The river runs strong and free, carving out rock and the very earth, forever shaping the land.

The surface broke, and the king of the river rose with a mighty splash to greet the humanoid figure that was approaching the river.

'Welcome, boy,' Achelous said, and as he laughed the stream joined in with him. 'Another one of love's fools. Come to reclaim your sweetheart.'

The river king was a sight to behold. Ten times larger than any man, he had four long scaly arms, each with an enormous, jagged claw. His head resembled that of a crocodile, except his teeth were long and sharp as knives, and his eyes, fixed upon the youth in front of him, burned a bright fiery red.

From one of his arms dangled the girl Deianira, soaking wet, her dark hair stuck to her face, her expression one of distinct annoyance.

'Would you stop going in and out of the water like that, you brute!'

'Silence! You are addressing the god of this river, mortal!' Achelous' voice was a gravelly hiss.

'Yeah? Of this whole river? Well, colour me impressed,' Deianira crossed her arms.

'Silence!'

Achelous glanced at the young man. He was tall for a human, and looked fit enough, although his youth and inexperience were painfully obvious. His face was smooth and gentle, and not a single scar blemished his naked chest, worse: he hadn't even brought a weapon.

Achelous almost felt a tinge of pity. Too many young people nowadays grew up with the stories of the great heroes, and it inevitably led to delusions of grandeur.

'Pff, begone you, and leave this wench. She can't possibly be worth your life, boy.'

He only received a blank stare in return.

'A bit slow, are you. Well, let me make this clear. You are about to challenge Achelous, god of this mightiest of rivers, I have seen civilisations rise and fall at my banks, only existing at my mercy, slaves to my whims, and you, boy, will die by my hand, lest you scarper and leave this worthless female to her fate!'

As though riled by his words the waves became wilder, they buckled, and water itself rose from the river, took the shapes of gigantic beasts, dragons, and serpents, all of whom began to posture and roar, and took up formation behind their lord and master.

The young man looked at Deianira and appeared to be deep in thought.

The lack of reaction threw Achelous off a tad.

'You might consider running away now. I mean I've got time and all, but really, this is quite unorthodox.'

The boys face lit up, and he cleared his throat.

'There!' he shouted suddenly, pointing down river. 'Fiends! They're polluting the water!'

'What!' Achelous and his hordes collectively turned their hideous heads.

The young man moved. There was blur, lasting at most the fraction of a second, shooting across the river to the other side, and there stood the young man, Deianira safely in his arms. Gently he lowered her to the ground.

'Hey!' Achelous turned around. 'Get them!'

The god and the beasts jumped forwards, bearing claws and fangs capable of tearing the strongest metal and slicing apart the highest mountains, waves formed behind them large enough to wipe out small cities, and in their rage they let loose all of it, directing it right at the reunited couple.

Deianira winked at the approaching forces of the river god, and mischievously stuck out her tongue. Her young lover drew back a single fist. Then he punched, and the earth shook.

The force of the strike ripped apart the watery creations, and sent trees, earth, the very river and its inhabitants flying, wept up a violent, raging storm. When it had finally calmed down there was only dust left, slowly settling on a massive crater, at the bottom of which lay Achelous. All of his arms broken, and with his snout bent in a painful-looking way, he whimpered pitifully.

'H-how? W-what are you? W-what in H-hades' name are you?'

'Sorry, did I forget to mention,' Deianira said, peeking out from behind the man.

'This is Heracles, mightiest of all heroes, son of Zeus, king of the gods. You might consider running away now.'

There was a shrill, high-pitched shriek, and the water came rushing back in, filling the crater, and leaving behind the now somewhat differently shaped river, calm and serene.

Deianira looked at the uprooted trees and the shattered rocks.
'You could have held back a little more,' she said.

Heracles shrugged.

'He did say he was god, I just wanted to make sure. Although you could have told him who I was earlier. I think he would have left you alone.'

'That would've been no fun, my little hero,' she said and pinched Heracles' firm bottom. 'Why didn't you tell him?'

'I-I thought he'd recognise me, to be honest,' Heracles frowned.

'Aww, poor you.'

Heracles stroked his chin.

'Maybe I should go back to wearing the lion pelt,' he mused.

'Nope,' said Deianira.

'But people recognise it, it's like a trademark.'

'It stinks of wet cat, also the blood of your enemies, it's gross is what I'm saying.'

Heracles shrugged again.

'Whatever, let's get you back to your father. He's promised me a feast. You know, kings always feast when I'm around. What's up with that?'

The king, in his eternal gratitude, had truly outdone himself, and even Heracles, rather a connoisseur of banquets, ended up more than satisfied. It wasn't until long after midnight that, full of pork and copious amounts of wine, he and Deianira made their way to the princess' quarters.

Servants had dutifully stoked the fire, and when the couple finally arrived the room was warm and bathed in golden light.

'Why did all those women want to dance with me,' Heracles asked.

'Have you looked at a mirror lately?' Deianira asked, and regretted it right away.

'Yes, this morning. Why would-?'

'Forget it. It doesn't matter. You are mine, and don't you forget it, son of Zeus.'

Heracles smiled brightly.

'Of course, I am.'

He sat down on the silky sheets, and the bed creaked under the demigod's weight.

'You're so pretty wearing that,' he said, staring shamelessly at her light blue robes, which accentuated Deiranira's feminine curves, and left decidedly little to even Heracles' limited imagination.

'Yeah? Wait till I'm not wearing it.'

Deianira quickly crossed the room and jumped into Heracles' arms. His body was like a statue, did not budge in the slightest. She placed her small hand on his chest, even without exerting any effort it was hard and unyielding as a castle.

'Kiss me,' she said, secure in the knowledge that he would.

Heracles leant down, and pulled her close, his arms inescapable vices. Deianira was pressed up against her forehead touched Heracles', and she felt the power in his fingers although he was caressing her back with the utmost care. They kissed, and it was good and long, Deianira playful and forward, and Heracles following her lead, responding to every little movement.

She pulled back, saliva still fresh on her soft lips. Heracles went right for another but Deianira put a finger on his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

She pulled on a strap on her shoulder, and the robes slid off her upper body, revealing a heaving breast, not large, but soft and tender.

'Impatient, are we,' she smiled, and gently parted his lips.

She felt his warm tongue against her finger.

'Good,' she said. 'I want it nice and wet.'

With the moist finger, she stroked her tit and watched the excitement on her lover's face as the nipple hardened right away.

She reached over and took his arm.

'Go on,' she guided it towards her, and an enormous palm began to squeeze her sensitive breast.

He was careful as he always had to be so as not to crush the mortals he dealt with on a daily basis.

Finally, desire flickered behind his eyes. A spark had ignited passion. Deianira felt his grip on her thigh, the hand sliding in under her robes. Soft, quivering and moist, her womanhood melted under his touch, opened invitingly, posing no resistance to the eager hand.

Heracles knew not to take things too far, not yet. Obediently he pulled back his fingers, ran them across Deianira's stomach, leaving a trail of her warm sticky juices.

His hands became blurs and fabric ripped like wet paper, and with her heart beating as though of fright Deianira saw the tattered remains of her robes fall off.

A barely muffled grunt and Heracles tore away his loincloth without taking his eyes off Deianira's naked form. Blood rushed into a frightening member, and it rose from its sleep, tense and rigid.

'Heracles,' her words were soothing, calming, and at the same time, she was so very eager to experience this man unrestrained, unshackled just for once.

Deianira reached out, felt the throbbing manhood, twitching violently under her touch, radiating heat and strength, and she grasped it with both of her hands, and stroked and played, and could almost see the flames she was stoking within Heracles.

'Your mouth,' he said almost sounding pleadingly, but not really.

Something ancient stirred deep within, was taking over his mind.

Deianira pressed her tiny lips against it, her kiss was a drop of water against the sun. His grin was full of anticipation, and when he could feel her tongue against his member, his eyes lit up brighter and brighter. Deianira tasted him, tasted the length of the shaft, willing took in his scent, bathed in it, reveled in it. She opened wide and enveloped the tip, her tongue circling the head, spreading natural lubricant. She felt his grip, and was pushed towards him, slowly, patience and care still triumphing over base, carnal wants.

Not even halfway and Deianira gagged pitifully. She persevered, moved back and forth, massaged the mighty pole with her lips and tongue, teasingly bit down, and delighted in his moans and growls of pleasure.

'Let's do it,' a guttural quality to his voice, not a request, but the mere vocalisation of a deep-seated, feral desire. 'Like last time.'

Deianira pulled back and gave him only the tiniest of nods, so caught up was she in the possibilities, the dangers, the lust. She let out an involuntary scream when Heracles flipped her over, and her entire being trembled as the mighty hand closed around the back of her neck.

He grabbed her bum with such a force that for a second the feeling was gone from her left leg, and Deianira only just managed to keep her balance.

Her labia trembled, wet and dripping her vagina squirmed under the pressure of Heracles rubbing it with his thumb.

A tingling radiated out from her spine as she felt the tip knocking against a tunnel too small, and there was a whimper of pleasure, pain, and fear.

She felt herself stretching, felt her whole body aching for a chance to accommodate the intruder, yearning to be filled by his very essence. Her legs were lifted up, pushed apart, and she hung in mid-air, and the invasion went on. More, deeper, wider. Her screams louder, the tension unbearable.

In. Out. Farther in. Farther. Farther. A relentless assault on a willing victim.

'Go! Go deeper!'

Muffled groans, and thrust after thrust.

Deianira shrieked, her limbs were cramping, her muscles spasmed uncontrollably, and the force of his pounding shook her body like a rag doll, every movement built and built up the mounting tension, not every ounce of Deianira's willpower would be able to hold back the blast of ecstacy soon.

'I can't! I'm gonna-!'

'Grr!'

If he had wanted to slow down, he couldn't do it.

A rush of pleasure, which eradicated the pain like a forest fire, and a burning heat from deep within her. Deianira floated in the sudden calm of bliss and happiness, relinquished all control of her body, and watched it collapse as though from the outside. Her legs were jelly, and she lay on her side, unable to lift a single limb, staring with grateful awe at the mighty figure that towered above her.

'Nice,' she was hoarse from screaming.

Heracles didn't look at her. His eyes were closed, and he took deep, regular breaths through his nose, his lips moved, a chant, a mantra. She saw his hands gripping the stone bed. Done. He opened his eyes, and his stare met Deianira's. The flames were gone.

'Very nice,' gently he stroked her cheek and smiled. 'I wish you wouldn't always take it so far.'

'You're just so irresistible,' she said still gasping. 'Besides you've got a great handle on things.'

Small pieces of marble fell from his fingers, and Deianira turned to where on her bed his hands had been, and she saw large chunks missing, crumbled to nothing but dust.

'For now,' he said, looking serious.

'Ha! We've barely started, son of Zeus. I'll have you yet, you hear me.'

Heracles glanced at his diminishing erection.

'I would like that,' he said.

They kissed, and Heracles held his love tight, and for the millionth time, he vowed he would never, ever let her go.