"Herc? Herc? What's the hold up? Didn't you hear what Ares said? About something bad going down on Iphicles. Will you just hurry up?"

Iolaus was exhausting frenetic energy in front of dense copse of brush, waiting impatiently for the demi-god to finish washing up in the stream on the other side. Yet another senseless dust-up with Ares had left Hercules too disheveled to appear in the palace with any sense of decorum.

"I'm ... almost ... there..." Hercules voice sounded unusually strained and breathless.

"Are you OK?"

No answer.

Thinking that maybe the demi-god had been hurt, the last drop kick Ares delivered appeared particularly brutal, Iolaus went tearing through the tight thicket.

"Oh ... my ... God!" For the first time in his life, Iolaus was rendered speechless.

"If you don't shut him up, I will." Ares snarled.

Hercules was standing, bent forward at the waist, every sinew in his powerful arms trembling with the effort of not making kindling out of the Maple tree he had braced his hands against. His supple leather vest was snagged on a tree root, bobbing gently against the stream bank. The familiar woven britches were pooled around one boot clad ankle. The large muscles in his other, naked, thigh were corded with the dual exertion of keeping him on his feet and trying to thrust him backwards simultaneously. His faded yellow undervest was pulled tight against his sweaty back. The soft material crushed into small wads at his hips by the large hands of the God of War.

"Ares ... please ..." Hercules pleaded.

Hearing Hercules beg made Iolaus feel wobbly. The realization that Hercules was not pleading for Iolaus' safety compounded the problem and he crumpled gracelessly to his knees. Which made matters worse, or better. From that perspective Iolaus had an all too clear view of Ares ruthlessly fucking the demi-god.

The God of War was fully clothed if a bit disheveled. The belted waist of his black leather pants encircled his thighs, revealing the dimples in his ass cheeks that formed with every forward lunge. With his head hung forward, unruly curls cascaded down his flushed cheeks and eclipsed his eyes. But they were open, vainly enjoying the visual feast of his own thick cock plunging violently into his half-brother's semi-divine ass.

Iolaus didn't know what to do. It obviously wasn't rape. Herc looked desperate, but in a pleasant sort of way. And what was he, a mortal, going to do against a God anyway. Especially that God. The decent thing to do, namely leaving, wasn't an option since his legs weren't working, or so he told himself. Some parts of his anatomy did seem to be fully functional. His codpiece seemed rather suddenly unreasonably tight.

Ares adjusted his grip on the delirious demi-god, grabbing the bony projections of his hips with bruising force. He slammed forward, hard enough that the impact relayed itself though Hercules taunt frame and resulted in the sound of tree bark fracturing. Arching his back, Ares snapped his head back so quickly his hair echoed the sound of a whip cracking. Guttural growling heralded his completion.

Hercules whimpered and dipped his bowed back even lower, trying to impale himself even further as Ares scalding seed filled him.

Ares rocked back on his heels and pulled up his pants. With a stinging slap to the demi-gods quivering ass, he laughed and disappeared.

With a roar of epic frustration, Hercules splintered the poor tree, burying his fingers to the knuckles. Extracting one hand from the carnage as he fell forward to his knees, he grabbed his own starving cock and pumped. Once, twice, and with the third full stroke, he grunted hoarsely as orgasm claimed him. Semen splashed across his heaving chest and coalesced in sticky globs around his balls.

While Hercules sprawled across the grass, savoring the last vestiges of pleasure, Iolaus scrambled to his feet. Anger restored his strength and he stomped over to the demi-god.

"What the hell was that? And how long has this been going on?" Iolaus glared down at the prone form of his so called, secret keeping, life-long best friend.

"Hi buddy." Hercules offered as if he didn't have some explaining to do. Recognizing the seriously aggrieved expression on Iolaus' face Hercules continued.

"That was Ares. And, umm, since the Academy give or take ..."

Iolaus gaped like a carp. Reclaiming control of his jaw, he demanded an explanation.

"So what in HADES is with you two FIGHTING all the time?!"

Hercules trailed a slow finger, sticky with Maple syrup, through the sticky semen pooling in his navel and offered a sly smile.


He lifted his hand to his mouth and tasted the mixture of his own salt and the tree's sugar.

"Sibling rivalry is sticky business."

Iolaus kicked the grinning demi-god in the ribs, hard.

"You could of told me. Fuck! You should of told me. All this time, both of your brothers, us, them. Shit! Get your ass dressed. I've got a date with a King. And bring some of that syrup. Iphicles might like it."