"We should wrestle."

"What? Why?" 

The expression on Hercules' face couldn't have been more appalled if Iphicles had suggested fighting snake-haired Gorgons. Iphicles shrugged.  "I'm bored. We used to like wrestling when we were kids. Why not now?"

They were sitting together in Iphicles' private chambers and catching up. Except they had run out of things to talk about almost an hour ago, and Iphicles was sick of the strained silence. He thought some physical activity might work off a little tension.

Hercules rolled his eyes. "Iphicles, I always beat you when we wrestle.  That can't be fun."

"So pretend you're an everyday mortal like the rest of us and spot me. Tie one arm back or something."

Hercules peered at him as if trying to gauge his sincerity. Iphicles just stared back at him until Hercules nodded. "Okay. If that's what you want to do."

"Don't strain yourself." Iphicles poured himself another cup of wine. "I just thought it might be amusing. Everyone around here is afraid to touch me. I'm the king after all. Guess they figure they'd get executed if they hurt me." He kept his tone light and flippant.  As Hercules' face softened into a sympathetic expression, he knew he'd won. 

When he stood and started taking off his clothes, Hercules sounded alarmed. "What are you doing?"

Iphicles finished stripping down before he answered. "What? I thought we should do this right. Gymnasium style. Besides, if we oil up I'll have a better shot at winning. You won't get as good a grip on me."

It was strange how Hercules looked at anything but him. He couldn't remember Hercules having a modesty obsession. Certainly his brother had never had the exhibitionist streak that Iphicles did, but he'd never been a complete prude either. With an impatient snort Iphicles crossed the room and grabbed a bottle of oil.  He turned back towards Hercules just in time to see his brother's gaze snap back up to his face.  He raised a quizzical eyebrow.  "Well, come on. Get your clothes off so we can get oiled and I can tie you up."

Hercules cleared his throat. "Tie me up?"

"Yes. You were going to spot me an arm, remember? Are you feeling okay?  You sound like you're coming down with something."

"No! No, I'm fine."

"Well?" Iphicles gestured at Hercules' clothes. Hercules shrugged and started stripping. Iphicles smiled a little. With his clothes on, Hercules' looks were deceptive. When he took them off you realized that he was tall and lean, yes, but corded with hard muscle. He didn't have the sheer bulk in his upper body that Iphicles had, but could easily overpower him. He held out the bottle of oil and when Hercules took it he presented his back. "Okay, you do me, then I'll do you."

Iphicles waited for long moments before turning to glance over his shoulder. Hercules visibly shook himself and gestured for Iphicles to face front. Soon after, Hercules' rough hands, slick with oil, rubbed along his shoulders and back. It felt good, better than anything had in a long while. Iphicles missed the closeness of touch, the actual feeling in his nerves and muscles that told him he wasn't alone, that someone was there. He leaned into the contact and dropped his head forward so  Hercules had access to his neck muscles. He turned at Hercules' request, and sighed with real pleasure as Hercules oiled his chest with light strokes. His stomach muscles jumped as Hercules kneaded them and he smothered a laugh when Hercules skimmed over his ticklish hipbones. Finally, Hercules ran his hands down Iphicles' legs, pushing into them with deep strokes that almost left Iphicles in a puddle on the floor. 

Wordlessly, Hercules handed the bottle to Iphicles and presented his back. Iphicles wet his hands thoroughly and started in on the hard muscles of Hercules' upper body. He worked the pungent oil into Hercules' neck and along his shoulders. Hercules' skin was hot and smooth and felt so good that he didn't want to stop. Each bump of Hercules' spine got attention, and he was especially thorough with Hercules' tight ass and long legs, making sure the oil covered every inch. 

"Turn around." 

He gave Hercules' hip a shove, but Hercules quickly snatched the jar out of his hands and said, "I'll do the front." His voice was oddly strained.  "You go find something to tie my hand back with."

They ended up using pieces of cloth they cut from Iphicles' sheets. The material was strong, but soft enough that it wouldn't chafe badly.  Iphicles tied one strip to Hercules' wrist and wrapped the long end around Hercules' waist. When the right hand was secure against Hercules' side, Iphicles fell into beginning stance and waited for his brother to make the first move.

The first clash made Iphicles grin like a fool. They slipped and slid against each other, grappling for the upper hand, and Iphicles relished the feeling of movement. He laughed aloud when he evaded what was usually one of Hercules' best moves. The sitting room was in shambles in mere minutes. Their big bodies crashed and rolled, splintering furniture and knocking into walls. Iphicles knew Hercules was pulling his punches, even with the handicap, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Just like he couldn't stop his crow of delight when he pinned Hercules to the floor beneath him and held him there. He sounded like a little kid when he shouted, "I won," at the top of his lungs.

Iphicles grinned down at Hercules who blinked at him for a moment before smiling back. Savoring the victory, he sat back on his heels and tried to catch his breath, letting his body weight hold his brother down.  Hercules grimaced when he moved back, and Iphicles worried that he'd hurt him until he felt an unmistakable hardness pushing up to meet him. He froze, staring, and Hercules  turned a deep red and looked to one side.

Suddenly, all of Hercules' odd actions during the day made sense, and Iphicles couldn't believe he had been such an idiot. Obviously it had been far too long if he missed the signs that should have been as explicit as a painting on a brothel wall. Hercules wanted him. He stifled the urge to laugh. Hercules, his brother, had the hots for him. It was simply too much to take in. He just sat there, looking at Hercules with a dawning awareness, and tried to think of something to say.

With a heave and twist of his strong body Hercules threw Iphicles off and rolled to his feet. He grabbed his clothes with his free hand, muttered an "I'm sorry" and was out the door before Iphicles could gather his scattered wits. Iphicles flopped back on the floor and stared at the ceiling. Nymphs and satyrs romped around the frieze with joyous abandon, looking as disjointed and jumbled as his thoughts. The whole thing could be shrugged off. Men frequently got over-stimulated while wrestling.  Nothing to worry about. But he couldn't let it go. Not after the way Hercules had acted all afternoon. This was more than a bit of friction.  And not just on Hercules' part. The idea excited him enough to bring on an almost painful erection. 

Shaking off his thoughts, Iphicles groaned and pushed himself to his feet.  They hadn't sanded up, so he could skip the scraping, but he was sorely in need of a bath. He grabbed his long tunic from the floor and threw it on before heading to his private bathing rooms. A curt wave of his hand
dismissed the body servants and he was alone, free to sink into the warm water and relax.

All but one part of him did relax. That one part didn't seem to be able to. He always knew it could think independently of his brain. Right now it was thinking about Hercules. His cock throbbed at the memory of the look  on his brother's face when Iphicles had rubbed against him.  Embarrassment, yes but also longing so deep it was almost anguished. Iphicles' chest swelled with a deep breath and he stroked his hand over his body, starting at his throat. He smoothed his palms over his collarbone and flicked his  fingertips lightly over his nipples. They hardened, and he imagined the flat copper disks on Hercules' chest reacting the same way to his touch. He moaned a little as he slid his fingers down over his belly and sank them into the waterlogged curls at his groin.

He took his straining cock into his hands, arching into his own touch, imagining Hercules there with him, stroking him. He closed his eyes and sank back against the lip of the bathing pool, sliding one hand up and down his flesh with a firm grip. Iphicles used his other hand to tickle at his balls, then raised it again to pinch and pull his nipples. He had never thought about Hercules this way before, never even imagined he could. Now, though, the idea was rapidly turning into one of the hottest
fantasies he'd ever had.

The door crashed against the wall just as he was about to come. Iphicles' eyes snapped open, and he was shouting a command to leave him when he heard Hercules' voice. 

"Iphicles, I need to talk to you about this afternoon. I'm sorry I..."

Hercules trailed off when he saw Iphicles in the bath. Iphicles knew what he was doing was perfectly obvious when Hercules went pale, then blushed a bright crimson. Hercules started to back out of the room, stammering an apology. Iphicles surged to his feet, bathwater cascading off him in torrents.

"Wait." He put every ounce of his kingly command into his tone and, to his surprise, Hercules froze. "Come in and close the door."

Again, Hercules obeyed, stepping into the bath chamber and shutting the heavy door behind him. Hercules' gaze was focused below Iphicles' waist, staring at Iphicles' aroused cock. Iphicles motioned Hercules forward as he sank back into the bathwater. Hercules dropped onto a stool. "So, about this afternoon."

Finally Hercules was able to tear his eyes away from Iphicles' crotch and look at his face. "Yeah, I wanted to say I was sorry. It's been awhile and I just, well, you know, it was a little too much close contact."

"Really?" Iphicles curled his hand around his cock and stroked himself, spreading his legs wide and letting his hips rise in the water. "Is that all there was to it?"

Inevitably, Hercules' eyes drifted back down Iphicles' body to watch that lazily moving hand. His voice was hoarse and his cheeks were stained with a feverish flush. "Uh huh."

"I'm insulted. Here I thought you wanted me." Iphicles tightened his grip and moved his hand just a bit faster. "I mean, I never really thought about it before, but I like the idea. I like it so much that I settled for my own hand instead of a serving girl because I wanted you, not just anybody."

He watched Hercules' eyes widen at that, watched his chest heave, and it made Iphicles' balls tighten. Hercules' cock was swollen in his pants and his eyes were wide and dark. His brother made an inarticulate noise and squirmed in his seat. Iphicles stroked himself to the rhythm of Hercules' breathing and knew he was close, so close to the edge.

"Don't you want me, Hercules? I thought you did. I saw it in your face when we were wrestling. You wanted me, not some faceless body. Didn't you?"

A rough noise tore out of Hercules' throat, and Iphicles could see the tremors shaking along the length of Hercules' legs, could smell the musk and heated leather smell of Hercules' crotch. Hercules tried to speak and came out with a murmured, "Iphicles."

Iphicles continued in a choked voice. "I want you." He placed his other hand around his painfully engorged cock and lifted it like an offering.  "This is for you, little brother. All for you. I started thinking about what it would be like and it got me so hot." Iphicles was panting now, forcing the words out. "I want you to touch me. I want you on your knees with me in you. Don't you want me?"

"Yes. I want you."

The strained whisper whipped across his nerve endings, and Iphicles' body snapped into a taut arc as he came. When he revived and stopped shaking, Hercules was sagging back against the stool in the aftermath of his own orgasm. Neither of them seemed inclined to move in the wake of their astonishing climax, but Iphicles was drooping. So despite the massive yawn that split his face he heaved himself out of the pool and rubbed himself dry. 

By the time they got Hercules undressed and thoroughly cleaned, every muscle in Iphicles' body was shaking with fatigue. He felt like a steamed grape leaf. Judging from Hercules' sleepy eyes, he was just as wiped out by what had passed between them. They managed to make it back to the bedroom and Iphicles' bed before they collapsed together in a tangle of golden skin and wet hair. 

They dozed peacefully for who knew how long, then Iphicles started awake at a bark of laughter from Hercules. Iphicles yelped when Hercules rolled him onto his back and surged over him, pinning him to the mattress. He looked up into the most playful smile he had ever seen on Hercules' face, and laughed for sheer joy himself when Hercules asked, "Wanna wrestle?"