Baths.
Sometimes
they were really hot and you had to slide into them carefully,
sweating
with the steam, toasting every part of an aching body. And then
there
were the cold ones, stiff and bracing, good to make the extremities
sing
with blood and remind yourself that you were still safe and alive.
Springs
were good, with a gentle current to wash away the cobwebs,
floating
on your back with sunlight dappling the water. But the best
thing,
better than all of that, was a good chunk of soap and the glorious
feeling
of being clean.
Autolycus
sniffed an armpit, cautiously, nose wrinkled in anticipation of
the
horrors to come. Frankly, he stank. But the upside was that no one had
even
suspected his disguise, at least as far as he could tell. Dragging
his
nose out of his armpit, Autolycus tried not to look shifty as he
catalogued
the room, its obvious and more hidden entry-points, places of
concealment,
and godawful décor. Goddess-awful, actually, since this was
the
Temple of Artemis. Someone needed to give her a few hints about
austerity
and the human spirit. Even a thief appreciated beauty -
especially
a thief, if it wasn't nailed down.
The
ragged band of beggars inched further into the great hall, their
motley
leader a stiff and ungainly old man, lurching towards the trestle
tables
slowly despite the tantalising aroma of roasted meat. Autolycus'
stomach
lurched as well, in time with his old man's movements. It had been
days
since he'd last had a proper meal, hanging out with this group of
no-hopers,
immersing himself in his part like a good method actor. His
clothes
were stiff with days-old sweat, and the temptation to throw over
his
disguise and run to the table was stronger than almost any he'd ever
felt.
It had been interesting, getting reacquainted with hunger, his old
childhood
friend.
The
tables were literally groaning under an amazing feast. Autolycus, or
"Nestor"
as he was known to his new friends, found his mouth watering at
the
smells, and the signals his eyes were sending him. Whole deer, roasted
on
a spit, summer vegetables in strong-smelling sauces, game birds cooked
in
their own fat, aromatic spices dribbling off mounds of meat… But not
yet.
Control, always control, was the mantra that he chanted in his mind.
To
distract himself from the gnawing hunger, Autolycus surveyed the room
for
a second time. It was a cavernous hall, cold and ancient stone, with
very
few tapestries to relieve the gloom or shut out the draughts. One
enormous
one hung resplendent over the high table. Artemis, picked out in
silver,
stood off to one side, cold and aloof, almost excluded from the
main
scene. Only two things intruded into the central space; an elegantly
shod
foot, which seemed extended as though about to kick, and the
silver-white
horn that she held to her moonlit lips. The horn was so large
that
it dominated the scene, calling the central participants to the hunt.
Off
to the other side, balancing the slender goddess and her horn, hung a
moon
so white that it seemed to Autolycus that it might be made of snow.
Almost,
he thought that he could taste its cold moisture, as though if he
waited
long enough in this cold and silent place, the moon would begin to
melt
and drip its essence on to him. Shivering, not liking the image or
the
strange feelings it evoked in him, Autolycus turned his eyes to the
central
scene. That was better. A hunting scene, with warrior women on
horseback,
bows in hand, bringing down a giant stag. Nothing out of the
ordinary
there.
Except
for one thing. The eyes of the stag seemed almost real in the pale
torchlight.
And they seemed trained on the table off to the side, where
the
roasted stag lay ready and waiting for the feast.
It's
just a trick of the light, thought Autolycus. And there's a secret
door
behind that tapestry, or I'm not the King of Thieves.
He
could tell by the way that the hanging was draped, by the patterns of
dust
that he could just make out on the floor beneath it, and a hundred
other
little clues that alerted a professional to a secret entrance.
Especially
the stag's eyes, obvious peepholes if ever he'd seen them.
Autolycus
had not been able to study the layout of the temple in any
depth,
but the building was shaped in such a way that the secret door must
surely
lead to the sanctuary, the place behind the high altar. Excellent.
Sometimes,
if he was lucky enough, plans just made themselves and took him
along
for the ride. In a way, it looked like this might be an easy job
after
all.
Although
there was nothing particularly easy about the last few days,
spent
in hunger and cold with this group of beggars. But he was accepted
by
them now, without question, and no one in the temple even looked at him
twice.
Everyone in Greece knew that at the beginning of Hunt Week, the
priestesses
of Artemis would hunt for two days and a night, feasting on
the
second night with the deer that they had caught. And in pride of place
was
the yearling stag, the young buck sacrificed to Artemis' glory, the
only
time that a male animal was brought inside the temple. But the
priestesses
could not sully their lips with male flesh. And so the worst
of
beggars were made the recipients of Artemis' bounty. For this one
night,
men were allowed into the Temples of Artemis, to eat their full of
the
yearling stag and then sleep it off, before being driven out in the
morning.
It was also known that the priestesses were quick to see the men
off,
taking the bones of the carcass with them. No toilet privileges
either
- no part of the men or the stag that tthey had consumed was
permitted
to stay inside the holy precincts.
All
of which was a wonderful opportunity for a thief who wanted to steal
something
from the Temple of Artemis. Especially since his victims were
providing
him with a ready-made quick getaway. Autolycus smiled to himself
in
self-congratulation. Absolutely nothing could go wrong. Now why didn't
they
get on with the bloody feast?
***********
It
had all started when he'd met up with King Iphicles in Meg's Tavern.
Everyone
was scrupulously rude to the king, pretending that they didn't
know
who he was. Iphicles got a boy's night out, the tavern got royal
protection,
and everyone was happy. Even so, Autolycus had been a bit wary
when
the king slid onto the bench beside him, interrupting his ogling of
the
topless serving women and the men with platters of food and pants with
the
backsides ripped out.
"Nice
tits," observed Autolycus after a while, when the silence was
getting
heavy. He was quite surprised to find his hand grabbed in a
crushing
grip, his fingers white under the pressure of Iphicles' fist.
"Yes,
they are."
After
a long, bone-crunching pause, Autolycus' hand was released. Only to
be
grabbed again, in a more gentle way.
"Very
nice tits," said Iphicles softly, before popping one of Autolycus'
long,
nimble fingers in his mouth, and applying a gentle, wet suction to
it.
He rasped it with his tongue, purring like a big, dangerous cat.
The
King of Corinth is sucking on my finger, thought Autolycus. No, make
that
two of my fingers. And it's hard to work out what's going on here,
when
I can't stop thinking about him sucking on my dick instead.
Shit.
Very hard. Witness the dick in question, rapidly growing in tune to
the
strange, tingling sensations, as Iphicles bathed his fingers in spit,
one
by one. No one took any notice, although one of the serving wenches
banged
a cup of ale in front of the king as if she had a grudge against
the
tabletop.
Fuck,
thought Autolycus. He shivered in mingled desire and fear. How to
resist
a man like this, all sultry smiles and bedroom eyes? But he had to
resist
him, till he'd worked out what was going on here, figured out the
angles.
Shit. This was a brothel. Perhaps Iphicles thought he was selling
it.
"I
hear your services are for hire," said Iphicles. He seemed to be
contemplating
Autolycus' thumb, wondering perhaps if it should be given
the
same royal treatment as its four fellows.
I'll
be jacking off with that hand tonight, thought Autolycus vaguely. It
was
amazing how collected he sounded, when he answered the question.
"I'm
a thief, and I'm always for hire."
In
fact, he added silently, you can hire that thumb for keeps, if you just
keep
doing that, that thing, with your tongue…
"I
want to get married," said Iphicles.
It
was like a bucket of cold water, Meg's favoured way for waking
customers
the morning after. "Er, I'm not really looking for a husband."
Iphicles
looked at him as if he were mad. Perhaps he was. But at least he
had
his hand back now, fingers still smarting where they'd been nipped and
gently
gnawed, blood rushing to the throbbing digits. But the talk of
marriage
had scared him, taking some of the blood from his cock and
redistributing
it to hand and brain, a thief's biggest assets.
"Not
you. Her."
Both
men contemplated the woman in question. Autolycus tried not to think
"slattern",
just in case Iphicles could read the thought in his quickly
downcast
eyes. No wonder she'd been a bit rough with the cup before, since
her
future husband seemed to be making out with another man. Still. Nice
tits.
"I
see. And you need the services of the King of Thieves because…?"
It
was always best to assume nothing with a customer, and to get it all
out
in the open as quickly as possible. Autolycus hated to take a job
where
he didn't know all the angles. And frankly, this one stank as bad as
the
week-old fish Meg had served for dinner.
"She's
a whore," said Iphicles flatly.
"This
is a brothel."
This
logical rejoinder did not seem to endear him to the king. Autolycus
snatched
his hands away and sat on them. He couldn't afford to have his
fingers
bitten any further, since they were the tools of his trade.
Besides,
it wasn't helping to distract him from his cock and what he'd
like
to do with Iphicles' pouty lips.
"I
know that this is a brothel. But I don't want a slut for a wife. I want
a
queen. You know, carding wool and looking modest, that kind of thing.
But
you see, I love her, I really love her. And she wants to change."
That
mouth, those fuckable lips, were leaning closer and closer. He's
going
to kiss me, thought Autolycus in a mild panic. He hadn't felt such a
rush
since he'd stolen a golden apple from Hera's bedroom. She'd caught
him,
of course, and he hadn't got out of her bedroom for a year and a day,
but
that was another story. Now, he closed his eyes and parted his lips,
waiting
to feel the brush of skin on skin, the invasion of his mouth by
another
tongue.
Instead,
Iphicles whispered, "I want you to steal the Gem of Purity from
the
Temple of Artemis."
**************
Doron
was something of a snorer. Autolycus patted the young man's cheek
gently,
as he disentangled their limbs as carefully as he could. The last
thing
that he wanted was for Doron to wake up and ask him what he was
doing.
The beggars had huddled together on the straw that carpeted the
great
hall, bellies full for the first time in a long while, clinging to
each
other for warmth. Slowly, a little frightened, they had nodded off to
sleep.
All except Autolycus, who had not slept a wink, but had been
monitoring
the priestess carefully where they stood guard at the grand
entrance.
By now, he was fairly certain that they had relaxed their
vigilance,
since the hall was dimly lit and the mirrors could be showing
them
nothing. Each guard stood with her back to the hall, a mirror held
aloft
so that she could watch the beggars without looking directly at men
as
they slept. It was not a very sensible system, but spoke volumes for
how
chastity was regarded in this temple.
If
he or they could have seen clearly in the mirrors, they would have seen
a
smirk on Autolycus' dirty face as he slipped away from the others in the
shadows.
He found the whole set-up amusing, after his earlier lapse in
mood
in front of the tapestry, which was easy to blame on days of hunger
and
deprivation. But the prize would be worth it. Iphicles had promised
him
half the contents of his treasury, if he came back with the Gem of
Purity
for his new bride. And there was the kudos of robbing a goddess,
though
not even the King of Thieves wanted that noised about too publicly.
Ouch.
Oh well, a stubbed toe was a small price to pay for slipping quietly
through
a dark room, full of shadows, the lay-out of which he had
memorised
while the others stuffed themselves with venison and wine. Just
a
little over here, to avoid that raised flagstone, and then a silent dash
to
the wall and the heavy tapestry that dominated the room.
Autolycus
reached out with careful fingers and stroked the material,
testing
its quality, weight, and weave. He really wanted to be stroking
Doron
instead. A smile slipped across his face as he thought about fucking
Doron
through the floor. But not even he was enough of a daredevil to risk
having
sex in Artemis' temple, even though Doron was now used to taking
Autolycus'
cock quietly in the dark.
There.
An irregularity on the wall behind the tapestry. Questing fingers
found
and disarmed the traps. Clever. That one would have embedded
poisoned
needles deep beneath his fingernails. Wincing at the thought,
Autolycus
stepped over the tripwires and slipped behind the tapestry,
bulking
it out for a moment, and then finding his way into the dark
passage
behind it. He was glad that he couldn't see it in the dark, the
eyes
of the pale goddess and her too-white moon.
Slipping
tinder and a candle from inside a pouch, artfully concealed in
apparent
rags, Autolycus lit a small light and looked around him. He could
feel
the silk of the tapestry brushing his back as he craned his neck,
searching
for more traps. But there were none that he could see. The
priestesses
clearly used this little passage for quick trips between the
great
hall and the main sanctuary. It made Autolycus a little excited, to
think
of why they might need a secret passage. What did they get up to,
Artemis'
girls, out of the open spaces and the watchful eyes of the moon?
A
few quick steps brought him to another doorway, covered by the draperies
of
what must be a second tapestry. Autolycus searched for traps on this
side
but there were none that he could find. Presumably, the priestesses
felt
that the sanctuary was more secure than their great hall. Lifting the
material
aside, Autolycus peered out into the heart of the Temple of
Artemis.
No gloom and shadows here, but the bright light of a hundred
smoking
torches, and a blaze of candles at the altar directly in front of
him.
Autolycus knew that he was seeing something no man had ever set eyes
on.
The thought, instead of inspiring religious awe, went straight to his
cock
and made him hard. Swallowing a laugh, he tried to convince himself
that
jacking off in the sanctuary of the virgin goddess was nothing short
of
suicide.
Everyone
knew that Artemis opened the Week of the Great Hunt at her huge
temple
in the wilds of Attica. She was miles away from here. Not even the
smell
of cum would bring her after him with bow and arrow. Even so,
Autolycus
smoothed his moustache reflexively and felt a bit sick at his
crazy
impulse. What sort of sicko wanted to jack off in the face of such
purity?
Or, even worse, on the job?
He
made his careful way over to the altar, although the sanctuary was
clearly
empty. It was a bit of a shock, therefore, to find himself
suddenly
staring up at the face of Artemis. There she was. Twelve feet
tall.
Stony-faced and cold of heart. But beautiful, very beautiful. He'd
give
the sculptors that, they'd done a good job. And there, between two
perfect
breasts, hung a ruby the size of his fist, absorbing the light of
the
candles and reflecting it back a hundredfold. The Gem of Purity.
Okay.
It was ten feet off the ground, and there was no way he was going to
commit
(extra) sacrilege by climbing onto the altar so that he could reach
it.
Backing away, Autolycus made a short run and then flipped himself high
into
the air, grasping the ruby on his way down and tugging it free with
one
jerk.
Make
that one unsuccessful jerk. The blood rushed to Autolycus' feet as he
hung
in midair, his torso plastered against Artemis', the ruby still
stubbornly
attached to a solid gold chain. He'd been expecting a hemp
chain,
in keeping with the austerity of this temple, but he could work
with
what he had. Reaching into his pouch with his free hand, Autolycus
fished
out a tool and set to work. Within seconds, he had levered the ruby
out
of its gold setting and was dropping back to the floor on silent feet,
relieved
to be free of contact with the cold stone goddess at last.
The
Gem of Purity felt pretty ordinary, now that it wasn't dazzling him
with
reflective light. Even so, his heart raced at the thrill of the
chase,
the hunt for something that no one else in the world could have or
get,
except for the King of Thieves. Artemis still looked severe, but he
could
live with that. She wasn't a goddess who bothered much with the
affairs
of men, and chances were she would never find out what happened
here
tonight. He was still hard, but it wasn't with the thought of dirty
sex
in a temple any more. Instead, he was picturing Iphicles' face when he
told
the king their new deal. The Gem of Purity in return for a good hard
fuck.
He wanted to fuck royalty, a first for him, and Iphicles could keep
his
gold. Treasure was always available to Autolycus, not so the kind of
promise
he'd read in Iphicles' eyes. It was the queen who was to be pure,
after
all, not the king.
Suppressing
the urge to whistle and strut, Autolycus ran quietly back to
the
tapestry, not even bothering to see what the scene was in this one. He
slipped
behind its folds and darted back to the other side, rearming the
traps
before easing himself out into the great hall.
The
beggars snored on where they lay, and the guards stood statue-still.
Nothing
had changed, and he had managed the theft in a matter of minutes.
Doron
stirred as Autolycus' cold limbs stretched out against his own, and
then
went back to sleep, exhausted and full of slowly digesting meat. The
urge
to fill him with another kind of meat faded slowly, and Autolycus
kept
watch through the night, alert for any alarm or other signs that his
theft
had been discovered. He was ready to run, had an escape route worked
out,
and the means of distracting the priestesses through several possible
ruses.
The only question was whether he could get Doron out too - that
remained
to be seen.
But
nothing broke the peace of the temple, until the guards came marching
in
to poke the sleeping men with spears and order them out in low, husky
voices.
Bowing and scraping, Autolycus led his fellow beggars out into the
early
light of dawn and through the great gates of the temple. The guards
threw
them some bread and an old rind of cheese as they left, advising
them
to get as far away from Artemis' house as their pathetic legs would
carry
them. The eyes of the women were cold and hard, and Autolycus found
himself
looking for some reflection of the Gem in those eyes. Its light
had
almost softened Artemis' stone face, but there was nothing of that in
these
guards on a warm spring morning. Still, the priestesses had tossed
them
breakfast - a piss poor breakfast, it was true, but they didn't have
to
do even that much. "There's nothing so cold as charity," his mother
used
to say, when she sent him out to earn their keep.
It
was Hunt Week and these priestesses of Artemis would be riding soon,
riding
to the chase. Autolycus wanted to be a long way away by the time
they
returned home for evening prayers.
**************
Five
days till Corinth.
The
big bay horse ambled quietly, obedient to the odd nudge from
Autolycus'
knees. He whistled as he rode, stopping every now and then to
whip
out a tool from some hidden cavity.
"This
one is for more complicated locks," he said to Doron, who rode a
small
white horse that easily kept pace with his showier bay.
His
original plan had been to leave Doron with the others, sneaking a few
gold
coins into his pockets while he slept. But Autolycus couldn't stop
thinking
about the temple, its cold hard loneliness, and how he had wanted
to
fuck Doron silly in the face of it. The youth's warm limbs had relaxed
him
at last, dangerously so, that he was almost asleep when the guards
came
to throw them out. But perhaps there was something to having a
companion,
something that he'd discovered in the days of hunger and misery
that
had won him entrance to the temple. And inside, Autolycus had taken a
long
hard look at the solitary life, and not liked what he'd seen.
Doron,
prince of thieves. It had a nice ring to it.
"Doron,
give me your handkerchief."
The
young man was not used to having clothes with pockets, let alone
handkerchiefs,
so he seemed unsurprised when Autolycus produced the rag
with
a flourish and told him that he'd picked his pocket. Doron had a nice
uncomplicated
view of property, never having owned any, that leant itself
well
to an apprentice thief.
Autolycus
would be well pleased with himself and life at the moment, if
only
that pesky screaming would stop.
"What's
that?" asked Doron, looking to him with worshipful eyes. Feeling
as
hard-hearted as Artemis, Autolycus wanted to reply that it was none of
their
business. But the doe eyes got to him at last, and he wheeled his
horse
and cantered off the road in the direction of the river, where the
screams
seemed to be coming from.
It
was a scene all too common on the roads of less well-ordered states
these
days. A rape in progress - or rather about to be in progress, since
the
ruffians hadn't managed to get the woman's clothes off yet. With a
sigh
of annoyance, Autolycus drew his sword and waded into the fray,
growling
at Doron to stay back and pick up the attackers' discarded
clothing
and any valuables. One armed man against three naked goons was a
quick
fight, and two managed to escape into the forest. Autolycus pulled
his
sword from the third without regret, rolling the scum over into the
bushes,
out of sight of the weeping woman.
"It's
alright, you're safe," he said gently, helping the woman up, trying
not
to scream inside as he now became the target of two worshipful sets of
eyes.
**************
Three
days till Corinth.
Adriana
rode in front of Autolycus, his arms around her waist, since they
hadn't
gotten around to stealing her a horse yet. In fact, that was the
first
order of business for the day, since Doron had spotted a likely
looking
farm a mile or so up the road. It seemed less promising, when
Autolycus
crawled to the top of a small rise overlooking the farmhouse,
and
saw a mob of angry people brandishing swords and burning brands.
He
shared a silent look with Doron, brows raised in query.
"I
used to live around here," whispered Adriana, who had ignored his
command
to stay with the horses. "They're a lovely couple, two elderly
farmers,
but Gregon wants to take their land. I'd bet anything that he's
stirred
up a mob to attack them."
Autolycus
was not used to expectant faces. Oblivious ones were more to his
taste,
as he lifted their valuables.
"There's
fifteen of them, and two of us," he pointed out carefully.
"Three
of us," said Adriana, drawing a wicked-looking knife.
The
battle was short and not very sweet. The mob had been impressed when
Autolycus
cartwheeled his way down the hill, yodelling like Xena, to land
in
front of the lead peasant and knock him unconscious with the flat of
his
sword.
"Kill
him!" shouted a shifty individual, who was undoubtedly Gregon. A
quick
sword thrust through the place where his heart should have been
disposed
of Gregon, and the mob took to its heels straight away. While
Doron
collected discarded weapons and searched for abandoned treasures
(none),
Autolycus received the grateful thanks and kisses of two elderly
people,
who smelt of onions and garlic.
"No,
really, it was nothing," he insisted, breaking into a sweat.
Five
minutes later, Autolycus was the ashamed owner of his first honestly
acquired
horse. He cursed a blue steak all the way to the pond, where he
dragged
Doron to bathe a small cut on his arm. The youth kept trying to
kiss
and tickle him, which made bandaging the cut a lengthy process, until
Adriana
finally took pity on him and clouted Doron round the ears.
While
Doron and Adriana argued loudly, Autolycus leaned over the pond to
plunge
his dirty, blood-stained hand into the still water. What he saw
there
made him pause, mouth agape at his reflection. His hair needed a cut
-
it had gotten longer and shaggier. But that wasn't the only worrying
part.
His dark brown hair was now looking lighter, closer to a dirty
blond.
Also, Doron had stolen him a tunic that he was wearing open to the
waist,
but not the usual green and black leathers that Autolycus favoured.
No,
now his buff chest was showing through a plain fawn tunic.
Hercules.
I'm turning into Hercules.
Filled
with a sudden fear, Autolycus scrabbled in a secret pocket for the
Gem
of Purity, hauling it out to shake it in the air and scream his anger
at
it.
"Damn
you, Artemis! You're turning me into Hercules."
If
the Huntress heard his outraged cries, she gave no sign.
*********
One
day till Corinth.
"Do
I look taller to you? Maybe, a bit bigger? More muscles?"
No
one answered.
Autolycus'
party numbered five now, having added two more strays to it the
day
before. They had stumbled across some thugs robbing a wealthy
merchant.
Instead of joining in, Autolycus had fought off the robbers and
saved
the merchant's life. As the cavalcade was putting itself back
together,
Adriana had started screeching when she discovered two young
boys
with scars on their backs and fresh whip marks on their legs, not
from
the robbers but the tender mercies of their master.
After
a short but loud exchange, the two slaves became the property of
Autolycus,
who sent the merchant on his way with such a kick to his
backside
that the man wouldn't be able to sit without pain for a week. But
it
wasn't all bad. He'd acquired a small sack of precious stones and a
chest
of gold coins, that somehow fell into his saddlebags when no one was
looking,
so it hadn't been a total loss.
Even
so, it was a grim-faced Autolycus that rode towards Corinth, looking
forward
to offloading the Gem of Purity, and fucking King Iphicles into
next
week.
***********
"Herc,
is that you?"
Autolycus
ground his teeth, before turning to flash the insouciant grin of
the
King of Thieves at Iolaus.
"Iolaus,
have a beer with me."
"Hey,
no thanks," muttered Iolaus, back-pedalling fast. "Sorry, thought
you
were someone else. I prefer to keep my money."
Sighing,
Autolycus nursed his beer and waited for Iphicles to show up. The
dingy,
smoky interior of Meg's made him feel better, shaking off the
memories
of the great hall in the temple, the still, quiet loneliness. For
the
past three nights, he had awoken screaming, the face of Artemis
pitiless
in his dreams. Doron was always there to rub his back and whisper
softly,
and to suck his cock when the mood took him. Autolycus didn't want
to
admit it, with Doron nursing his balls in his mouth, but he was almost
starting
to like being a bold, dashing adventurer. The sort of man that
helped
damsels in distress and saved elderly farmers from mobs. It felt
kinda
good. And wasn't necessarily incompatible with some high-class
thieving,
witness the new gold and jewels that were currently with his
secret
stash in Corinth. There were also the kisses, warm in the
firelight,
and the sleeping tangled in each other's arms. It felt good to
be
with someone like that.
Autolycus
fingered the sharp edges of the stone in his pocket. It felt
uncomfortable
being here, on some levels. As if he was no longer the sort
of
person that ought to feel at home in a place like this. Shit, it had
only
been a few days. And if it was good enough for Iolaus, companion to
the
legendary Hercules, it was surely alright for the King of Thieves.
Even
so, the place stank of a misery that he had never noticed before. As
if
some of the men and women didn't really want to be here. Meg seemed
harder,
darker than she had a month ago. Strangely, he looked in her eyes
and
saw the same expression that he had seen in the priestesses of
Artemis.
It unsettled him.
"Well,
if it isn't the King of Thieves," came a sultry voice in his ear.
Autolycus
started. Fuck. If Iphicles could sneak up on him like that, he
really
was losing his touch.
An
explosion of perfume nearly made him gag as a woman sat down at his
other
side, her large breasts thrust at his gaping face.
Annia.
Iphicles' intended.
Even
so, it was the musk of Iphicles' sweat that he noticed more, that
slipped
in under his defences and had him licking dry lips. Maybe the king
had
ridden here. Ridden hard. And now he needed a bath to get the sweat
off.
Autolycus could give him one, with his tongue.
Stay
calm, he told himself. But the sheer presence of the king was so
overwhelming,
in its dark, brooding sensuality, that not even the stone
could
help him. He squeezed it like a talisman, and found himself wishing
that
he could squeeze Iphicles' cock instead.
"I'm
going to wear a goddess' jewels and be a queen," crowed Annia, more
than
a little drunk from the smell of her. Booze and cheap perfume. What
did
Iphicles see in her?
But
then there were her eyes, bright and knowing as they looked at
Autolycus
in the dim light.
"Shh,
not here," snapped Iphicles. It didn't seem very lover-like.
Iphicles
grabbed Autolycus' hand. For a moment, he hoped that it would be
subjected
to another sucking, even if he came in his pants in front of the
other
johns. But instead, Iphicles hauled him to his feet. Fuck, the king
was
strong. Admiring the sheen of sweat on bare muscles, and the flexing
of
his ass, Autolycus followed along behind like a love-struck maiden on
the
way to lose her virginity.
Annia
brought up the rear, almost slavering in her excitement to see the
ruby.
Autolycus tried not to notice her, and it was hard to see much else
anyway,
with Iphicles' muscles to watch. Beautiful. The man was fucking
beautiful.
Autolycus had never known anyone like this, and he wanted to
unwrap
that hard body and drink the other man's come, even if only this
once.
But
he shouldn't want it, should he? What about Doron? Wasn't Autolycus
one
of the good guys, now, robbing the rich and giving to the poor? Well,
Doron
was poor. And what about the Gem of Purity? If it had guarded the
chastity
of Artemis' priestesses for millennia, it was doing a pretty
piss-poor
job of guarding *his*.
Iphicles
dragged them both into one of the rooms for hire and shut the
door,
closing out the smell of smoke and the raucous sounds of music and
laughter.
He pushed Autolycus up against the door and groped him savagely,
twisting
his aching erection with one hand while exploring his pockets
with
the other.
"You
won't find it that way," managed Autolycus, before Iphicles closed
his
mouth with a searing kiss. It was the kind of kiss that leaves a man
gasping
for air, and wondering if his tonsils are still there.
"How
did you get to be so hungry?" gasped Autolycus, when his lips were
finally
freed.
Iphicles
grinned at him, a strangely soft look in the subdued light of the
room.
The search had turned up nothing, with the gem still safe in a
concealed
pocket.
"Where
is the stone?" asked Iphicles. He yanked so hard on Autolycus'
balls
that his scream would have brought people running, even in a
brothel,
had Iphicles not covered his mouth again with his own and
swallowed
his cries whole. For a while they continued in a sea of pain,
one
man tugging and the other one screaming, until finally Iphicles seemed
to
lose patience and pushed Autolycus away.
Moaning
with pain, still feeling the stone pressing into his side,
Autolycus
sank to the floor and leaned hard against the door. This was not
going
quite the way he'd planned.
"Payment
first, then you'll get the stone."
He'd
managed a coherent sentence as the pain receded. And his erection
still
pressed against his fawn tunic, as if the savagery only turned him
on
instead of scaring him half to death.
"And
what if I don't want to give you half my treasury?" asked Iphicles.
"Half
of our treasury," said Annia, stepping up to put her arm around her
bridegroom's
waist.
"No
honour among thieves?" Autolycus tried for a chuckle but it came out
sounding
like a groan. "Fuck you, asshole."
Iphicles
smiled at that. Autolycus had seen a shark once, caught in a
fisherman's
net. Its smile had been much friendlier.
A
hand reached down for some casual groping, clearly outlining Iphicles'
swollen
cock against his leather pants. Despite himself, Autolycus
followed
the hand with his eyes, desperate to replace it with his mouth.
Crawling
up to his knees, pride forgotten, he pressed his mouth against
the
hot, sweaty leather and inhaled deeply. Hearing Iphicles laughing
somewhere
above him added to the rush, as he tongued the swollen cock
through
a thin layer of leather.
"Take
it out," commanded Iphicles.
Autolycus'
hand reached up to loosen the fastenings that held his prize a
prisoner,
tugging desperately at the pants to get them down past strong,
muscular
thighs. And when he finally moaned his success, Iphicles' cock
sprang
out huge and hard, almost slapping him in the face as he lurched
towards
it with his tongue.
Proud
and erect, angry and purple. And huge. Autolycus whimpered.
Crack.
Like
a thunderclap, the blow rang out in the quiet room. Autolycus crashed
to
the floor, slapped away from the object of his worship.
"Not
yet. Annia, show him what I like."
There
was a jagged hole somewhere inside him, its edges cutting like a
knife,
as he watched Annia slurp on that massive cock. On her knees, head
bobbing
like a crazy woman. And next to his chest, he could still feel the
ruby
if he tried, if he concentrated, through the haze of lust and tears
as
another mouth gorged itself on Iphicles' cock.
He
wouldn't beg. The King of Thieves did not beg.
"Please.
Please let me. Please." That must be someone else, using what
sounded
like his tongue and voice. Pleading over and over, being slapped
away
again and again.
"I'm
going to come down her throat. Unless you give me the stone."
Autolycus'
cock was leaking inside his pants. He couldn't think, could
barely
see straight. The smells of sex and lust permeated the air, made
him
dizzy. Reaching into the secret pocket, his fingers touched the cold
ruby
where it nestled next to his heart. Out it came, slowly, as if
reluctant.
But his fingers were doing the pulling, the same fingers that
had
been inside Iphicles' mouth. Was that why it felt like his hand
belonged
to someone else, was moving at another's direction?
He
held the stone out with shaking fingers. Soft light flooded the room,
as
it picked up the glow of the candles and reflected them back a
hundredfold.
Annia's lips looked garishly red as they worked on Iphicles'
cock.
The king's eyes were stormy and hard, hot with excitement, as he
grabbed
Autolycus' hand and squeezed it tight on the sharp edges of the
gem.
"I
like a little blood," he whispered as he pulled the ruby from
Autolycus'
nerveless fingers, slippery where the hard edges had penetrated
the
skin. Their eyes never left each other as Iphicles licked the ruby
clean,
swirling the blood on his tongue, and then secreted it somewhere,
faster
than even Autolycus could follow.
Gone.
It was gone.
Autolycus
sagged, as though someone had cut his strings, and fell forward
on
the floor. Strong hands seized him and suddenly he was airborne,
landing
on the bed with a crash that knocked the wind out of him. Even as
he
struggled to get his breath back, the sound of fabric ripping alerted
him
to the fact that Iphicles was tearing the seat out of his pants.
"Now,
you get your payment."
Without
so much as a quick spit or finger by way of preliminaries,
Autolycus
was breached by a huge, fist-sized cockhead. He bit the pillow
and
tried to relax, ignoring the pain, pushing back to ease Iphicles'
entry.
From there, it went hard and fast, the tearing of nerve ends and
what
felt like the churning of his guts by a massive spearhead. It hurt
for
a long time, as sweat dripped on his back and soaked his tunic, the
relentless
slap of flesh on flesh the only sound in his ears. Surely that
wailing
wasn't coming from him, but from some other desperate fucker, far
away.
In
and out. In and out. And the harder Iphicles fucked him, strangely, the
less
pain there was, until finally he was groaning with pleasure, caught
up
in the breathless agony of it all.
"Fuck
me. Harder."
And
Iphicles obliged. Slamming into him. Battering his prostate. Making
him
scream with pleasure, over what sounded like quiet sobs. Maybe that
was
Annia. Maybe not. All Autolycus knew was that he had never felt so
filled,
so dominated, so safe, in all his life.
"Harder."
But
nothing lasts forever, and finally the speed of Iphicles' thrusts
alerted
him to the fact that the king was nearing orgasm.
"I
want to see your face as I come inside you," came the harsh voice
behind
him. Without missing a beat, Iphicles lifted Autolycus in his arms
and
twisted, turning him in midair while still inside him. Autolycus
scissored
his legs and hoped for the best, somehow finding the energy to
heave
his legs up when it didn't seem possible that he could. It was a
spectacle
of raw strength that excited Autolycus beyond belief. He now
found
himself cradled in Iphicles' embrace, literally hanging off the
other
man's cock, clawing at his chest as he writhed and moaned. Still
grinning
that shark's grin, Iphicles thrust upwards and came, the pulses
filling
Autolycus deep inside and pushing him over the edge. Eyes locked,
Autolycus
screamed his orgasm in Iphicles' face, rubbing the evidence into
the
king's chest and reaching up for a kiss.
But
Iphicles refused to kiss him, pulling out and dumping him on the bed
like
a used dishrag.
Autolycus
rolled over, stunned, and then started to make choking noises
into
the pillow. He didn't want Iphicles to see if he was soaking it with
his
tears.
"Thanks
for the good job, thief. I might hire you again." The voice was
redolent
with satisfaction and amusement.
There
was no other sound in the room for a minute or two, after the
closing
of the door. Autolycus writhed on the bed, alone and howling. But
it
wasn't with tears. It was with laughter.
***********
The
forest was full of small night noises. An owl hooted somewhere nearby.
Another
bird took off suddenly, spooked by the approaching human. There
was
enough moonlight for the human to be seen clearly, if anyone were
watching.
His approach was cautious, as he neared the small pool where the
goddess
Artemis was said by the credulous to bathe.
Autolycus
wasn't sure how credulous he was anymore, if he ever had been.
But
even so, he pulled out Doron's brightly coloured handkerchief and tied
it
round his eyes, so that he couldn't see. Better safe than sorry.
"Artemis,"
he called softly. "Artemis."
Nothing.
No reason to expect otherwise, really.
He
turned to go, and knew instantly that she was standing right behind
him.
Autolycus couldn't see anything, but he knew she was there, could
feel
it in the prickling of his skin and the way that the hairs on his
neck
were suddenly standing on end. Shivering, he sank to his knees,
groping
hastily in a secret pocket next to his heart.
The
Gem of Purity was probably glowing in the moonlight, though he
couldn't
be sure. He held it out towards the presence near him, and waited
with
more fear than he had expected. He had faced death so many times, but
it
had never felt this real, this inevitable.
"It's
just a stone."
Her
voice was light and deadly as an arrow.
Autolycus
started to shake. "No, it's the real thing," he whispered. "I
lifted
it while I was coming."
Somehow,
he was sure that Artemis would know exactly what he was talking
about.
Then he blanched at the thought of mentioning his orgasm to the
Virgin
Goddess. She could kill him for that alone.
"It's
just a stone," she repeated.
"I
don't understand," he said, bowing his head.
"My
priestesses are chaste by choice, and by devotion." The voice was
softer
now, though still full of power. "I know they seem hard to you,
like
the edges of the ruby. But it is not your place to judge. And there's
no
magic to it. It's just a stone. It is what it always was. A stone. It
is
no more the power of purity, than I am the statue on which you found
it."
"But,
it changed me, it made me different." Foolish to argue with a
goddess,
but even so - it had changed him, hadn't it?
"You
are what you always were."
That
wasn't very reassuring. "And what's that?" Damn the note of mockery
in
his voice, that he couldn't control, even now.
"Mine,"
said Artemis. "Now, take off your blindfold but do not look at me.
Look
in the waters of the pool."
Hers?
Heart
thudding, Autolycus did as he was told, searching the still waters
in
the moonlight, terrified that he would see the goddess reflected there
and
she would have to kill him.
Instead,
he saw Iphicles and Annia, lying in each other's arms at Meg's,
their
flushed and sweaty faces swimming on the surface of the water. Below
them,
lying deeper in the pool, he could see other faces, other bodies. A
grey-eyed
woman with an owl on her shoulder. A short-haired man in black,
studded
leather. He'd seen both of them before, courtesy of his
entanglements
with Hercules.
"Ares
and Athena," he said.
"Shush,"
whispered the goddess, right in his ear. Autolycus jumped and
almost
fell in. Fuck. What would have happened if he had? Not a simple
dunking,
he was sure of that.
"Listen."
Autolycus
listened.
"You
win the bet, bro," said the grey-eyed woman he had known as Annia.
"You're
more powerful than the Gem of the Virgin. It turned him into a
complete
do-gooder on the road, but one sniff of your cock and he was a
helpless
slut."
Ares
sighed gloomily. "But he stole it back. How did I fucking miss that?
And
I don't know if he was really going to be monogamous with that little
beggar."
"That
just proves my point. He's a thief. One good ride from you, brother,
and
he reverted to type."
"He
stole from the merchant on the road," objected Ares.
"That
was to punish a villain. When he stole the gem back from you, he
broke
his bargain."
"I
never paid him what we agreed." Ares was tonguing Athena's throat, but
it
didn't seem to be distracting her. Unlike Autolycus, who was rock hard
in
his pants, and hoping that Artemis wouldn't notice.
"No,
but you paid him what he secretly wanted. And he knows that. So he
did
a thoroughly wicked thing, breaking his own twisted little code, when
he
stole it back."
"That
means you win the side-bet. Damn."
"I
guess we're both winners, then, aren't we?" said Athena.
Their
faces and voices faded, but before the pool became mirror-clear
again,
Autolycus caught a brief glimpse of Doron's smiling face. It did
nothing
for his erection, but he guessed that Artemis wanted him to see
good
faith as well as bad in her special pool. Then there were only stars,
glimmering
in the still water.
Basically,
Autolycus decided that the glimpse of Doron meant Artemis was
less
likely to kill him, which, all in all, seemed like a good thing.
"So,
what happens now?" he asked, allowing a little hope to creep into his
voice.
The
silence was heavy, like the light of the moon all around him,
caressing
his senses with its touch.
"Now,"
said Artemis, rattling the arrows in her quiver, "we plan our
revenge."
The
End.
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