Page 27 of The Trickster's Heart

“Yeah, absolutely.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m counting on it.”

Hecate winked and slipped off with Aeëtes, clouds of red magic slowly appearing around the couple’s ankles until it enveloped them entirely. When it faded away, the couple was gone, leaving only Hercules and Hermes standing outside of Hecate’s home.

The silence between them was deafening; it was a living thing that threatened to suffocate them. This wasn’t the comfortable quiet they had grown used to; this was awkward. Hades’s simple offer changed everything.

Hercules was on the cusp of retrieving his immortality after nearly a decade’s worth of labor, but now, his vengeance against the gods seemed misplaced. He had no love for the Olympians, but every interaction with a god of the Underworld shifted his perceptions.

“Hercules?” Hermes broke the silence first, his voice barely a whisper. “I can show you a spare bedroom in Hecate’s home, and then I can depart.”

Hercules’s confusion vanished as he registered what Hermes was trying to say. He spun on a heel and turned to face Hermes, now full of a barely contained rage. Hermes gasped at the sight, taking one step back as Hercules advanced towards him.

Hercules growled, his entire body reverberating with it when he spoke.

“You’ll depart?”

* * *

Hermes had been on the receiving end of many vicious looks over the years. He had never seen rage like this. Hercules’s entire body was pulled taut as a bowstring, his eyes full of anger and something else… Hermes realized it was pain.

I’ve hurt him.

Hermes wasn’t able to process the meaning of it in Hercules’s eyes as the hero repeated himself.

“Are you saying you’re leaving me now?” Hercules demanded. The tone in his voice sent shivers down Hermes’s spine.

“N-no, I mean, yes,” Hermes struggled to function. His primary concern was how upset he had made Hercules.

However, it was hard to focus on anything but his own arousal when Hercules was this mad. He was still half-dressed from wrestling Aeëtes, dirt and sweat covering him and matting the hair all over his body.

“That’s not an answer,” Hercules growled, closing the gap between them. Hermes bit back a gasp. The tension was palpable, shifting from an awkward silence to a nearly unbearable heat so rapidly, it made even the quick Hermes dizzy.

“You have what you need,” Hermes forced the words out. “You know the way out of the Underworld, and Hades will give you Cerberus personally. You don’t need the messenger anymore.” Hermes hated how vulnerable and sad his words sounded, his voice cracking at the end.

The words hung between them, and Hercules didn’t respond.

“Herc—ah!” Hermes was interrupted as Hercules bent over, wrapped his arms around Hermes’s waist, and threw the god over his shoulder.

“Hercules! What the fuck!” Hermes seethed, kicking his feet in the air as Hercules straightened up and started walking towards Hecate’s house.

Another fresh thrill ran through Hermes as heat started to course through his body. Hercules moved like Hermes weighed nothing to him, and no matter how much he kicked and wiggled, Hercules carried him like a sack of grain all the way inside.

“You put me down!” Hermes squawked, suddenly self-conscious that Hercules would feel his rapidly hardening erection.

“No,” Hercules grunted in response, delivering a quick slap to Hermes’s ass.

Hercules walked past the kitchen and towards the stairs in the hallway. A fresh rush of lust boiled in Hermes’s blood as he realized Hercules was trying to find a bedroom and Hermes fought to keep a rational mind.

Hercules started advancing up the stairs, and with each step, Hermes was jostled and delicious friction made him shiver from his head to his toes.

“I mean it,” Hermes whimpered with absolutely zero conviction. Hercules scoffed in response, kicking open the first door he saw.

Hercules grunted in satisfaction upon realizing it was a bedroom and nearly threw Hermes on the blankets.

Hermes let out a little cry as he bounced, propping himself up on his elbows as he stared at Hercules. Hercules was standing at the foot of the bed, his hands braced on the edge of the mattress. He was trying to control his breathing, but it was coming out in short pants, and Hermes knew that it wasn’t from exertion.

This is the Hercules they sing songs about, Hermes realized. This is the murderous hero.

“If you don’t want this, tell me now,” Hercules seemed barely able to get the words out.

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