"Another banquet?" Heracles rubbed his temples, the headache already brewing. "Zeus knows I'd trade a dozen golden apples for one quiet night."
He'd been avoiding Olympus since the Hera incident, preferring the earthy solitude of Libya's deserts. Tonight, the dunes breathed warmth like a sleeping giant, the air thick with the promise of storms. Distant thunder rumbled — not Zeus’s fury, but nature’s own heartbeat. Heracles trudged toward a flickering campfire, where a silhouette rose, taller than any mortal: Antaeus. The titan’s laugh boomed, raw and untamed, as he tossed an entire boar carcass onto the flames. "Son of Zeus! Come share meat and wine. Or are you still sulking over that hydra?"
Heracles grinned, tension easing. Antaeus was different — no divine scheming, just primal honesty. They’d wrestled at the Pythian Games last summer, Heracles’s first loss in decades. Antaeus had pinned him effortlessly, muscles straining like mountain roots, sweat glistening on chest hair as thick as fleece. Now, stripped to a loincloth, the Titan poured wine into a clay cup. Heracles accepted it, fingers brushing Antaeus’ calloused knuckles. A spark jolted through him — not battle-lust, but something hotter, deeper.
Antaeus’ eyes darkened, tracking Heracles’s throat as he drank. "You move like a storm," he said, voice low. "All that power ... coiled." He reached out, palm resting on Heracles’s bicep. The contact seared. Heracles didn’t pull away. Instead, he mirrored the touch, hand sliding up Antaeus’ forearm, feeling the corded strength beneath sun-warmed skin. Their breaths synced, heavy and deliberate. Thunder cracked overhead; rain began to fall, plastering hair to brows, soaking linen. Antaeus’ gaze dropped to Heracles’s mouth. "No gods here," he murmured. "No lies. Just us."
Heracles closed the gap. Their kiss wasn’t gentle — it was a collision, teeth clashing, tongues claiming. Antaeus groaned, hauling him closer, hands fisting in Heracles’s tunic. Fabric tore. Heat flared where skin met skin: chest to chest, hip to hip. The titan’s hands roamed lower, cupping the swell of his ass.
"Off," Antaeus growled against his lips. They shed the last scraps of cloth, bodies bared to the downpour. Heracles gasped as Antaeus gripped him — hard, possessive — his own arousal thick and urgent against the titan’s thigh. Lightning flashed, illuminating Antaeus’ grin: wild, triumphant. "Now," he commanded.
Heracles shoved him backward onto the sand. Antaeus landed with a thud, laughing, legs spreading wide. Rain slicked the dark hair between them, plastering curls to muscled thighs. Heracles knelt, tracing the rigid length of him with rough fingers. Antaeus hissed, hips lifting. "Tease." Heracles answered by taking him deep, throat working. The titan arched, a roar torn from him. "Gods —!" His fingers tangled in Heracles’s hair, pulling him closer. Heracles sucked hard, tasting salt and rain, feeling the pulse beneath his tongue. Antaeus trembled, muscles locked. "Enough," he gasped. "My turn."
He rolled them in one fluid motion, pinning Heracles beneath him. Sand gritted against skin. Antaeus’ hand slid down Heracles’s stomach, wrapping around his cock. A slow, deliberate stroke. Heracles bucked, cursing. Antaeus leaned close, breath hot on his ear. "Patience." His other hand pressed lower, probing.
Heracles gasped as a thick finger breached him, stretching. Antaeus worked him open, relentless, until Heracles was writhing, pleading. "Now," he choked out.
Antaeus slicked himself with spit and rain, lined up. "Look at me," he ordered. Heracles met his eyes — dark, fierce, alive — as Antaeus pushed inside. Slow. Deep. Heracles cried out, back bowing. The stretch burned, then gave way to pure, shuddering pressure. Antaeus sank home. "Yes," he breathed. "Just us."
He began to move. Long, deliberate thrusts. Sand shifted beneath them. Rain washed over Antaeus’ shoulders, dripped onto Heracles’s chest. Each stroke dragged friction through Heracles’s core, sparking heat that coiled tighter. Antaeus leaned down to lick Heracles’s shoulder, a possessive growl vibrating against wet skin. "Feel that? All mine."
Heracles wrapped his legs around Antaeus’ waist, urging him deeper. "Harder," he gasped. Antaeus obeyed, slamming into him, rhythm turning brutal. The slap of wet skin echoed the thunder overhead. Heracles arched, meeting every thrust, hands clawing at Antaeus’ back, feeling the immense muscles bunch and release beneath his fingers.
Antaeus shifted angle, grinding deeper on the pull-back. Heracles gasped, stars bursting behind his eyelids. "There!" he choked. "Gods — there!" Antaeus grinned, savage, and hit the spot again and again. Pleasure tore through Heracles, raw and electric. He reached down, gripping his own cock, stroking fiercely in time with Antaeus’ thrusts. Precome slicked his fingers, mixing with rain. Antaeus watched, eyes blazing, before capturing Heracles’s mouth in a messy, claiming kiss. Their tongues tangled. Heracles tasted rain, salt, iron from a split lip. Antaeus groaned into his mouth, hips snapping faster, driving them both toward the edge.
Heracles felt the coil inside him unravel. "Close," he gasped against Antaeus’ lips. The titan’s thrusts grew ragged, desperate.
"Come for me," Antaeus snarled. "Now." His hand clamped over Heracles’s on his cock, squeezing tight. The command, the pressure, the relentless pounding — Heracles shattered. He came with a shout, back arching off the sand, release pulsing hot and thick over their stomachs. Antaeus roared, burying himself deep one final time. Heracles felt the hot pulse deep inside as Antaeus shuddered, collapsing atop him, breaths ragged against his neck.
They collapsed in a tangle, slick and spent, rain cooling heated skin. Antaeus lifted his head, eyes fierce but soft. "Only the beginning," he promised.
Heracles traced the Titan's jawline, rough with stubble. "Your strength," he murmured. "It's... different now." The earth beneath them pulsed faintly, a low thrum against Heracles's back.
Antaeus grinned, shifting his hips. "Gaia nourishes me," he rumbled. "But this ..." His hand slid possessively down Heracles's flank. "... feeds me." His thumb brushed the place where he licked Heracles's shoulder — his mark. "You took me well, son of Zeus."
Heracles snorted, pushing damp hair from his eyes. "You weigh more than Atlas' burden." Yet he made no move to dislodge him. The rain eased to a drizzle, leaving the air thick with petrichor and musk.
Antaeus rolled partly aside, propping himself on an elbow. His gaze travelled slowly down Heracles's body — the powerful chest, the trail of dark hair below his navel, the softening curve between his thighs still gleaming with their mingled release. "You fought it," Antaeus observed, voice low. "The surrender." His finger traced the fading red marks his grip had left on Heracles's hips.
"Instinct," Heracles admitted gruffly. He met Antaeus’ eyes. "To yield feels ... unnatural." He paused, searching for the words. "Like laying down my club." The admission hung heavy, vulnerable.
Antaeus chuckled, a deep vibration Heracles felt against his ribs. "Yielded? No." He leaned close, breath warm on Heracles's ear. "You conquered. You took my cock like you take a fortress — breaching walls, claiming ground." His hand slid firmly over Heracles's abdomen, possessive. "And you made me yield." He guided Heracles's hand down between his own legs, where his cock lay heavy and half-hard against his thigh. "See? Already stirring for you again." Antaeus pressed Heracles's fingers against the thick heat. "Your victory."
Heracles's breath caught. The titan's raw honesty was disarming. He curled his fingers experimentally, feeling Antaeus pulse against his palm. A low groan escaped the titan's lips, his hips pushing subtly into the touch. Heracles watched the play of moonlight on Antaeus’ face — the clenched jaw, the flutter of eyelids. This wasn't just lust. It was a mutual claiming, fierce and undeniable. He tightened his grip, stroking slowly, deliberately. Antaeus arched into him, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. "Again?" Heracles asked, voice rough. "Let me spear you this time."
Antaeus rolled fully onto his back, legs falling open. "Show me," he commanded, eyes burning with challenge. Heracles knelt between the titan's thighs, slicking himself with their mingled seed and the last traces of rain. The air hummed with tension. He pressed against Antaeus’ entrance, felt the resistance, then pushed steadily inward.
Antaeus gasped, head thrown back, neck corded. "Gods — !" His hands flew to Heracles's hips, fingers digging in, urging him deeper. Heracles sank in fully, the tight heat overwhelming. He paused, letting Antaeus adjust, watching the ripple of muscle across his abdomen.
"Move," Antaeus gritted out, bucking upward. Heracles obeyed, pulling back almost completely before driving home. A sharp cry tore from Antaeus’ throat. He locked his ankles behind Heracles's back, pulling him impossibly deeper with each thrust. Sand sprayed beneath their shifting weight.
Heracles braced himself over Antaeus, driving into him with powerful, measured strokes. He watched the titan unravel — the desperate clutch of his hands, the sweat beading on his brow, the way his cock jerked against his stomach, leaking steadily. "Harder," Antaeus demanded, voice ragged. "Show me your storm!"
Heracles obliged. His thrusts became punishing, each one slamming Antaeus deeper into the yielding sand. The titan roared, his body bowing off the ground, fingers tearing furrows in Heracles's shoulders. Heracles felt the tightening coil in his own belly, saw Antaeus’ eyes widen with imminent release.
"Now!" Heracles snarled. He wrapped a hand around Antaeus’ thick shaft, stroking fiercely in time with his brutal rhythm. Antaeus came with a shout that echoed the vanished thunder, his sperm spurting hot over Heracles's fist and his own heaving chest. The convulsive clench around him was Heracles's undoing. He drove deep one final time, burying his cry against Antaeus’ neck as his own climax tore through him, flooding the titan's depths.
They collapsed, gasping, slick with sweat and seed. Antaeus’ hand found Heracles's nape, pulling their foreheads together. "Strength shared," he rasped, breath hot on Heracles's lips. "Not surrendered." Outside their circle of damp sand, the desert wind whispered promises of dawn.
Heracles felt the earth's slow pulse beneath them, echoing the fading thrum of his own blood. Antaeus traced the constellation of bruises blooming on Heracles's shoulder. "Your mark," Heracles murmured.
Antaeus grinned, fierce and bright. "The first of many."
Heracles shifted, sand gritting beneath his shoulder blades. The titan's immense weight was grounding, a solid anchor against the desert's vastness. He ran a hand down Antaeus’ flank, feeling the powerful muscles shift beneath sweat-slicked skin. "This desert ... it feels alive beneath you." The faint thrum he’d sensed earlier pulsed stronger now, a slow, deep vibration resonating through the sand into his own bones. "Is that Gaia?"
Antaeus nodded, his expression softening with reverence. "Always. She sustains me. But this ..." He lifted himself slightly, his gaze locking onto Heracles's. "... this fire between us? That's ours alone. A different kind of strength." He lowered himself again, his chest pressing flush against Heracles's. The contact sent a fresh wave of heat through them both, despite the cooling air. "You feel it too. That raw current."
"I feel ..." Heracles paused, searching. Words felt clumsy compared to the raw sensation coursing through him. "... claimed. And claiming." He slid a hand between them, fingers brushing the sticky mess cooling on Antaeus’ abdomen – their mingled release. He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting salt and musk and something uniquely them. Antaeus watched, his breath catching, eyes darkening with renewed hunger.
"Again?" Heracles asked, his own arousal stirring anew against Antaeus’ thigh. He didn't wait for an answer. Rolling them with a grunt of effort, he pinned the titan beneath him. Sand sprayed.
Antaeus laughed, deep and resonant, his hands immediately finding purchase on Heracles's hips, thumbs digging into the muscle. "Show me," he commanded, spreading his legs wider. "Show me the storm you hold back."
Heracles needed no further urging. He slicked himself quickly with the remnants of their passion, the friction sending sparks up his spine. Positioning himself, he pressed against Antaeus’ entrance – still loose and yielding from their recent coupling, yet offering delicious resistance. He pushed in slowly, deliberately, watching the play of moonlight and exertion on Antaeus’ face – the clench of his jaw, the flutter of his eyelids, the sharp intake of breath as Heracles sheathed himself fully.
"Gods ..." Antaeus breathed, his head falling back, exposing the strong column of his throat. His hands tightened on Heracles's hips, urging him deeper still. Heracles began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that quickly built in intensity. Each powerful thrust drove Antaeus deeper into the yielding sand, his groans mingling with the sigh of the wind. Heracles leaned down, capturing Antaeus’ mouth in a fierce kiss, swallowing his cries as their bodies moved in perfect, primal harmony, the desert itself seeming to pulse in time beneath them.
Antaeus arched beneath him, muscles straining like taut cables. "Harder," he demanded, his voice rough with need. "Claim me as yours as I have done with you!"
Heracles obeyed, his thrusts turning brutal, pistoning into the titan's yielding heat. The slap of skin echoed sharply in the cooling air, a counterpoint to their ragged breaths. Antaeus wrapped powerful legs around Heracles's waist, locking him in, driving him impossibly deeper with every movement. His hands clawed at Heracles's back, blunt nails leaving trails of fire across sweat-slicked skin.
Heracles felt the coil tightening low in his belly, a familiar pressure building toward release. He reached between them, wrapping his fist around Antaeus’ thick, straining cock. The titan roared as Heracles stroked him fiercely, in perfect rhythm with his own relentless thrusts.
"Now!" Antaeus gasped, his body bowing off the sand. "Together!"
Heracles felt the telltale clench deep inside him, the tightening grip that signaled Antaeus’ climax. He drove in one final, shattering thrust as Antaeus erupted, thick pulses of cum spilling hot over Heracles's fist and onto his own heaving abdomen. The convulsive grip around Heracles's cock was his undoing.
With a raw cry torn from his chest, Heracles buried himself deep and spilled, flooding Antaeus’ depths with his sperm as his own release pulsed through him in waves.
They collapsed, slick and trembling, breaths ragged gasps in the quiet desert dawn. Antaeus’ hand found Heracles's nape, pulling their foreheads together. Sand gritted beneath their damp skin. "Strength shared," Antaeus rasped, his fierce eyes holding Heracles's gaze. "Not surrendered."
The earth's pulse beneath them felt stronger now, a steady thrum resonating through their entwined bodies, a silent acknowledgment from Gaia herself. Heracles traced the fresh bruises blooming on Antaeus’ hips – his own marks.
Antaeus grinned, a flash of white in the growing light. "The desert remembers," he murmured. "And so do I."
Heracles shifted, sand rasping beneath his shoulder blades. The titan’s immense weight was grounding, anchoring him against the vast emptiness stretching beyond their tangled limbs. He ran a hand down Antaeus’ flank, feeling the powerful muscles shift beneath skin still slick with sweat and drying seed. "This land ... it breathes with you," Heracles observed, the deep vibration echoing faintly in his own bones. "Gaia’s gift."
Antaeus nodded, his expression softening with reverence. "Always." He lifted himself slightly, gaze locking onto Heracles’s.
Heracles reached out, fingers threading through the titan’s rain-damp hair, pulling him down. Their lips met not with the clash of battle, but with a slow, deep tenderness that startled them both. It was a surrender softer than yielding sand, a shared breath tasting of salt and exhaustion. Antaeus melted into it, his immense frame settling fully atop Heracles, pressing him deep into the cooling earth. The titan’s head nestled against Heracles’s shoulder, breath warm against his neck. Heracles wrapped his arms around the broad expanse of Antaeus’ back, feeling the powerful rise and fall of his chest, the slow thud of his heart echoing the desert’s pulse beneath them.
No words were needed. The fierce claiming had burned itself out, leaving behind a profound, bone-deep weariness and a surprising contentment. The rain had stopped completely now, leaving the air clean and cool. Moonlight silvered the dunes, casting long shadows that danced like silent sentinels around their makeshift bed.
Antaeus’ weight was immense, yet Heracles found it strangely comforting – an anchor in the vast, whispering emptiness. He traced idle patterns on the titan’s sweat-cooled skin, feeling the ridges of old scars and the powerful swell of muscle beneath his fingertips. Antaeus sighed, a deep rumble that vibrated through Heracles’s own chest, his breathing deepening, evening out.
They slept.
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