Ficlet/Character Background: All I Want Is Here Tonight
Author: rivlee
Title: All I Want Is Here Tonight
Rating: PG-13 to a very light R.
Characters/Pairing: Duro, Elill (OMC). Duro/Elill
Summary: Duro and Elill in their bedroom after the war.
Warning: References to past non-con, slavery, and religious life. (Elill was one of the Corybantes of Magna Mater, considered neither male nor female among the Romans.)
Disclaimer: This is all fiction based off the characters as portrayed in the Starz television series Spartacus. Title from Empires' Keep The Mood.
A/N: This will only make sense to Kay. Ficlet taking place after the end of the maybe-Sparty-Big-Bang fic. Tons of purple prose and I'm not ashamed.
Duro never thought to have this, such beauty and grace willingly living by his side. Elill was a wondrous creature as if seemingly touched by the gods themselves. Not delicate, no, for all he said about those golden eyes, that dark hair, and the smooth skin, he well knew the viper that lay hidden. Elill was all lithe power and a sharp mind with an uncanny ability to knock any man to the ground. Duro was endlessly grateful such a man deemed him worthy.
Elill was drying his hair by the fireside, rubbing in the old perfumes he’d long ago taken on as his own. Elill’s was the longest hair among any man in their village and Duro’s uncle considered that a source of pride. Duro and Agron were still trying to grow theirs out, still unused to this new life removed from Roman chains and rebel camps.
He spent half his days fearing that he’d wake up captured and half-dead, watching as beloved friends were once again crucified. It was sheer luck the pirate captain of their ship did not betray them to fucking Crassus. Though the threats Naevia spouted at him until they reached Illyricum may have helped as much as his reward in gold.
Duro turned his attention back to Elill and his breath caught at the reveal of his new tattoo. Elill had kept it hidden from Duro’s eyes and hands until it was healed. His fingers curled with the need to touch as he saw it now, the lines of the Sacred Horse etched into his skin. It was tangible proof of Elill’s acceptance into their tribe. It made Duro’s blood roar in a way he wasn’t entirely proud of.
Elill met his eyes and smiled. He stalked over to the bed and pulled Duro up for a far too brief kiss. “A deaf man could hear your thoughts,” he teased. He gripped the curls at the base of Duro’s skull and ran a tongue up the skin of Duro’s throat. “You are insatiable,” he murmured into the underside of his jaw.
“Can the gods blame me when gifted with such a man,” he sighed.
Elill’s grip tightened at Duro’s words. Duro knew, had learned, it was important to Elill to be acknowledged as a man now. Years spent having Roman shits forcing an identity on him left their mark deeper than any brand. Duro cared not, male, female, something in between; he would always desire the soul in this flesh. He dreamed of days and years from now, old and frail, with the familiar sounds of that beloved laughter warming him through the winter’s cold.
Duro brought Elill with him as he laid back and let Elill’s taller frame settle over him. The breath stuttered in his chest when Elill’s lips tugged on the golden hoop through Duro’s nipple. No, Elill was not alone in being marked as belonging to another’s tribe. Duro delightfully recalled the night Elill made that claim.
“Lost in memory, are you?”
“They are good memories,” Duro said.
“I would have you with me now,” Elill said.
Elill saw to the task with his intensity for all things. Duro cared not who heard them as they passed by the hut. He clung to Elill, chanting his name like his beloved’s own prayers. It was over embarrassingly soon; Duro never could last long when Elill was like this. He drowsed and watch through heavy-lidded eyes as Elill took account of Duro’s spent body. He cherished the pride he felt as Elill touched and explored out of his own desire rather than a given order. The never-ending flow of excitement and want as fingers and lips mapped out his favorite spots, from the skin under Duro’s navel to the curve of his hips.
“I could ask anything of you know and you’d see it done.”
Duro laughed. “You know well your power over me.”
“It is a reciprocal condition, I swear.”
“How are you still capable of thought?”
Elill tilted his head; the glint of the lamp light’s flame catching the mischief in his eyes. “I am used to entertaining myself in the face of a spent and feeble man.”
“I maintain your mother was a handmaiden to a trickster god and you are their child.”
“It is possible; I am an orphan though they claimed my mother’s beauty was a blessing from Ishtar.”
Elill still spoke of his home with pride. He knew a life before Rome, before slavery, and a religious existence from birth. Duro thought he would turn from the ritual and prayers with his freedom but Elill felt it was his calling in life. He eagerly spent hours learning the history and gods of Duro’s tribe and yet never spoke of turning back to the east.
“You have memories of your homeland, certainly more than Nasir. Do you wish to return?”
“Never,” Elill said. “Rome will continue to pursue that land for its power. You barbarians have this odd luck of holding them off. I will stay here in your land locked under winter’s grip.” He kissed Duro’s drooping eyelids. “Though perhaps I should seek a German with more stamina.”
“After all that time you spent nursing me back to health?”
“Hmm, yes, it would be a waste of all the time I’ve invested.”
“Certainly,” Duro said. He arched into the hands Elill ran down his back and tried not to whimper as they rested right above his ass. He could deny him nothing but there were fences to be built tomorrow.
“Do not worry, I will not break you any further,” Elill promised. He kissed Duro’s shoulder. “Rest so you can help those demon creatures tomorrow.”
“Goats will not farm themselves,” Duro agreed. “You do not mind?”
“No, I shall wait ‘til tomorrow when you are covered in sweat and smell of the earth and taste of all good things living and wild.”
Duro knew not which gods sought to bless him with surviving certain death to find Elill, to reunite with his brother, to survive the war and return home. Whichever one chose to bless him, or Elill, he gave his own private thanks before drifting off to sleep.
Title: All I Want Is Here Tonight
Rating: PG-13 to a very light R.
Characters/Pairing: Duro, Elill (OMC). Duro/Elill
Summary: Duro and Elill in their bedroom after the war.
Warning: References to past non-con, slavery, and religious life. (Elill was one of the Corybantes of Magna Mater, considered neither male nor female among the Romans.)
Disclaimer: This is all fiction based off the characters as portrayed in the Starz television series Spartacus. Title from Empires' Keep The Mood.
A/N: This will only make sense to Kay. Ficlet taking place after the end of the maybe-Sparty-Big-Bang fic. Tons of purple prose and I'm not ashamed.
Duro never thought to have this, such beauty and grace willingly living by his side. Elill was a wondrous creature as if seemingly touched by the gods themselves. Not delicate, no, for all he said about those golden eyes, that dark hair, and the smooth skin, he well knew the viper that lay hidden. Elill was all lithe power and a sharp mind with an uncanny ability to knock any man to the ground. Duro was endlessly grateful such a man deemed him worthy.
Elill was drying his hair by the fireside, rubbing in the old perfumes he’d long ago taken on as his own. Elill’s was the longest hair among any man in their village and Duro’s uncle considered that a source of pride. Duro and Agron were still trying to grow theirs out, still unused to this new life removed from Roman chains and rebel camps.
He spent half his days fearing that he’d wake up captured and half-dead, watching as beloved friends were once again crucified. It was sheer luck the pirate captain of their ship did not betray them to fucking Crassus. Though the threats Naevia spouted at him until they reached Illyricum may have helped as much as his reward in gold.
Duro turned his attention back to Elill and his breath caught at the reveal of his new tattoo. Elill had kept it hidden from Duro’s eyes and hands until it was healed. His fingers curled with the need to touch as he saw it now, the lines of the Sacred Horse etched into his skin. It was tangible proof of Elill’s acceptance into their tribe. It made Duro’s blood roar in a way he wasn’t entirely proud of.
Elill met his eyes and smiled. He stalked over to the bed and pulled Duro up for a far too brief kiss. “A deaf man could hear your thoughts,” he teased. He gripped the curls at the base of Duro’s skull and ran a tongue up the skin of Duro’s throat. “You are insatiable,” he murmured into the underside of his jaw.
“Can the gods blame me when gifted with such a man,” he sighed.
Elill’s grip tightened at Duro’s words. Duro knew, had learned, it was important to Elill to be acknowledged as a man now. Years spent having Roman shits forcing an identity on him left their mark deeper than any brand. Duro cared not, male, female, something in between; he would always desire the soul in this flesh. He dreamed of days and years from now, old and frail, with the familiar sounds of that beloved laughter warming him through the winter’s cold.
Duro brought Elill with him as he laid back and let Elill’s taller frame settle over him. The breath stuttered in his chest when Elill’s lips tugged on the golden hoop through Duro’s nipple. No, Elill was not alone in being marked as belonging to another’s tribe. Duro delightfully recalled the night Elill made that claim.
“Lost in memory, are you?”
“They are good memories,” Duro said.
“I would have you with me now,” Elill said.
Elill saw to the task with his intensity for all things. Duro cared not who heard them as they passed by the hut. He clung to Elill, chanting his name like his beloved’s own prayers. It was over embarrassingly soon; Duro never could last long when Elill was like this. He drowsed and watch through heavy-lidded eyes as Elill took account of Duro’s spent body. He cherished the pride he felt as Elill touched and explored out of his own desire rather than a given order. The never-ending flow of excitement and want as fingers and lips mapped out his favorite spots, from the skin under Duro’s navel to the curve of his hips.
“I could ask anything of you know and you’d see it done.”
Duro laughed. “You know well your power over me.”
“It is a reciprocal condition, I swear.”
“How are you still capable of thought?”
Elill tilted his head; the glint of the lamp light’s flame catching the mischief in his eyes. “I am used to entertaining myself in the face of a spent and feeble man.”
“I maintain your mother was a handmaiden to a trickster god and you are their child.”
“It is possible; I am an orphan though they claimed my mother’s beauty was a blessing from Ishtar.”
Elill still spoke of his home with pride. He knew a life before Rome, before slavery, and a religious existence from birth. Duro thought he would turn from the ritual and prayers with his freedom but Elill felt it was his calling in life. He eagerly spent hours learning the history and gods of Duro’s tribe and yet never spoke of turning back to the east.
“You have memories of your homeland, certainly more than Nasir. Do you wish to return?”
“Never,” Elill said. “Rome will continue to pursue that land for its power. You barbarians have this odd luck of holding them off. I will stay here in your land locked under winter’s grip.” He kissed Duro’s drooping eyelids. “Though perhaps I should seek a German with more stamina.”
“After all that time you spent nursing me back to health?”
“Hmm, yes, it would be a waste of all the time I’ve invested.”
“Certainly,” Duro said. He arched into the hands Elill ran down his back and tried not to whimper as they rested right above his ass. He could deny him nothing but there were fences to be built tomorrow.
“Do not worry, I will not break you any further,” Elill promised. He kissed Duro’s shoulder. “Rest so you can help those demon creatures tomorrow.”
“Goats will not farm themselves,” Duro agreed. “You do not mind?”
“No, I shall wait ‘til tomorrow when you are covered in sweat and smell of the earth and taste of all good things living and wild.”
Duro knew not which gods sought to bless him with surviving certain death to find Elill, to reunite with his brother, to survive the war and return home. Whichever one chose to bless him, or Elill, he gave his own private thanks before drifting off to sleep.