Morning came with the scent of roasting meat and the twins’ laughter outside the tent. Heracles stirred, blinking against the dawn filtering through the heavy drapes. Geryon was already awake beneath him, his fingers tangled in Heracles’ hair, his thumb brushing lazily over his lower lip. “I dreamt of you,” the king admitted, voice still thick with sleep. His hips rolled up in silent invitation, his cock already hard against Heracles’ thigh.
Heracles groaned, stretching against him like a great cat. “Prove it,” he challenged, nipping at Geryon’s jaw.
The twins chose that moment to barge in, Iolaus draped between them like a trophy, his skin still flushed from the night’s exertions. “Breakfast?” one of them offered, holding up a platter of figs and honeyed bread with a smirk.
Geryon sighed, his grip tightening on Heracles’ hip. “Later,” he growled, and Heracles laughed as the drapes were promptly yanked shut again.
The king's hands slid beneath the furs, his fingers tracing the curve of Heracles' spine with possessive intent. "Tell me," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of Heracles' ear, "how long until Eurystheus expects you back?" His teeth grazed the tendon of Heracles' neck, sharp enough to make the hero shiver.
Heracles hummed, stretching lazily beneath him. "Long enough," he promised, turning his head to catch Geryon's mouth in a slow, deep kiss. The king groaned into it, his hands roaming lower, his cock already stirring against Heracles' thigh.
Outside, the twins' laughter rose again, mingled with Iolaus' breathless protests. Geryon nipped at Heracles' lower lip, his breath hot between them. "Ignore them," he commanded, and Heracles obeyed, his fingers tangling in Geryon's hair as the king rolled them over, his weight pressing Heracles into the furs.
The scent of cedar and sex clung to their skin as Geryon's lips traced the column of Heracles' throat, his beard rough against the sensitive skin there. Heracles arched into the touch, his hands sliding down the king's back, fingers digging into the muscle as Geryon's hips rocked against his in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Geryon's teeth found the curve of Heracles' shoulder, biting down just hard enough to make the hero gasp. "Mine," he murmured against the mark, his hips rolling forward to grind their cocks together in a slick, heated slide.
Heracles groaned, his fingers tightening in Geryon's hair. "Yours," he agreed, voice rough with want, and Geryon claimed his mouth again in a kiss that tasted of possession and promise.
The king's oil-slick fingers pressed inside him without preamble, working him open with ruthless efficiency. Heracles arched into the touch, his cock leaking against his stomach. "Fuck —"
Geryon withdrew his fingers, gripping Heracles' hips as he sheathed himself in one smooth thrust. They both groaned, the stretch exquisite, the heat unbearable. Geryon's rhythm was relentless — deep, punishing strokes that had Heracles clawing at the furs beneath them, his thighs trembling around the king's waist.
Outside, the twins' laughter drifted closer — until the tent flap rustled open. Heracles barely registered their presence until one twin knelt beside them, his fingers tracing the sweat-slicked line of Heracles' spine. "Room for one more?" he murmured, his cock already hard and eager.
Geryon growled his approval, his thrusts never faltering as the twin positioned himself behind Heracles. The second breach was smoother — Heracles' body already yielding — but no less intense. The twin sank in slowly, groaning as Heracles clenched around him.
They moved in tandem, Geryon pulling out as the twin pushed in, their rhythm perfectly synchronized. Heracles gasped, oversensitive and overwhelmed, his cock twitching untouched between them.
"Look at him," Geryon rasped, his thumb brushing Heracles' lower lip. The hero's eyes were glazed, his mouth slack with pleasure.
The twin behind him chuckled, his hands gripping Heracles' hips as he quickened his pace. "Beautiful," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the nape of Heracles' neck.
Geryon leaned down, his breath hot against Heracles' ear. "Cum," he commanded, and Heracles obeyed with a shout, his sperm striping his stomach in thick pulses. The twins followed — Geryon spilling deep inside him, the twin pulling out to coat his back with sticky heat.
They collapsed in a sweaty tangle, Heracles boneless between them.
The second twin appeared, dragging Iolaus by the wrist. "Again?" he asked, grinning.
Heracles groaned — but his cock stirred anew.
Iolaus hesitated at the edge of the furs, his gaze darting between Heracles' spent form and the twins' gleaming cocks. One of them reached for him, hauling him forward by the waist. "Your turn," he murmured against Iolaus' throat, biting down hard enough to make the younger man gasp. Heracles watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Iolaus was bent over the cushions, his thighs spread wide by twin hands.
Geryon chuckled beside him, tracing a possessive finger down Heracles' flank. "Still greedy," he observed, his own cock already stiffening again against Heracles' hip. The hero grinned, rolling onto his stomach with deliberate slowness, presenting himself shamelessly. Geryon's breath hitched — then he was mounting him again, his thick length sliding home effortlessly in Heracles' well-used channel.
Across from them, Iolaus cried out as the twins took him in unison — one fucking into his mouth while the other speared him from behind. The wet sounds of their coupling filled the tent, mingling with Geryon's growls and Heracles' punched-out moans. A servant entered silently with fresh oil, his hands trembling as he poured it over Geryon's thrusting hips.
Heracles reached back blindly, grasping the servant's wrist. "Stay," he ordered — and the man dropped eagerly to his knees, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Heracles' shoulder blades between Geryon's thrusts.
The twins quickened their pace, their rhythm turning erratic as Iolaus shuddered between them. One came with a groan down his throat; the other spilled inside him, painting his walls white. Iolaus collapsed forward, panting — only for the first twin to flip him onto his back, sinking between his thighs for another round.
Geryon's hips stuttered, his fingers digging bruises into Heracles' waist. "Again," he demanded — and Heracles clenched around him, milking his release as the king roared above him. The servant's tongue swiped over Heracles' spine, lapping up the sweat and seed.
Iolaus' keening cry split the air as the twins took him harder, one pistoning into his ass while the other fucked between his thighs. His hands scrabbled for purchase, fingers twisting in the furs — until Heracles caught one wrist, hauling him closer. Their mouths crashed together, Iolaus moaning into the kiss as Heracles sucked his lip.
The servant's hands slid down Heracles' sides, hesitating at his hips. Geryon growled approval, gripping the man's hair to shove him lower. "Clean him," he ordered, and the servant obeyed eagerly, tongue delving between Heracles' cheeks to lick the mess Geryon had left behind.
One twin chuckled, rolling Iolaus onto his stomach. "Watch," he murmured, spreading Iolaus' thighs wider. The younger man gasped as twin cocks pressed against his entrance — too much, but the stretch came anyway, their synchronized thrusts punching the breath from his lungs.
Heracles groaned, his own cock twitching against Iolaus' hip. The servant's mouth moved lower, swallowing him down with practiced ease. Geryon's chuckle vibrated through Heracles' back as the king leaned over him, teeth grazing his shoulder. "Still not satisfied?"
The twins' rhythm grew erratic, their groans mingling as Iolaus writhed beneath them. One came first, spilling deep — but the other kept moving, fucking his brother's semen deeper as Iolaus sobbed into the furs.
Heracles rolled his hips into the servant's mouth, his fingers tangled in Iolaus' hair. "Almost," he warned — and the servant hollowed his cheeks, swallowing him down to the root.
Geryon's laugh was dark with promise as he pulled out, flipping Heracles onto his back. "My turn," he murmured — and took him apart all over again.
The twins dragged Iolaus upright, pressing him against Heracles' chest while Geryon spread his thighs. Heracles groaned as the king's cock stretched him wide anew, still loose from earlier but never accustomed to Geryon's girth. Iolaus shuddered against him, his spent cock twitching where it pressed against Heracles' stomach.
One twin knelt behind Iolaus, pressing slick fingers into him with ruthless efficiency. "Still tight," he observed, grinning when Iolaus whimpered. The servant watched, panting, his own erection untouched between his thighs.
Geryon's thrusts were deep and deliberate, each stroke punching a gasp from Heracles' lips. The hero arched, his hands gripping Iolaus' waist — just as the twin behind Iolaus sheathed himself in one smooth motion. Iolaus cried out, his back bowing, his fingers scrambling against Heracles' shoulders.
"Look at him," Geryon growled, snapping his hips harder. Heracles obeyed, watching Iolaus' face twist with pleasure as the twin fucked into him with sharp, shallow thrusts. The servant moaned, his fingers digging into his own thighs.
The second twin hauled the servant forward by his hair. "Take him," he ordered, guiding the man's mouth to Heracles' cock. The servant obeyed with desperate enthusiasm, swallowing him down in one smooth motion. Heracles groaned, his hips jerking upward as Geryon's pace turned punishing.
The tent filled with the wet sounds of their coupling — Geryon's ragged breaths, Iolaus' punched-out moans, the twins' dark laughter. The servant worked Heracles' cock with relentless devotion, his tongue swirling around the head with each upward stroke.
Geryon's fingers tightened on Heracles' thighs. "Cum," he commanded — and Heracles obeyed with a shout, spilling down the servant's throat. The man swallowed greedily, his lips sealed tight around him until Heracles shuddered with oversensitivity.
Geryon followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt, his release flooding Heracles' already well-used channel. The twins weren't far behind — one spilling across Iolaus' back while the other came deep inside him with a groan.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the distant crackle of the braziers.
Then Geryon chuckled, rolling onto his side and dragging Heracles with him. Heracles grinned, already feeling the familiar stir of renewed hunger beneath his skin.
The servant — still kneeling between Heracles’ thighs — leaned forward without prompting, his tongue lapping up the mingled spend dripping from the hero’s stretched rim. A shudder ran through Heracles’ body, his cock twitching against his stomach as the man moaned around the taste of him.
One of the twins chuckled, reaching down to twist his fingers in the servant’s hair. “Insatiable,” he murmured, guiding the man’s mouth lower until his lips sealed around Heracles’ softening cock. The servant sucked gently, coaxing him back to fullness with worshipful attention, his tongue circling the head in slow, teasing strokes.
Geryon watched, his palm heavy on Heracles’ thigh. “You’ll ruin him,” he mused, though his fingers tightened possessively, as if daring the servant to try.
Heracles laughed, a low, rough sound, and arched into the heat of the servant’s mouth. “Let him,” he challenged, catching Geryon’s wrist and dragging the king’s fingers to his lips. He sucked two into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around them, and Geryon’s breath hitched.
The second twin, still sheathed inside Iolaus, rolled his hips lazily, drawing a broken whimper from the younger man. “You’re all gluttons,” he teased, kissing Iolaus’ shoulder.
Outside, the sound of hooves against earth drew Geryon’s attention. He withdrew his fingers from Heracles’ mouth with a wet pop. “Your cattle,” he murmured, though his hand lingered on Heracles’ chest, thumb brushing a nipple.
Heracles groaned, torn between duty and desire — until the servant’s tongue pressed just right, and duty lost. He tangled his fingers in the man’s hair, holding him close. “Let them wait,” he decided, and Geryon’s answering grin was all teeth.
The twin behind Iolaus laughed, his thrusts turning sharp and deliberate. “Heroes,” he mused, “always so greedy.”
Heracles didn’t argue. He merely arched into the servant’s mouth and let the pleasure take him — again, and again, and again.
Geryon’s chuckle was dark with approval as he shifted behind Heracles, his fingers tracing the hero’s sweat-slicked spine. “They won’t wait forever,” he murmured, though his hips rolled lazily against Heracles’ thigh, his cock already stiffening anew. The servant moaned around Heracles’ length, his fingers digging into the hero’s hips as if he could fuse himself there permanently.
One of the twins — the one still buried inside Iolaus — smirked over his shoulder. “Let them try to take them,” he challenged, punctuating his words with a deep thrust that made Iolaus gasp. The younger man’s thighs trembled, his fingers twisted in the furs, his body limp with exhaustion and pleasure alike.
Heracles groaned, his head tipping back as the servant’s tongue swirled around his crown. “They won’t get far,” he muttered, his voice rough with amusement. Geryon’s answering grin was sharp, his teeth grazing Heracles’ shoulder as his hand slid down to grip the servant’s hair, urging him deeper.
The second twin stretched out beside them, his fingers trailing idle patterns across Iolaus’ stomach. “Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the younger man’s temple. “We’re not done with you yet.”
Outside, the distant lowing of cattle grew louder — impatient, restless. Heracles ignored it, focusing instead on the heat of the servant’s throat, the press of Geryon’s thigh against his, the twins’ murmured praise as they took Iolaus apart all over again.
Geryon’s lips brushed Heracles’ ear. “Stay,” he commanded, though it sounded more like a plea.
Heracles laughed — low, rough, victorious. “As long as you can keep me,” he challenged, and Geryon’s growl sent shivers down his spine.
The servant whimpered, his tongue lapping eagerly at Heracles’ slit. The twins chuckled in unison, their rhythm never faltering as they drove Iolaus toward another trembling climax.
And the cattle — well. They could wait.
The servant’s mouth was relentless, his tongue working Heracles’ cock with the devotion of a man starved. Geryon’s hand tightened in the man’s hair, guiding him deeper, until Heracles could feel the flutter of his throat around the head. The hero groaned, his thighs tensing, his fingers knotting in the furs beneath them.
One of the twins — the one still buried inside Iolaus — chuckled darkly. “Listen to them,” he murmured, thrusting deep enough to make Iolaus jerk. “Impatient.”
Heracles smirked, even as his breath hitched. “Let them be.” His hips rolled upward, fucking into the servant’s throat in short, sharp movements. The man gagged but didn’t pull away, his tears mixing with the sweat and spend on Heracles’ thighs.
Geryon’s lips traced the shell of Heracles’ ear. “You’re spoiling him,” he growled, though his own cock was hard against Heracles’ hip, leaking against his skin.
The second twin shifted closer, his fingers brushing Heracles’ jaw. “Open,” he commanded — and when Heracles obeyed, he slid two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. Heracles sucked instinctively, his moan muffled around the digits.
Outside, the cattle’s restless lowing grew louder, mingling with the distant shouts of Geryon’s men. No one moved.
Iolaus whimpered, his thighs shaking as the twin behind him quickened his pace. “Please —“
“Please what?” the twin teased, his fingers digging into Iolaus’ hips.
Heracles watched, his own pleasure coiling tight as Iolaus sobbed out an answer he couldn’t hear — but the twin’s grin was answer enough. He hauled Iolaus upright, pressing him back against Heracles’ chest, their sweat-slick skin sliding together.
Geryon’s teeth grazed Heracles’ shoulder. “Now,” he ordered — and the servant redoubled his efforts, his lips sealed tight around Heracles’ cock as he swallowed him down again and again.
Heracles came with a shout, his hips jerking as he spilled down the servant’s throat. The man swallowed greedily, his fingers clutching Heracles’ thighs, his own untouched cock twitching between his legs.
Geryon groaned, his release following moments later, his semen painting Heracles’ stomach in thick stripes. The twins weren’t far behind — one spilling across Iolaus’ back while the other came deep inside him with a ragged groan.
For a long moment, the only sound was their panting breaths.
Then Geryon chuckled, low and satisfied. “Breakfast?” he murmured, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Heracles’ chest.
Heracles grinned, already feeling the familiar stir of hunger — for food, for more. “Later,” he decided, and Geryon’s answering smirk promised everything.
The tent hummed with spent breath and the musk of tangled bodies. Iolaus slumped against Heracles’ chest, his thighs still twitching where the twin had withdrawn — slowly, savoring the clench of him — leaving semen to drip shamelessly down his thighs. The servant licked his lips, catching the last drops with a reverence that made Geryon chuckle darkly.
One twin stretched out beside them, his fingers tracing idle patterns across Iolaus’ ribcage. “You whimper prettier than the cattle,” he murmured, nipping at his shoulder. The other twin snorted, dragging the servant up by his hair to straddle his lap, guiding the man’s spent cock against his own slicked length.
Heracles watched, lazily palming himself back to fullness as the servant rocked between the twins’ bodies, his moans pitched high and broken. Geryon’s hand settled heavy on Heracles’ thigh, thumb rubbing circles into the muscle.
"You’re insatiable," he growled, but his own cock lay thick against his stomach, still glistening from earlier.
Heracles smirked. "Says the man with three bodies to fuck me with." Geryon guffawed.
Iolaus shivered against him, his breath hitching as one twin’s fingers dipped between his cheeks, teasing the swollen rim. "Gods — again?"
Geryon’s laugh was a rumble. "We’ve barely started." He curled a hand around the back of Heracles’ neck, dragging him into a kiss that tasted of wine and conquest. The twins moved in unison — one pressing the servant onto his hands and knees, the other rolling Iolaus beneath him, his teeth grazing the soft skin of his inner thigh.
Heracles broke the kiss, panting. "You’ll ruin him."
Geryon’s grin was all teeth. "He’ll thank us."
The servant cried out as the first twin sheathed himself to the hilt, his fingers bruising on the man’s hips. The second twin hooked Iolaus’ legs over his shoulders, his cockhead catching at his entrance — slow, deliberate, watching the way his breath hitched.
Heracles groaned, his own need pulsing hot between them. Geryon’s palm slid down his chest, callouses catching on his nipples. "Patience," he murmured, but his fingers tightened around Heracles’ cock, twisting on the upstroke just how he liked.
The twins began to move — a synchronized rhythm that had the servant sobbing into the cushions and Iolaus arching off the furs, his fingers twisting in the nearest twin’s hair.
Heracles’ laugh was ragged. The cattle could wait a little longer.
Geryon’s hands softened against his skin, his touch shifting from dominance to something deeper — a reverence that made Heracles’ breath catch. The king pressed their foreheads together, his thumbs tracing the curve of Heracles’ jaw. “One more,” he murmured, and it wasn’t a command but a plea. The twins moved with uncharacteristic gentleness, their hands guiding rather than gripping, their rhythm slow and deep. Iolaus gasped as one twin cradled his hips, angling his thrusts to stroke that sweet spot inside him with aching precision. The servant whimpered between them, his mouth worshiping Heracles’ thigh with open-mouthed kisses instead of desperate hunger.
Heracles arched into the touch, his fingers tangling in Iolaus’ hair — not to pull, but to hold. Geryon’s lips brushed his, their kiss lingering, tasting of wine and something impossibly tender. The twins’ groans were low and syrupy, their bodies moving as one, pressing into Iolaus and the servant with a rhythm that felt like a promise. When release came, it washed over them like a tide — slow, warm, leaving them breathless and clinging. Geryon nuzzled Heracles’ temple, his breath hot against his skin. “Remember this,” he whispered, and Heracles knew he would.
The sunrise painted the tent in gold when Heracles finally stirred, disentangling himself from the tangle of limbs. Iolaus groaned, his body limp with satisfaction, but he followed when Heracles tugged him upright. The servant slept soundly between the twins, his face pressed into Geryon’s thigh. The king watched them go, his smirk softer than before. “Next time,” he called, and Heracles grinned over his shoulder.
The cattle lowed impatiently as they stepped into the morning light. Heracles adjusted the strap of his chiton, his body still humming with pleasure. Iolaus hesitated, casting one last glance at the tent. Heracles clapped him on the shoulder. “Duty calls, little lion.” Iolaus sighed, but his steps were lighter as they turned toward the horizon — and the long road back to Eurystheus.
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