White collar - Roman Slavefic AU part two
Part two
***
The captain named a stupid price and Peter paid it without blinking, or listening to Jones’ muttering, and the slave was brought to him, thrown to his knees on the quayside. Even wet, bleeding, with torn clothes and at least a week’s growth of beard on the man’s face, he was beautiful.
“What is your name?” Peter asked, but the man’s blue eyes just carried on staring at him, pain filled and apprehensive.
“They’re all stupid bastards, sir,” the Captain explained with a grin, “bloody Celts!”
“Are you from Britain?” Peter asked in the language he had learned while in that soggy, misty dump of a country.
The slave’s eyes showed total astonishment and a grin spread across his face. “I am!” he replied.
“What is your name?” Peter asked slowly, feeling his way through the half-forgotten language.
“Neal Caffrey. Who are you?” The boy didn’t look right kneeling, but Peter couldn’t help seeing the life in him and... wanting him.
“I am Peter Burke. I am a Senator, and I wish to buy you,” Peter explained.
“I am a trader and I am not for sale,” Neal announced, proudly.
“I’m afraid you are a slave now and I would like to own you. I will track down this man who owns you and buy you.”
“I will run away. I am not slave material!” Neal laughed.
“Well, I have saved you from the rest of that whipping as long as you promise not to run away again. I will find you and give you a good life and then, when you reach thirty years old, I will free you,” Peter offered. “I need someone to help me to run my affairs, to be my valet and confident and to keep my secrets and I want it to be you.”
“I don’t know...” Neal replied slowly. “I can’t promise that I won’t run.”
“Then at least promise that you won’t run until I have bought you... or at least found you again,” Peter argued.
“Thank you for saving me from a horrible whipping and... and I’ll try and stay put until you find me again,” Neal offered and Peter smiled.
He then turned to Jones.
“Find me this man... this Walker.”
“Yes Boss,” Jones smiled and set off.
It took Jones over a week to find the man and then another few days to find Neal. After that it was a matter of minutes before Peter was storming through the streets of Rome, with a dozen clients following him and El’s words ringing in his ears.
“Find him, Peter, and bring him home!”
Walker’s house was a grand one, far grander than Peter’s small but comfortable home. Peter didn’t like ‘grand’ and ‘huge’ even though he could afford it. He had bought his house when he had first come back from Britain and started making his way up the greasy Cursus Honorum, but even Elizabeth had never pushed for him to move to a bigger home.
This house was huge, grand, expensive and, Peter was sure, bought with dirty money. He had no proof other than a suspicion and a feeling in his gut, but he wished he could destroy this man.
Walker himself was no better than Peter expected. He greeted Peter with a smile and a cheery welcome, although he didn’t stop throwing sesterces into the pool in his ostentatious garden.
“Senator, how kind of you to visit me. How can I help you?”
“I would like to buy a slave from you,” Peter announced bluntly.
“Really?” Walker managed to sound as though he had been expecting this call - and maybe he had. Peter ground his teeth and tried to be gracious.
“You own a Celt who is rather pretty, but who has a habit of running away. I would like to relieve you of him,” Peter explained.
“Ah yes, you mean Britannicus. No, I like him and I think I’ll keep him.” Walker turned away and it looked as though the interview was over, but then he began to speak. “You are a Senator, but I bet you’re finding it hard to keep the million that you need to stay where you are. You are honest and law-abiding and fiercely loyal to Vespasian, but even in your world, you are poor.” He turned back and looked Peter in the eye. “It’s all about power and influence! I was born to slave parents, but look at me!” He waved an arm around to indicate his opulent palace. “You know your way out, I think.” He turned back to his game and Peter was dismissed.
Peter was furious, but not beaten yet.
“Show me where he is,” he commanded and Jones had no need to ask for clarification, but led the way.
Peter was not a frequenter of brothels - who needs a prostitute when you have Elizabeth waiting for you at home? - but even he knew that this was not one of the better ones. This was the type where you crept in under cover of dark, where you never announced your name and where the whores were there to be used in any way you chose. He and his gang slipped into the bath-house opposite.
“You can’t go in there, Boss!” Jones begged, “Your reputation would be ruined!”
“I don’t have a reputation!” Peter retorted, but he knew that Jones had a point. “Tell me how you found out he was in there!”
Jones blushed. “I...er... don’t tell Lauren...”
Peter laughed. “What do they do in there?”
“Anything, Boss... I... I paid for Neal and we... we just chatted,” Jones stuttered.
“Jones...” Peter encouraged menacingly.
“He... he’s a favourite with clients who like it... rough, Boss,” Jones admitted. “He had been badly beaten when I saw him and then... raped. I know they say you can’t rape a whore, but.... this was wrong! He was bleeding! I just told him to get some rest.”
Peter looked like he wanted to punch someone. Neal was pretty rather than handsome and he could understand why his boyish looks would attract men, but he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to hurt him like that. Was it that Neal’s being a man meant that he could take more punishment than a woman? Or was it just simply that there were some seriously sick men in existence who needed to degrade and hurt just to be able to get their rocks off? Or both? Whatever, Peter needed to get details and he needed to get Neal out of there. Neal was his to protect!
Part Three
***
The captain named a stupid price and Peter paid it without blinking, or listening to Jones’ muttering, and the slave was brought to him, thrown to his knees on the quayside. Even wet, bleeding, with torn clothes and at least a week’s growth of beard on the man’s face, he was beautiful.
“What is your name?” Peter asked, but the man’s blue eyes just carried on staring at him, pain filled and apprehensive.
“They’re all stupid bastards, sir,” the Captain explained with a grin, “bloody Celts!”
“Are you from Britain?” Peter asked in the language he had learned while in that soggy, misty dump of a country.
The slave’s eyes showed total astonishment and a grin spread across his face. “I am!” he replied.
“What is your name?” Peter asked slowly, feeling his way through the half-forgotten language.
“Neal Caffrey. Who are you?” The boy didn’t look right kneeling, but Peter couldn’t help seeing the life in him and... wanting him.
“I am Peter Burke. I am a Senator, and I wish to buy you,” Peter explained.
“I am a trader and I am not for sale,” Neal announced, proudly.
“I’m afraid you are a slave now and I would like to own you. I will track down this man who owns you and buy you.”
“I will run away. I am not slave material!” Neal laughed.
“Well, I have saved you from the rest of that whipping as long as you promise not to run away again. I will find you and give you a good life and then, when you reach thirty years old, I will free you,” Peter offered. “I need someone to help me to run my affairs, to be my valet and confident and to keep my secrets and I want it to be you.”
“I don’t know...” Neal replied slowly. “I can’t promise that I won’t run.”
“Then at least promise that you won’t run until I have bought you... or at least found you again,” Peter argued.
“Thank you for saving me from a horrible whipping and... and I’ll try and stay put until you find me again,” Neal offered and Peter smiled.
He then turned to Jones.
“Find me this man... this Walker.”
“Yes Boss,” Jones smiled and set off.
It took Jones over a week to find the man and then another few days to find Neal. After that it was a matter of minutes before Peter was storming through the streets of Rome, with a dozen clients following him and El’s words ringing in his ears.
“Find him, Peter, and bring him home!”
Walker’s house was a grand one, far grander than Peter’s small but comfortable home. Peter didn’t like ‘grand’ and ‘huge’ even though he could afford it. He had bought his house when he had first come back from Britain and started making his way up the greasy Cursus Honorum, but even Elizabeth had never pushed for him to move to a bigger home.
This house was huge, grand, expensive and, Peter was sure, bought with dirty money. He had no proof other than a suspicion and a feeling in his gut, but he wished he could destroy this man.
Walker himself was no better than Peter expected. He greeted Peter with a smile and a cheery welcome, although he didn’t stop throwing sesterces into the pool in his ostentatious garden.
“Senator, how kind of you to visit me. How can I help you?”
“I would like to buy a slave from you,” Peter announced bluntly.
“Really?” Walker managed to sound as though he had been expecting this call - and maybe he had. Peter ground his teeth and tried to be gracious.
“You own a Celt who is rather pretty, but who has a habit of running away. I would like to relieve you of him,” Peter explained.
“Ah yes, you mean Britannicus. No, I like him and I think I’ll keep him.” Walker turned away and it looked as though the interview was over, but then he began to speak. “You are a Senator, but I bet you’re finding it hard to keep the million that you need to stay where you are. You are honest and law-abiding and fiercely loyal to Vespasian, but even in your world, you are poor.” He turned back and looked Peter in the eye. “It’s all about power and influence! I was born to slave parents, but look at me!” He waved an arm around to indicate his opulent palace. “You know your way out, I think.” He turned back to his game and Peter was dismissed.
Peter was furious, but not beaten yet.
“Show me where he is,” he commanded and Jones had no need to ask for clarification, but led the way.
Peter was not a frequenter of brothels - who needs a prostitute when you have Elizabeth waiting for you at home? - but even he knew that this was not one of the better ones. This was the type where you crept in under cover of dark, where you never announced your name and where the whores were there to be used in any way you chose. He and his gang slipped into the bath-house opposite.
“You can’t go in there, Boss!” Jones begged, “Your reputation would be ruined!”
“I don’t have a reputation!” Peter retorted, but he knew that Jones had a point. “Tell me how you found out he was in there!”
Jones blushed. “I...er... don’t tell Lauren...”
Peter laughed. “What do they do in there?”
“Anything, Boss... I... I paid for Neal and we... we just chatted,” Jones stuttered.
“Jones...” Peter encouraged menacingly.
“He... he’s a favourite with clients who like it... rough, Boss,” Jones admitted. “He had been badly beaten when I saw him and then... raped. I know they say you can’t rape a whore, but.... this was wrong! He was bleeding! I just told him to get some rest.”
Peter looked like he wanted to punch someone. Neal was pretty rather than handsome and he could understand why his boyish looks would attract men, but he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to hurt him like that. Was it that Neal’s being a man meant that he could take more punishment than a woman? Or was it just simply that there were some seriously sick men in existence who needed to degrade and hurt just to be able to get their rocks off? Or both? Whatever, Peter needed to get details and he needed to get Neal out of there. Neal was his to protect!
Part Three