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Iolaus raised up on his toes and pulled down hard on the bellows, fanning the coals to a dull red glow. A trickle of sweat slid down his cheek, only to be flicked away by the tip of his tongue.
The clanging of hammer against metal ceased. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Hercules jab the blade deep into the coals. He stilled and his gaze wandered, from the knife to the hand gripping it, up the strong arm to the well-muscled chest slick with sweat. He smiled in anticipation.
The fire of the forge couldn't compare with the heat in his belly.