Filius Romanus (Son of Rome)

[bb4eva]

Title: Filius Romanus (Son of Rome)
Authors: bb4eva and chamilet
Summary: An au!au set in the Roman Republic circa 50BC. A centurion in Caesar's army meets his match.
Acknowledgments: We were each others betas, so let us know if we screwed up:) Many thanks to r_o_l_i_e for the artwork! 
Feedback: It is like the air we breathe :)

Previous Chapters
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Part I - Training Camp



Chapter V

From his hiding place, Jacobus saw the whip-master tie the young slave up and watched with horror as the whip came down, cutting into the back of his new-found friend. After the fifth thwack Jacobus lost count. His friend had ceased crying out, the young slave boy's head now hung limp, propped on his chest by his chin -- and still the whip-master did not let up. Gathering up his courage, Jacobus stepped out from behind the stone column, determined; this had to stop. A second figure came into view, too late, he realized that the General was overseeing the proceedings himself. Aware that he could not override orders from the General while in his presence, Jacobus was left with no other option, he placed himself between the whip and his friend's bloodied back. THWACK.

Jacobus awoke with a start. Frantically he looked around, disoriented to place and time. As his breathing slowed he recognized the tent walls around him. He was no longer a boy, the pain in his back a phantom from wounds long healed. He'd felt the whip cut through his flesh as if for real and Jacobus was sure he must have screamed, but the snores from his fellow soldiers quieted his anxiety - any screams had only been in his head. It had been many years since that particular nightmare had surfaced. Jacobus knew he would get no more sleep this night. Quietly he rose, laced his sandals and ventured out into the moonlit night. He walked to the stables. Most of the horses were sleeping but one gelding raised his head, curious about this late night visitor. Jacobus walked over to him and stroked his muzzle, the action as soothing to him as to the horse.

When the tremble in his hands stilled, Jacobus left the horse and found a pile of fresh hay. He sat down with his head in his hands as the memories washed over him. He shivered, though the night was not cold, as he relived the whip slicing into him two more times before the General stayed the whip-master's hand. He remembered watching through his tears as the slave boy was released from his chains and his small body was carried away. Jacobus' tears had further angered the General, who ordered the slave boy be sold as soon as he recovered enough to fetch a decent price.

The General, determined to root out the softness from his son's heart, ordered servants to spy on his son, their loyalty bought with an extra denarius in pay. The General sniffed out those in the household Jacobus held affection for and subjected them to punishment for the most minor of infractions. He especially enjoyed making Jacobus watch as the slaves were whipped. Jacobus, realizing that he was the cause of all the beatings, trained himself to bury deeply all affection. He could never manage the feat of turning his heart to stone, but he had learned over the years to mask the weakness of his emotions. In time, the General was pleased with the results. Once foolish enough to shed tears for a slave boy that pleasured him, Jacobus had grown appropriately cold and in control of his emotions - even with his mother - such was the Roman way. These weeks at the army encampment had been liberating; being amongst soldiers, amongst equals, Jacobus did not have to mask his inner self, or hide away. After all not even a General could ask that his son's comrades be flogged. He had relished being able to express his enthusiasm for training and disdain for the Centurion with impunity. A disdain that had morphed into something more, into something Jacobus dared not voice.

He rubbed his face, and ran his fingers through his hair, as he remembered his one lapse in control. The last time he felt such lust like the Centurion unleashed with his kiss. In his fifteenth summer he met Larentia, the beautiful daughter of a rich merchant. She teased and taunted him and he found his body responding in new and exciting ways. The promise of a glimpse of her father's prized stallion had led him to her father's stables. Jacobus found himself kissing her honeyed lips, caressing her full breasts and laying her down on the bed of silk covered hay she had prepared for them. All thoughts had left his head as lust took over and he planted his seed inside her.

His late night visits to the merchant's stables came to an abrupt end when Larentia could no longer hide that she was with child. The merchant sent his daughter away, her child was to be born far away and then passed off as her brother so that the family could save face. It was common knowledge that the Merchant could not bed his frail wife and she was far to ill to bear a child, but when the child came, everyone congratulated the old couple with nary a raised eyebrow. Such was the Roman way. If Jacobus had been cut from lesser cloth, the Merchant would have had his hide, but the son of General Titus was untouchable to a simple citizen of Rome, even one as rich as the Merchant. When his initial fury subsided the Merchant raised the matter with the General. He was surprised that Jacobus had already informed his father about the affair. He did not need money from the General as he was rich enough, but another man would have been at the boy's mercy for financial help as few would dare confront the General as the Merchant did. A servant boy would later recount the conversation for Jacobus.

"A young man will deposit his seed in any receptacle open and warm; you should guard your daughter better in the future," the General fumed.

The Merchant calmed his ire, "I will have by my wife a child by next summer and we shall speak no more of my daughter or your son."

"Surely you do not mean to ask me for gold or silver. Your coffers are heavier than mine."

"I ask only that you make no claim on the child."

The General was put at ease, "There shall be no claim, I assure you."

"No claim if the child be a male scion?"

The General nodded and the pact was sealed. A deal that meant Jacobus was shipped off to military training, never to know his own child - a boy he could never claim for his son. Two winters later Larentia had managed to sneak him into their villa, and he had played with his son for a few minutes. Jacobus tried not think on him much, but sometimes, at night, he imagined being a real father to the boy.

Jacobus thought back to earlier in the evening. Yannis' lips on his, the way Jacobus had let his guard down for a moment and returned the...NO. After Yannis' promise that it would never happen again, Jacobus put his hands to his face, touched his lips and forced down the feelings that were threatening to escape, that he couldn't allow to escape. Old nightmares had been awakened tonight as if to remind Jacobus that tender feelings led to nothing but pain. These memories that the Centurion had managed to drag from the depths of his soul with one tender kiss - NO! He would not think on it! - these feelings, he feared, would rip him in two. He hoped he would be able to bury them again, he had to bury them again, lest word of it reach the General... Damn you, Yannis, the General would not hesitate... he bolted to his feet and made his way back to the tent as dawn began to break.

Yannis was still asleep in the tent, and Jacobus' breath caught in his throat as he watched the Centurion. The feelings that warmed his heart seemed to come out of nowhere, and Jacobus wondered if he would be able to stem their tide. What would happen when the dam finally burst? He was in the General's army now. He'd been a fool to let his guard down with the soldiers, his father still had the power to bring misery to his companions; as Centurion, Yannis would be an easy target. He reached out his hand and his fingers lightly traced the line of Yannis' jaw, his eyes never leaving the lips that he had tasted ever so briefly earlier.

Startled when Yannis opened his eyes, Jacobus quickly moved to pull his hand away. Lips curling into a smile that lit his eyes, Yannis caught Jacobus' hand and inched over to make enough room for Jacobus to lie beside him. They lay together in silence, face to face, hands clasped together between them, their eyes communicating a softness no Roman man would dare voice out loud.

All the earth seemed to still and the wind slowed as if the heavens too held their breath. What seemed like the passage of the ages was but a few moments, until finally the calling of dawn stirred the other soldiers from their slumber.

***

Yannis watched Jacobus turn away, feigning sleep to those around him. He'd been worried that Jacobus would pull away from him after his irresponsible behavior the previous evening. Or worse yet, report him to the General, which would have meant the end of his military career as retribution. Yannis soared with the sentience that Jacobus' passionate response to his kiss had not been a figment of his wishful imagination. The tenderness with which Jacobus reached out to him this morning made his heart pound against his rib cage, the sadness behind those blue eyes unleashing every protective instinct in him.

Yannis knew enough to tread carefully. He'd met the General, the man was ruthless for sure, but that did not much worry him - a one shot affair could be kept from him. It was Jacobus' panic barely masked by his passion that concerned Yannis. This was not a man used to hiding in dark alleys. Yannis refused to acknowledge it to himself, but deep down he knew the real reason he was pulling at the reins - with Jacobus it could never be a one shot thing.

Yannis let out a sigh. This could never be...

The throbbing between his legs reminded him this would be one hell of a python to fit back into its hole. Somehow thoughts of holes in the ground morphed into thoughts of other holes a certain python would rather be trying to fit into and Yannis groaned with frustration. He had to find a private enough spot for a quick release or forfeit his sanity. His lust seemed to be feeding on the warmth in his heart until he could barely distinguish his need for release from his need for Jacobus.

Yannis tightened the knot in his tunic, hoping to hold his member in place long enough to walk out of sight and into the woods.

Once outside the tent, Yannis realized the morning was already too bright for mere ferns to confer enough privacy, unless one was an exhibitionist comfortable with a chance encounter, which he was not. He walked around in circles until finally he was at half mast. This will have to do, he thought to himself, heading for the urinals.

***

"The Centurion must have had quite a night, eh?" the Syrian laughed after Yannis left the tent.

"Didn't we all?" asked Jacobus, thinking back to the drinking and merriment at the tavern.

There was more laughter from the men. "Someone woke up wanting more...," the innuendo was not lost on Jacobus this time around, he too had noticed the large bulge Yannis had been struggling to hide under the tunic. He fought the red creeping up on his face, "Is that not the natural waking state?" he challenged.

"Jacobus, that was something extra. The pueri last night must have been something special."

"Pueri?"

More laughter, the joke had turned from Yannis to Jacobus.

"The boy prostitute."

"Ah," Jacobus suppressed a stab of jealousy. It was me, not the Pueri from last night, Yannis was thinking on, he wanted to say. Instead he feigned surprise, "The Centurion likes his pleasure from boys?"

"I have yet to meet a man who would forsake the pleasure of boys. The Centurion, however, does prefer it to that of the tavern dames," Hector explained.

"As do I," added the Syrian.

"You drool at every bulge, Syrian, even Jacobus would have figured it out eventually," Gaius laughed.

"How can I help it?" asked the Syrian, "I thought he had a sword sheathed under his tunic...if he came at me, I'd not put up any resistance."

"Ah but your screams of passion would wake the entire camp and they'd chase you back to Damascus for being a woman."

"Why do you care? Would you miss me?" the Syrian stuck out his tongue twirling it suggestively.

"Of course I care. Last thing we need is to head for battle without our womenfolk to protect us," Gaius joked.

Jacobus looked from one man to the other, and then to the rest for a hint of disapproval. He found none in the laughing faces of the soldiers. "Is he a ....?" Jacobus started to ask. He was interrupted by Hector, "You had better not say it out loud if you want to live to see tomorrow."

"But Gaius just...," Jacobus protested.

The Syrian placed an arm around Jacobus, "Everyone gets a pass for each time they save my life in battle."

"Only Gaius has a positive count," continued Hector.

"And Yannis?" inquired Jacobus, cursing himself as he realized he'd used the Centurion's name instead of his title.

"Oh, there is no count for the Centurion," the Syrian made it known his slip did not go unnoticed, "hell, he can make me his woman any time."

Not if I have anything to do about it, Jacobus was vexed by the Syrian's words, though he dare not let it show.

***

Everyone lined up for a few grains that was the morning ration. Yannis felt a pair of eyes watching him intently and looked around to meet Jacobus' stare. It was not that Jacobus smiled at him that had him wound tight, it was a brief moment of soft tenderness in the smile, gone in an instant. Damn you Titus, Yannis cursed beneath his breath. When he meet Jacobus' gaze again, he had stilled the gallop his heart had broken into and returned a stern gaze that held no hint of the affection he bore the blue eyed recruit.

"Soldiers of Rome, today we rest. Recruits, the next two weeks will be the toughest of your lives, so use your day wisely. Enjoy your meal." As Yannis spoke, he observed Jacobus from the corner of his eye. Jacobus, Yannis realized, wore a Roman theatre mask to conceal his emotions. A mask that hardly covered his eyes. His blue eyes, set like sapphire stones on a crown jewel, sparkled with emotion and sometimes, like now, glared with anger.

After the meal, Yannis followed Jacobus, wanting to sneak away and relax for the day in pleasant company. He was surprised to find Jacobus heading for the sword training arena. Surely it was not his former sword-master Jacobus sought? Yannis felt like a knife had been plunged into him. As if in a trance he marched onward, ignoring the thinking part of his brain that bid him to walk away.

He watched Jacobus gear up and retrieve a training sword. There was no one else around. What is he doing? It was soon obvious; Jacobus was practicing training drills, plunging the sword forward as if stabbing at an imaginary adversary in the thin air.

"This is no way to spend your day of rest." Yannis stepped through the stone arch in the fort wall that opened into the arena.

"It's better than trying to figure you out." Jacobus took another stab into his imaginary adversary, "An idle body makes the mind think too much."

"And I am the last person you want to be thinking on?" Yannis asked.

Jacobus was silent and it was driving Yannis mad. "Do you not speak, recruit?"

Jacobus stopped mid sword swing, "I do not get you, Centurion. One minute you are yelling insults at me, punishing me, then you are heaping praise on me and kissing me. Next you act as if nothing ever happened and now you care that I'd rather you leave me be."

"You'd rather I leave you be, or would you rather be with some particular sword-master?"

"What?" Jacobus resumed his practice.

"Your sword-master. Tell me, did you service him too, or did you just watch your uncle do him?"

"Damn you centurion!" Jacobus barked, throwing the sword to the ground.

"Damn you too, Jacobus Titus."

Jacobus stared daggers at Yannis for a moment, breathing heavily. Yannis took a step back when Jacobus broke into a smile, as if a lamp had been lit inside his head. "You are jealous, aren't you?" Jacobus asked.

"I am...not," Yannis' first instinct was denial, but that sounded like a lie and he did not want to lie to Jacobus, "Yes."

"I never...," Jacobus searched for words, "I...You...have nothing to be jealous of."

Yannis had no comeback for such a declaration, not even his wife had ever tried to reassure him so. And they were not even lovers, yet. Yet !?! how did it go from 'never again' to YET?.

"Let's go for a swim," Yannis suggested trying to break his train of thought, "you really should try to relax today."

"Not before I prove myself capable of pinning down the Centurion in unarmed combat."

You can wrestle me to the ground at your will. Yannis thought to himself. His face must have betrayed what he was thinking because Jacobus blushed, "I did not mean it like that!" He was adamant.

"Didn't you?" Yannis teased.

"Now you shall never know," Jacobus beamed.

"Surely you do not wish the reputation of a coward." Yannis reached into the leather belt that held his garments in place and tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Jacobus too unbuckled his body armor and lifted the leather straps off himself. He hesitated a moment then took off his white inner shirt and turned to face his opponent.

"I am the standing century wrestling champion lest you have forgotten," Jacobus said.

Yannis was going to respond, but the sight of Jacobus a few feet from him clad in nothing but a tunic cut his tongue. The sheet of sweat on the muscled chest in front of him pooled into a drop. Yannis watched the drop swell until it began to slide downward under it's own weight. It followed the path made by the gully where the muscles of his midsection dipped into a mid-line. The drop slowed as it came up on the hairline that filled the lower part of the grove. Yannis held his breath as the drop disappeared, into the hole formed by Jacobus' belly-button. His eyes followed the trail of dark locks lower to the bulge in the tunic. Yannis licked his lips; this was definitely a win already.

For a few moments after their arms locked in a wrestle, all was forgotten and they were nothing but two soldiers fighting for points, until Jacobus spoke, "Why do you blow hot then cold?"

"I am always cold." Yannis panted from the effort of holding Jacobus off.

"And last night?" Jacobus curled his leg around Yannis' trying to throw him.

"That was not me," Yannis pushed forward so he could step away from the pressure on his thigh without falling.

"Who then?" Jacobus pushed off, and they circled each other searching for a better grip next round from which to emerge victorious.

"Innis." Yannis didn't plan to say that, yet it was true. The stoic exterior he showed the world was the Centurion. It was deep inside were Innis ruled that Jacobus had staked his claim. Lost in thought, he was a fraction of a second too slow and Jacobus caught him in a tight clasp tumbling him to the ground.

They twisted and fought for a few minutes until, exhausted, Yannis gave up and Jacobus pinned him down, triumphant. The feel of Jacobus' hips grinding into him compensated for the humiliation of losing to a new recruit. His heart still raced long after his breathing returned to normal, as he stared into blue eyes that held his gaze.

"May I, Innis Del Mar, kiss you?" Yannis asked.

"Not Innis, Enn--," Jacobus' protest was cut short by warm, tasty lips.

Clashing lips together, tongues wrestling; they kissed with energy that matched their fight. It was Yannis who pulled away, "lest we be discovered."

"Stolen kisses, is that all?" Jacobus asked

"For now," Yannis said, trying to mask his own disappointment as well.

Jacobus rose, and held out his hand to Yannis, pulling the other man up. He quickly reached for his shirt and put it back on.

They spent the rest of the day together, sleeping in a grassy meadow until noon and playing cards with Gaius and Hector in the evening. "A swim eluded us today, did it not?" Jacobus later quipped.

"Indeed, but the company was a delight nevertheless," replied Yannis.

"Likewise, Ennis."

"If you insist on calling me Ennis, I'll have to call you...," Yannis tapped his finger against his lips as if in deep thought, "...Jack."

"Jack? No Roman is called such!"

"I decree it my name for you," Yannis jested.

"Are you Caesar? Only he can decree things into being," Jacobus laughed.

"That may be so in this realm, but whence Jack and Innis hail, I can decree it so."

"Ennis!"

"Be it as you wish then, Ennis it is."

"Jack and Ennis pleases me. And their time together...?"

"Ends tomorrow."

Jacobus nodded, knowing in his heart what Yannis could not say, that there was no room for Jack and Ennis amongst men preparing to leave for war.





threesomes