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  Dark and Deep 
 by Taz  
 Author's notes: A story for the moderately mature and well read reader. 


 Hercules had delivered King Iphicles' scrolls and now was hurrying home
with the reply. But it had been a long hike and the shortcut the tyrant
Damocles had recommended was more like a goat path as it wound its way
through the dense Arcadian forest. The air beneath the trees was close,
rich with the creamy smell of wild roses and heavy with dust gleaming in
the shafts of sunlight breaking through the leafy cover. 

 Finally, when the woods gave way and there at the edge of a grassy lea
was a spring. It gushed into a small oval pool from an outcropping of rock
and was rimmed with thick clumps of green moss and purple violets. 

 There was a low stone bench beside the pool and even a demigod needs a
break.

 He sat, pulled off his over shirt, kicked off his boots and plunged his
feet in the water. Thrilled by the cold, he sighed and dug his toes into
the soft dark muck at the bottom. Kicking like a child, he raised clouds
of silt in the pristine water. Then he let his eyes close and lifted his
face to the sun, listening to the wind in the trees, the chirping of the
birds in the bushes and the low hum of the bees. 

 And there, in the distance, it seemed he could hear a rhythmic thrumming
deeper than the bees' drone that seemed to grow louder the longer he
listened but, when he opened his eyes, faded into the rustling tree
branches.

 He watched the bees, working amid the briars, wondering if he had time to
follow them back to their hive. With so many flowers here to ravish, they
must have honey to spare. 

 But the wind picked up and he thought of the distance that he had yet to
travel and bent to soak his shirt in the pool.

 A twig snapped. 

 He straightened up slowly as a man, naked to the waist, emerged crouching
from the bushes. A man--? Well, the torso was human.

 Then it rose up and Hercules stared at a mat of thick curly hair covering
powerful thighs and the shanks ending in the neat cloven hooves of a goat.
The hooves drummed on the ground as he moved. Definitely he--between the
goat legs was a bright red cock, thick and wet, protruding from a hairy
sheath. The balls dangling underneath it were large, dusky and heart
shaped. 

 Its face was flat, although graced with a wide sensual mouth and eyes the
color of old gold coins. The pupils of those eyes were slit like a goat's
and, like a goat's, too, were the heavy horns that curved from its
forehead and crowned the tight auburn curls on its head. This wasn't one
of the little paneskoi he'd played with as a child visiting Olympus. This
was the lord of the woods himself and Hercules was standing calf deep in a
spring--remembering that it had once been the god's lover. 

 "Great Pan, I didn't..." He hastened to get out of the water, but slipped
on the stones, stumbled backwards and fell on his ass. 

 The god stretched his lips and bleated as Hercules tried to finish his
botched apology, "I didn't mean...." Leaping like a goat, Pan seized a
rock and bashed him over the head with it. 

 The sun exploded. 

 It was as hard a blow as he'd ever taken. A mortal's brains would have
stained the ground and Hercules curled up instinctively. The god crouched
on top him, making a whiffing noise, sniffing him. Floss and thorns were
tangled in the hairy thighs on either side of his face. He couldn't help
the tears streaming down his cheeks as the god jerked his head up by the
hair. He looked for some intelligence or pity that he could appeal to in
those gold eyes, but they were as hard and flat as the coins they
resembled. 

 He tried to catch his breath, to beg, but was enveloped in a rank odor as
the god knelt higher. Hooves dug into his flanks. He gasped and the god's
cock, thick and slick with juice, filled into his mouth. His head was
jerked back and forth, back and forth. Then he was gagging on an acrid
bitter mouthful that he had to swallow or choke and keep swallowing until,
with a last spurt, the, still hard cock, slipped out of his mouth and he
was free.

 He rolled over. The pain faded as warmth spread in his belly. He touched
his smeary chin, then licked his fingers and sucked on them. It came to
him how soft the grass was and he stretched out giggling. Above him, Pan
capered on silver hooves, emitting little baa-bleats of laughter. His
undershirt had come up and his nipples were tingling. He felt them between
his fingers. It make him want to spread his thighs but the pants stopped
him from feeling all of himself when he reached down.

 Tossing his head, he sat up. The shirt was easy to get rid of but the
heavy pants gave him trouble. He couldn't figure out the leather strap
that held them. Frantically, he struggled to his feet and tore it off,
kicking free of the stinking dead things.

 Now, other figures were coming out of the woods and gathering around him.
Goat-tailed yawning satyrs and sleepy-eyed fauns, silenoi who looked human
but had pointed ears, frisking little goats, maenads and men, brown
skinned nymphs and green headed hamadryads from the oak trees: the forest
lord's retinue. The mortals among them were indistinguishable with their
wild manes of knotted hair.

 An old satyr blew a sweet hollow tune on a set of pipes and they all
began to dance, leaping and pounding the ground. He had never seen faces
so alive. He reached to touch them as they pranced. They touched him back,
stroking his hair and arms, pinching his nipples, male and female cupped
his balls, welcoming him.

 The males were hard, their hands stroking up and down on jutting pricks
as they looked him over. His, too, pointed straight up. He grabbed it and
wagged it at them. A nymph, rubbing her hands between her hairy thighs,
came and held her fingers under his nose. He sniffed at them hungrily and
tried to follow after her, but a man kissed him, brushing against him.

 The god broke through the circle then, clouted the fool away and caught
him around the waist, butting his ass. The fur tickled. He arched his
back, presenting his rump. He could feel the wet hardness nudging his
hole. The god knew what he needed and thrust, taking him rutting in the
dance.

 He'd never felt such pleasure. The hands petting his head and sliding
over his skin. The fur. The god's thickness, pumping in and out of his
ass. He screamed his coming and, when the god released him to tumble on
the ground, the others took their turn.

 The old satyr took the god's place, lifting his ass, while a silenos with
a bull's black pizzle, gave it to him to suckle. There was a woman between
his legs on her knees, licking his balls while a goat mounted her back. He
was held down in a riot of bodies, stepped on, bitten, poked at and
thoroughly reamed. Seed dripped from of his mouth and flowed out of his
asshole. Sharp hot piss flowed over his rump as he strained to lap his own
juice from the cunts of the females he spilled himself into.

 Then they let him up on his knees and allowed him to worship the god. In
the time that followed, he slept the greatest part of the day, hidden with
the others in wind fallen branches and piles of leaves. He woke to play
when the god wanted him.

 Twice he watched the moon fill and empty. One day, he woke in the
sunlight. His head was in the hollow of a faun's hip and two women were
curled against him. On the ground, near his hand, was a fallen leaf. The
edges were green but the center was red-gold and he thought it was pretty.
He lifted it and stared. It seemed there was something he should remember,
someone...someone... His mind hurt. One of the goats came up and ate the
leaf from his hand. Bleating for more, it stepped on the faun. The women
he'd been snuggled with woke too, laughed and began to play with him. He
forgot...

 There were nuts on the ground and brambleberries; large purple grapes
with thick sour skins that burst sweet in his mouth; cakes and wine from
the altars of forest shrines. They rived honey from the bees and sucked
milk from the teats of the nanny goats. Meat was what they found or ran
down.

 Fire killed and shepherds torched the forest for their pastures. On the
darkest nights, when the wind roared in the trees, he coursed with the
pack, screaming as they harried the terror-stricken shepherds who became
lost in the dark. And, in the deepest, most secret heart of the wood where
the oldest trees were, he danced under the moon before the lord's throne
to a tune his lord's servant piped, worshipping his lord with his body.
That was joy.

 It got cold and some of the men and women went away. Some didn't wake up
in the mornings. The dryads slept. But there were always the satyrs, the
silenoi, the nymphs -- and his lord. 

 There came an afternoon when the company was gathered in the sanctuary.
The snow was falling and it pleased his lord to take him squatting on the
ground in front of the throne.

 You're lost! I knew it.

 Will you stuff it, Ares? It's around here somewhere.

 Strange yapping sounds.

 I swear, I'm going to--

 Here. I told you.

 Curious, he raised his head as two entered the sanctuary. He knew they
weren't men or satyrs. Like men though. One had silver curls and wore gray
skins that only covered from the waist down. He carried a rod with tiny
glittering snakes twining around it and went barefooted in the snow. There
were wings fluttering from the straps on his ankles. The other was dark
and covered in black skins. That one smelled of blood and the bronze on
his thigh. 

 His lord shoved his head down and went on ramming him. 

 He heard a sharp hsst of drawn breath.

 Oh for--! 

 A sharp barking noise. 

 Like father, like... 

 His lord's thighs quivered against him. There was a hot gush of seed from
his ass as his lord's cock slipped out of him and his lord, rising to
greet his guests, shoved him away.

 He went and sprawled among the others as his lord went to seat himself on
the knee of the giant oak throne. He was still hard so he stroked himself.
A satyr came and sniffed his ass. The satyr's prong wasn't as thick as his
lord's but his hole was empty; he let it mount him. The pale one made
noises at his lord.

 Pan, we've come for Hercules, you have to release him. 

 There was whispering among the company but the satyr was stroking hard
and the dark one was looking at him, making noise too. That one had a
bulge beneath the black skins. Maybe, he would play with him too when the
satyr was done --- if his lord didn't want him again. He wiggled,
stretching his lips as men sometimes did. 

 Ares has come for him. 

 "Lawrr," was the sound, his lord made. Loud and angry.

 The law is fulfilled, son. 

 "Mawnnn," his lord insisted leaping up. The dark one's hand went to the
bronze stick on his thigh. His lord shook his head but the pale one's gray
eyes were very hard, like his lord's. 

 His lord turned and looked at him. "Gaowww," his lord bleated and he felt
a sharp pang in his breast. 

 Around him, all, including the satyr who had been fucking him, began to
edge away. He keened at them in fright.

 Get up and wipe your ass, Hercules. The dark one was coming toward him.
You heard the goat. 

 He got to his feet.

 Ares, get him! 

 Herm--?

 The pale one had guessed he was going to run and was beside him faster
than sight. The dark one was slower but got there and had a grip on his
arm before he could twist away.

 Hang on if you want him. 

 His lord bleated loudly.

 Don't you get it? You're free. 

 Lunging, he tried to break their hold.

 No he doesn't get it. He's free when you get him out of these woods.

 Then, for Hadessake, let's go! 

 The dark on stamped his foot jerking his arm. Nothing happened. Stamped
again. Then made a disgusted noise. "Half god!

 That's the point.

 What are we going to do?

 What do you mean `we' Wargod? I brought you here. I told my son to let
him go and I'm not going to do one thing more. 

 The dark one evaded his snapping teeth.

 You'd better!

 Yeah? The deal was I find him. After that it's your problem. 

 He sagged between them, swaying back and forth on his knees. The company
was fast disappearing into the trees and he needed to go with them. The
pale one was making barking noises again. 

 I might have some ideas, after he's had a bath, though. You didn't tell
me he was so well hung. 

 His lord was prancing and bleating.

 Tell goat-boy this isn't funny. What am I going to do?

 You're asking me for suggestions?

 Yes, blast you!

 It's a nice day for a walk. 

 From somewhere the pale one produced a long strip of hide and tossed it
at the dark one who caught it and started twining it around one of his
wrists. He threw his body back and forth.

 Hermes, I'm gonna kick your butt to Chin! 

 The dark one's hold on his arm slipped.

 Tell it to the Argonaughts.  

 With a flash of silver light, the pale one was gone and he was free to
run. He went tearing through the woods, following the troupe, with the
dark one roaring after.

 He ran until he was sure the dark one had fallen behind, then stopped and
listened. The woods were silent. He turned in all directions. Not even the
wind. He sniffed. Nothing but pine and snow. It came to him that he didn't
know the way back to the sanctuary. All around him were bare trees; black
branches against the gray sky and falling snow burying his foot prints.
For the first time he knew, he was alone. It was like being a hollow tree.


 He began to walk 

 Faster. 

 He began to run. Slipping and falling, and getting up again. Running,
because if he stopped, the empty dead feeling caught up with him.

 Running began to hurt. 

 At the bottom of a short ravine, he found a pile of brush that could have
been one of the summer hiding places. He crouched and crawled inside,
huddling in the briars with his arms over his head, rocking and wailing.
His lord was gone. Those with their skins and blood and bronze had rived
him from his lord. Someone reached into his hiding place. He felt a burst
of hope but it was the dark one dragging him into the open. 

 At least you were running in the right direction. Now, come on! 

 No! His lord may have left him but this one ---! He struck out and
knocked the dark one down but he was tripped up and fell. The dark one
jumped on him and began lashing the cord around his wrists, hauling him to
his feet no matter how he twisted. With his fist raised, the dark one
yapped and snarled. Give me a reason! 

 He threw himself on the ground and started gnawing the bindings. 

 Thank you. He jerked as the dark on kicked him sharply in the ribs.  I
don't have time for this. On your knees or on your feet. 

 The dark one dragged him, wrenching his arms until he stumbled to his
feet. There had to be a way to escape. He'd find it. Then he could find
his lord. But, the snow kept falling and they kept going away from the
heart of the forest. 

 His side hurt where the dark one had kicked him. The rocks had cut his
feet. With his lord, he'd ranged the night; now there was blood on the
snow, and it hurt to breathe. He kept his head down, stepping carefully as
they waded icy rivulets. Sometimes, when he raised his head, he could see
the heavy flakes melting on the dark one's shoulders and the water running
down the skins on his back. 

 He tripped and the dark one turned to strike him again. Yap, yap, yap.  

 He glared back, licking his lips and panting.

 The dark one looked him up and down. Something faded from his eyes. When
was the last time you ate anything? The dark one jerked the cord. Come on,
it's not that far. 

 He tugged too, and yapped back.

 Oh, for-- All right, I'm already out of my fucking mind. 

 The dark one looked around and led him to a tree. Pushed him down to his
knees and knotted the cord around the trunk. So close, he could feel the
warmth of the dark one's body. The smell of bronze and skins was wrong but
underneath those he smelled...he shoved his face into the dark one's
crotch, snuffing deep and the dark one yipped and jumped away, barking.
The dark one's cheeks were very pink when he walked away.

 He tried the cord. It wouldn't come loose so he sat in the snow and
waited. The sun must have begun to set; the snow had a rosy-orange tint
under the thick clouds, The longer the dark one was gone the more the
empty feeling inside him grew. He took hold of the cord and held on to it.

 I don't have much power in this place. This is the best I can do. 

 The dark one was back, handing him a honey comb. He grabbed it, brushing
away the few sleepy bees still clinging to it, and began, ravenously, to
suck the sweetness out of it. 

 The dark one went about gathering sticks, heaping them up. Yapping and
yapping. You are going to owe me, big time, little brother. And don't
think I'm going to let you forget it. You know better than to go around
wading in sacred pools The dark one dragged up a small log and hunkered on
it in front of the pile of sticks. There was a tiny flash of blue
lightning that made him flinch. As the sticks began to burn, he whimpered
but kept sucking on his honeycomb, spitting the waxy residue on the
ground. The dark one snorted.

 If I hadn't.... Get warm so we can get this folly over. 

 The dark one was leaning close to the fire. He risked a quick look. It
wasn't a bad face when it wasn't yapping, The cord let him reach, so, when
he'd finished his honey, he held his hands out to the jumping flame.
Closer. And jerked back. The dark barked at him. He tried again, not so
near. It was warm. He scrunched closer, licking the honey that had run
down his elbow.

 The dark one stretched his lips. This is a different look for you. Easy
to mistake you for a faun. I wouldn't have recognized you, if it wasn't
for your eyes.	The dark one kept looking at him. There was something in
his gaze. You don't understand a word I'm saying. And in the sound of his
voice. You don't know who I am, do you?  

 That made him look down. 

 What's my name? 

 He wrapped his arms around his knees...yap...yap... Didn't the yapping
ever stop? Animals made noises, but he knew what they meant.

 It's Ares! He looked up. Ares! He buried his face in his arms.

 You're filthy! You've probably got lice and that looks like blood in your
hair. I'd leave you. Really. I always knew you were a goat-fucker, but for
some reason Iphicles wants you back. 

 He couldn't shut out all the yapping, but it got softer.

 That was quite a scene to walk into. I wouldn't put it past Hermes to
have warned Pan we were coming. This time, when he sneaked a look, the
dark one's gaze was off in the distance. Do you like taking it that way?
If it weren't for...I'd... The dark one was glowing with heat.

 He was warm now and didn't need to sit all curled up. He stretched his
lips and showed his teeth like the dark one. Maybe they could play. He'd
feel better if they would play. The dark one wanted it. He could tell. He
spread his knees and took hold of his prong to make it hard and discovered
that he could make barking sounds too. The dark one looked at him -- and
jumped to his feet. Oh, for--!

 The dark one started kicking snow over the fire. Yap. Yap. Yap. What was
wrong? He could see the bulge under the black skins and the smell in the
air...he pressed himself against the dark one, shovinging against his leg,
showing him how to do it.

 Don't do that! Yap, yap, yap... The dark one dragged him from the tree
and pulled him to his feet. He didn't understand why the dark one wouldn't
play. The dark one wanted to play. Do you know what you smell like?

 In frustration, he peed on the dark one's feet. 

 The dark one stood with his mouth opening and closing, turning white,
while he danced like his lord, waving his prong, flicking drops on the
snow and barking.

 Oh, `somebody' is going to pay for this. The dark one turned and stomped
off and he had to follow, willy-nilly. But he danced, carefully stepping
on all the yellow prints in the snow until the light failed and he
couldn't see them anymore. He didn't know how to get back to his lord. The
dark one yapped constantly. But the dark one had given him honey. The dark
one wasn't going to leave him.

 The woods ended at a river bank

 It wasn't a wide river, but the water was black. And, when he realized
the dark one meant him to cross over, that was the worst. 

 On the other side, as far as he could see, there were no trees; it was
all plowed and planted and barren. 

 The dark one untied his wrists.

 I'll be happy if you drown, but I'm not going to force you. The dark one
stepped into the water and vanished.

 He was alone. He looked back to the woods. Somewhere in there was his
lord and the company but the trees were lined up against him. He looked
across the river. The water was rushing by. Without understanding, he
stepped into it.

 It wasn't deep, but it was cold and and he was naked and shivering in the
icy water. Nearby there were bridles were jingling, horses snorting and a
man was shouting, "He's over here, your majesty! In the water." Someone
called his name -- "Hercules!" A torch flared. And then another and
Iphicles was beside him, throwing a cloak over his shoulders and saying,
"I've come to take you home."

 ***

 One early spring night, Hercules slipped into Ares' temple. In Corinth,
the god of war's temple did double duty as the armory. Simpler that way --
pray, grab a sword, run. And when the battle was over, if you wanted to
make a sacrifice alone in the dark... 

 There no priests around to see him leave his offering on the votive
table. A sword. Coals glowed in a brazier by the altar. He arranged the
sticks of aromatic cedar and the lumps of precious myrrh and lit the pile
with a splinter, inhaling bitter smoke. The resin was almost consumed when
a shadow loomed behind him and a voice said, 

 "I was wondering if you were ever going to thank me." 

 "For the broken rib?"

 "You're welcome."

 The smoke dispersed.

 "Much as I appreciate the gesture, shouldn't you be somewhere else?" Ares
said. 

 "No."

 "The king of Corinth is entertaining a delegation from Athens tonight.
They want to talk about how the peace-loving people of Athens would really
like to get tight with the peace-loving people of Corinth and it would
mean a lot if you put in an appearance."

 "No."

 "So, when are you going to stop sulking and get back to saving the
world?" "I'm not sulking." Hercules scowled.

 "What do you call moofing around with a scowl on your face that would
frighten a gorgon and snapping at anyone who tries to touch you? Trust me;
I know sulking like you know a Hydra's sorry ass."

 Ares wasn't going to go away.

 Finally, Hercules said, "I feel dirty." 

 "Any particular reason?"

 "You should know."

 "You got naked. Ate some acorns. Didn't bathe for two months and
Iphicles' best blue cloak had to be burnt and your hair cut off?
And...oh...oh, yeah...you flipped your tail for every goat in Arcadia.
Sounds like fun--but, that's just me."

 "It would."

 "It would have happened to anyone who stuck his dirty feet in that
spring."

 "I'm. Not. Anyone."

 "That's right. Ouranos himself would have danced to Styrix's pipe, but
you're above all the laws of all the gods." Ares' voice was as bitter as
the incense. "You know what the matter really is, don't you?"

 "No."

 "You took to it. Such a randy little faun. All eyes and legs and rosy
balls. You liked it."

 "Shut up!"

 Without warning, Ares weight slammed him against the altar and held him
there. "Don't tell me to shut up! Do you know how much I wanted fuck to
you?" Hercules could feel Ares' cock, hard against his ass. "And you were
begging for it!" 

 "Did you...did I...did we?"

 "No."

 Tiny dots of light swarmed in front of his eyes. His knees suddenly gave,
banging against the marble as Ares turned him. It had been so long since
anyone had just held him that he didn't fight. Hands combed his back 

 Time passed.

 "Better?"

 "Yes..." he croaked.

 "It changes nothing."

 "I'm sorry."

 "You sure are." The hands came to rest.

 "You did it for Iphicles. Didn't you?"

 "It suits me not to have the king of Corinth distracted with worry just
now." There was a soft breath on his ear that sent a shiver rippling up
his back. The arms around him tightened. "And, I'm not saying it's so,
but, maybe, I missed having you to fight with."

 "If I was willing, and you wanted to, why didn't you?"

 "You mean, how `could' I resist." Ares' jaw jumped against his. Hercules
knew he was laughing and was glad it was dark "The line was too long."

 Hercules shoved him away. "The king of Corinth shouldn't have to put up
with those Athenian clowns by himself. I'll join him for dinner after
all." 

 Time to get while the getting was good.

 "Hercules..." Ares' voice in the dark

 "There will be a time..."  
   
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