New fic: The Hours and Days (The Eagle, Marcus/Esca)
Happy New Year! I wrote three stories for Yuletide this year in three fandoms: King Arthur, The Eagle, and the Fast and Furious movie series. I'll be posting them all in my LJ the next few days.
First up: The Eagle. Written for giddygeek on the spur of the moment as a Yuletide Treat.
The Hours and Days
Marcus/Esca, 1,723 words, adult
Summary: The life of a farmer was not easy, but Marcus supposed there were compensations to be had.
"The black one," Esca said, pointing at a singularly lazy-looking cow. Her tail switched back and forth, and she eyed Esca, apparently unimpressed by the fact that her fate was in his hands.
"And why not the brown one?" Marcus asked, raising his eyebrows.
Esca sighed. "One cow is very like another. Black, brown; they will all give milk. Let us have one and be done with it."
The brown one did have a certain beauty to her. But Esca was glowering in such a fashion that Marcus feared to haggle any longer over the cow or the price, so he quickly arranged a trade for the one Esca had chosen. Finally, they were on their way home, their horses almost as eager to get out of the damp cold as Marcus and Esca were.
"Soon enough, we will have to find quality horses," Marcus said, his breath painting white gusts on the air before him. As if in answer, his mare whinnied and shook her head, and Marcus patted her gently. All the horses had been worked to their limit as the farm grew in size, becoming more than they had ever dreamed it could be.
"I will be drowned by then," Esca muttered, giving his hood a vicious yank down toward his eyes.
"Did you not tell me how favorable the climate was here, and how very much it reminded you of your home?" Marcus carefully looked away from the glare Esca directed his way, lest he be caught smiling.
"I was clearly out of my head, and you should have said as much to me," Esca said. He leaned down over his mare's neck and whispered something to her, and then they were off, mud flying behind them off the back of his mare's hooves. Marcus urged his own mare on, and contented himself with the steady rhythm of the ride. Soon enough, they would be home.
The rain had not stopped in days, and in truth, everything was mud underfoot. It clung to Marcus's garments, lined the floor of their tiny cottage, and turned the meadows to sodden masses of wet grass. Worst of all, the unceasing rain turned Esca irritable, and avoiding Esca when he was annoyed was greatly to be desired.
Marcus always had intentions of doing so, but it was so amusing to watch as Esca went about his business, mouth set in a grim line that spoke of butchering the first person to remark upon his disposition. Marcus supposed he was a terrible person for finding such comfort in Esca's moods, but they were normal to him now, and part of the regularity of their lives.
They dismounted at the door of their cottage, even as the deluge of rain worsened. "Shall I bring the horses up, then?" Marcus asked, when Esca trudged up to the door, his hair plastered to his face. Rivulets of water followed the planes of his cheekbones, and Marcus swallowed against the familiar desire, always so present, always so hot against his skin, like a pressure from within which seemed likely to split him open and leave him helpless.
"Do as you like," Esca said, scowling, "for I have had enough of the damp, and wish to stand by the fire."
"There is a pot of water," Marcus said. "You will have to build the fire back up, and it will not have had time enough to heat properly."
"It will do." Esca marched past him, into the cottage, and Marcus's smile grew at the sight of him, bedraggled and tired, disappearing into their little home as if there was nowhere else he would like to be. It was a good thought, and it sustained Marcus as he braved the sideways rain to bring the horses closer to the cottage.
Thunder boomed in the air, rattling his chest, as Marcus went to the door and stripped down, leaving his wet things outside. The sky burst open and began yet another downpour, so Marcus hurriedly closed the doors, sealing in the warmth of their tiny home.
Esca crouched by the fire, washing himself in a typically efficient way; long strokes of a wet cloth down his arms, across his neck, down his chest, and when he stood, Marcus could not help but find his cock filling at the sight.
Esca, for his part, ignored Marcus as if he was not there at all, but Marcus knew better. He could feel how aware Esca was of him, and the way Esca moved had changed. The cloth against his body slowed, and his strokes became broader, all for Marcus's pleasure as he looked his fill.
When Esca had finished, he tossed the cloth on the hearth and raised his head to meet Marcus's avid gaze. By the light of the fire, he was golden, lithe and strong, and Marcus moved to him, not touching, just watching. He circled Esca, watching the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise as if drawn to Marcus.
"You are bold, Marcus Flavius Aquila," Esca said, his voice pitched low. "You stare as if you had right of possession."
Marcus stepped close, then, close enough to feel the heat rising from Esca's skin, and brought his lips close to Esca's ear. "Oh, I do," he said softly. "We both know you belong to me."
In the space of moments, Esca had turned, shoved him back against the wall, the smirk of challenge on his face. His fingers closed around Marcus's hard cock, and he lifted his chin, saying, "Tell me now, who has possession?"
"Take what you want," Marcus gasped, consumed with the effort of not thrusting his hips forward into Esca's strong hand. "It was always yours."
"So it was." The satisfied gleam in Esca's eye sent tiny shivers down Marcus's back. "Rest assured, I shall make good use of what is mine."
They moved to the bed then, to settle beneath the warm furs. In truth, there was nothing Marcus wanted more than to nestle there in contentment, with Esca in his arms. They tangled together, mouths meeting with a slow hunger, the heat building around them in the tight cocoon made by their bodies and blankets. Esca shifted atop him, strong and willing.
"Esca," Marcus murmured, his hands finding the curve of Esca's ass and resting there. He spread his legs and made room for Esca's body between them, ready to welcome the pang of desire that took his breath away every time they were positioned thus.
In their first days together, the quick coupling and urgency of lust had been enough for Marcus. But in time, it had become something more. Marcus loved to draw out their mutual pleasure until Esca was panting, crying out, his body arched to meet Marcus's touch. Marcus controlled his desire, let it curl deep in his belly, let it slow his hands on Esca's body as they explored every angle, every hollow, judging Esca's pleasure in turn by the way his breathing quickened against Marcus's mouth.
Esca's mouth traveled the line of Marcus's neck, and Marcus gave himself up to it, the delicious torment of Esca's lips on him, the sharper connection of teeth with skin. His hips moved of their own accord, matching Esca's slow rolling thrusts, their cocks brushing together with easy friction.
Marcus threw his head back, and Esca chased his lips, not finished kissing him yet. It was this, the heady knowledge that Esca wanted him as much as he wanted Esca, that sent his body hurtling toward the edge. Esca's hand closed on him again, and Marcus cried out Esca's name, followed by wordless sounds of need.
"Give me what is mine," Esca whispered fiercely, sinking his teeth into Marcus's shoulder, and Marcus spilled his seed in Esca's hand, hips jerking forward in helpless need.
Marcus wrapped an arm about Esca's waist, as Esca sought his mouth again; he pushed, and maneuvered Esca onto his back, devouring his mouth with a single-minded purpose. Slowly, he eased his way down Esca's chest, leaving gentle scrapes of teeth in his wake, while Esca bucked beneath him like a wild creature, lacking even the most basic control.
Marcus had learned to crave the taste of Esca, the feel of his cock in Marcus's mouth, and when he closed his lips around it, Esca's strangled cry made Marcus's spent cock twitch with intense interest. Marcus spread one hand across Esca's belly, but put the other hand to the task of making Esca come, his thumb breaching Esca dry. At the moment of penetration, Esca spilled into Marcus's mouth, his shocked sounds the most wonderful thing Marcus could ever hope to hear.
When Marcus had milked Esca of every drop, he raised his body over Esca and kissed him slowly, stealing the last few gasps and cries from him, because Marcus was greedy and could never have enough of them. He settled beside Esca, his hand drawing patterns on Esca's stomach, across his chest. In his imagination, they matched the patterns so starkly drawn on Esca's arm, the reminders of his past, before Marcus was a part of his life.
Esca turned on his side so they were facing each other, and drew the furs up close and tight. "Marcus," he said, so much contained in the simple utterance of a name. In answer, Marcus drew him into an embrace, and they sank into sleep, wrapped in each other.
In the morning, Marcus opened his eyes to find Esca tearing a hunk of day-old bread for him, offered with a cup of fresh milk. There were kisses as well, stolen as if they were not two grown men, two former warriors, who had animals to feed and crops to tend. The lines of tension around Esca's eyes had eased, and there was a contentment in his eyes, in the way his gaze lingered on Marcus.
"Up from there, and to work," Esca said, fastening a knife at his belt. "Your beloved cows will not milk themselves, Roman," he added, and pulled back the furs, his stare raking unashamed over Marcus's body.
"I am at your command," Marcus said softly, just to see the red stain rise on Esca's cheeks.
The life of a farmer was not easy, but Marcus supposed there were compensations to be had.
First up: The Eagle. Written for giddygeek on the spur of the moment as a Yuletide Treat.
The Hours and Days
Marcus/Esca, 1,723 words, adult
Summary: The life of a farmer was not easy, but Marcus supposed there were compensations to be had.
"The black one," Esca said, pointing at a singularly lazy-looking cow. Her tail switched back and forth, and she eyed Esca, apparently unimpressed by the fact that her fate was in his hands.
"And why not the brown one?" Marcus asked, raising his eyebrows.
Esca sighed. "One cow is very like another. Black, brown; they will all give milk. Let us have one and be done with it."
The brown one did have a certain beauty to her. But Esca was glowering in such a fashion that Marcus feared to haggle any longer over the cow or the price, so he quickly arranged a trade for the one Esca had chosen. Finally, they were on their way home, their horses almost as eager to get out of the damp cold as Marcus and Esca were.
"Soon enough, we will have to find quality horses," Marcus said, his breath painting white gusts on the air before him. As if in answer, his mare whinnied and shook her head, and Marcus patted her gently. All the horses had been worked to their limit as the farm grew in size, becoming more than they had ever dreamed it could be.
"I will be drowned by then," Esca muttered, giving his hood a vicious yank down toward his eyes.
"Did you not tell me how favorable the climate was here, and how very much it reminded you of your home?" Marcus carefully looked away from the glare Esca directed his way, lest he be caught smiling.
"I was clearly out of my head, and you should have said as much to me," Esca said. He leaned down over his mare's neck and whispered something to her, and then they were off, mud flying behind them off the back of his mare's hooves. Marcus urged his own mare on, and contented himself with the steady rhythm of the ride. Soon enough, they would be home.
The rain had not stopped in days, and in truth, everything was mud underfoot. It clung to Marcus's garments, lined the floor of their tiny cottage, and turned the meadows to sodden masses of wet grass. Worst of all, the unceasing rain turned Esca irritable, and avoiding Esca when he was annoyed was greatly to be desired.
Marcus always had intentions of doing so, but it was so amusing to watch as Esca went about his business, mouth set in a grim line that spoke of butchering the first person to remark upon his disposition. Marcus supposed he was a terrible person for finding such comfort in Esca's moods, but they were normal to him now, and part of the regularity of their lives.
They dismounted at the door of their cottage, even as the deluge of rain worsened. "Shall I bring the horses up, then?" Marcus asked, when Esca trudged up to the door, his hair plastered to his face. Rivulets of water followed the planes of his cheekbones, and Marcus swallowed against the familiar desire, always so present, always so hot against his skin, like a pressure from within which seemed likely to split him open and leave him helpless.
"Do as you like," Esca said, scowling, "for I have had enough of the damp, and wish to stand by the fire."
"There is a pot of water," Marcus said. "You will have to build the fire back up, and it will not have had time enough to heat properly."
"It will do." Esca marched past him, into the cottage, and Marcus's smile grew at the sight of him, bedraggled and tired, disappearing into their little home as if there was nowhere else he would like to be. It was a good thought, and it sustained Marcus as he braved the sideways rain to bring the horses closer to the cottage.
Thunder boomed in the air, rattling his chest, as Marcus went to the door and stripped down, leaving his wet things outside. The sky burst open and began yet another downpour, so Marcus hurriedly closed the doors, sealing in the warmth of their tiny home.
Esca crouched by the fire, washing himself in a typically efficient way; long strokes of a wet cloth down his arms, across his neck, down his chest, and when he stood, Marcus could not help but find his cock filling at the sight.
Esca, for his part, ignored Marcus as if he was not there at all, but Marcus knew better. He could feel how aware Esca was of him, and the way Esca moved had changed. The cloth against his body slowed, and his strokes became broader, all for Marcus's pleasure as he looked his fill.
When Esca had finished, he tossed the cloth on the hearth and raised his head to meet Marcus's avid gaze. By the light of the fire, he was golden, lithe and strong, and Marcus moved to him, not touching, just watching. He circled Esca, watching the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise as if drawn to Marcus.
"You are bold, Marcus Flavius Aquila," Esca said, his voice pitched low. "You stare as if you had right of possession."
Marcus stepped close, then, close enough to feel the heat rising from Esca's skin, and brought his lips close to Esca's ear. "Oh, I do," he said softly. "We both know you belong to me."
In the space of moments, Esca had turned, shoved him back against the wall, the smirk of challenge on his face. His fingers closed around Marcus's hard cock, and he lifted his chin, saying, "Tell me now, who has possession?"
"Take what you want," Marcus gasped, consumed with the effort of not thrusting his hips forward into Esca's strong hand. "It was always yours."
"So it was." The satisfied gleam in Esca's eye sent tiny shivers down Marcus's back. "Rest assured, I shall make good use of what is mine."
They moved to the bed then, to settle beneath the warm furs. In truth, there was nothing Marcus wanted more than to nestle there in contentment, with Esca in his arms. They tangled together, mouths meeting with a slow hunger, the heat building around them in the tight cocoon made by their bodies and blankets. Esca shifted atop him, strong and willing.
"Esca," Marcus murmured, his hands finding the curve of Esca's ass and resting there. He spread his legs and made room for Esca's body between them, ready to welcome the pang of desire that took his breath away every time they were positioned thus.
In their first days together, the quick coupling and urgency of lust had been enough for Marcus. But in time, it had become something more. Marcus loved to draw out their mutual pleasure until Esca was panting, crying out, his body arched to meet Marcus's touch. Marcus controlled his desire, let it curl deep in his belly, let it slow his hands on Esca's body as they explored every angle, every hollow, judging Esca's pleasure in turn by the way his breathing quickened against Marcus's mouth.
Esca's mouth traveled the line of Marcus's neck, and Marcus gave himself up to it, the delicious torment of Esca's lips on him, the sharper connection of teeth with skin. His hips moved of their own accord, matching Esca's slow rolling thrusts, their cocks brushing together with easy friction.
Marcus threw his head back, and Esca chased his lips, not finished kissing him yet. It was this, the heady knowledge that Esca wanted him as much as he wanted Esca, that sent his body hurtling toward the edge. Esca's hand closed on him again, and Marcus cried out Esca's name, followed by wordless sounds of need.
"Give me what is mine," Esca whispered fiercely, sinking his teeth into Marcus's shoulder, and Marcus spilled his seed in Esca's hand, hips jerking forward in helpless need.
Marcus wrapped an arm about Esca's waist, as Esca sought his mouth again; he pushed, and maneuvered Esca onto his back, devouring his mouth with a single-minded purpose. Slowly, he eased his way down Esca's chest, leaving gentle scrapes of teeth in his wake, while Esca bucked beneath him like a wild creature, lacking even the most basic control.
Marcus had learned to crave the taste of Esca, the feel of his cock in Marcus's mouth, and when he closed his lips around it, Esca's strangled cry made Marcus's spent cock twitch with intense interest. Marcus spread one hand across Esca's belly, but put the other hand to the task of making Esca come, his thumb breaching Esca dry. At the moment of penetration, Esca spilled into Marcus's mouth, his shocked sounds the most wonderful thing Marcus could ever hope to hear.
When Marcus had milked Esca of every drop, he raised his body over Esca and kissed him slowly, stealing the last few gasps and cries from him, because Marcus was greedy and could never have enough of them. He settled beside Esca, his hand drawing patterns on Esca's stomach, across his chest. In his imagination, they matched the patterns so starkly drawn on Esca's arm, the reminders of his past, before Marcus was a part of his life.
Esca turned on his side so they were facing each other, and drew the furs up close and tight. "Marcus," he said, so much contained in the simple utterance of a name. In answer, Marcus drew him into an embrace, and they sank into sleep, wrapped in each other.
In the morning, Marcus opened his eyes to find Esca tearing a hunk of day-old bread for him, offered with a cup of fresh milk. There were kisses as well, stolen as if they were not two grown men, two former warriors, who had animals to feed and crops to tend. The lines of tension around Esca's eyes had eased, and there was a contentment in his eyes, in the way his gaze lingered on Marcus.
"Up from there, and to work," Esca said, fastening a knife at his belt. "Your beloved cows will not milk themselves, Roman," he added, and pulled back the furs, his stare raking unashamed over Marcus's body.
"I am at your command," Marcus said softly, just to see the red stain rise on Esca's cheeks.
The life of a farmer was not easy, but Marcus supposed there were compensations to be had.