Kings Over Hunters

“Remind me again how I ended up here?” Iolaus muttered, bright colour staining his cheeks. He strained and tugged, but the leather and ropes held secure, leaving him precious little room to move while holding him, so vulnerable and exposed, in the center of Iphicles’ royal bed.

“Well, as usual, it’s all a matter of your mouth making big wagers, and leaving your ass to pay the price.” Iphicles smoothed his hand over the flesh in question, caressing, teasing. He grinned, meeting Iolaus’ eyes in the wide mirror braced to give a clear view of the bed, and its bound occupant. “You never were too lucky at cards.”

Iolaus stared at his reflection. Bound as he was, on his knees, long bars of steel and leather forcing his knees and ankles apart, keeping them widespread; his wrists cuffed together and secured to the ankle bar, pulling his shoulders low to the bed and leaving his ass waving high in the air, open and exposed; bound as he was, he looked like a debauched pleasure slave, begging for more of his master’s attention.

“Look a little needy,” Iphicles murmured next to his ear, “don’t you?” He grinned at Iolaus’ reflection. “Almost makes me think you lost on purpose.” Iphicles curled his fingers around Iolaus’ scrotum, massaging the heavy balls hanging there.

Whatever reply Iolaus had intended was lost in a shuddering groan as Iolaus leaned into Iphicles’ strong caress.

“Doesn’t much matter,” Iphicles shrugged. “I reap the reward either way.”

Iolaus struggled, tugging at the cuffs on his wrists. “I don’t remember bondage being part of the bet,” he grumbled.

“Oh, it wasn’t,” Iphicles absently shook his head, focussed on slowly kneading Iolaus’ smooth ass. “I just know it makes you hot to be so helpless,” he met Iolaus’ eyes in the mirror with a wicked leer, “and let me tell you, having you completely at my mercy does wonders for me too.”

Iolaus groaned softly, burying his face against the bedding to hide the flush he could feel burning across his cheeks. Iphicles was right. Nothing got him harder faster than being bound, immobile and vulnerable, totally at the mercy of another man’s whims.

“You have the most amazing ass, Iolaus, did you know that?” Iphicles murmured, “Round and perfect.” He cupped the smooth flesh, letting his thumbs slide into the dark cleft.

Iolaus gasped, pressing back against the strong hands, seeking more intimate contact.

“What is it Aphrodite likes to call you? Sweetcheeks?” Iphicles reached for a small silver pitcher, pouring the sweet, golden nectar it contained across the hunter’s smooth cheeks, letting it pool along Iolaus’ cleft, dribble down his balls. “Or was it... Honeybuns?”

Iphicles attacked the honeyed flesh, licking and nibbling, scraping at the sticky sweetness with his teeth. “Mmmmmmm.”

Iolaus groaned, pulling at the silk sheets with his teeth as he struggled not to howl and beg for more as the King’s pointed tongue delved deep into his cleft, lapping at the honey pooling there, swiping rough licks across Iolaus’ puckered opening, sticky-sweet with honey.

Iphicles reached between Iolaus’ thighs, wrapping a tight fist around the hunter’s bobbing erection, pumping it with maddeningly slow strokes as he continued to suck and nibble at the last of the honey clinging to the hunter’s ass.

Iolaus writhed, struggling between pumping into Iphicles’ strong grip and pressing back onto his tormenting tongue. “Please,” he whimpered, lost.

Iphicles stopped licking and leaned across Iolaus’ back, whispering, “Tell me what you need Iolaus, and it’s yours.”

“I need your cock,” Iolaus whined. “Gods, Iph! Fuck me!”

“All you had to do was ask,” Iphicles grinned, “You want long and slow, or fast and hard?”

“I’ve had enough teasing. I want you in me. Now.” Iolaus moved as much as he was able, pushing back against Iphicles’ hips.

Iphicles pulled away, sitting back on his knees, arms crossed over his chest. “Iolaus,” he arched a brow at the hunter’s reflection, “You wouldn’t be giving orders to the King of Corinth, would you?”

“Iphicles, please,” Iolaus groaned, bereft at the loss of all physical contact, his entire body a throbbing mass of nerves and need.

“Please is better,” the King nodded slowly, making no move closer to the bound man.

Iolaus moaned into the bedding, then raised his head to meet Iphicles’ amused gaze in the mirror. “Your Majesty,” Iolaus gritted, “would you please, if it’s not too much trouble, take that royal cock of yours and bury it in my ass before I explode?”

“See?” Iphicles chuckled, “Was that so difficult?”

Iolaus dropped his head to the bed, raised it and dropped it again, and again, only wishing that the mattress had been firm enough that he could knock himself senseless.

Iphicles laughed outright, “Poor Iolaus, all worked up and helpless to do anything about it.” He reached for the flagon of oil he kept beside the bed. Pouring a small amount into his hand, he began smoothing it over his cock. “You know, all bound up, desperate and needy, it’s a good look for you.”

“Iph, please,” Iolaus whispered.

Satisfied with the slippery sheen of oil coating his erection, Iphicles abruptly pushed two oil-slick fingers deep into Iolaus, stretching the small pucker.

Iolaus threw his head back with a gasp, bucking against the invading fingers. “Oh Gods, yes!” he hissed.

“But this,” Iphicles continued, pulling his fingers free and replacing them with a single unrelenting thrust of his cock, “this,” he murmured watching Iolaus’ reflection as the hunter writhed on his cock, pure ecstasy written on his features, “this is a stunning look for you. This is a look you should definitely wear more often.”

Iphicles steadied Iolaus’ hips in a bruising tight grip, beginning his own hard and fast pumping rhythm, pulling almost completely free and driving back with strong, deep strokes, battering Iolaus’ prostate with every pass.

A shuddering groan rippled through Iolaus’ chest as he struggled to move, meeting Iphicles thrust for thrust, jolts of pure pleasure burning through him, building steadily higher and higher, pushing him closer and closer to the precipice.

Until a last, deep thrust pushed him over.

A guttural cry of completion was torn from Iolaus’ throat as he bucked frantically, pumping his own release across the silk sheets as he heard Iphicles groan and shudder, felt the hot jets of the King’s seed shoot inside him.

Panting, he let his head fall to rest against the bedding. He could hear Iphicles struggling to move behind him, and in moments felt the blessed freedom of his release from the leather and rope bindings that had secured him in position.

Collapsing completely to the bed, he rolled onto his back, feeling the dip of the bed as Iphicles dropped to lay beside him.

Breathing slowing to normal, Iolaus shifted slightly, savouring the ache that came of being well and truly fucked.

“Up for more cards?” Iphicles grinned, arching a brow at the hunter.

Iolaus grinned back, “Food first. I’m starving!”

Iphicles laughed, not at all surprised. “So I feed you and then you’re ready for more?”

“You bet your ass I am!”