Writer's Block
By Emcee
The fiery sparks scattered brightly in all directions, as the god of fire pounded with his mighty hammer on the thin strap of burnished gold that would become a delicate ribbon to cinch Aphrodite’s voluptuous breasts. Nothing was too good for his adored wife.
Aphrodite lounged in an typically provocative pose on the sables that draped a claw-footed couch, absent-mindedly rubbing herself on the tawny softness of the furs while she enjoyed the sight of her husband, shining like polished bronze as the flames from the forge reflected on his well-muscled torso, now slick with sweat.

“Oooh!  Babe, you’re totally awesome when you swing your little hammer.”

Hephaestus glanced at his wife and flushed with pleasure and with hot thoughts of swinging his ‘little hammer’ in quite another way.

This picture of perfect marital bliss was rudely interrupted by the violent arrival of the god of war in a coruscating flash, a clear indication that all was not well with him.

“Dite!  I need you.  Now!”  Ares shot forward toward the vision of loveliness on the couch, totally ignoring his outraged brother.

“Ahhemm!!”  On hearing his brother’s unmistakably furious tones, Ares absentmindedly waved a hand in his direction and said without turning, “Hi, Heph, don’t let me interrupt your work; just carry on.”

Aphrodite giggled a little nervously, for darling Hephy’s face was beginning to take on a decidedly crimson hue.  Arry was so impetuous!

Plonking himself next to her, Ares sighed gustily, his coal black eyes looking soulfully into her topaz orbs, and groaned throatily in obvious distress.

‘Dite, you’re the only one who can do this for me.  Say yes, and I’ll give you anything you want.”  He thought about this a bit and quickly added a proviso.  ” Anything in my power that won’t mess up any of my on-going wars.”  You never knew with Dite, she might demand that his soldiers indulge in an orgy, instead of a nice gory battle.

“Why Arry, you are such a stud muffin, but...”  She pointed a delicately silvered nail in the direction of her husband, who was looking almost as thunderous as Ares at his most warlike.

Ares glanced at his brother in obvious puzzlement. “What’s Heph got to do with it?”

“What’s it got to do with me?”  Spluttered Hephaestus, almost gobbling with fury. “I’m her husband that’s what, and you have the gall to ask her right in front of me too.  I ought to smash this hammer in your thick, arrogant skull, you jerk.”

Ares looked both perplexed and righteously angry.  “What the fuck are you going on about, you moron?  Why shouldn’t I ask her?  She’s the goddess of love, for fuck’s sake; who could  be better than her for this?”  Ares frowned in sudden thought.  “Except Cupid, he’d do too.”

“Arry!”  Aphrodite exclaimed in outraged tones.  “He’s your baby son.”

“Sooo?”  Ares was looking really pissed off as well as puzzled now. What in Hades had got into everyone all of a sudden, anyway?

Aphrodite looked at her former lover, and father of her darling son, in outrage.  “You will not fuck your own son, you hear me I won’t let you, you-you slimeball.”

Ares shot up from the couch as if Cerberus had taken a big chunk out of his shapely butt.  “What In Zeus’ balls are you blathering about?  I have no intention of fucking Cupid, you or Hephy for that matter.”

“Then what in Tartarus do you want?”  Bellowed his brother.  Why didn’t Ares ever want him anyway?  He was a decent fuck; Hades had told him so more than once.

Ares suddenly flushed, looking somewhat embarrassed, and nervously straightened his leather vest, then mumbled, “ I need Dite to helpmewritealovestory.”

Both husband and wife looked understandably bewildered. They thought they had heard the words ‘love’ and ‘write’ coming from the war god’s mouth, but it had to be a mistake.  They had misunderstood, obviously.

“What was that you said bro’?”  Dite asked in a gentler tone of voice. Her darling Cupid was safe, and her studly brother did need her help in some way.

Ares looked even more uncomfortable, and in reaction, glared at them both, his lower lip thrust out aggressively, making him look impossibly sexy.

“I said, I need you to help me write a love story.”  His expression dared them to make something out of that.

The stunned silence that greeted this statement made Ares glare even more.  Gliding to her feet, Aphrodite approached him with a concerned look and touched her dainty hand to his flushed forehead.

“Oh, you poor babe, you must be feeling so grody.”  Ares jerked away from her, snarling in answer.

“Yeah, I’m sick all right, sick at that blond tree fucker; he’s tricked me into  this.”  Ares turned to her with a look of iron determination. “But I’ll show him; Apollo is not going to beat me on this one.  So, will you help me Dite?”

Hephaestus, now that the situation had become clear to him, was suddenly all gun-ho to help his favorite brother.  They were the underdogs in the family and always stuck up for each other.  Specially when it involved that conceited boy-wonder, who thought he was the bee’s knees, and always sneered and his own less stellar looks.

“Don’t you worry Arr, Dite will give you all the help you need. Although,”  He looked apologetically at his beloved, “Writing stuff is not really her thing you know.”  Not even if Zeus threatened to throw him off Olympus again would he admit that his beautiful wife, the light of his life, was not over endowed in the brains department.

“I’m not worried about that, I spend half the time writing instructions to my generals.  You have to explain things clearly and in precise detail, or they muck it up half of the time.  It’s the love bits that I need help with.”  Ares had calmed down somewhat, after his brother offered to help.

“Well, of course I’ll help sweetums; we’ll write a story that will make Hero and Leander or Pyramus and Thisbe  sound like dull thuds.”  Dite began to swish around, letting her scanty drapery reveal even more of her already well displayed assets.

“She’ll be a real doll, totally awesome and he’ll...”

“There’s another problem Sis.”  At her inquiring look, Ares looked even more uncomfortable and fed-up.  “It’s got to be about Herc and his blond pest.”

Dite typically latched on to the last part of his statement.

“He’s not a pest, he’s a real sweetie and...”  At this point, the rest of the sentence sunk in, and she ground to a halt, eyes round with shock.

“Oi moi!  Arr, he’s really screwed you this time hasn’t he?”  Hephaestus was disgusted with both brothers.  “How could you let him trick you into this one?  Did he get you drunk on Dionysius’ special stuff, or did some one hit you too hard on your thick head lately?”

Ares looked a little guilty at this.  He had been indulging a bit more than usual, but it was the only way he could take much of Apollo’s company without wanting to brain the superior son of a bitch.

“It was last night’s family do at Dad’s place.  Can’t stand these get togethers as you know, specially when Apollo starts making that racket that he calls music.”  A look of intense pain washed over his beautiful face as he remembered the previous evening’s torture.

“You’ve got to admit, drowning in wine is the only way to survive it without going nuts.”  Hephaestus nodded solemnly at this; he had taken similar measures on the rare occasions when he had had to endure Apollo’s little concerts.

“I get the picture: he was making his usual racket, you were grimacing like a harpy, and he decided to punish you.  What’s more, you let him. For fuck’s sake Arr, when are you going to learn not to fall for his tricks?”

Ares paced like a caged lion round the forge, absentmindedly kicking at a pile of shields that were in his way.

“I can resist his digs; it wasn’t him, it was Dad.  They cooked it up between them, I’m sure of it.  The old fart wouldn’t let me wriggle out of it when Apollo dared me.  He said I was an insensitive clod, that I couldn’t appreciate anything more refined and spiritual than a quick rut behind the bushes.” Ares sneered at this.  “ And this coming from someone who thinks nothing of turning his women into cows, so he can fuck them behind Hera’s back.”

“Oh, poor babe; the old coot’s been getting on your case again.  Come here and let Dite make it better.”  So saying, Aphrodite pressed her former lover’s head to her ample bosom, caressing his wonderfully soft black curls.

“Thanks Dite.”  Ares mumbled into the velvety skin smothering his face.

“Yes, well.”  Interposed Hephaestus, who wasn’t too happy at Dite’s generous gesture; that was were he liked to lay his head at night, and he didn’t enjoy the sight of someone else taking his place.  “The best help you can give him is to advice him on this story of his.”  He conjured up reams of parchment and several styli as well as the best quality Egyptian ink, and pointed significantly at his contributions.

Ares somewhat reluctantly lifted his head from its extremely comfortable resting place, and mentally girding up his loins, grabbed one of the sheets and stylus, dipped the sharpened point into the ink, and got ready to start composing “The lllyad: Part II”.

There was a long silence while everyone looked blankly into space. Nothing seemed to be coming in the way of inspiration.  Finally, Hephaestus, who hadn’t meant to get involved in the process at all, made a suggestion, to get the ball rolling so to speak.

“So, where’s this story going to take place?  You know--where are Herc and whatshisname going to make out?”

“Yeah, that a good place to start: the setting.”  Ares absentmindedly nibbled on the tip of the stylus while he tried to imagine two of his least favorite people getting romantic.  “How about, Herc’s just killed some monster or other, he’s covered in blood and gore, so’s Blondie. They take one look at each other, growl with lust and grabbing each other, fall on  the ground  and fuck and fuck  until they pass out. Or,”  He remembered Blondie was human and had limited strength, “Until Blondie passes out.”

Aphrodite wrinkled her cute little nose in distaste.  “Eeuww.  That’s so not romantic.”  She started pacing, avoiding all the crumpled shields that Ares has kicked around and then turned to Ares, face alight with inspiration. “How about, they’re sitting by the riverbank underneath a cherry tree in blossom, surrounded by flowers, specially yellow ones, just like Sweetcheeks’ curls, and the petals from the tree fall on Iolaus’ hair.  Then, Herc starts trying to get them off and he’s looking into Sweetcheeks’ eyes and then...What?”  She said crossly at the expressions of deep disgust, not to say nausea, on the faces of both gods.

“Come on, Dite, not even Herc could be such a wimp.”  Protested Ares, while Hephaestus nodded his agreement.  “Can’t stand the self-righteous bastard, but I’ve got to admit he’s a man’s man: he doesn’t go around smelling flowers and playing around with petals or leaves or whatever.”

Aphrodite flounced back to the couch and flung herself on the furs, provocatively, like she did everything else.  “Well, if you don’t like my suggestions, I don’t know why...”

“Hi Moms; hi Dad; hi Uncs.  Hey Mom, fancy an orgy?  I’ve set one up in Syracuse and it’s due to start in an hour or so .  Whadda you say?”

“Cupid!  Just the person I want.  Where would you get Herc and his side-kick to fuck each other?  I say after killing some monster, your mom wants some lovey dovey flower setting.”  Ares demanded in his usual forceful, don’t mess with me manner.

Cupid looked understandably confused.  Of all the questions his sire could have put to him, this had to be the least likely.  He looked at the older gods with a look of wild surmise on his boyshly handsome face.

“Your dad’s writing a love story about those two.”  At the look of utter disbelief on the winged love god’s face, Hephaestus explained further, “It’s a bet he’s made with Apollo.  We’re helping him to write it.”

Cupid looked very relieved on hearing this.  He had been afraid that his dad had lost his marbles, or maybe been switched with the Ares in the other Universe.  Cupid shuddered inwardly at that thought: A simpering Ares would have been too, too much.

“Right, well, when you put it like that, then I think those two should get together in...”  Cupid unconsciously copied his parents and started pacing up and down the forge, nimbly avoiding the shield obstacles-- rightly guessing them his dad’s handiwork.  As he turned round and walked towards the anvil, his eyes fell on Hephaestus who was swinging his mighty hammer in a thoughtful sort of way, as he also tried to think of a good setting for the deed to take place.

“Isn’t Iolaus some kind of blacksmith?”

“Now you mention it, he’s a decent craftsman; doesn’t shame me with his work.”  Hephaestus secretly liked Iolaus, but never said so in front of Ares; he didn’t want a black eye.

“Well, there you are then!”  Exclaimed Cupid triumphantly.

“There you are then what!” Growled Ares, then, following his son’s gaze, he looked at Hephaestus and understood.

The god of fire stared back, uncomfortable to be the focus of three very intent, very hot set of eyes.  He wasn’t used to getting that kind of look from any one but his wife and wasn’t sure how to take it; made him feel sort of tingly and flushed all over.

“Yeah!  That will work all right.”

“Ohh, Sweetcheeks, all hot and sweaty.  Yumm!”

“Right then, he’s in the forge, working on his sword,” Ares started scratching rapidly on the parchment sheet.  “ The flames have burnished his muscly arms...”

“And his chest, he’s got a lovely chest.”  Aphrodite looked dreamily at the image this brought to mind.

“He’s got to wear a leather apron or he’ll look more like underdone roast pig than sexy love object.”  Cupid contradicted his mom with reluctance.  He also loved the image of a bare-chested Iolaus, but he had hung around his uncle’s workshop too much to ignore the facts.

“Cupieee!  He’s got a totally awesome chest, he’s got to show it!”

Ares had an idea: “What about Herc offering to help Blondie in taking it off, then he’s in position to kiss his neck, pinch his nipples, that sort of thing?”

“Gosh Dad!  That’s a brilliant idea.  It’ll be soo hot too, with Herc being the taller.  Then he can turn Iolaus round and kiss him senseless.”

“Then, he falls on his knees and takes Sweetcheeks in his mouth and blows his mind.”  Aphrodite contributed with enthusiasm.  It would be just lovely.

Ares looked doubtful.  “Could he though?”

Aphrodite glared indignantly at her brother.  “I know you don’t like our little bro’ but he’s not a prude, he can give a good blowjob.”

“It’s not that,”  Ares retorted dismissively, “It’s a question of size.”

At Aphrodite’s even more indignant glare, he added, ” Cool it Sis, I’m sure Blondie’s cock is more than adequate; I mean that Herc might be too tall to do it on his knees.  He’ll either have to lift whatshisname up on something, or squat on all fours to do it.”  Ares gave some thought to that image and smiled evilly.  “On the other hand, that would be a greatlook for my bastard brother.  Yeah, I’ll go with that.”

Hephaestus had been silent throughout this; images of Ares helping him to remove his leather apron and doing things to him afterwards, were getting him even hotter and sweatier.  But this latest addition to the story caught his attention.

Just as Herc had become Ares in his private fantasy, he had become Iolaus, and he wanted the little man to do the fucking.  He had had this secret yearning to do his gorgeous brother for centuries, and, knowing it was never going to happen, he wanted his surrogate to at least get his ‘Ares’.

“I thought you were going to have Iolaus take Herc.  Don’t you think that would be even hotter?  Herc, on all fours, getting it from his little friend?”  He knew that image would appeal to Ares; anything that made Herc look small or ridiculous always appealed to his brother.

“Shit, I hadn’t thought of that.  Well, so much for the blow job.”  Ares growled in frustration.  He had liked the thought of his hated brother being used that way.

“Wait Dad, don’t give up on it yet.  We can have Blondie fuck his mouth, and say something like, ’Get it nice and wet lover, so I can do you nice and easy’, or words to that effect.”

“No no, he wouldn’t say that to his darling lover.  He’d be romantic and say, ’Ohh Herc, lover, don’t make me come, not yet, I want the first time to be inside you, I want to become part of you.’  Then Herc would say, ’Let me taste you my love, and get you ready for me.’  That’s like, so much hotter.”  Aphrodite looked at Ares, determined to inject some of her views into the story.

Everyone looked anxiously at Ares while he frowned mightily, playing the scene out in his mind’s eye.  Finally, his face cleared and he grinned at his sister, obviously liking her suggestion.

“Yeah, OK, we’ll play it your way; it’s supposed to be a love story after all.  Got to have some goey stuff in it.”  He scratched busily on the parchment, pink tongue peeping out as he concentrated on his magnum opus.  Hephaestus gazed at that tongue longingly, imagining how it would feel licking the sweat from his throat, his chest, his nipples...

“Right then, onto the fucking.  Blondie does Herc in the forge.”  The three males snickered at this, while Aphrodite turned her nose up in disgust.  Men! Not a romantic bone in their admittedly studly bodies.

“Iolaus can take Herc as he is, on his knees.  That way you don’t have to move them around much.”  Hephaestus was seeing his brother’s spectacular ass, high in the air, ready and eager for him.  Oi moi, he was going to come if he didn’t stop this fantasizing.

“Umm, there might be a problem.”  Cupid looked at his dad significantly and said cryptically, “Thighs.”  Ares understood straight away but his mother and uncle looked puzzled.

“Think of Herc’s legs from knee to hip-joint, and then think of Iolaus’.  See the problem?”  Hephaestus nodded with a frown.  This was a real poser.

“So?”  Asked Aphrodite, who still didn’t understand but wasn’t going to admit it; this was her field of expertise after all, no way was she going to admit ignorance.

“So we’re going to have to come up with some way to compensate for the height difference.”  Everyone but Hephaestus started pacing up and down the forge, getting in each other’s way as they tried to avoid the mangled shields.  Ares thoughtfully kicked them out of the way, sending them crushing into piles of swords and armor parts.  Hephaestus hammered away at one of the bent shields, pounding out the dents his brother had made, while he tried to imagine where else he could take his seductive brother.

“Bed’s out: takes too long to get them there; floor’s too dusty. There’s not much furniture in a forge.  Hell!  There’s nowhere.  Why the fuck did the old fart have to make that bastard mongrel so tall?”  It had always been a sore point with Ares that Hercules was two or three fingers’ breadth taller.

“How about over the anvil?”  Hephaestus was still lost in his fantasy, and the thought of Ares, bent over the anvil, legs wide open and waiting for his eager cock, was sending shivers up and down his spine.

“Won’t it be too hot or something?”  Aphrodite would have preferred a silk covered couch or soft fur rugs by the fire, but those were not available in the usual workshops humans used.  Oh well.

“How about Herc throws the leather apron on top of the anvil when he gets it off Blondie?  That way, Herc can bend over it later and the leather should protect him.”  Cupid looked at his dad, and smiled with satisfaction when he saw Ares approve his suggestion.  It wasn’t easy to get his Dad’s approval, not when he was the god of war and his son the god of love.  Not exactly the career his dad would have chosen for him. Couldn’t please both parents here.

“Now we are getting somewhere.”  But Ares frowned; he still wasn’t certain it would work, and he was a stickler for details.  Wars weren’t won by ignoring little things that could scupper the whole show.  For want of a nail and all that.

He looked measuringly at the other two gods, then, deciding he was the tallest, he swept the shield Hephaestus was working on off the anvil, and draped himself over it.  Hephaestus swallowed convulsively and tried to think of one of Apollo’s horrible tunes to try and calm himself down.  He really didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his step-son and wife.

Ares looked over his shoulders at his sister.  ”Right then Dite, stand behind me and imagine you have a cock and are trying to fuck me.”

“Ohh, babe, right now I so wish I had one.”  And looking at Ares bent over, with the leather of his pants stretching  tightly over the delicious ass, the other two gods understood perfectly.  Specially Hephaestus, who was looking decidedly hot and bothered.

Aphrodite glided over to stand  behind her sexy brother, and holding his slim thighs with her dainty hands, humped him suggestively.  “Open those legs a bit more sweetums, I’m a bit too low to reach you.”

“Cupid, I think your mom is a couple of fingers’ breadth taller than Blondie, see if we can calculate this exactly.” Ares was really obsessed with accuracy.

Cupid regarded his parents in their reversed roles and calculated the differences.  “Dad, don’t bend over so far, that’s it; bend your knees a bit, great.  Mom, keep your legs close together and aim upwards. Perfect.  Yep, that’ll work.”  Aphrodite tried a few lunges into Ares’ ass, rubbing herself on its smooth hardness.  It felt pretty good, even without a cock.

“Eh, Sis, I think you can stop now.”  Aphrodite had found that if she pressed in a certain way, then humped and rubbed in small circles, it did wonders for her own ‘cock’.

Reluctantly, she released her gorgeous hunk of a brother, and artfully draped herself on one of her husband’s iron soldiers.  It wasn’t as nice as her brother’s ass, but still gave her a hard surface to ‘work’ with.

Ares busily scratched away on the parchment, trying to get all the details down while they were hot off the anvil.  “So, who gets to come first?  Herc or Blondie?”

“Herc of course, that way he’ll squeeze his lover’s cock and make him come.”  Cupid always made his lovers come first, he got a tighter fit for his cock that way.

“Get Iolaus to come first, that way he can enjoy making Herc come for him.”  Hephaestus could see Ares gasping and begging for release as he fisted his dripping cock.  Gods!

“No, no, they come together, it’s more spiritual that way.”  Aphrodite liked to come at the same time as her lovers.  Made them feel more intimate and loving.

Ares considered each suggestion carefully; personally, he didn’t give a rat’s ass who came first as long as they came, and hard.  But this was a love story so he would have to be romantic.  Ugh!.

“Right, how about Herc starts coming first, and Blondie is so turned on by it he comes as well, so they sort of end it more or less together. We can incorporate the fisting in there too; in fact, that’s what sets Herc off.  What do you think?”

Everyone nodded their approval: after all, their respective ideas had all been accepted, and the combination Ares had cooked up really sizzled!

“OK, Iolaus slumps over Herc, and...and then, what?”  This was the hard part.  Usually, his lovers conveniently passed out so there was no need for small talk or sickly confessions of love.  Besides, the kind of lovers he went in for weren’t into the romantic stuff either. They were more the wham-bang-thank-you man (or my God Ares in his case) sort of guys.

Aphrodite abandoned her silent lover at this point.  This is where her expertise really came in. “Then Herc says how much he’s loved Sweetcheeks but never thought he would be interested.”  At the men’s look of skepticism--Herc was a hunk when all was said and done--she added, “Well, you know how modest Hercie can be.”  Ares looked nauseated, so Aphrodite hurried on, “And Sweetcheeks loves chicks, and we love him, he’s a stone cold fox, so Herc thought he wasn’t into guys.”

Ares still looked as if she had waved a ten day old mackerel under his nose, but scribbled her suggestion down anyway.

“Ok, that’s Herc; what does Blondie say to that?”

“He says he had thought it was Herc who wasn’t interested so he had looked elsewhere.”  Hephaestus thought how true that was in his case. Hades was all right but he wasn’t Ares.

Everyone thought that was a good reply, so Ares wrote it down.  Then, deciding that was enough of the goey stuff he asked, “So, how do we end it?  Another fuck?  They go off to dinner?  They fall sleep?  What?”

Everyone started pacing again, except for Hephaestus, who picked up another shield and banged away at the dents.  Hammering away on something always helped him think.

“You know Dad, that dinner idea’s not so bad.  How about Herc’s mom calling them to come and eat at this point?”

“Would they have let loose like that if she’d been around?”  Hephaestus couldn’t see Herc behaving like that with his mom likely to come in and interrupt things; somehow it just didn’t sound like him.

“Hephy’s right.  Our little bro’ just wouldn’t with mom around.”  It would never have stopped Aphrodite if her son had barged in while she was in the middle of things.  But humans--and Herc was always going on about being like them-- did things differently.

“Look, Herc comes in at the beginning to tell Iolaus the meal is ready. So, say they go off to eat the first meal of their lives as lovers, or something like that.”  Hephaestus blushed with embarrassment.  It sounded like something his wife would suggest.  But Ares positively beamed at him.  Wow.

“Yeah, that will get them out of my hair, I mean the story.  Thanks Heph”

“Why babe, that’s so cool.  You’re just full of surprises.”  Aphrodite gazed mistily at her hubby.  He was such a softie under all that awesome muscle.

Cupid was equally awed.  Who would have thought the brawny coot had it in him?  No wonder his mom stuck with him in spite of the scars.

“Ok then, that’s that.  A real family effort.  Are we good or what?” Ares, was in high fettle, his own little family had rallied round and he could thumb his nose at that snotty, caterwauling son of an old fart. Life was good.

“ Happy to be of help Dad.  Hey mom, about that orgy?”  Dad was happy, and fun awaited elsewhere.  All this talk about fucking had warmed him up for it too.

“Just coming sweetie, let me get my working clothes on.”  She waved her hand and her scanty attire became something closer to a faint suggestion of one, rather than anything that could even count as a dress.

Ares waved his hand vaguely as they disappeared in a shower of pink sparkles and little gold arrows.  He was busily putting the finishing touches to his masterpiece, for he had plans for the rest of the day and he wanted this thing taken care of.

Finally, he turned to his brother who was very conspicuously not looking in his direction, but was banging away at another shield, as if he were on some kind of deadline.

Ares sauntered towards his brother with a very intent look in his dark eyes.  Hephaestus peeked at him, then quickly looked down at the shield, which was beginning to look more like a fruit bowl.

“So, are you going to bang away all day, or are you going to take a break?”  Ares stood too near for comfort, legs apart, hands on hips, and gave his brother a look that had poor Hephaestus wandering where all the air had gone.

“Er, no, a rest sounds good.  Just let me get this apron off and I’ll get us something to drink; Dionysius gave me some of last year’s vintage, the best in ages, he said; and Demeter dropped in some sweet breads and...”  He was babbling like a callow youth on his first date.

“Let me help you take it off bro’.”  Ares was now standing close behind him, throwing the leather apron over the anvil.  His hands were now on his chest and he was...Gods, Ares, Ares...


Apollo read over his father’s shoulder with growing disbelief and annoyance.  There was no way his boor of a brother could have written this.  Not in a million years.

“He’s had help.  Ares is incapable of putting three words together, much less this.”

Zeus was gazing thoughtfully at the story his hated heir had managed to cobble together.  “Don’t underestimate your brother.  He can write very detailed and cogent plans for his wars; he’s very good at describing factual stuff.  I get copies, so I know.  What he’s not good at is visualizing emotions and the actions that follow from them.  Specially when it comes to love.”  In this he was wrong, but he was unwilling to accept his son could have any finer feelings, for then, he would have to admit his own behavior was inexcusable.

“So, what you’re saying then is that this story is just an accurate account of something he saw?”  Wow, who would have thought his boring brother Herc had it in him to be so--so passionate?

Zeus looked at his golden son in surprise: he hadn’t thought of that. Well, may be Hercules was more like his father than he was willing to admit.  Interesting.

Father and son stared at each other and thought the same thoughts, for they looked away at the same time and tried to look nonchalant.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to pay up.  I’ll go find Morpheus and arrange for Herc to dream of me playing music to him all night.  A full cycle of the moon, Ares said.  Didn’t know Herc was so fond of music, or that Ares cared.”

Zeus foresaw a lot of sleepless nights for his favorite son but said nothing.  He only let Apollo play at his parties when he knew that Ares or Hephaestus were going to be present, but he himself could very well do without it.  It wouldn’t do to say so, of course, these artistic types were a temperamental lot, and he found Apollo a very useful tool against his siblings.

“Yes, you’d better take care of it straight away or Ares will be only too happy to remind you.”

Father and son took leave of each other, ostensibly, to take care of business.  But in reality, they made a bee line for a certain demi-god and his blond companion.

The End

Title: Forging the chains of love
Author: Ares, God of War
Distribution: Olympian Archives only
Content: Not for those under 200 years, without parental consent. Summary: Hercules finds his true love.

The bloody rays of the setting sun cast long shadows over the yard between the house and workshop.  Inside, Iolaus worked on, indifferent to the failing light, hammering out the last of the dents on his trusty sword.  These were honorable marks, incurred in the defense of a small village that had had the misfortune to be in the path of a rampaging band of renegade soldiers.  This sword was an old friend, for they had seen many a battle together.  He knew the history of every scratch and scuff on its pommel and blade, mirroring the same history mapped out by the corresponding scars on his own body.

As the workshop darkened in the evening light, the flames from the forge flickered more brightly over him, turning his hair into molten gold, and burnishing his sweaty arms and shoulders into polished bronze.

As Hercules came through the doorway into the forge, Iolaus  was turning his blade this way and that, checking for any flaws in his handiwork. Now all he needed to do was to sharpen the edges and they would both be ready for the next battle.

Hercules froze where he stood, the beauty of his friend piercing him to the heart.  He was seeing him, his trusted companion and brother in arms, with new and longing eyes.

“Hi Herc, coming to tell me food’s ready?  Good, I’m just about finished here.  I can sharpen it tomorrow.”

As Iolaus struggled with the knots of his leather apron, Hercules drifted to his side, eyes riveted on his friend’s glowing locks and sapphire eyes, now shining brightly with the reflecting light from the dying flames.

“Let me help you.”  He murmured huskily.

“Thanks.  Guess I pulled too tightly on it earlier on.”

As he untied the gnarled knots, Hercules gazed down at his friend, fascinated by a rivulet of perspiration that was slowly gliding down his cheek and throat.  As one in a trance, he carelessly flung the leather apron over the anvil and slowly bent his head, powerless to resist the urge to catch the glittering drops with the tip of his tongue.  Once there, he had to taste the sweet-smelling skin, sucking hungrily on the moist flesh  at the joint of neck and throat.  His hands slid round Iolaus’ chest, petting the well muscled contours of his torso.

“H-Herc?”  Iolaus had frozen in shock, hardly daring to believe that his dreams, long put aside, were suddenly becoming real.


“Wha-What are you doing?”

“I’m kissing you.”  So saying, Hercules turned his friend around and took possession of his mouth with a hungry kiss.

Iolaus, now over his shock, responded enthusiastically, flinging his arms round Hercules’ waist, and did his best to meld their bodies together.  They stood gently swaying as they tried to make up for years of unsatisfied yearning with a never-ending kiss, consuming each other’s mouth hungrily, ignoring the burning in their chests as they run out of air.

Finally, Hercules reluctantly released Iolaus’ mouth, and nuzzled his way down his chin, throat, chest, giving quick nips and tonguing the sweat-slicked flesh.  Falling to his knees, he teased the pebbled nipples, biting gently then sucking hard while he undid the lacings of his lover’s pants.

Iolaus’ hard cock sprung free, already wet and leaking with need. Hercules got on all fours to take it into his mouth, eager to taste his lover for the first time.

“Gods, Herc, what are you doing to me?”  Iolaus moaned, desperately holding onto his control and Hercules’ shoulders as he was given the most delicious blow job, and taken to the point of no return again and again.

“Herc, Herc, stop, please stop lover.”  Hercules released him with reluctance, looking fearfully into Iolaus’ eyes, wondering if his advances were going to be rejected after all.


Correctly interpreting the look of fear in Hercules’ eyes, Iolaus gently caressed the beloved face smiling tenderly.  “It’s OK lover, I just don’t want to come, not yet; I want the first time to be inside you, I want to become part of you.  Is that all right?”

Hercules’ eyes became impossibly darker, his dilated pupils obliterating the blue of his irises.  “I’d like that, a lot.  Let me prepare you love.”  He whispered huskily.

Iolaus watched entranced as his lover licked his rigid flesh until it glistened wetly with saliva.  Holding his gaze all the while, Hercules stood up and undressed slowly and provocatively, then, smiling sexily, he turned round and bent over the leather covered anvil.  Opening his legs wide, he gazed over his shoulder at him and growled, “Now Iolaus, take me now.”

Iolaus stared at Hercules’ perfect ass, and took several gasping breaths, desperately trying to stop himself from coming at the gorgeous sight before him.  The need to be inside his lover, surround himself with his tight, hot flesh was overwhelming his thoughts.  But he retained enough sense to realize that more than saliva would be needed if this first time was going to be enjoyable for them both.

Desperately casting his eyes around, he spied the herb and olive oil unguent he kept nearby for the times when a stray spark hit his unprotected flesh.  Hastily grabbing the earthenware jar, and dipping his trembling fingers, Iolaus tentatively inserted a well lubricated finger into Hercules’ anus, then a second as it loosened.  Gods, he was so tight!  Iolaus tried not to think how it would feel to have his cock sheathed in the tight channel.  Hercules moaned softly and worked himself on the fingers fucking him.

“Please Iolaus, fuck me, fuck me now!”

He couldn’t wait any longer; parting the firm golden globes, Iolaus slid into his lover’s body, groaning in agonizing pleasure as the tight wall of muscle surrounding his thrusting cock gripped him like a vice, reluctant to let him go as he pulled out, then in, helplessly speeding up as Hercules’ cries of ecstasy drove him towards orgasm.

He snaked a hand round Hercules’ hips, which were pumping madly in rhythm with his own, and gripped the leaking, hard as steel shaft, and felt it thrust eagerly into his fist.

Suddenly, Hercules gave a mighty roar and convulsed in orgasmic ecstasy, tightening unbearably on Iolaus’ cock, dragging him along for the ride. He emptied himself over and over, pleasure washing over him for endless moments, leaving him shipwrecked over Hercules’ body, totally spent.

They rested thus, Hercules supporting his lover’s body, while their racing hearts slowed down.  Eventually, Iolaus’ spent cock slid out and hot come slowly trickled down Hercules’ thighs wringing a groan of pleasure from him.

“Gods, Herc, why have we waited so long?”  Iolaus finally mumbled against the sweat-beaded back holding him up.

Hercules sighed softly and replied, “Because it’s always been women with you, Iolaus; never thought you’d be interested in men, in me.”

“So, why today?  Why now, after all this time?”

“Don’t really know.  I saw you shining like a golden flame and something inside me broke loose.”

Iolaus’ high-pitched giggle bubbled out.  “Well, I’m sure glad it did, whatever it was.  I had given up hope long ago that you would ever want me.  All those women, yeah, they were nice, but not whom I really wanted.”

“Oh love, we’ve been such fools.”  Hercules laughed brokenly.

“Not any more.  Now you’re mine and there’s no going back.”

“No, there’s no going back.”  But his voice trembled with happiness.

Eventually, Iolaus reluctantly peeled himself off his gorgeous new love, but only for a little while: he had such plans!  Hercules slowly stood up, stretching his cramped legs.  Next time, he was going to make damn sure there was a soft horizontal surface available.  He looked at his beautiful golden lover and couldn’t resist wrapping him in a tight possessive hug.

“Love you, Iolaus.”

“Love you too, Herc.”  They looked shyly into each other’s eyes and laughed in sheer happiness.

“Let’s go eat, I’m starved.”

Hercules chuckled at this.  “Iolaus, you’re always hungry.”  Iolaus grinned cheekily.  “Well, can you blame me?  I’ve been working hard on my sword.”  He paused, then added slyly, “Both of them.”

Hercules blushed, then kissed his lover’s laughing mouth.  Life was going to be even more full of puns than before.  But he could bear it, yes, he could definitely bear it.

Then, not bothering to get dressed, they walked out of the forge, arms around each other, bound closely together with unbreakable chains of friendship and love.

The End