Letter of the Law

by Taz
Author's notes: The characters herein belong to Homer; anyone else who claims them is a lyre.

Iphicles' bed had been designed to encourage a continuing line of Corinthian monarchs. His craftsmen had turned the 10 foot high posts with heavily beaded reeding and carved the headboard with sensual arabesques. The height of the foot board had been measured to ensure good leverage. After years of devoted waxing, the Circasian walnut glowed with a mellow patina. It would have ruptured Atlas to lift. And it shrilled like Calliope when it rocked --- just as it was rocking now, on the other side of the wall, against Hercules' bed.

A steady pounding that came through the stucco, the lath, his bed and his body, going on and on and on... He pulled the pillow out from under and jammed it over his head. That helped. Blocked most of the sound, but he could still feel it. ...ka-chunka, ka-chunka, ka-chunka...

He had told Iphicles that he wouldn't mind staying at a tavern in town. But, Iphicles had gotten 'that' look. The look that told the world that he thought Hercules thought he was such a saint that he couldn't stay in sinful luxury when he could enjoy morally uplifting squalor. Then came, 'Oh, never mind!' followed by the pathetic, sullen, whipped puppy look that got to Hercules every time. He'd given in. He always did. Gods! Were they going for a Personal Best tonight?

Everyone in Corinth must know what was going on. One of these days, he was going to ask Ares if he'd noticed an upswing in the number of petitioners coming to his temples in the morning. (Rumor hat it that, these days, the god was in a better mood in the morning.)

He glared at the wall over his head. Wonder why?

And the servants! He'd heard them giggling, keeping score and making book on which piece of furniture was going to go next. (How in Tartarus had they split a rectory table with iron rings on either side?) He wanted shout, 'They aren't related. If they want to fuck like weasels, it's nobody's business but theirs.'

What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he tell Iphicles that he was just, too, embarrassed? Really, it was none of his business but...he looked down. "It's none of your business either!" His cock waved back at him. Right Herc! You are absolutely right...but can't you just 'see' it? And, that was the trouble, he could.

He could see Iphicles on his knees, worshipping Ares. He could picture his brother's tongue lapping the blunt head of Ares' cock and swallowing it whole. Muffled slurping sounds accompanied the image and a voice urging someone to 'take it! Suck me hollow, you beautiful bitch!'

Didn't they realize you could hear everything through that damn wall?

He could visualize Iphicles facedown over a mound of pillows with Ares ramming him. (That moist slapping sound of flesh hitting flesh wasn't his imagination.) He pictured Ares' ass and thigh muscles working. Sweat pooling in the small of his back. Powerful hands gripping the king so hard they'd leave bruises the next day.

Didn't they realize everyone would see them?

He pictured Iphicles on his back, bent double, legs over Ares' shoulders, that huge cock sliding in and out...in and out...over and over...Ares keening...

"Oh, shut up!"

He stuck his fingers in his ears. He was going to pound the wall himself in a moment. Because, worst of all: Iphicles sitting in Ares' lap, his head resting blissfully on Ares' shoulder, glutted, all that god-cock crammed up his butt, Ares' arms around his waist, hands flying up and down the king's glistening scepter...up and down... Sounds like chunks of plaster falling off the ceiling. ...over and over.

Considering, how much they annoyed him individually Iphicles and Ares deserved each other, but his own godly (Okay! 'Demigodly.') cock was bouncing up and down on his belly hollering, 'Me! Me! Look at me!'

Hercules gave up and put the pillow under his ass, let his thighs fall open and took himself in hand. He sighed and massaged his balls with the other hand, wallowing in the pleasurable guilt of giving in to temptation. 'Now. I need you in me now! Give it to me you fucking, selfish, cock-sucking...' That was as close as close as Ares was ever going to get to begging, he supposed, sucking the middle finger of his right hand. He thought of Iphicles plowing a furrow in Ares' ass, felt below the soft sac and inserted his finger as far as he could.

Then he closed his eyes and let the cadence take him. It was almost as though he were in the room with them banging out the ancient rhythm. He could pretend it was Iphicles' hand on his cock and Ares' finger in his ass.

Next door the bed squealed like a flute, the wall echoed like a drum. And when his seed erupted, splattering his belly, it was a crescendo with cymbals and cannons that flung him so far into aether that his brain was still buzzing when it occurred to him that he was as bespattered with plaster dust as seed. The cannon in that grand climax had been the thunder of the bed next door collapsing.

Hercules didn't bother with a robe. He flew out of his room and was inside Iphicles' bedchamber a few steps behind the king's guard, but well ahead of other guests who were stumbling out of their rooms, wondering if Scythians had laid siege in the night.

"Iphicles! Iph! Are you all right?" The bed boards had given way and the mattress had fallen through bringing the whole works down on top of whoever had been in it. Somewhere under the pile Iphicles was swearing. Hercules dove in, pulling up tapestries and pieces of lumber, handing them off to the guards.

He found Iphicles, face down, laughing hysterically. "Herc!" Iphicles lifted his face out of a torn pillow. A cloud of feathers flew up. "What a rush!"

Iphicles still had one ankle tied to a post with what looked like a star studded leather belt, but there was no sign of anyone else. Hercules was so relieved that he would have smacked Iphicles --- if there hadn't had an audience -- and if Iphicles hadn't been king. Instead, hoping no one else noticed, he unsnapped the belt and helped his brother up.

It was inspiring, watching Iphicles pull his royal demeanor about him along with the sheet that he knotted at his waist. Plastered in spots with goose feathers though he was, there was no doubt who was king. Gravely, Iphicles thanked everyone who had come to the rescue party, directing the servants to pick up the mess and find another bed. Even with a thin piece of cotton with a wet spot wrapped around his waist that he kept hitching up when it slipped, showing off the muscles that girdled his hips and the tapering thatch of dark pointing down...

The man had no shame!

One of the maids giggled. Hercules remembered that he was only wearing his dignity.

He stalked out, knowing that Iphicles' smile, with just a tip of tongue showing, followed him all the way.

Back in his own room, he lit a candle and dusted off the sheets. He picked up the pillow off the floor and crawled back into bed, feeling sorry for himself. No matter what happened, he was always the one who wound up feeling embarrassed.

An arm slipped around his waist as he was drifting off. Lips tickled his ear. Still pissed, he pretended to be asleep. A tongue, inside his ear, insisted he wake. He tried to roll over. His chin was taken between a thumb and forefinger. "I knew you wouldn't be able to wait." A deep chuckle made butterflies take off in his stomach and Hercules took Ares' hand from his chin. He kissed it and folded it over his cock.

He said, "If that performance was for my benefit, it worked."

"Not entirely for your benefit, little brother. But, if I can't watch you doing each other, somebody's going to pay."

"It would be incest."

"Umm?" Ares said, worrying an ear lobe.

"A king should be an example of moral probity."

"Hypocrite." Ares let the ear go and stuck his tongue in Hercules' mouth, chewing until Hercules' lips were swollen and tingling, while his hand teased Hercules' nipples into tender little points. Hercules was moaning before Ares' hand moved lower and, finally, began doing to him some of the things he'd imagined being done to Iphicles.

Abruptly, Ares rolled between his legs and lifted him up, exposing him. Something hard, snub nosed and hot, probed his asshole. He caught his breath and pushed down but it slipped away. A finger penetrated. More fingers. Working him. One found the sweet spot inside. He whimpered, spreading his knees wider.

"I don't understand," Ares said. The hardness was back, nuzzling. "It gets him so hot, imagining what I do to you; he might as well be in here doing it with me."

Hercules growled.

"What?" Ares said. "Did you say something?"

He threw his head back and closed his eyes. "Don't tease." It was a damned inconvenient time to discuss Iphicles' hang-ups.

Ares pushed into him. His ass tingled and throbbed. Hands lifted his legs, draped over Ares' shoulders. He was almost bent double. Then, Ares pulled out, just the head of his cock was inside of Hercules.

Hercules waited for the stroke.

Ares bent over, until he was so close that Hercules could take each puff of breath for his own, and whispered, "Before the bed fell, I'd almost persuaded him, that if you put me in the middle, you wouldn't be touching each other."

Ares covered his mouth, fluttered his tongue inside. The muscles of Hercules' ass contracted as Ares began riding him. Heat gathered at the root of his cock and he began to laugh --- with every stroke Ares' balls were slapping his buttocks and the bed was thumping the wall, a quarter beat behind each slap. Ares was laughing, too, and gave his nipple a twist. Then he was lost in the dark. The strokes started to come faster --- harder --- drops of sweat rained on his face, fluid cascaded hot down his stomach. Between them, the boundaries of flesh dissolved.

He came back to himself with his legs down. Ares' cock was still embedded in his ass, and still hard. He opened his eyes and rocked. A gush of semen drenched his buttocks and the sheet beneath them. He came again with the hot, wet sensation and reached to stroke Ares' face.

Ares took one of his ankles, eased it carefully over his head, twisting as he manipulated Hercules' body. Briefly, they were spooned and Hercules arched, straining to push himself down as far onto Ares' cock as possible. With a thrust of powerful thighs, Ares pulled them both upright. Impaled, Hercules sat in the god's lap and let his head drop back.

Ares reached under, fingering where they were joined. "Iphicles is next door, imagining me, doing this to you. If this isn't incest, tell me what it is."

"It's not the same. You and I, we didn't grow up together."

Ares bit his shoulded and fondled him, hands slick with their mingled seed. "Tell me what it is."

Hercules imagined Iphicles kneeling in front of them. "It's a sacrifice," he said, turning for a kiss. "It's a compromise," he whispered, starting to come. "It's love," he said, overflowing.

Fin 10/01/06

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