Rated:  NC-17


Pairing:  Sovereign/Iolaus

Disclaimer: The principal characters are the property of MCA/Universal and
Renaissance Pictures.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no financial
profit is anticipated.

Summary:  Iolaus has an encounter with the Sovereign that leads to some unexpected results.

Warning:  References to rape.

Note:  Written after the first appearance of the Sovereign.

By Valentin

Iolaus turned restlessly, trying in vain to find a cool spot on the sheets.  They twisted around his sweating body and he kicked them away, finally rising from his bed with an oath. He sluiced his face and chest from the pitcher and drew on his breechclout, standing in the doorway of his forge to
curse the lightning that danced ceaselessly, uselessly across the sky.

"Rain, damn you!" he shouted into the thunder that burst against his eardrums. What had possessed him to stay in Thebes when Hercules had suggested a trip to Corinth? Maris, that was what. Or who. No, what was the operative word here, Iolaus admitted to himself. What had possessed him was Maris' long blonde hair, wide blue eyes and body that would stop Apollo's chariot in its tracks. Iolaus supposed that he could be grateful that he had stopped long enough to discover how empty her head was before he got into bed with her. Hercules' morals must finally be rubbing off, he mused.


He grinned to himself, then grimaced and scrubbed his hands over his arms as the charged air crawled across his skin and raised the fine hair that dusted his body. Well, if Herc was on schedule he'd be back tomorrow. Iolaus hoped he wouldn't want to stay in Thebes; the warrior was more than ready to hit the road. His nerves were crawling worse than his skin. How could there be this much thunder and lightning, and no damned rain?

A particularly vicious play of light filled the forge with an eerie blue glow, and a sudden hot blast of wind nearly pulled the door from Iolaus' hands. He thought better of venturing out and closed the door with some difficulty, resigning himself to a sleepless night and bending to the banked fire to light a lamp.

"Hercules, I hope you haven't found something better to do," he said aloud, reaching to touch a taper to the lamp's wick.

"What a delightful picture," a sardonic voice growled from behind him, and he started, dropping the taper. He instinctively readied himself for attack as he turned, relaxing when he recognised the familiar form that lounged on his bed.

"Herc! Where did you come from? It's getting harder and harder to keep the riffraff out," he said happily, bringing the lamp with him as he started toward the bed. It cast its pale glow over the bed's occupant, and Iolaus frowned.

"What in the name of the gods made you grow a beard?" he asked in astonishment. "You look just like ?"

He took in the black leather trousers and studded harness, and froze.

No, it couldn't be.

He raised his eyes almost fearfully to the mocking smile, the blue eyes gleaming with malice, and his skin crawled anew at the low, satisfied chuckle.

"Sovereign," he said with horrified conviction, and set down the lamp before it dropped from his nerveless fingers.

"You don't seem happy to see me, Iolaus," Hercules' otherworldly counterpart said, leaning back against the headboard, fingers laced behind his head.

"What a shame. Because I'm delighted to see you again. I've been looking forward to this for so long. How long has it been, Iolaus?" he asked, leaning forward, never taking his eyes from the other man's face.

"A month, maybe a little more," Iolaus answered slowly, his brain finally starting to operate again. How in Tartarus had the Sovereign escaped the place between the two worlds? It had to have something to do with the lightning storm, Iolaus thought. But what had made him come to this world instead of returning to his own?

"So little time here," the Sovereign marvelled. "Do you know, it seemed like an eternity to me. Well, maybe it was. Time didn't seem to move at all. I was completely alone. Did you know I hate being alone? No? I bet there are all sorts of things you don't know about me. I had a lot of time to think about that, Iolaus. So when I saw that storm was opening the portal, I just had to come here for a little bonding with this new, improved version of my old friend."

He rose from the bed and stood over Iolaus, who met his eyes defiantly, ruthlessly quelling his urge to flinch away from the hot gaze that raked him.

"I should apologise for taking so long to realise you weren't my Iolaus.  Pre-wedding jitters, maybe. But that's not a problem any more, thanks to you, is it? Water under the bridge," he said, waving a hand expansively, and Iolaus breathed a sigh of relief as the icy eyes released him. The Sovereign looked around the forge critically.

"Not much, is it?" he asked. "You have much nicer quarters in my palace." He moved restlessly through the room, picking things up and setting them down without seeing them. He came across a flask of wine and sniffed its contents, grunting with satisfaction and drinking deeply.

"Did you come here to kill me, or what?" Iolaus finally asked with some bravado. He wasn't exactly dressed to conceal a weapon.

"Kill you?" the Sovereign said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.  "Well, let me think. If not for you, I'd be King of the Gods right now, ruling the world from Mount Olympus with Aphrodite and Xena in my bed.  Instead, I've just spent several lifetimes in solitary confinement. Kill you, Iolaus? No, I definitely want you alive."

He drained the flask and dropped it on the table, his stare pinning Iolaus again. He sauntered over and drew an appreciative finger along the top of one muscular shoulder.

"I don't know how I could ever have mistaken you for that snivelling, whining, unwashed sycophant," he said. "Oh, I knew there was something different about you right away. That costume you came across in—very nice. I like this better, though."

He drew his hand down Iolaus' chest to toy with his nipple, and Iolaus struck his hand away. Instantly that hand was around Iolaus' neck, squeezing just hard enough to make breathing difficult, but not impossible.

"You know I could kill you with a single blow," he said lightly, tightening his grasp. The room began to swim. "Or maybe you'd prefer it if 'Hercules' went out into your little village and killed a few of your neighbours instead." When no answer was forthcoming, he shook Iolaus slightly.

"Answer me, Iolaus," he admonished.

Battling for breath, Iolaus shook his head slowly, his heart sinking.

"I'm so glad we've reached an agreement," the Sovereign said, and released his throat suddenly, catching Iolaus against his body as the gasping man swayed.

"There, now," he whispered into Iolaus' ear. "You can tell yourself that what happens here tonight isn't going to be your responsibility."

Iolaus pulled away from him, his chest heaving, and fought down the wave of panic that flared at the Sovereign's words. He reached for the tunic that lay across the foot of his bed, needing to conceal himself from the eyes that were so like those of his best friend. So alike, but filled with such a
shockingly unfamiliar light.

The Sovereign pulled the tunic from his fingers, wrapping his wide hand gently around Iolaus' throat again.

"Maybe you didn't get the point of the last lesson. Do you need another, Iolaus? No? Then listen carefully. Are you listening, Iolaus?" The last was punctuated by a squeeze and another, harder shake.

Iolaus realised he was seeing for the first time the magnitude of Hercules' strength. He'd never had it used against him before, never felt so helpless.  The simple carelessness with which the demigod handled him unmanned him, somehow. A fist, a sword: these things he understood, and knew how to react to. But to be treated as though he posed no more threat than the smallest child—and worse, to know that it was only the truth—was utterly devastating, and defeated him utterly.

Some faint protest rose in his throat as the Sovereign shook him; he swallowed it and stared mutely at his tormentor. The Sovereign released him, chuckling.

"What a brave little man you are. My Iolaus was becoming a bore; whimpering can be such a turnoff. Depending on my mood, of course. But I was about to tell you what I have planned for you, wasn't I?"

A hand shot out and grasped Iolaus' wrist, yanking him against the Sovereign's chest. His other hand cupped Iolaus' buttocks, pressing him tightly into his thighs; his erection throbbed against Iolaus' belly. He released Iolaus' wrist and forced his chin up, bending until his mouth almost brushed the smaller man's.

"Are you and your Hercules lovers, Iolaus? Answer me," he warned. At Iolaus' barely perceptible head shake, he sighed, "The man must be a half-wit." He shifted, forcing his leg between Iolaus' thighs, and sliding his hand under the breechclout to rest, hot and possessive, on Iolaus' ass. A tremor went through Iolaus' body as he tried to move away from that invading hand, succeeding only in pushing himself more tightly against the Sovereign's hardness. The Sovereign inhaled sharply at the pressure.

"You've never been taken by a man at all, have you? Are all the men on this world idiots? Who could leave this perfect ass unbroken?"

The menace had left his voice; his words were a rumble of desire as he caressed Iolaus. "Close your eyes," he commanded softly. He released Iolaus' chin and slid his hand from beneath the clout, capturing the warrior's wrists and pulling them behind his back. "Close your eyes, or I'll blindfold
you," he warned. Iolaus closed his eyes despairingly.

The Sovereign held both wrists in one large hand, pulling Iolaus more tightly against him, and slowly removed the breechclout. Iolaus felt the heat of his skin through the thin leather of his pants.

"I'm going to release your hands. Keep your eyes closed, and don't move."

Iolaus covered his groin protectively as the Sovereign backed away, and gasped at a stinging slap to his buttocks. His hands were pushed to his sides, where they clenched into fists. He longed for the shield of the breechclout that had seemed so inadequate moments ago. He was immobilised, consumed by his defenselessness. He stood in his darkness for an eternity, his breath loud in his ears, and waited for his nemesis to act.

"Beautiful," came the low voice at last, and Iolaus started. "You're a work of art," the Sovereign continued. "All that courage and passion.  Irresistible. I don't understand how your Hercules could have neglected you for so long. I never dared to dream you'd be untouched. I'm going to make you feel things you didn't think were possible. Are you imagining how my hands and mouth will feel on your body? How my cock will feel sliding into you? You're going to pant and cry my name, and beg me to make you come.  Tonight I own you, and I'm going to take what's mine."

"No," Iolaus whispered, and he didn't know if he was saying it to the Sovereign, or himself.

Then the powerful arms were around him. The Sovereign had removed his harness, but Iolaus could still feel the supple leather that covered his legs. He struggled against the Sovereign's body and the Sovereign allowed him his resistance, then demonstrated to annihilating effect that the smallest of Iolaus' movements was by his sufferance alone. He pulled Iolaus more tightly against him, one hand circling his waist, the other cradling his head against his chest.

"Be still," he said simply. They stayed like that for a long time, Iolaus breathing in the unfamiliar, masculine scent of him, absorbing the sensation of the soft mat of hair against his cheek and chest, the long fingers moving through his hair.

O gods, what is happening to me? Why aren't I fighting him?

He's still Hercules. He won't hurt me. We're linked by the Fates; that can't change, in this world or any other.

He's a monster. I watched him kill with a smile on his face.

Isn't this what I've always wanted from Hercules?

Iolaus felt the last of his resistance slipping away, and he turned his face into the Sovereign's chest with a moan that tasted of surrender.

The arms tightened around him briefly, then released him. He looked up, dazed by the change he sensed in the other man, and by the weight of his conflicting emotions. Don't make me choose, he begged silently, and hated his gratitude at the understanding in the eyes that met his.

"Go to the bed," the Sovereign told him, and Iolaus complied numbly. He stood beside it, awaiting further instructions.

"Very good," the Sovereign said approvingly, and Iolaus felt a burst of self-loathing at the bright spark of pleasure which surged in him at the words.

He was finding out too much about himself. He didn't want to know any more.

"Lie face-down on the bed and close your eyes," Hercules' voice said to him, and he obeyed gratefully, welcoming the darkness this time. Another long moment, and he felt the bed shift as the Sovereign sat at its edge.

"Do you want me to tie your hands?"

No. Don't take that away from me too.

"Yes," he whispered. He heard the tearing of cloth, and his wrists were bound together, his arms pulled gently above his head and fastened to the headboard. The method allowed him to turn over, giving the Sovereign full access to his body. He panicked briefly as he felt another cloth being bound around his eyes.

"Trust me," the Sovereign said soothingly, and Iolaus subsided, his mouth quirking bitterly at the notion of trusting the man who was preparing to rape him.

But that was a lie his relentlessly honest soul wouldn't permit him. That point had been passed when he had stopped fearing his vulnerability, and begun to embrace it.

The Sovereign bound and blindfolded him to allow him to preserve the illusion that he was an unwilling participant in what was to come. Don't make me choose.

He knows me better than I know myself.

He listened as the Sovereign moved around his forge, picking up jars and removing their tops. "Iolaus," he said finally, "What is this ointment in the small blue pot?"

"It's for burns when I'm working at the forge," Iolaus answered automatically, and his stomach tightened as he understood what the Sovereign was seeking. His cock twitched, and he burrowed deeper into the bed. He heard water being poured into a basin, and then the side of the bed sagged

He stiffened at the first touch of the cloth on his skin, but the Sovereign's touch was soothing and almost impersonal and Iolaus gradually relaxed as the cool cloth pulled the tension from his overheated body. At last he helped Iolaus to turn over, and pushed damp blond hair aside to cool
his forehead and neck. Iolaus forced himself to remain still as the cloth moved over his genitals and between his buttocks, moving only as the Sovereign's touch directed. By the end of the leisurely bath he was enjoying the unaccustomed sensation of being attended to in this way, and felt oddly abandoned when the Sovereign's weight left the bed.

Water sloshed as the basin was moved, and Iolaus heard the thump of the Sovereign's boots hitting the floor, followed by the soft rustle of his trousers. He thought about the demigod's body, wondered how its weight would feel on him, how he would taste, and felt the heat gathering in his loins.  He tried to turn over to conceal his arousal, but was stopped by a touch on his hip.

"Don't hide from me, Iolaus." The feather-light touch moved down his thigh, stroking him from hip to ankle.

"Do you know how beautiful you are, I wonder?" the low voice continued.  "Even before I knew you weren't the cringing coward who lives in my world, I couldn't keep my hands off you. Perhaps it was the way you carried yourself, or the look in your eyes. My Iolaus learned to stop looking me in the eye a long time ago."

As he spoke the Sovereign's hand continued to caress him, warming his cool, damp skin. Soon he was arching his back under that hand, longing for it to linger on his nipples, his thighs, for it to touch his already aching erection. His breath hissed through his teeth as the Sovereign's fingers grazed the tip of his cock, and he heard a chuckle.

"Not yet, Iolaus. First I touch you. When I'm finished, I'm going to know your body better than anyone has ever known it, even you. I'm going to know how to make you whimper with arousal, and make you stop thinking about everything else except what I'm doing to you. You're going to spread those exquisite thighs for me and ask me to fuck you, and it's going to be unlike anything. You'll be helpless from the pleasure, and you'll surrender to me gladly because you'll know you have nothing to prove, nothing to do except feel the pleasure, and know I want you so much I can hardly keep from taking
you this moment. And when I finally do take your cock into my hand, you'll come for me, and I'll listen to your cries and feel you tightening around my cock, and I'll push myself deep into you and come, and we'll never want it to end."

O gods. Untie me. I can't do this; you want too much. There won't be anything left of me if I give in to you the way you want.

Then the Sovereign started to touch him, and he was lost.

He was barely aware of it when the large hands turned him over, struggling to his knees at their urging and clutching the rough rail of the headboard when his bound hands were guided to it. He rested his flushed forehead against his arm and pushed his knees farther apart on the sweat-dampened
sheets, his treacherous body's need driving him past shame. He'd stopped trying to suppress his moans long ago, and as the Sovereign's mouth grazed his skin for the first time, his tormentor's name escaped him in a strangled sob.

"Yes, beautiful one," the deep voice crooned. "It won't be much longer now."

Then the Sovereign knelt behind him on the bed, and leaned forward to cover Iolaus' shaking body with his own. Iolaus thrust against him instinctively, and those agonising, rapture-inducing hands moved to his hips to hold him immobile while teeth and tongue traced a blazing, molten path at his ears, across his throat, down his back.

A bubble of fear resurfaced as the Sovereign's tongue traced the cleft of his buttocks, and he tried vainly to pull away from this terrifying pleasure.

"Iolaus, do you trust me?"

"Why would I trust you?" Iolaus gasped, biting back an almost hysterical laugh and pulling at his bindings. The Sovereign's body covered his again as he caught Iolaus' hands in his own, engulfing them.

"Because, my seducer," came the answer, "I came here to take something from you, and now I find myself unable to do it. I'm… unused… to asking for what I want."

He stripped away the blindfold, and Iolaus turned his head to examine the eyes that met his. That light was in them still, but softened somehow, no longer frightening.

"Untie me," he commanded, and the Sovereign closed his eyes briefly, then unbound Iolaus' hands. Iolaus touched the Sovereign's face. "I trust you," he said at last, knowing his words, his surrender held the other far more strongly than his strength could hold Iolaus.

Then the Sovereign guided his hands to the headboard once more, and returned to his thighs to open them to his touch, and his magical tongue drove Iolaus to near-delirium. He dimly heard a low chuckle at his protest when the ecstatic torture ended.

"Patience, Iolaus," the Sovereign said, and Iolaus turned his head to watch him anoint his fingers from the pot of ointment. Once again he enveloped Iolaus' body with his own, his tongue caressing a deliciously sensitive spot behind Iolaus' ear as his fingers caressed Iolaus' anus. Then a finger slipped inside, and he pulled Iolaus tightly against his body as it sank into Iolaus with unearthly slowness.

Iolaus could scarcely breathe. The feeling was indescribable, and he wanted more of it. He wriggled his ass against the Sovereign's hand demandingly, gasping at the liquid heat the movement initiated, and felt a second finger probing him.

"Exhale," the Sovereign told him, and he struggled to comply as the second finger eased into him. An instant of almost-pain, and then pleasure so intense his knees would have given out had the Sovereign not been holding him.

"What are you doing to me?" he choked incredulously as the fingers stroked the same tender spot and a second wave of rapture washed over him.

"I told you, didn't I? Pleasure unlike anything. Are you ready for more, Iolaus?"

The fingers withdrew almost completely, then slipped into him again, and he shuddered. They moved in him, and the Sovereign's mouth moved from the nape of his neck to his ear. "Ask me for more, Iolaus." His tongue slid into Iolaus' ear, and a third finger caressed his entrance, then pushed just inside. This time the pain was real, if brief. Iolaus' hands clenched on the headboard, relaxing as the Sovereign waited for him. "It's too much," he panted. "I can't…"

"Yes, you can," the Sovereign said, and his fingers moved, and Iolaus made a formless sound at the almost unbearable pleasure. Dropping to his hands on the bed, he spread his legs.

"Fuck me," he ordered, and revelled in the asking.

"Fuck me."

Another gentle stroke and the fingers were withdrawn, then returned; the thick, cool ointment they introduced made him shiver with delicious anticipation. The fear, the trepidation were gone; his desires were primal and utterly selfish. He was completely absorbed with his own gratification, and the freedom was exhilarating. "Hurry," he said impatiently, wanting the other's touch on him, in him.

At last the Sovereign's hands parted his buttocks, and he heard a low growl as the Sovereign's cock came to rest against his entrance. He pushed back immediately, and once again the Sovereign's hands stopped him. "Iolaus," the demigod said raggedly. "This is going to hurt you at first. The pain will
stop, and then it will be as I promised. Do you trust me?"

He waited for Iolaus' nod, then said again, "Exhale."

He pushed slowly, strongly, and only the touch of his hands and his low, caressing voice kept Iolaus from jerking away from the burning pain that accompanied his shallow entry.

"Stop, stop, I can't," Iolaus gasped, and the Sovereign waited. When Iolaus didn't pull away, he pushed in a little farther, and waited again.

"Do you feel how much I want to be all the way inside you, Iolaus?" he asked. "Do you want the pleasure, or do you want me to stop?"

He withdrew slightly, and pushed in a little more deeply than before.  Iolaus' pain was changing shape, the burn reforming into something that spiralled away from him. He closed his eyes and his head drooped between his shoulders. He breathed deeply, forcing his tense muscles to relax, and pushed back.

"Gods!" the Sovereign shouted as Iolaus enveloped him completely. His hands clenched on Iolaus' hips, and he pulled in great, shuddering breaths, fighting for control.

Iolaus was unprepared for the intensity of the stimulation that flooded him as the Sovereign began to move. Pleasure had become tangible, it had shape and substance, and it invaded him, danced in him, immolated him. The Sovereign's hands moved across his skin, showing him what they had learned
about him; nails scraped the tender flesh of his inner thighs, and sank into his buttocks; a wet fingertip traced circles on his nipples. Then his hands and hips stilled.

"Ah, don't stop," Iolaus panted, pushing urgently against him.

"Gently, Iolaus, gently," the Sovereign chided, and his hand folded around Iolaus' aching cock.

He stroked easily, faltering as Iolaus' muscles clamped around his cock, then began to move inside him again. Iolaus was almost beyond rational thought; he wondered hazily if pleasure could be lethal. Perhaps he would begin to smoke, as he had when he'd been struck by lightning. He would have
to remember to tell Hercules that lightning did strike twice in the same place.

The lightning inside him began to gather and flare. "Do you want to come, Iolaus? I want to hear you say my name," the Sovereign said, and sank his teeth into the muscle that ridged Iolaus' shoulder.

"Sovereign." Iolaus shuddered as the Sovereign pulled him up to his knees, holding him against his chest, and increased the tempo of his thrusts.

"My name, Iolaus. I want to hear you say my name, and ask me to make you come." He was pulling out almost completely, and slamming back in, and his breath was harsh in Iolaus' ear. His hand on Iolaus' cock was sorcery.

"Hercules, Hercules!" Iolaus reached for the hand that surrounded his cock.

"Make me come…"

The words began the conflagration. He thought that his heart would stop from the force of it. He was aware of a need to bring the other with him and reached between his legs for the scrotum that pressed against his own; the feeling under his fingers of the other's cock in his body caused a fresh pulse within him, and suddenly the Sovereign was shouting his name, pouring himself into Iolaus' clutching depths, and Iolaus felt an impossible, second surge of release.

Finally the Sovereign eased them both on to the bed, lying on his side and keeping Iolaus tucked against him. He started to withdraw from Iolaus' body, but the smaller man wriggled back against him. "Not yet," Iolaus said, and the Sovereign's arms tightened around him. They lay without speaking for a
long time.

Iolaus sighed as the Sovereign's cock finally slipped from his body. "Will you tell me what you're thinking?" the Sovereign asked him.

Iolaus chuckled softly.

"Why not? I was thinking about how much can change in a single night. I'm not the same person I was when the sun went down. So who am I now?"

"You are the same person, Iolaus. You just know more about yourself than you did. Is that such a terrible night's work?"

Iolaus turned over and looked into the eyes of the man who wore his friend's face. "A night's work? Was that what this was? Did you get what you came for, Sov—Hercules?"

It was the Sovereign's turn to chuckle. "I came here for revenge. If I had known the Iolaus on this world was a wizard, I would have run in the opposite direction. You could be very bad for my reputation, my seducer."

"That's the second time you've called me that," Iolaus said, amused. "Don't you think you've got that backwards?"

"No, I think I have it exactly right," the Sovereign told him. He captured Iolaus' hand and brought it, palm up, to his lips.

"Why didn't you kiss me?" Iolaus asked suddenly.

"I wanted revenge, not romance," the Sovereign reminded him. "Then… it seemed wise to wait until you were ready."

Iolaus touched his mouth. "I've never kissed anyone with a beard before," he confessed.

"Well, this will be a night of firsts for you, then," the Sovereign said, smiling, and drew Iolaus into his arms.

The Sovereign stared out the window at the lightening sky, his fingers slipping through the dishevelled hair of the man who slept curled against his side. A movement drew his attention to the foot of the bed, and his eyebrows lifted at the sight of his father. No, not his father.

"You have to leave," the King of the Gods said quietly. The Sovereign opened his mouth to protest, then sighed.

"Your son is a fool," he told Zeus, pulling Iolaus closer to him. Zeus regarded him with sympathy.

"Perhaps," he said at last.

"Why did you allow me to stay?" the Sovereign asked curiously.

"I like living," Zeus answered wryly. "Perhaps I thought he could redeem you."

"You're the same in any world. You give nothing away, do you?" The Sovereign released Iolaus and rose to search through his clothes. He tossed Zeus the pendant of Hind's blood; it dissolved in mid-air, and the god nodded.

"You have until the sun comes through that window," he said, and left them.

He returned to the bed and stared hungrily at the sleeping figure, his cock filling. An hour, maybe a little more. He would never have surfeit of this eager, yielding body. "Wizard," he said aloud, and smiled. Iolaus rolled on to his back and yawned, a hand causing further havoc in his hopelessly
tangled curls.

"I could have sworn I heard Zeus," he remarked.

"You did," the Sovereign told him. "He's sending me back to my own world."

"Right this minute?" Iolaus asked, looking up as if expecting a thunderbolt to materialise above his bed. When the Sovereign shook his head, he added, "Then you'd better get over here fast, hadn't you?"

Iolaus scraped the last of the ointment from the jar, and the Sovereign rose to his knees on the bed and watched Iolaus' hand caress him. He finally stopped him, fearing he wouldn't last. "You're far too good at that," he told Iolaus, his own hand moving on the other's cock, then guiding Iolaus' slippery hand to his own erection. This time he would take Iolaus facing him, so he could watch the flush rise in his face and see his eyes glaze over with the pleasure he was receiving. Yes.

He thought of the last time they had made love, of Iolaus' hesitation at putting his mouth on another man's cock, and of how he had surrendered to the Sovereign in this, too. He'd closed his eyes, exploring and absorbing the taste and texture of it, and the Sovereign had nearly come at the first
tentative swirl of Iolaus' tongue. The Sovereign had turned, and pulled Iolaus to his own mouth, and the two had begun a wicked competition.

The Sovereign had won.

Afterward Iolaus had accused him of cheating, and he'd protested that if Iolaus had not wanted his fingers there, he shouldn't have wiggled his ass so provocatively. Iolaus had insisted on discovering the precise location of that magical spot within the Sovereign. He hadn't known he was capable of
such quick recovery. Being the son of a god, even an indifferent one, had its advantages.

Iolaus was stroking himself lazily, watching him gather the pillows they'd left in front of the fireplace and return to the bed with them. Piling them under Iolaus' hips, he knelt on the bed, pulling Iolaus' legs across his thighs. He ran his hands up Iolaus' legs; their covering of pale hair was soft and fine, and tickled his palms. He had never been concerned with the body of his Iolaus; he took him brutally when and where the mood struck him.  Could that creature have within him the potential to be the man before him?

He put the thought from his mind; there was too little time left.

"Hercules," Iolaus said, and the name was bittersweet in his ears. He entered his lover's body with care, and rejoiced as it opened easily to him.  He forced himself to move slowly, though he wanted nothing more than to pound into the silken territory that was his alone for this precious night, to mark Iolaus against the day when that other Hercules realised his grievous mistake and claimed his heart's partner.

He pushed Iolaus' hand away and cupped his balls, then ran his hand up the length of his cock, pressing lightly with his nails against the vein that pulsed under its surface. He watched Iolaus' hands clutch the bedclothes and thrust a little harder, wanting to see the arch of his throat when the
Sovereign's cock prodded against—ahh, he was beautiful in his passion; the Sovereign had never taken such satisfaction in the pleasure of another. He lifted Iolaus' legs around his waist and sank his fingers into deliciously firm buttocks. "Give me your control, Iolaus," he urged. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Iolaus opened his eyes, and in one swift, fluid movement he was in the Sovereign's lap, legs locked tightly around his waist, and the Sovereign thought he would not survive the feeling of being buried in Iolaus' body. "I can't move like this," he protested feebly.

"Shut up," Iolaus growled, and his mouth descended on the Sovereign's. In this he was the teacher; the Sovereign had thought kissing a waste of time until tonight. Iolaus' tongue. Lapping at his lips, darting inside his mouth to slide over his own tongue. Nipping, sucking, tantalising mouth. "Fuck me," he said into the Sovereign's ear. The Sovereign laid him on his back and obeyed, gliding into him, twisting his hips gently, more aroused than he would have thought possible by the sounds he was pulling from Iolaus' parted lips. Iolaus was beginning to pulse around his cock, and the Sovereign pressed their hips together, Iolaus' cock slippery from the ointment and his own fluids, and he could feel Iolaus' balls draw up against his own as he thrust, and then Iolaus arched his back and clamped around the Sovereign's cock and he thought he'd never stop coming. He thrust again and again, shuddering, and then he opened his eyes and saw the sun blaze in Iolaus' hair and shouted not yet, and found himself on his hands and knees on the floor of his deserted palace, fully dressed, and his aloneness hit him with
the force of a whirlwind.

"Hey, Iolaus, are you going to sleep all day?"

He smiled and stretched voluptuously at the voice, kicking off the covers.  He'd never fallen asleep so fast after making love before. "Why don't you come here and wake me up?" he suggested, rubbing his eyes.

"I beg your pardon?"

He opened his eyes to frown at his lover, then stared at his lathered, half-shaven chin. "What the hell are you doing? You have to leave soon."

"Iolaus, I just got here. You were impossible to wake up, so I thought I'd help myself to your razor and soap. Let's go and get a bath; I'm filthy from the trip." He stared at Iolaus' naked, glistening body, his swollen, reddened lips, and his eyebrows lowered.


"No, I'm his evil twin! What's wrong with you, Iolaus?"

You are the same person, Iolaus. You just know more about yourself than you did.

"Nothing, Herc. I'm fine; just a little punchy. It's great to have you back."

He hugged his new knowledge to himself. Perhaps, one day, he would be able to share it with Hercules.


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