By Taz (aka Quisp)
'The strangest song I ever heard
Is what thunder says to lightning
But I never could recall a single word.*
Cruel White Water by Robert Hunter
The troop rode in after sunset and the few citizens still about had to jump lively to avoid getting run down. The riders only slowed when they reached the forecourt yard beyond the portcullis. Runners had been sent ahead with the news and guards in the Sovereign's livery came running. On top of his big bay stallion, General Iphicles motioned that only his second-in-command dismount with him and the others to stay as they were.
A leather bag hanging from his saddle nudged his horse's shoulder as the General's feet touched the ground, and the exhausted animal started to dance and pull. All of the war-horses had been hard used that day and they stamped and whickered in sympathy, their breath steaming in the cold air.
The Captain grabbed the animal's bridle and held on to it, making soothing noises. "General Iphicles," he said, "I don't think he likes the Sovereign's present."
"Pericles, I think you're right," the General agreed and unhooked the bag from the saddle-horn. He patted the bay's flank and it took to the air again. Around them men laughed. Iphicles could even see a bloody, gap-toothed smile in his captain's sweat-blacked face.
"Wait for the baggage train, Captain, and have the prisoners unloaded first." Pericles broken smile flashed again. "Then see to the wounded and tend the horses. The Sovereign will distribute spoils at his leisure so you may as well dismiss the men home for a quick leave." He held up the bag, thick drops fell from it discoloring the paving stones, and he and his captain exchanged smiles again. "I expect he'll be generous."
Pericles saluted and the General turned away and entered the palace knowing his orders would be followed.
Inside, General followed the music of flutes and drums coming from the great hall. The celebration had been in progress for some time and a few casualties of the vine were passed out on benches.
Falafel, the Sovereign's castellan was in an alcove browbeating some poor lackey and the wretch went whiter as he caught sight of Iphicles. Falafel, turning to see what could be more frightening to anyone than himself, found the only man permitted arms in the Sovereign's presence.
In his years at court, Falafel had made an art form of turning the cringe into an unctuous bow. As much as Iphicles loathed the coward, he found it sourly entertaining watching him slither by without ever being so crude as to shove the Sovereign's General out of the way.
All that crawling so that Falafel could be the one to stand in the doorway and announce, "General Iphicles—our most gracious Sovereign's War Lord has returned victorious!"
The ringing tones pierced the celebratory noise in the smoky hall and silence spread like a retreating wave that swelled again as conversation resumed. This time there was an anxious anticipatory edge to the noise and Iphicles noticed, as he walked the narrow aisle toward the dais, how some of the courtiers avoided looking at him while others stared hard as they bowed.
The merchant, Salmoneus, was assaying the garnet-inlaid hilt of the General's sword and calculating the cost of the ruined black leather that covered his thighs. Cupidity conflicted with curiosity as the little rodent's eyes slid speculatively to the bag Iphicles carried and back to the sword even as he kow-towed.
Salmoneus had probably totaled him up and sold him a long time ago and, like most of them, hoped this is the day, we'll finally see the General's charm undone. All of the others are dead; maybe tonight our mad, bad king will finally finish off the last mortal witness to his divine bastardy.
Iphicles doubted that there was one man in the herd clearing out of his path, who'd bet his balls on the chance. At the far end of the hall, he could see their lord—the Sovereign, demigod and absolute tyrant of the entire Greek peninsula slouched on a high-backed throne that would've dwarfed any other man.
From the waist up, the Sovereign was naked; at some point in the festivities, he'd removed the studded leather harness that he usually wore and his powerful shoulders and chest gleamed with sweat in the overheated room. Tawny hair, shaggy as a mane, looked as if he'd hacked it off recently with a knife.
There was a dark-haired woman sprawled across his lap and one big hand was working under her skirt. Red scratches laced his throat and chest while the flesh around his nipples was rosy and swollen. Iphicles recognized her and felt his guts twisting even as his cock stirred. Xena! The syllables of her name tasted so foul he could have spit them out. At least this dog and pony show isn't entirely for my benefit. The Sovereign's eyes were half-closed in glutted content. Herc, Iphicles thought, little brother, you're completely shameless.
Maybe the Sovereign sensed his exasperation, because he glanced up just as Iphicles approached and read his expression. Fire flashed hot between them before those shockingly pale eyes were hooded again. The wide mouth, incongruously gentle in its frame of honey-gold whiskers stretched into something that might have been a smile as Xena, aroused but clearly not yet unsatisfied, was dumped on the floor.
"Get lost," the Sovereign said, "since my General has chosen to grace us with his presence for a change, don't you think I should give him my full attention?"
Xena was seething as she picked her bruised tale off the floor but, like everyone else, she laughed as though what had just happened were a huge joke. And then she shot a look of pure malice at Iphicles.
Knowing what would piss her off the most, he let her see just how amusing he found the whole performance and made a note not to drink from any bottles he didn't open himself tonight.
The Sovereign, meanwhile, stretched his long body like a cat and smiled languorously at Iphicles, not even pretending to care when Xena stomped off. He lifted the hand that had been under her skirt with the middle finger raised and deliberately sucked it into his mouth.
There seemed to be a universal catch as people nearby held their breath. The demigod's head fell back, his eyes closed in pleasure and he slowly drew it in and out. And when he paused with his lips slightly parted and the glossy finger resting on the full lower one, he looked like a child that had fallen asleep at the teat.
Heat welled around Iphicles, focused on the demigod on the throne and himself below it. He could smell the attar of lust in the air percolating through the incense and heavy perfumes making the rank, horsy smell of his own body seem fresh. Anyone's blood on the stones could bring them off but, to these weaklings, his would be the most satisfying.
The Sovereign's tongue flicked out and just touched the tip of his finger, before he lowered it and said. "You were supposed to be here at noon, you missed my party."
The tone was a tired sulky child's, and Iphicles' cock throbbed. He could feel the anticipation behind him spike and knew they were thinking that it's exactly like the Sovereign to destroy the man at the moment of his greatest triumph.
The Sovereign's eyebrow twitched and the corner of his mouth quirked just slightly. Brat, Iphicles thought, you're really going to pump this aren't you.
He fell to his knees in an attitude of supplication and held up the bag. "Maybe this will make up for your disappointment," Iphicles offered.
His brother's eyes flew open. He said, "You brought me a gift!"
"I've picked out a special decoration for your gate," Iphicles said. He opened the bag and lifted out a human head by its cropped and matted hair. Behind him, he heard the collective breath of the crowd expelled. "We caught up with him at the river. He came thinking the Spartans were going to help him escape, but we were waiting for him."
Iphicles stood and climbed the two steps up the dais delivering the grisly object into his brother's hands. The Sovereign stared at it, his blue eyes wide as a child's who can't quite believe he's asked for and received his heart's desire. Both of them were oblivious to the clotted blood between their overlapped fingers.
"When the train gets here with the prisoners," Iphicles said, "you can have Pompey's for a matched set."
His brother looked up at him and said, "Iph, you'll spoil me."
Iphicles tensed, his body was between his brother and the crowd but a touch at that point wouldn't have been appropriate so he had to settle for asking, "What's going on, Babe?"
"We're going to finish this tonight. Stay by me and keep your eye on Agaros." His brother's voice was flat and cold as he indicated the left-hand side the throne. At that moment, the child was gone. Then in a blink, the innocent was back looking down shyly and whispering, "I was very bad while you were gone."
A cold shiver originated deep in his ass, ran down the back of Iphicles' legs and left him trembling slightly. "I know," he said just as softly. "We'll talk about it later."
He stepped aside. The Sovereign surged to his feet holding up the head, and shouting for the crowd to, "Look, General Iphicles has brought me the head of Corinth's greatest enemy." He held it at the fullest extension of his long arms, making sure the entire gathering had a good long opportunity to stare at it and Iphicles noted how few looked away. Shown blood at last, the crowd broke into wild cheers and the celebration had its climax.
"Iolaus," the Sovereign called, looking around eagerly. "Iolaus. Where's my funny little friend?" Iolaus, officially his brother's jester, was found and prodded through the crowd. Given his unofficial position as the Sovereign's bed warmer, Iolaus was one man, at least, who would be glad the General was home—if only to provide Xena with another target.
"Bring wine, the General's thirsty," his brother said and tossed the head to the jester. Iolaus trapped, as ever, between revulsion and the desire to live, juggled the slippery thing wailing 'Ai, Ai!' When he'd finally secured it, the little man stared in shock at the once handsome features of Julius Caesar. Now they were frozen in a rictus of terror that was perfectly reflected by his own and the crowd laughed.
The Sovereign returned to the throne wiping his hands on his leathers and the room settled to watch the little clown perform. A waiter and presented Iphicles with a cup of rich dark Arcadian wine. Although he took it, he didn't drink.
Understanding perfectly what was expected of him, Iolaus came to terms with it quickly. He held the head out in his left hand showing the crimson palm of his right and, speaking as though to Caesar, cheated to the audience and said, "Well, Julius, this ruddiness will be a rare sauce to your sweet wit." And, in an aside, "The truth is, I've never seen a bugger who looked so fresh. It seems someone put a sharper prick in his quiver dead, than he ever had the use of when he was alive."
The crowd, catching on, laughed as Iolaus made a string of clever, obscene puns at the expense of the late Caesar's sexual predilections. And less obviously, Iphicles noted wryly, at Iphicles'. Too clever: the little blond was going to joke himself into an early grave if he wasn't careful.
The Sovereign, twisting in his seat, threw a leg over the right armrest and snickered along with the courtiers. There was a goblet on the floor that he carelessly scooped up and began to wipe across his chest. Beneath his tan, he was flushed and the moisture condensed on the heavily chased gold must have felt cool on his heated skin. It certainly made his rose-brown nipples, erect in their nests of brown curls, look like wet jewels.
Iphicles' arm was so close to his cheek that every time Iolaus made a joke and his brother laughed he could feel the living warmth of him. Standing so close, Iphicles could look down and see the bulging studded codpiece and how the long-fingered hand curled lightly around the rim of the goblet. That hand could have crushed the heavy cup as easily as a child crumples a piece of paper but three quarters of the people in the room would still have lain as compliantly as Xena across the Sovereign's lap—drawn by the potency of that body as much as by their fear of its power.
"Did you fuck him?" the Sovereign asked, not looking up.
"I don't fuck your pets, Babe," Iphicles said. An impatient head bumped his arm.
"Liar," Hercules snorted. "Anyway, I meant Caesar."
Iphicles bent and whispered. "We all took a turn, before I cut him up. Ten of us. The Roman cunt died full of Greek spume."
The hand holding the cup jerked; wine splattered his belly before Hercules turned his head to show Iphicles the sleepy half-lidded eyes that went with his brother's sweetest smile.
Iolaus was carrying on gamely but the jokes were getting more crude and desperate. When the Sovereign lurched to his feet and interrupted him, the jester sagged in relief.
"My…friends," the Sovereign lifted his arms like a conductor, "I can't thank you enough for being here to celebrate General Iphicles' victory with me." He made circles with his fingers and the crowd cheered until he made slicing motions. "But we're tired and you've eaten all the snacks. Go home. I'm sick of the sight of you."
He signaled Falafel saying, "Food in my room." Falafel vanished.
Taking Caesar's head from Iolaus to cradle in the crook of his arm, the Sovereign stepped down from the dais and Iphicles followed closely.
No one was going to make a rush for the doors while they were still in the hall. In fact, people swarmed closer just trying to touch the demigod. They offered congratulations and proffered gifts to both of them and. a few slipped notes to Iphicles that he accepted; now and then, there was useful information in them but he knew from experience that most of them would be bribes.
Among the men pressing closest, was Lord Agaros. The Sovereign paused to ask the man curiously, "Didn't I have you killed last week?" There was silence, a few people laughed nervously. The Sovereign cocked his head, smiling at the Count.
"Wha-why would you say a thing like that, Sire?" Agaros laughed too, looking about at the people edging away from him.
"Because you've been spying for the Spartans." The Sovereign grinned. There were groans as though some had overeaten and were regretting it. "Because I've heard that it was you who arranged Caesar's escape across the isthmus." People collided with each other as they tried to back away. "Or because you walked in here tonight with a dagger under your cloak." Agaros was alone in a circle. The demigod smiled, shrugged and said, "Take your pick."
Agaros had turned the color of pot cheese. "Mercy, sire," he begged.
The Sovereign smiled wider and spread his arms as though he were about to welcome Agaros in his embrace. "No," he said.
With the expression of a man who knows he's already dead, Agaros drew the dagger and flung himself at the demigod who simply took him by the throat and lifted him off the floor to dangle. Agoras choked, sucking air, strained to look down and realize that there was a sword stuck low in his gut.
"Mercy, Agaros?" the Sovereign inquired, "Would you like me to set you down and let you go home." Let you go home to die gut stuck and slow. Agaros was brave, he knew there was no return to the question and he didn't try to answer.
Iphicles' arm was resting on his brother's hip from the pull back of the thrust. He spread his hand and, tapping the studs on the codpiece, whispered, "I'm tired, Herc." Bone cracked. Agaros had mercy, after all.
Sovereign's bedroom a fire had been kindled and candles burned in all of the sconces. Felafel must have run like the wind because there was an iced flagon, goblets, and platters of meat. Iphicles set the ewer he'd snagged with its wax seal still in place on the table too and then went over to a low chest and began shucking his sword-belt and armor.
His brother threw himself on his back across the bed with a luxurious sigh. Hercules bent one knee and held Caesar's head up pulling on the jaw to make the mouth work. "It would be a waste to leave him rotting on the gate," he said. "Can I have him tanned?"
Iphicles, watching him play, was amused. "What will you do with him them?"
His brother peeked slyly from under his eyelids making sure he had Iphicles' attention, held the head down to his crotch and pumped his hips. "I'll have them prepare Pompey's for you," he promised.
Iphicles laughed. "Put that thing down and come help me with this."
Frowning as he set the head on the nightstand, his brother got up and came behind him.
Iphicles turned to let him undo the lacing of the leather cuirass he wore and when it was open, Hercules eased it off of him and let it drop to the floor. He'd really needed help getting the under shirt over his head and heard a sharp intake of breath as it was tugged over his head. Warm hands stroked his ribs, rubbing the black bruises there, before they slipped around his waist to pull him against his brother's broad chest.
Iphicles let himself rest against the demigod's strength. Sharp teeth nipped his shoulder and a warm mouth nuzzled under his ear. He could feel studs pressing through the seat of his leathers and the muscles in his ass throbbed as his brother's hips rolled against his ass. "You should have brought him to me alive and let me rip him apart," Hercules said.
Iphicles' cock throbbed but he caught his breath, shook the hands off and went back to the table. "It was a hard campaign," he said. "My men needed the release." He helped himself to a chicken leg, poured some wine and concentrated on eating where he stood, not looking at his younger brother.
"You're mad at me," Hercules finally said.
"Brilliant!" Iphicles set the chicken leg down and turned on him. "Stop encouraging Xena."
Hercules said, "Iphicles, we agreed."
"God's in Olympus, Herc," he said and a particular emotion shaded his brother's eyes as Iphicles said his name again. "She squeals like a pig when she's mounted. How can you stand it? I know why you're doing it but she'll think she can talk you into marriage. It's the way her tiny mind works." He shook his head.
"I'll have her executed," the Sovereign offered. That was a promise and they both knew it.
As soon as he'd said it, Iphicles knew he was being ridiculous but he was tired and wanted…he looked into his goblet, took a drink and spat it on the floor. "No. You're right, we agreed—not until we find out were she keeps it." He dumped the rest of the wine back into the flagon and refilled it from the ewer that he'd brought. "The bitch never learns. She keeps trying to poison me but as long as keeps on doing the same damn thing over and over and I couldn't be safer."
"Then, someday, I'll have her executed for being stupid," Hercules said and they grinned at each other in complete understanding. Then the demigod looked down hiding his eyes. "I've missed you here," he said.
Iphicles was hard inside his leathers and began to loosen his belt. "Did you?" he said.
"Yes," Hercules said. "I was bad."
Pleased, Iphicles pulled the belt through its loops and doubled it over in one hand. There was heavy chair with a broad seat beside the table. He sat in that and stretched his legs out; he didn't speak until Hercules looked up blinking rapidly, his lower lip trembling then stretched his body further out, smiled and pointed with the belt to the floor between his legs. "Show me," he said.
Hercules fell to all fours and closed the distance between them. He threw himself between Iphicles' knees, and buried his face, butting and mewling at his brother's crotch and Iphicles threaded his hand through the long hair, gripped hard and jerked his head up. He used the looped tip of the belt to wipe away the few tears and slowly rubbed it across Hercules' lip. "Hush, now," Iphicles said, "good babies don't cry."
"Hercules is a good baby?" his brother asked.
"Hercules is a very good baby," Iphicles said, bent and kissed him. Then he let go, cuffed the tawny head lightly and stroked his hand down the powerful neck to tweak a nipple. "Take your clothes off," he ordered.
He unlaced his own pants, poured more wine and watched Hercules undress at his feet. Every few moments Herc would look up from unlacing boots and slithering out of leathers as though making sure he were still there. Iphicles' cock had stood up furiously hard and occasionally caressed himself and watched the muscles play under the younger man's skin. When his brother was naked and kneeling, Iphicles hugged him close, raking his hands up and down the broad back, and let the soft fur tickle his cock as he flexed up against him.
He used a hand to guide his brother to where he was need and when Hercules began to suck, Iphicles remembered. . .
2
They had to get the grapes picked. He figured if Herc went ahead getting the low hanging bunches and he followed, getting the ones Herc missed or couldn't reach, they could get the whole row of vines done clean and fast. His uncle, Electryon, wouldn't be able to bitch about sloppy work—and lazy, ungrateful whore's bastards.
And it was working—he was proud of himself, even if Herc was scowling at him. It wasn't that Herc was weak or lazy; he was scarily strong for such a small child. But if they had to pick the grapes he wanted to pick his own row just like Iphicles. But he was just a little kid, and he'd been sick with the runs for two days now, so Iphicles had smacked him 'til he'd gone along with the plan.
"Where'd crazy Zeus's whore go, Iph?" a jeering voice broke into his pride and a stone punched a spray of dirt up from the ground ahead of him. The stone wasn't aimed at him, as the words were, but at his seven-year old brother pulling pods off the vines just ahead of him. He could see Herc's face, pinched and white under its tan as he crouched between the bean plants, glaring at the stone thrower.
"Yeah, well your father sucks donkey dicks, Linus!" He would have liked to black Linus' eyes. He would have liked to black the eyes of all those other kids who jeered as they went by on their way to school in the village. But if he threw a stone or fought, his aunt would hear about it and there'd be no dinner for either of them. Eating raw beans from the field would make Herc sick again so he confined himself to shouting and showing a thumb between his two fingers.
Linus threw another rock before he went on his way, but he missed by a mile.
"Why'd he say that, Iph?" Herc asked. Herc had been too young to notice what people said before, but lately he had started asking questions like that and it made Iphicles mad.
"Shut up!" Iphicles yelled at him. "He's a stupid cunt and so are you." And, of course, Herc got mad and ripped one of the bean plants up.
"Stop that, you baby!" Iphicles yelled in frustration. Somebody would see it, so Iphicles dragged his basket over to where his brother was standing. "What'd you do that for?" He grabbed Hercules by the shoulders, shook him and, of course, the little jerk started to bawl so Iphicles pushed him down in the dirt. At eleven, Iphicles was getting big enough to do a man's work in the field but it was getting harder and harder to make Herc obey him. "Shut up or I'll go away and leave you here forever," he said. And he meant it.
Herc looked up at him, shocked out of crying but the brief tears had left streaks in the dirt on his face. Iphicles knelt and tried to wipe them away with the hem of his tunic. "Why'd you do that? I told you not to. I told you, when our father comes home, he'll make it all right." As he wiped he whispered to himself, he'll make them pay, you'll see. He'll make them all pay.
It was too late: Uncle Electryon had noticed that they weren't working. He came over to see why and spotted the broken plant. His uncle hauled Iphicles up by an arm and shoved him toward the half-filled basket. "Get back to work." Then he reached for Herc saying, "I warned you, you little…." Herc bit him. "Bastard!" their uncle yelped. With no more effort than a child would pick up a doll, Electryon picked Herc up began to slap him hard. Furious, Iphicles threw himself on his uncle, hitting and screaming 'mine!' Nobody had the right to hit his brother but Iphicles.
Electryon just turned and backhanded him, and then they both got a whipping. And sent to sleep in the hayloft with no supper, because someone did tell his aunt what he'd said to Linus.
Well the hayloft was fine by Iphicles. For once, there were more welts on his rump than Herc's—Electryon had used his riding crop and it still felt hot, so this was lots better than sharing a cot with a cousin who snored and wouldn't keep his hands and knees to himself.
In the house they wouldn't let him sleep with Herc, because Herc was such a baby he couldn't be counted on to stay dry all night. So, Herc had to sleep on a smelly pallet on the floor. In the morning, there would be his aunt to tell Iphicles what a dirty animal Herc was and make him wipe it up. It never happened when Herc slept with Iphicles, but his aunt wouldn't listen when he tried to tell her that, she just got angry and said Herc couldn't have any food until he learned better. Sometimes he just hated Herc.
Iphicles was hungry. He could hear Herc's stomach growling and he was actually proud that his brother hadn't said anything or cried about it. They'd gone down to the river, he'd washed himself and given Herc a bath, and now his brother was snuggled up against him with his head on Iphicles' shoulder. Iphicles rubbed his nose in the baby soft hair, all clean, he liked the little boy smell of him.
"What's a mongrel?" Herc asked and Iphicles knew he was thinking about what had happened.
"Nothing," Iphicles said. He was tired of finding answers for those questions—mongrel, bastard, cur, and lying whore's. . .
"What's our father like?" Herc asked, out of the blue, and Iphicles tried to remember.
"He's big," he said. "And handsome and he laughs a lot." That was true. "He used to let me stand on his hands, he's strong." That was true too and Iphicles shivered. "And he's brave, he's a soldier and when he comes home from the war, he'll make everything all right…" Iphicles hoped that was true.
"Will Mommy come home too?" Herc interrupted him.
"No," Iphicles said.
He didn't remember much that his mother had said the night she'd left them for the last time. Herc had been weaned for a few fretful weeks but she'd been letting him nurse that night, and Iphicles remembered her saying, 'I'm giving him to you to take care of, Iphicles.' Hercules had been a three-year old then, with solemn blue eyes who was always trying to follow him around. Iphicles hated him, because Herc was the reason people called him and his mother names.
It was no way as good as a puppy; he had looked at her sort of angry because it wasn't fair. But no one had ever given Iphicles anything for his own before so it felt good, too, in a funny way. His mother had put her arm around his shoulder and drawn him to her other breast. Instead of shoving him away, as she used to when he tried to nurse, she just kissed the top of his head and said, "I can't do it anymore and you're my big boy.'
And he'd taken care of Herc, alone in the house for weeks, before people realized that his mother wasn't coming back and then somebody told his aunt and there was talk. His uncle finally came and got them, and said he'd keep them at the farm. But he'd told Iphicles they had to earn it because their father hadn't sent any money. When the war was over Amphitryon would come home and decide what to do about them.
"What's 'whore,' Iph?" Hercules asked, beside him where they snuggled naked in the hay.
"A woman who spreads for anyone," he said. Something fluttered in his stomach when he said that. "Go to sleep."
"What's spread, Iph?" Hercules asked.
Now he knew Herc was teasing him. His brother didn't talk much, but when they were alone and he got going…Iphicles sighed.
"She lies on her back and you stick your pizzle in her and move it around. Like the goats do. You've seen that. Like Uncle Electryon does on our aunt."
Herc giggled. The loft was bright with moonlight and Iphicles could see he was playing with himself.
He remembered washing Herc in the river, looking at Herc's little balls neatly tucked up in their pleated sac, his own were dropping now. And how, when he had washed them, Herc's little pizzle had stood straight out from his skinny body the way it was now. Herc snuggled closer, he could feel the hard thing nudging his side, and Herc was still giggling because Iphicles' pizzle had gotten big and was standing straight up too. Herc was reaching for it. There were feathers in Iphicles' stomach and he didn't stop him.
Just lately he had found dark hairs sprouting at his crotch and under his arms and he was proud of that but at the same time his pizzle seemed to be a thing completely apart from him now; it had grown bigger and stuck up almost any time. His girl cousin's were always peeking at him and sniggering behind their hands. And it was like he was always hungry for something that he didn't know how to find. He groaned as his brother's small hand touched and fondled him. What Herc was doing felt so good he almost forgot to breathe. And he didn't stop Herc from climbing on top and straddling him.
Herc grabbed his pizzle and pulled it, rubbing the tip of his littler one against it, trying to mate their holes and they both laughed at that. Then Herc pushed his hips back and forth, bouncing and rubbing his little bottom on the top of Iphicles' thighs, imitating the goats.
Iphicles suddenly grabbed him, pulled him down on top, and pushed back. He could feel the warm skin of Herc's belly against his pizzle, and he could hear his own gasping breath. He didn't know what happening and he was terrified because it felt like something was braking loose inside of him. There was hot, wet stuff coming out of his pizzle. Maybe all of his blood was coming out. Herc was squirming against him, crying and Iphicles was afraid that he was dying.
Herc squirmed harder, yelling for him to let go. He collapsed and let go and Herc sat up and they could both see that it was white stuff that'd squirted out. He was panting and Herc was staring. "What's that?" his brother said, sounding scared.
But Iphicles recognized what it was. "It's okay, Herc, it's milk. You can drink it," he said. Herc looked at him like he was nuts, but he bent and lapped at the dripping tip and along the sides. Iphicles leaned up on his elbows and watched him.
"It tastes funny," Herc said, but he kept lapping until he'd got all the stuff he could.
Iphicles' pizzle was still hard. "There's more," he said. "Suck on it, Herc." Herc's little mouth closed over it and he sucked it like a baby goat would. It was the most beautiful thing Iphicles' had ever felt and when that thing happened the second time, Herc lapped that up too…
3
With his hands on either side of Hercules' head to hold him still, he fucked his brother's mouth. Bigger and thicker now than then, his cock slid easily between his brother's lips. Herc's eyes were closed in ecstasy and he was sucking hard. Iphicles looked at his bastard brother's beautiful face remembering how sweet that that first time had been.
Remembering, he came and as he did, he pulled his cock from Hercules' mouth, ignoring the heartbroken cry of loss and the searching mouth, he smeared the spurting milk over his brother's cheeks and eyelids until they were dripping with it.
When he let go, Hercules sat back on his heels and glared at him and Iphicles smiled at the furious, sulky face dripping with come. He wiped some of it off, let Herc nuzzle hungrily into his hand so the soft whiskers tickled his palm.
Hercules whimpered.
He roamed front of his brother's body, pinched the tender nipples and stroked the hard abdominal muscles. It was thrilling to feel how much power was reined in under his hand. Briefly, he made a tunnel for Hercules' cock, the rigid solidity of it filled his hand and his own cock gave another little spurt. He probed lower.
Herc spread his thighs to help him find the eggs, firm in their soft velvet sack. He rolled them between his fingers and his brother pushed his hips up toward him; Iphicles leaned over and inhaled the rich complicated musk of his brother's sex. Then he slid his hand around to the hard ass, rubbing it and then tugging. "Come here," he said.
He pulled Hercules across his lap and stroked the length of his back reaching down between his brother's ass cheeks and running a finger around the tightly puckered ring of muscle, feeling the soft pulsing beneath the skin. He reached down and found the belt he had dropped by the chair. "Where you very, very bad?" Iphicles asked, lifting his arm. Hercules nodded. Good Iphicles thought bringing his arm down.
"Hercules is a good baby," he said lifting his arm up again, "but somebody said he was very bad while I was away. He needs to be punished. Then, he can have some milk."
The rest of that summer had been wonderful despite the fieldwork. They had a secret that Iphicles thought must have been a gift from a god. It had made him proud to know how well he could take care of his brother. When it was warm they slept in the hayloft. Herc drank the milk from his cock and Iphicles played with him until the little boy fell asleep in his arms.
He grew taller, although his aunt bitched about that and the clothes, and his bones ached sometimes. The hair on his crotch and belly got thick and curly and his pizzle got heavy. He started to call it a cock like men do. Herc grew a little too and stopped wetting the bed even when they had to sleep inside.
Late one morning he was hoeing the mounds of the bean plants and his cousin ran by calling 'Iph, Iph, Amphitryon's home!' Herc was nearby pulling weeds; Iphicles dropped his hoe and ran to him.
"C'mon, Father's home! Everything's going to be all right now." Iphicles hoisted his brother up on his back and started to run toward the house, Herc almost strangling him with excitement. "Everything's going to be all right," he panted.
Everything's going to be all right. He couldn't doubt that, but he slowed down as he got close to the house because there were horses there. One of them was loaded with packs and a great hoplon shield painted with the face of Medusa was tied to it. There was a strangely familiar man standing on the porch talking to his uncle. He let Herc slip to the ground and took him by the hand.
No matter what he'd told Herc, he'd only been small the last time he'd seen his father. He remembered a laughing man who would toss him up into to the sky and, catch him in his huge hands. This man was big, heavy and broad shouldered but not as tall as Iphicles remembered. But he was handsome and smiling and the dark eyes and curling beard looked familiar even though they were shot through with gray. And so was the mouth with the old scar that went down the corner.
Amphitrion was wearing a stained linen corslet over a red tunic and the greaves on his legs were molded to look like powerful muscles. He turned to look as the boys approached and smiled.
"Iphicles?" the man said, "you're almost grown. C'mere, boy, and give your father a kiss."
Iphicles stepped foreword and clasped the brawny forearm offered him. Amphitryon smelled like the sour wood smoke of campfires and as Iphicles kissed the brown cheek, his stomach started to churn. He said, "Welcome home, Father." And because no one else had said anything, he held Herc's hand up. "Here's Herc, he doesn't remember you at all."
"Hercules, uh?" His father looked Herc but he turned and spoke to Electryon. "That must have been Alcmene's idea of a joke, she always was musical."
Herc slipped behind Iphicles and held onto his leg.
"I remember," their uncle said, "she hiked all the way to Corinth to make an offering and the Priest said it was an auspicious name. You'd almost believe her story; look at the size of his hands and feet."
"I should've beat the shit out her more often," Amphitryon laughed. "Focus's a woman's brain and gives her something to think about other than getting screwed."
"Yeah, well, Menippus will probably take him when he gets back from Corinth." Electryon said. Menippus was the blacksmith in the village. "He's offered. I almost took him up on it a couple of times; we could've used the money for the damage he's done."
"That's my money," Amphitryon said. "Whoever got him on her, if he's my wife's bastard, it's mine."
Electryon laughed uneasily and said. "Come on in and have a drink, brother, it's been seven years and Cassia's preparing a feast. I sent word to the old club, they'll all come." He looked at Iphicles. "You boys go help your aunt and, Iphicles, get your stuff together, your father's taking you home tomorrow."
Iphicles released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, they were going home, his father and uncle couldn't mean. . . Manippus had beaten his last slave to death. No one in their right mind would sell him another kid.
The men went in the house and Herc looked up at him. "He doesn't want me," he said.
"Don't be a baby. He's just not used to you," Iphicles said, feeling the old resentment at Herc for saying stupid things, he gave him a shove. "He's been away in the army. It'll be all right." You'll see.
Electryon even had a goat killed for the feast, so there was meat. And wine. All the small kids got sent to bed but they let Iphicles and his cousin stay up and serve the men. It was an honor to carry the jug around, Thereus had even given him a tip, and Pelias had told Amphitryon he was beautiful. Iphicles had blushed at the compliment and his father had gotten angry, called him over and made him sit beside him on the couch. He'd put his big hand on Iphicles' neck, occasionally shaking him affectionately.
Later Iphicles stole a piece of the goat's meat to the hayloft to share with Herc. Meat was so rare that Herc had never eaten any before, and Iphicles laughed at the look on his face when he tasted it and then started gobbling. The little boy was lying on his belly in the hay because in the afternoon, he'd broken their aunt's best platter and now his back and butt were crossed with red stripes. He hadn't been crying but he whimpered once when Iphicles touched him there.
"Why'd you break it?" Iphicles asked.
"I couldn't help it. She kicked me," Herc said "She's scared of me."
"I know," he said, too tired to say it wasn't so, because it was. Anyway, he felt weird.
Herc was licking the fat off his fingers and looking at Iphicles. "Can I have some milk?" he asked.
Iphicles' cock was really hard, it felt itchy and he was glad Herc wanted to. When Herc began to suck, Iphicles held his head and pumped into his mouth as hard as he could even though that made the baby cry. Then Iphicles made him do it again, twice, so that Herc fell asleep with Iphicles' cock still in his mouth
They went home the next day to the old house on the hill above the village. Herc riding in front of him on the packhorse with their father's heavy armor. They stopped at the tavern on the way and had to wait while Amphitryon bought wine. Their father's eyes were blood shot when he came out. The rest of the ride, Amphitryon talked about his plans to put the farm in order.
Fortunately, Amphitryon didn't seem to expect any response from either boy. Herc just watched their father with his huge eyes the entire journey and Iphicles wished that he were young enough to get away with doing the same thing. He wanted to tell his father that he had decided to be a soldier too but he couldn't say it. After waiting so long for this day, he couldn't understand why he felt so peculiar but he shivered every time he caught a whiff of that sour smoke smell of Amphitryon's and his palms were sweaty on the saddle horn. When Hercules had asked him what the horse's names were he'd been told to 'shut up!'
It was mid-afternoon when they got to the house and Amphitryon told them to take their bundles inside while he took the horses to the small paddock behind the barn.
Some of Electryon's slaves had been sent ahead and put things in order, so inside it wasn't too dirty. The pantry was stocked with cheese and beer. Alcmene's loom sat as she had left it still partially strung. After five years of neglect, insects had consumed the threads, the lead weights had fallen to the floor and been swept into a pile of debris in case someone might want to salvage them later. There was a cradle beside it.
"That was yours," Iphicles said. Herc looked at it in wonder, Iphicles pointed at the loft, and told him, "That's where I used to sleep."
The door opened and Amphitryon came in. He dropped his armor on the floor, the great shield clanging against the crested helmet. He gave Iphicles a push. "Don't stand like a stick, boy," he said, "Put your things away. We're have to talk."
Iphicles hustled Herc up the ladder to the loft. When they came down Amphitryon was sitting at the table drinking. He had taken off his sword belt and was wiping the blade with a cloth. It was a shorter blade and came to a sharper point than the long tapering swords that most of the villagers (well those few who had weapons) bore. Amphitryon saw him staring and smiled at him.
"Never seen anything like it, have you? It's called a gladius." He held it up and let the blade catch the light. "It's steel boy, harder than bronze, harder than cast iron even. I took it off a dead Roman."
"Did you kill him?" Iphicles asked. Herc came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Iphicles' leg, as he had the day before, and peeked around him at the sword.
Amphitryon nodded. "Not that it did any good, they butt-fucked us good." He shot Iphicles a sly look as he said that but Iphicles was too distracted by a new thought to notice.
"We lost!" he said appalled. "But you're home!"
"I told you, we got our butts fucked." Amphitryon said. "There are too many of them with swords like this. There's a new order in Greece, boy. This country is going to be Rome's shopping basket from now on." Amphitryon put the sword down. "Come here." They moved closer. "We're going to run the farm here again. We're going to get slaves," he said. "And we're going to make it pay."
"But I want to be a soldier," Iphicles protested.
"You're not listening, boy. Corinth doesn't need an army now. She needs men who know how to make other men work, not whining babies." Amphitryon seemed to notice Herc for the first time. With the speed of a snake he reached around Iphicles, pulled Herc up by the arm so that his toes barely reached the floor. Herc wasn't wearing anything but a skimpy tunic. Amphitryon shook him.
"I sent Alcmene word to have him exposed. But now, Manippus will give a hundred-and-fifty denars for him." Herc tried to twist out of Amphitryon's grasp.
Iphicles turned cold "You can't sell him!" he said.
"I can do anything I want with him." Amphitryon slapped at Herc in irritation and Herc struggled harder. "Sell him. Kill him."
"Mother gave him to me," Iphicles protested. He felt sick.
"Forget it." Amphitryon told him. "He's a god's bastard. Even if your mother told the truth for once in her life and Zeus' is his father, I'm not raising one of his by-blows." Amphitryon looked at Herc. "Perseus killed Creops and I'm not having it in my family."
Amphitryon was jerking Herc's arm. Herc kicked at him, Amphitryon laughed, raised his arm and Iphicles grabbed hold of it. "Don't, you don't have any right…"
Iphicles whipped his brother with the doubled belt until the beautifully sculpted cheeks of his ass turned bright right red and were beaded with tiny drops of blood. Every now and then he'd stop and reach under to feel the soft sac, the hard, hard cock and make a promise to the puckered ring of muscle with his finger. His brother's cries became hoarse and guttural but every time Iphicles stopped, he'd lift his ass higher for more punishment. Finally, when the body across his knees was trembling like an exhausted horse, Iphicles told him, "Get on the bed."
He didn't watch his brother crawl across the stones. He went to the chest where he kept the few things that he needed when he was in residence and took out a soft-rolled pack. He went to the bed, set it down, opened it and took out a phallus. Thick as three of his fingers and made of ivory with a leather grip, it gleamed with in the firelight from much oiling.
His brother was lying face down toward the foot of the bed where the posts were linked across by a strong chain. His ass looked like it was on fire. Iphicles stroked it and Hercules looked at him waiting for the next order.
"Get up on your knees," he said and the demigod obeyed. Iphicles smiling at the half-closed eyes and suffused expression, his cock was stiff in his open trousers but he lifted Hercules' chin, and presented the phallus to him instead. His brother's lips parted and Iphicles pushed it in to be gobbled and sucked. His cock bobbed with each wet sound and leaked its own tears of joy because it was so beautiful watching his brother do that.
When the phallus was wet and Hercules' ass was pushing up and down as though he were fucking the air. He took the phallus out, reached into the pack again and found the little bottle of sweet oil.
"Turn on your back and spread your knees," Iphicles said.
Hercules did and he almost came at the sight. As he climbed on the bed and knelt between his brother's legs he heard Herc say, "Need you, Iph."
"Soon, Baby," he promised. He could see the tension in his brother's thighs and knew how close he was. He let a few heavy drops of oil fall on his fingers and didn't waist time with long preparation. When he shoved the phallus into Hercules' ass, Hercules screamed and his seed fountained…
4
Iphicles grabbed hold of his father's arm. "Don't, you don't have any right to hit him."
Amphitryon turned on him. "What do you mean? I don't have any right!" He let go of Herc who scrambled under the loom, raising a cloud of dust and linters.
Grabbing Iphicles by the front of his tunic, Amphitryon twisted and pulled him close. The sour smell was sickening. He tried to get away from it but his father was holding on too tightly. "You're my son. You owe me respect. The law says I own you."
Amphitryon glared at him, but then his expression softened and he relaxed his hold a bit although he didn't let go. "You've gotten big ideas, son," he said. It almost sounded like a question. His father's voice was suddenly thick with some meaning that Iphicles couldn't figure out until Amphitryon took hold of the top of his tunic and ripped it down the front. That was all the clothing Iphicles wore too, except for a breechcloth.
His father ran a hand slowly down the front of him, as if he were checking the soundness of a horse he wanted to buy. Iphicles shivered as his nipples were stroked and he was horrified to feel himself getting hard. His father reached in and felt him, fondling his balls like dice, before taking the breechcloth down and smiling at Iphicles' erection. "I bet you think that thing makes you a man," he said, unlacing his own trousers.
Iphicles saw that his belly was matted with dark curls, and the cock he pulled out was long and thick, the color of dark wine. It was already swollen but Amphitryon stroked it few times, pulling the foreskin back and showing Iphicles the tip. He forced Iphicles to his knees, and pressed his thumb into the joint under his cheek. "Get it wet for me, boy," he said. "It's time you were broken in."
There was nothing Iphicles could do but open his mouth and swallow the thing. It smelled like piss, the odor filled his head. It tasted sweetish and it was so big that it stuffed his mouth and he gagged. He thought he was going to vomit. "You should be proud I'm your father," Amphitryon said. "Not many men could give their sons such a big bone for their first time."
"Your mouth's as sweet as a little girl's cunt," Amphitryon's said affectionately. He stroked the back of Iphicles' head. "Have you forgotten how I used to play with you?"
Iphicles struggled, wasting his strength for all the good it did him. Amphitryon ignored it holding his head pumping back and forth in his mouth, not caring at all that his son was crying or his was nose running freely because he was being choked.
Then his father pulled him to his feet, bent him over the table and held him down with one hand in the middle of his back. The sword and its scabbard fell off other side. There were fingers feeling him and then something hard was being shoved into his ass. It felt like a hot poker up inside him but he knew it was father's cock slowly penetrating him.
He cried. His father laughed. "That's right, little piggy, squeal like you used to," Amphitryon said and kept pushing.
It was raw. He was being split in half. Then something tore and a small hot trickle ran down his leg. Amphitryon grunted in satisfaction and began to move more easily inside of him, then bending over him, took hold of his hips, and began to fuck him hard.
Iphicles heard the table scrape on the floor very time the big shaft rammed in to him. He felt the matted belly slapping his ass as hot rain fell on his back. Amphitryon grunted and sweated. How long the grunting and thrusting went on until finally the strokes got shorter and faster, he couldn't tell. But finally his father gave a deep guttural moan of satisfaction and a hot flower bloomed in his gut.
He couldn't move. He just lay there, crying softly with his fathers wet body on top of him and the rough wood of the tabletop grinding into his cheek as the edge of it cut into his thighs. Eventually, Amphitryon chuckled and said something Iphicles couldn't make out as he levered himself up. When his father's cock slipped from his ass, more hot fluid ran down his legs.
He felt Amphitryon probing him with his fingers, rubbing the wetness all over his bum before he patted it the way you would a good dog. "Cracked you, didn't I?" His father sounded satisfied. "Told Electryon if he'd touched you, I'd kill him, 's good for a boy to learn from his father."
Amphitryon laughed, jerked him upright by the scruff of the neck. His father cuddled his genitals as though he owned them and pointed to a stain on the table. "Just like your mother, loving it up the ass. We're going to get along, boy."
The worst part was that Amphitryon was trying to kiss him.
Iphicles tried to stand. He thought he was going to be sick, but something flew by them and crashed on the table. "You," a furious voice said, "let go of Iph. You hurt him."
Herc had crawled out from under the loom and had another of the heavy weights in his hands. Amphitryon looked at the little boy confronting him and laughed. "You want some of this too, you misbegotten little bastard?" He took his cock, slick with bloody juice and begin to stroke it. "Come here, I'll give it to you, too."
"No!" Herc said. "You said my father was a god; you're nothing. You hurt Iph and I'm going to kill you!"
Herc threw the weight, hitting Amphitryon in the chest. As the man roared, Herc threw himself at him. Amphitryon raised his arm to smash at Herc and Iphicles caught hold of it pulling him off balance so that when the boy hit him, he went over backwards with Hercules on top, biting and scratching like a wild animal. Amphitryon tried to knock him off but Iphicles was clawing at him too and that hampered him. They rolled around on the floor with Amphitryon roaring and Iphicles screaming.
Herc didn't making any noise but he made Amphitryon bleed in a number of places until Amphitryon got up on his knees and hit him with his fist hard enough to knock him across the room. And then Amphitryon turned his attention to his son.
"You good for nothing son of a whore," Amphitryon calmly. "I'm going to give it to you 'til you understand whose cunt you are!"
It was worst beating of Iphicles' life. He hung like a kitten in his father's grasp and every time Amphitryon hit him, a white light exploded in his head. One eye swelled up and closed and he knew some of his teeth were broken; his mouth was full of blood. He was on the floor His father was turning him over and Iphicles knew it was going to happen again.
Amphitryon's hand was under him lifting his ass. "And I'm going to geld that little bastard and use him too before I sell him."
Hercules screamed and his seed fountained with every thrust as Iphicles reamed him with the ivory phallus into him. He keening his pleasure until his nerves overloaded with sensation and he begged Iphicles to stop, but Iphicles ordered him to, "take it, Baby. Spread it baby, give it all to me," and head tossing from side to side, Hercules' back arched and his cock erupted again.
Iphicles own cock pointed straight up the whole of that exquisite performance until he almost couldn't bear it any longer. He lay down beside his brother then, still working the dildo in his ass. Hercules turned his head, saw his brother's cock and tried to reach for it. He got his hand slapped but Iphicles gave him a kiss to make up for it.
"Gods, I love fucking you like this. You're so beautiful when you spread for me." Iphicles brushed a fingertip feather lightly over damp arching brows, nuzzled the moist temple. "You look like you're glowing inside with a gold light," he said. "Touch yourself now."
Iphicles pressed his face against his brother's. Hercules wrapped his hands around his still hard cock and stroked himself and Iphicles could feel the sounds that his brother made through the contact of their skulls. Hercules came for the third time and Iphicles captured the scream with his mouth.
It was happening again, Amphitryon had packed into him hard and he was still screaming from being impaled when the weight of his father's body crashed down on him. His head hit the floor and everything went black
It was black for a long time before he felt hands on him, tugging. "Iph—Iph?" Herc was yanking on him and begging, "Iph, wake up, I want some milk now."
He felt cold and lightheaded. Something stunk. When he tried to open his eyes one of them stayed glued shut and he could barely see out of the other. When he reached up, he felt a big lump on his forehead. All over his face, it hurt to touch.
"Herc?" He got up on his hands and knees. He reached for his little brother, found him and used his shoulder to support himself while he crawled a few feet. He sat down. Then saw what he'd been lying next too.
Amphitryon with the Roman sword stuck in him deep enough to piece his heart, lay sprawled grotesquely in his own piss and shit.
Iphicles wrapped his arms around Herc and scooted as far away from the body as he could. He was freezing and shaking and Herc was butting against him so Iphicles pulled him close and held him tightly because he was warm. Iphicles rocked, making a hushing sound. He didn't know why he made it; there was no one they needed to fear waking up.
"Iph." Herc was giggling. "Look I made some milk too." Iphicles could feel the wetness on his thigh.
"Good Baby," he said. "Good Baby."
When his brother came for the third time, Iphicles captured the scream with his mouth. He rolled over pulling Hercules on top and felt his cock bathed in his brother's come. Hercules spasmed again, then collapsed snuggling into his shoulder. Iphicles sighed. There was no creature as warm or cuddly to hold, as his brother when he was sated. He cradled the big body. Some ragged locks of hair were tickling his chin, when he tried to tuck them behind Herc's ear but they kept falling down. Herc laughed at him.
"Can't you get a decent hair cut when I'm not around?" Iphicles complained.
"I need you to take care of me," Hercules said. He gave Iphicles a sleepy kiss, teasing his mouth with his tongue.
"You need me on the frontier too," Iphicles told him.
The Sovereign's arms tightened around him and he growled. "I know, but sometimes I'm afraid you won't come back," he said.
"Then you'll harrow Tartarus until you find me and bring me home." Iphicles said to comfort him. His cock was still hard and he knew his brother could feel it.
When Herc started to squirm, Iphicles knew what he wanted but he didn't respond until Herc said, "Iph, you promised."
"All right," Iphicles said, knowing he couldn't hold out much longer anyway. "You've been a good baby." He rolled onto his side and his brother slipped down and sucked his cock into a voracious mouth. As his brother began to suckle, he stroked Herc's hair and said. "Good Baby." He started to come, spilling himself copiously in his brother's mouth and said, "You can have all the milk you want."
The End