Iolaus opened his eyes, stared up at an unfamiliar, elaborately painted ceiling, and tried to move. "Ow."

He took inventory. Bed, check. Rose-colored silk cover, white wool blankets, check. Nobody yelling "Get him," or holding a knife to his throat, check. So far, so good. He tried to turn his head and regretted it. "Ow."

"...Mmmm grmmm?" someone said from the depths of the blankets. Hercules. Check.

He checked off all his body parts and tallied the ones that didn't ache. Not many.

"Herc?"

"...Hmmm?"

"What happened? Chimera? Harpies?" He couldn't remember what the previous day had been like, or where they were, exactly, but monsters had to have been involved somehow.

The blankets moved off Iolaus' shoulders a little as Hercules surfaced.

"Sikyon. Festival of Aphrodite," Hercules mumbled, sounding sleepy, gruff, and extremely hungover.

Iolaus blinked. That would certainly explain some of those aches. Not to mention the smell of sweet oil and wine that hung faintly about the bed.

"Where are we?" Some really fancy inn, perhaps. Though he was pretty sure he didn't have the dinars for anything fancier than a haystack, and neither did Hercules.

Hercules shifted closer, and Iolaus managed to move a leaden arm and let Hercules put his head on Iolaus' shoulder. "Temple," Hercules mumbled into his armpit.

"You smell of plum wine," Iolaus said, grinning. The sweet wine of Sikyon was notorious for its deadly potency, and Hercules had no head for wine to begin with. It must have been quite a festival. Shreds of memory began to come back to him - the open temple court, dancing in the moonlight, cymbals and drums, bare breasted priestesses, Hercules' naked body shining with oil...

"Wait. We're at the temple? Aphrodite's temple?"

Hercules raised his head just enough to glare at him, hair falling into his eyes, giving him the look of a shaggy lion that had really made a night of it. "Yes."

"In the inner sanctum."

Hercules didn't even bother to say yes this time, he just glared pointedly and then let his head drop again.

"Herc. We are in your sister's bed."

"Please stop talking," Hercules muttered, and Iolaus grinned and kissed the top of his head. Surely Aphrodite wouldn't mind. She had a bed at every temple, kept ready for her and her mortal paramours.

"I just hope her priestesses don't find us here and kick us out," he said, softly.

Hercules snorted. "Are you kidding? We'll be lucky if they let us leave." The bitter note in his voice gave Iolaus pause.

He stroked Hercules' warm, bare side. "So they like us, huh?" Hercules didn't answer. Iolaus knew Hercules' silences of old. If he was embarrassed, it was probably no big deal, but if he was angry on top of that and refusing to let it out, hmm. Not so good. Angry at himself, probably. Though really, how bad could it have been? A little dancing, a little drunken fun with some of Aphrodite's finest...

Iolaus tried to remember more. Dancing, bodies slick with oil and sweat, the ululating cries of the priestesses, drumbeats, many hands stroking him. Oh. Hercules' hands underneath his bare thighs, lifting him up bodily, all that god-given strength on display, then letting him sink down again, while the priestesses pressed their breasts against his back and sides and bit his throat.

As that memory sprang into life, something else did too. He found Hercules' right hand, and guided it between his thighs. If Hercules was embarrassed, fine, but Iolaus wasn't going to let that stop him.

Hercules huffed a breath, but it sounded more like laughter than annoyance. Good. "I don't believe you. After all that--"

"Some of us don't need divine stamina," Iolaus said, giggling a little, then bit his lip as Hercules took him in his fist. "Last night was...ohh..."

"I was out of my head," Hercules said softly. "I could've--"

Iolaus gave the ceiling an exasperated look, then groaned as Hercules' gentle stroking picked up speed. "I was there. I remember. And you couldn't really hurt me. Not even if you had, oh, three whole cups of plum wine."

Hercules snorted, then slid his thumb over and around the head of Iolaus' cock, spreading slickness. Iolaus pushed into his grip. "Also? It was really, really hot."

Hercules licked at his throat, over the heat of the bruises there, then down toward his chest, while his hand slowed and then speeded again, keeping Iolaus on the brink with maddening skill until he gasped "Herc, please," and Hercules took mercy on him and let him come.

After, Iolaus drowsily watched Hercules struggle out of bed and walk into the main temple, in search of water and a washcloth.

Just as he dragged the soft silk covers over himself again, he heard a very faint giggle, and grinned. "Thanks, Dite," he whispered. "I owe you one. Just don't tell Herc you were watching, okay? He'll have fits."

Then Hercules climbed back into bed again, and Iolaus slid slowly into sleep and warmth.