The characters of Iolaus and Iphicles belong to Renaissance Pictures. I am using them without permission, without profit, and without shame.

Backrub

By Rusalka


"You know, if you keep making that face, it'll get stuck that way."

"Huh?" Iphicles looked up from the petition he was reading to find Iolaus lounging decoratively in the doorway. He hadn't even heard him come in. "What face?"

"That face." Iolaus drew his eyebrows together into an exaggerated frown, wrinkled his nose, and pursed his lips. "Like this, see?"

Iphicles drew himself up and attempted an expression of wounded dignity, but found himself breaking into a smile despite his best efforts. "I don't really look like that, do I?"

"Would I lie to you?" Iolaus crossed the study in three bouncing steps, leaned forward, and planted his hands on Iphicles' desk. "You look like you just bit into a lemon."

"Hmph. If you'd just spent five hours in an uncomfortable chair, listening to Lord Titus explaining the budget to you, you'd look pretty sour too. Careful, don't knock over those scrolls, I've got them sorted."

Iolaus looked down at the seemingly random mass of papyrus that covered the desk and threatened to spill over onto the floor at any moment. "This is your idea of sorted?"

"I know where everything is," Iphicles said patiently. "And I'd like to keep it that way, if you don't mind. What are you doing here, anyway? Not that I'm not glad to see you," he added hastily, "I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"Good." Iolaus circled around the desk to stand behind Iphicles' chair. "I wanted to surprise you." He put his hands on Iphicles' shoulders and ran his thumbs lightly over the tight muscles at the base of Iphicles' neck. "Oooh, someone's a little tense today." He increased the pressure, moving his thumbs in widening circles, then repeating the motion with the heels of his hands.

"Mmmm..." Iphicles closed his eyes and leaned his head back against Iolaus' chest. "That's nice..." Iolaus' hands felt warm, and gentle despite their strength. They found every sore spot, every knotted muscle, massaging away the tension until Iphicles thought he might melt.

"I'd heard you were stuck with Titus for the most of the day." Iolaus gave a gentle push, and Iphicles obediently leaned forward and rested his arms and head on the desk. Iolaus' hands slid lower to knead between his shoulder blades. "I thought you could use a break afterwards."

Iphicles sighed and wiggled forward a bit to give Iolaus better access. A there was a rustle and a clatter as several scrolls slid to the floor. He didn't give a shit. "You're good at this," he muttered.

"Good?" Iolaus sounded mildly offended. "I'll have you know, my backrubs are famous far and wide throughout Greece. A warlord in Thrace once offered unconditional surrender if I'd just give him one. But you can't get the full experience sitting in this chair." He gave Iphicles' arm a light slap. "So let's go."

"Go?" Iphicles opened one eye. "Go where?"

"Just down the hall. There's a sitting room with a couch. I checked."

"Don't wanna move," Iphicles mumbled.

Iolaus gripped his shoulders and pulled him back up to a seated position. "Yes, you do. Trust me. You'll love it."

"I love it already," Iphicles protested, but he willed himself out of the chair and followed Iolaus to the door. He felt a small twinge of guilt at the sight of all the unanswered petitions, but it didn't last long.

The sitting room Iolaus had promised was all the way down the corridor, at the opposite end from the stairs. Iolaus practically beamed as he opened the door.

"Ta-da!"

Iphicles walked in and had to just stand there for a few moments while his eyes adjusted to the suddenly dim light. The windows in the room were shuttered and the heavy velvet curtains drawn, blocking out the daylight completely. The only light came from a single candle that sat in a silver holder on a small table near the back wall. Next to the candle was a small porcelain jar. And right next to the table was a low, backless couch with scrolled armrests, upholstered in blue brocade, with several cushions piled at one end.

It took a minute for all the details to sink in. When they did, Iphicles turned to stare at Iolaus, who was looking remarkably smug.

"You planned this."

"Oooh, brilliant insight! No wonder they made you king."

"You're pushing it, Iolaus..."

Iolaus just laughed and gave Iphicles a little shove toward the couch. "Take off your shirt and boots and lie down."

Iphicles stretched out face-down on the couch and let his arms dangle over the sides. He watched through slitted eyes as Iolaus unstoppered the porcelain jar and poured a small amount of the contents into his cupped left hand. The faint scent of almond oil permeated the air. Iolaus rubbed his palms together and climbed onto the couch to straddle Iphicles' legs. Iphicles sighed in anticipation and closed his eyes. A moment later, Iolaus' hands pressed flat against his lower back and began to slowly work their way upward.

The remains of the day's worries slipped from Iphicles' mind as the tension drained from his body. A tingling warmth spread across his skin. Even his fingertips felt relaxed. Iolaus was humming under his breath as he worked, some cheerful tune too soft to make out. He paused a couple of times to pour more oil on his hands, but did not stop for any other reason until he'd massaged every inch of Iphicles' back as well as his arms and neck. Then he scooted down to the end of the couch and worked the same magic on Iphicles' feet.

"There," he said finally, just as Iphicles was beginning to entertain thoughts of spending the rest of his life face down on that couch. "Feel better now?"

Iphicles made some vague noises intended to convey an affirmative answer, rolled over onto his back, and opened his eyes again. Iolaus sat on the armrest, still cradling Iphicles' left foot in his lap, rubbing his thumb in concentric circles over the sole. His head was bowed, and his hair fell forward in a tangle, partially hiding his face. Looking at him, Iphicles could feel the warm glow of relaxation give way to an entirely different, even more pleasant glow. He gave a slow, content smile, and rubbed his other foot against his lover's thigh, from knee to hip and back again.

"So did you go to all this trouble just to give me a backrub?"

Iolaus raised his head, grinning. "Actually, I was kinda hoping to fuck you silly, but I'll understand if you want to skip that part."

For an answer, Iphicles started to tug at the laces fastening his pants, but Iolaus slapped his hands away.

"I'll do that. You just lie there and look pretty."

Iphicles lay still while Iolaus undressed him, moving only to lift his hips to let the other man pull his pants off. Then he spread his legs apart and reached down to trail his fingers along his rapidly swelling cock.

"Pretty enough for you?"

"Oh, yeah," Iolaus sighed. He was pulling at his own trouser laces with ill-concealed urgency. "Absolutely gorgeous..."

Iphicles continued stroking himself as he watched Iolaus strip.

"You need any help with that?"

"I'm fine."

"You know, the pants come off better if you take your boots off first."

"I know that, dammit!"

"Just thought I'd mention it... are you sure you don't need any help?"

"Move, and I'll tie you to the couch."

"Oooh, I love it when you're forceful..."

"I'll keep that it mind." Iolaus finally stepped out of his pants, and snatched the jar from the table. "Now then, where were we?"

He poured a warm trickle of oil onto Iphicles' chest and began a new, infinitely more sensual massage, slowly gliding his palms over the king's torso, tracing the ridges of muscle with the blades of his hands, brushing slippery fingertips over puckered nipples. Iphicles gasped and arched into the touch, then reached up to entwine his fingers at the back of Iolaus' neck and draw him down into a kiss. Iolaus allowed himself to be drawn for a few moments before pulling away to leave a trail of kisses down Iphicles' throat and across his chest

Iphicles groaned helplessly as a warm, wet tongue caressed one nipple with teasingly light strokes while oil-slick fingers pinched and tugged at the other. He clutched the edges of the couch with both hands, but still couldn't quite keep himself from writhing. The movement brought his cock into contact with Iolaus' thigh, and the rasp of soft hair against over-sensitized flesh nearly destroyed the last remnants of his self-control.

"Ahh, gods... slow down, Iolaus, I can't-- I'm going to come--"

Iolaus lifted his head. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Iphicles put his hands on Iolaus' shoulders and tried to push him away, but his arms felt too weak and wobbly. "Not yet," he breathed. "I want you... I want you fucking me when I come..."

"Do you now?." Iolaus moved down to kneel between Iphicles' legs. "I'll think about it." He scratched his fingernails lightly against Iphicles' inner thighs.

Iphicles shuddered. "Think fast."

"A moment ago you were telling me to slow down." Iolaus slid one hand up Iphicles' leg, and used his thumb to trace the joint between thigh and hip. "You should learn to make up your mind." He bent down to circle Iphicles' navel with his tongue, carefully avoiding all contact with Iphicles' cock. The king's startled gasp turned into a deep growl of frustration.

"Iolaus!"

"What?"

"Pleeeease?"

"Patience. I'm told it's a virtue in a king."

Iphicles grit his teeth and thought about Lord Titus lecturing on inheritance taxes. That cooled him off a bit. The feel of Iolaus' tongue tracing lazy patterns on his stomach became almost bearable. The scrape of Iolaus' fingernails across his ribs was driving him only half insane. Maybe he could get through this without dying of frustration after all...

Then Iolaus rose to his knees again, slipped one hand between Iphicles' legs to cradle his balls, and rubbed the heel of his other hand along the underside of Iphicles' cock. Iphicles' breath caught in his throat and his vision blurred. He yelped and bucked his hips, nearly spilling both himself and Iolaus to the floor.

"Gods, Ioalus, please -- I can't -- please -- I have to -- pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease..."

"Well, since you put it so eloquently, I suppose I'd better." Iolaus gave a melodramatic sigh as he slipped a cushion under Iphicles' ass and held out the oil jar. "You want to do the honors?"

It took a lot of concentration, but somehow Iphicles managed to keep his hands steady as he smoothed the oil over Iolaus' cock. He circled the his thumb over the head a couple of times, and was rewarded with a shudder and a sharp intake of breath. Iphicles allowed himself a private smile of satisfaction as he lay back and drew up his knees. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one feeling desperate.

The feel of Iolaus' finger probing his ass drove all other thought from his mind. Even Lord Titus wasn't going to be any help now. Iphicles whimpered and reached up to grip the armrest above his head. Sweat beaded on his chest and trickled down his sides. Iolaus added another finger, then a third. Iphicles tensed briefly, but Iolaus held still until he relaxed, then gently moved his hand, pushing the fingers apart to stretch the tight ring of muscle. Iphicles pumped his hips, moaning softly with every thrust. This was wonderful, it was almost perfect, but he wanted more, he wanted, he needed--

Iolaus slipped his fingers out, wiggled forward until the head of his cock pressed against Iphicles' anus, and began to slowly push his way in. Iphicles closed his eyes and forced himself to lie as still as possible, to shut out everything except the feel of Iolaus' cock sliding into him. Gods, he loved this... Not just the physical sensation, overwhelming as it was, but the emotional connection of it, the knowledge of pleasure given and received, the feeling of being claimed by his lover and of claiming him in return. No one else had ever done this to him, not like this, never like this, no one else, never...

Iolaus was thrusting inside him now, long hard strokes that made both of them tremble. He was gripping Iphicles' waist hard enough to leave bruises, but Iphicles was beyond such minor considerations as pain. He let go of the armrest to stroke Iolaus' back, feeling the skin grow hot and sweat-slick beneath his touch. His breath was coming in ragged gasps. He was so close now, so close, nothing mattered. Nothing existed except for his need...

The feel of Iolaus' fingers wrapping around his cock gave Iphicles the final jolt he needed, the last straw to push him over the edge. His gasps turned into a horse, inarticulate cry and his whole body shuddered in release as his cock pulsed in Iolaus' grip. Iolaus' movements grew faster and wilder in response. His back tensed suddenly beneath Iphicles' hands, and Iphicles opened his eyes just in time to watch his lover's face as he came.

Iolaus fell forward with a sigh to rest his head on Iphicles' shoulder. Iphicles wrapped his arms around his waist and held him close as he waited for both their heartbeats to slow down.

"See," Iolaus murmured after a while, "wasn't that worth a short walk down the hall?"

"Oh, yeah. Not to mention abandoning all those petitions. And I think we've ruined the couch."

"The petitions will still be there when you get back. And I'm sure you've got another couch somewhere."

"I'm sure I've got several... Iolaus?"

"Mmm?"

"Can I have another backrub?"

The End

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