barely open to each other, telling him I understand that we need to take this slowly, then acquiesce to his sharp teeth, catching my lower lip and tugging it, then running his tongue after his teeth until it slips into my mouth.

I slide my hands down the smooth skin of his back to cup his buttocks in my hands. The advantage to my big hands is Iolaus' fits into them perfectly. He makes a contented sound in his throat as he rocks against me, our cocks brushing together, not urgent yet, just affectionate and seeking for that connection we once had. His hands are wrapped in my hair, holding me but not seeking to control me.

I know. How could little Iolaus control the mighty Hercules? Not with brawn but with talent and practice, with his sweet kisses and soothing caresses, with his passion and his heart.

We kiss until I am panting, hotter still. Iolaus chuckles in my ear as his hands wander down over my shoulders, across my chest, to knead the flesh above where my hips join my torso. I don't tell him that it hurts because the sharp pain in my side feels good. Then he moves, letting his mouth follow his hands.

"Such a feast," he says, breathlessly, "How have I gone without for so long?"

I can't answer, not with one of his hands wrapping around the base of my cock as the other slips beneath to press back behind my scrotum. Not with his lips teasing the head of my cock, tugging at the skin, until I suck in my breath sharply and try not to moan out loud. My mother will be listening, even if she is sound asleep, with a mother's ear for any sound of pain. The difference between pain and pleasure can be difficult to define; the same with the sounds.

Iolaus makes a sound, a soft, contented sound, as he reacquaints himself with my cock and I remember how amazing his tongue is. I don't know how he does it, takes all of me without gagging, but he can and still manage to swirl his tongue around me until I want to scream.

I enjoy the view for a while, his hair falling into his face, his eyes closed, his expression one of intense concentration, but what he is doing to me gets to be too good. I close my eyes, letting my memory supply the images. He has sucked on a finger and as it trails back, I spread by legs and lift my hips a little, wanting, even though I am a little afraid. It has been a long time.

A long time since anything but a little one-handed relief, usually as quickly and quietly as I can manage. Iolaus has always had a tendency to just whip it out and jerk off whenever the mood struck but I'm a little more shy than that. Ashamed, really, of urges that I know are perfectly normal but I still feel guilty, worried that my urges may lead me to do something I'll regret. Look what damage my father's urges have caused.

I push those thoughts aside as Iolaus carefully slips his finger inside me. I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding and consciously relax my muscles. He moves in a little deeper, sucking harder at the same time, and my hands clutch at the sides of the bed. I hear him chuckle as I buck up and gasp, when he finds the place he is searching for.

Old habits come back and I find myself holding his head in my hands, thrusting up into his mouth. We had a system, long ago, to tell each other whether we were ready to come or wanted to wait. Iolaus remembers as well as I do. He's stroking and sucking and letting me thrust and I find myself biting my lip, trying not to cry out at the waves of pleasure as they surge up through me.

He's been rocking his pelvis against the mattress while he pleasured me and I liked to watch the muscles of his ass as he did. Now I want my hands on that ass. I barely finish, barely give him time to give me a quick final lick, then I am hauling him up on top of me.

We kiss, the taste of my semen in his mouth, mixed with a little blood from where I bit my lip. Iolaus moans, low in his throat, and grabs my hair again. We rock against each other, our cocks lubricated by his saliva, a little of my come, and the sweat that is building up between us.

I get both hands on his ass, kneading the muscle, and remembering what it was like to be inside him. I know we don't really have the time, or the lubricant, for that but I find myself imagining my cock sliding into him. I loved it when he rode me like that. I could watch him as we fucked and the expression on his face was sometimes enough to get me off.

That and sounds he makes. He's doing it now, moaning softly, breathlessly, noises that are sometimes words and sometimes only sounds of pleasure.

He says my name, over and over, as his tongue traces my jaw and throat and ear.

"Herc, oh, Herc, it feels so good, oh, Herc," he murmurs, knowing full well the effect his voice is having on me. "So good. Ah. . ."

He's serious now, sliding one hand between us to encourage his cock. The other is locked around the back of my neck, keeping us pressed tightly together. I arch up, lifting him, feeling him, our cocks rubbing together. I add my hand to his, squeezing and tugging and sliding. My other hand moves up to the small of his back, where I can feel the muscles moving under sweating, silken skin.

No more words from him. Just gasps, in time to our movements, then I feel his thighs tighten on either side of me and I whisper his name and he groans and splashes over our bellies, my orgasm only a heartbeat behind his.

Iolaus slumps down over me as he gives his cock a last few tugs. I rest both my hands on his backside again, while my breathing and heartbeat return to normal.

Something is wrong. Iolaus is usually quick to recover, quick to make some remark about the mess between us. Instead, he keeps his head tucked under my chin, his grip on my neck and across my ribs still tight. I can feel the tension in his body, tension his orgasm should have relieved. My stomach drops. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Iolaus doesn't want this any more. Maybe he just did it to make me happy and is regretting it.

"Iolaus?" I whisper, anxious, as I try to tip his face up so I can see his eyes. I could force him--there is no way he could resist--but I'm not about to break his neck to satisfy my curiosity.

He hits me. The hand resting on my ribs curls into a fist and he hits me. Now I am genuinely afraid, afraid I just ruined the best thing in my life.

"How could you?" he whispers harshly into my neck, refusing to lift his head. "How could you?"

"Iolaus." I swallow, horrified. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to force you. . ."

"Not this!" He sits up, eyes blazing, expression furious. He hits me again. "Not this, you idiot!" He grabs my hair again and gives my head a shake. "How could you scare me like that! I thought you were going to die!"

The tears in his eyes aren't because he didn't want my embrace. They are because he was afraid of losing me. I recognize them now, although I've never seen them in his eyes, only felt them in mine.

He closes his eyes. Iolaus knows full well how I can read his soul in his gaze. He rests his forehead against mine and I can feel a tear slide down his cheek to fall on mine.

"You scared me," he whispers, and I can hear the raw fear in his voice. "I thought you were dead." He gulps and hiccups a little. "You aren't supposed to die. When I saw the blood. . ." His voice trails off and I feel more tears.

"Sorry," I say, apologetically. I don't say, now you know how it feels. Now you know how it feels when you are lying bleeding in my arms. Dying my arms.

"I'm supposed to die," he says, making my heart go cold, "I'm just an ordinary person. But you're Hercules. . ."

"Don't!" I push him away so I can look at him. "I don't know if I'm immortal and frankly. . .I'd rather not be."

He looks at me, tilting his head to one side. His grip on my hair relaxes a little and he combs it back off my face. My hands are resting easily on his waist. I like the feel of him, his weight, on me. I missed it.

"That's not the point." Iolaus shakes his head and sighs. "I'm me and you're you."

"I said, don't." My voice is so sharp Iolaus blinks and sits back. "Don't." I say it softly, touching his cheek, feeling the rough edge along his jaw where he needs a shave. Iolaus can't grow a full beard, not like me. I used to tease him about it until I learned that there are some things that really hurt him. His father teased him about his baby face and Iolaus is still ashamed of his lack of beard; as if body hair defined manhood. I love his smooth skin. It takes me a moment to get my mind back around to our conversation as my hands rest against that skin, my thumbs resting in the hollow below his hips.

"I've heard it from you before," I say. "How unimportant you are and how important I am." He opens his mouth but I sit up and kiss him quickly, silencing him. "Today you proved that you are just as important." I kiss him again, not so quickly. "More so to me."

"You're the symbol. . ."

"I'm the symbol. You're the real thing. The bravest, most loving. . ."

Iolaus ducks his head, his tumble of hair covering his face. He hits me, but the blow turns into a caress. "Don't."

"Don't what? Tell you the truth? Zeus gave me the muscles but you give me the strength."

He laughs weakly, then wipes his nose and eyes on the back of his wrist. "Well, don't do it again. My heart couldn't stand it."

I nod, solemnly. "I promise to try to avoid letting Hera's archers shoot me."

Before I can say anything else to embarrass him, he is suddenly standing beside the bed, moving away, collecting cloths from the wash basin. I lie back and let him wash me, then himself, muttering a little as he does so.

"There are advantages to women," he says, grinning as he does.

"There's still a wet spot."

He laughs, rinsing the cloths. I catch at him before he can move away, pulling him back into the bed. He gives me a suspicious look.

"Come to bed," I say.

"Uh-uh. Look, I'm exhausted and you had an arrow sticking out of you yesterday so I really think. . ."

"I'm not suggesting we do anything," I reply primly, making him giggle at my tone. "I just want you to sleep with me."

"Oh, that's an original line." At my expression, his smile fades and his eyes go soft. "Herc, if your mother finds me. . ."

"She'll think we slept together." I tug his hand and he comes closer. "Maybe even did something naughty. Come on, Iolaus. It's not like she doesn't have some idea. . ."

He laughs again, actually blushing a little as he slides into the bed next to me. "Oh, she has some idea. I just think she thinks you should be resting."

"I will be."

I pull him against me, settling him into the curve of my body, our hands laced together over his heart. We used to sleep like this all the time. The fit was different, when we were younger, but it still works. He sighs, wiggling his ass a little to get comfortable.

"Watch that," I breath in his ear. "Or I won't be sleeping."

He giggles and I feel as if my heart will burst. I had forgotten how wonderful it was, to hold Iolaus in my arms, feeling his warm body against mine, listening to his breathing deepen and slow as he falls asleep. As I feel him relax, sliding quickly into sleep, I realize that the pain in my side is gone.

The arrow may have come from Hera's archers, I think, moving a little so I'm not inhaling a faceful of Iolaus' hair, but the effect was more like Cupid's.

April 2002