Fic: Veni, Vidi, Amavi (Pinto Ancient Rome AU)
Title: Veni, Vidi, Amavi
Author: leandralocke
Fandom: Star Trek RPS
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto - for Pinto Pornapalooza II - August 2011
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Roman slave fic
Word Count: 7630
Warnings: mention of past dub-con - This is ancient Rome, and we're talking about slaves here
A/N: I'm a little anal when it comes to historical credibility, so I adjusted their names to something that would make sense ~ 100 AD. Fortunately, a version of Christopher already existed then in the Greek name Khristophoros. Zachariah existed as well, but since Zach was supposed to be a Roman citizen he could not have a Jewish name. The options for male first names is rather limited in ancient Rome, so Quintus was the only thing close enough ^^ As for the surnames (one for the gens, the other for the family) I picked from a list of common names of that time.
YES I'M A RESEARCH NERD. SUE ME!! :D And I'm still convinced I made dozens of mistakes nevertheless. Ah well ^^
Most of all though I should mention that I'm made of EPIC FAIL. This was supposed to be porn, right? Err well. I've no idea why this happened, but somehow it turned out more complex and plot-centered than I had intended. Could be because I've had this idea over a year ago already and had started writing, and now recycled it for Pornapalooza. The original idea was even a lot longer than this one.
Okay, now without further ado because I'm already boring you do death (sorry ^^)...
ETA: Ah, latin grammar fail. I've just been informed that the vocative case - the direct address - of Dominus is Domine. Yeah well, I never studied Latin ^^ And I know why! It seems rather complicated ^^
Quintus Acilius Corvinus was bored. And he was even more bored at the prospect of having to pick a new slave for this household. His mother had insisted upon it, however, and if Marca Julia Corvini insisted on something there was no escape. They did not necessarily require another servant, Quintus thought as he picked a ripe green olive from the bowl next to the ottoman he was resting on, though with the tragic demise of Quitipor Britannicus (a new stallion had bolted and trampled him down) there definitely was a lack of certain services Quintus did not always like paying for. And his mother preferred this over him getting robbed and stabbed in a brothel. The only trouble was that finding an adequate replacement seemed near impossible these days.
Many of the slaves that he had already inspected on the slave market were pitiful creatures, wild barbarians from Gaul that had little aptitude to adapt to a civilized Roman household - and Quintus liked to think of his servants as members of the household rather slaves that would prefer being dead over such a fate (many of them had tried before and some succeeded, fortunately never in his house). Others, especially from the Southern provinces, were too proud and strong to accept their role in society, and Quintus did not fancy being murdered in his sleep like poor Gaius Sepunius (though the tall, muscular African that had committed the murder had possessed certain undeniable physical advantages).
Of course, he did not only want a slave for the purpose of physical pleasure. He simply wanted one with adequate skills and education, one that would appreciate and respect his master and was pleasant enough to look at - something Quintipor, whose given name had been Conn, had fulfilled only on a rudimentary level, pleasant and kind but a little too submissive. More like a puppy that said yes to everything and everyone as long as he had been fed (and fucked).
The first two slaves the trader showed him were anything but attractive. Both of them with matted, though short hair and pale and weary eyes, they seemed like dogs that had been left out in bad weather for too long, and Quintus suspected that they didn't smell much better. Creatures he would possibly let deal with the latrine or the horses, but certainly not with his food, his fine robes or his naked body for that matter.
The third was a man several years older than himself, Quintus suspected he was at least thirty-five, his dark hair already graying around the temples, and the fourth had small, narrow eyes that sent a shiver down his spine when he looked at him for a bit longer.
"I have one more," the slave trader said, as Quintus made a waving gesture with his hand for the slaves to be guided outside. Unimpressed, he raised an eyebrow.
"Crito, so far everything you have showed me was unacceptable. Please do not insult me by wasting my time." Quintus was considering the option of simply finding himself a free-born male lover, but that was not something easily achieved either.
The older man looked apologetic and shook his head. "Please, let me show you my latest acquisition. You will not be disappointed."
Suppressing a sigh, Quintus nodded though he assumed the next slave would hardly be any better than the previous ones. He could not have been more wrong.
The young man that was led into the room by one of Crito's men was nothing but beautiful. Tall, probably even as tall as himself, with hair the color of ripe wheat and eyes as azure blue as the Aegean sea. The way he walked into the room, his shoulders straight, chin held high but his gaze slightly lowered was both defiant and shy. He only briefly looked at his potential new master, but there was a spark of something lively in those eyes that Quintus found intriguing.
He could just so contain himself from letting his features light up in approval as he sat up straighter on the ottoman. Never show a trader that you're interested in his goods.
"Well, what do you think now, Acilius? He is from Graecia, a Christian, but that is just a minor flaw since he does not follow his mother's traditions", the slave trader chuckled a little nervously. Naturally, making good business with the Acilii was high on his priority list. "His given name is Khristophoros and he has seen twenty-two summers. He's of perfect health, I can assure you."
Finally, Quintus did get up to take a few steps towards Crito and the slave, making a non-committed motion with his hand. "I am not sure, he is not exactly what I had in mind," he lied. "How much?"
"Seven-hundred-sixty denarii."
Quintus raised both eyebrows at the man. "That is far from a reasonable price, Crito. I remember I payed no more than five-hundred-fifty for the last one, and he was only nineteen."
"Then you can have him for seven-hundred, a special offer for an old, special friend."
Since Quintus was neither old with his twenty-eight years nor any more special to Crito than any other customer he probably tried to lure with the very same words he found it easy to resist. "Six-hundred."
"Oh, but Acilius, I payed five-eighty for him myself. I need to feed my wife and our children, you must understand."
If flattery didn't work, many tried it with pity. Quintus knew these schemes all too well. "Six-hundred and thirty-five, that is my last word."
"And mine is six-hundred and seventy, friend."
The slave, Khristophorus, briefly looked at him again, his blue eyes just the tiniest hint narrowed. But there also was something like worry evident in the very fine crease on his brow.
"This is a very good slave. I could make a much higher price with him elsewhere, I'm sure."
And this probably wasn't an exaggeration, Quintus realized. The only trouble was, he really wanted this one.
"Six-hundred-fifty," he offered firmly, staring the trader right into his watery gray eyes.
Finally, the man nodded and sighed. "He is yours."
Quintus smiled.
~*~
For the first week, Khristophorus had joined the house of Corvinus, Quintus had left him alone and given him time to adjust. He had never believed in whipping his slaves and otherwise using force, physically or mentally, against them. In the end, that approach had proven to be not only the kinder thing to do but also safer and more effective. Gain their trust, respect and even friendship on a level, and you'd have a loyal and dedicated servant for as long as either of the parties lived.
He had a relationship of this kind to another of his household slaves: Zoe, a most beautiful young woman from Africa who had been raised in Greece as well - a fact that made it easier for her and Khristophorus to bond quickly. Quintus often caught and overheard them speak Greek, and he did not forbid it although the language sounded rough and their specific dialect slightly uncivilized to his sensitive ears.
Zoe, as one of the main servants to tend to Marca, was also in charge of organizing festivities, tending to guests and overseeing the other slaves as maybe one of the most important members of the large household. Quintus appreciated her for her sharp wit and kind nature, though he often had the feeling deep down and behind those beautiful, large eyes there was a dangerous wild-cat hidden that made him not want to get on her wrong side. He had little reason to fear such a situation however, as he gave her little reason not to respect and cherish him.
Despite all her appealing properties, her immense beauty and intellect, she had one minor flaw, however: she was a woman, and Quintus found little appeal in lying with them. He had tried it before (same as many Romans that preferred the female body had tasted the pleasures of lying with a man), but found a male body with strong, lean muscles, the masculine scent or the rougher sounds a man made during intercourse much more gratifying than the softness of feminine curves. He sometimes suspected Zoe found that fact to be disappointing; she had come to him on occasion and offered herself, and he had taken her once but never again after that.
He was sure, though, that they had reached a silent understanding after that, and he was furthermore sure that Zoe knew exactly the purpose of why Khristophoros was here, even though the past seven days he had only helped in the kitchens and occasionally as valet. He was to learn everything about the house first, tend to every field of work before he would take his place, and as far as Quintus could tell, Khristophoros was nothing but diligent and adept in everything he did.
One late afternoon, when Quintus sat in the atrium and enjoyed a glass of wine, he watched the young Christian, his strong but slender hands fixing a wicker basket as he had been taught. Quintus could not stop himself from imagining those fingers on his body, wrapping around his shaft and stroking it to hardness before those exquisite, red and full lips that he so often bit in concentration, would close around him and bring him release. He shifted his position slightly, thankful for the folds of the loose-fitting tunic concealing his body's reaction to these images.
Nodding at the slave standing next to him, he put the goblet of wine back on the silver tray before he got up and walked over to Khristophoros.
The slave reacted immediately and put the basket aside, standing up to bow his head in acknowledgment of the presence of his master. Although the moves were practiced and executed perfectly, as well as briefly uttered 'Domine', there was that shy look in his blue eyes again, something slightly fearful in his posture that both intrigued and worried Quintus.
“I apologize for interrupting your work”, Quintus started with a tone as friendly as he could. It caused the tiniest crease to twitch over the slave's forehead for a fraction. “But as I see and hear you are doing each of your work with greatest care and talent. You have already proven yourself a valuable addition to my household, Khristophoros.”
“Thank you, Domine, you are too kind.” There was a trace of gratitude underneath the well-studied response, but Quintus wasn't quite sure if it was entirely earnest.
“Do you enjoy your work so far, Khristophoros?” he tested the waters a little further and was almost pleased to see those bright blue eyes narrow slightly.
“I have no reason to complain, Domine.”
“Ah, but you could, you see?” Quintus said and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, a gesture that clearly confused him. “You may be a slave, but you shall know that I regard my slaves - at least the ones that work for me directly - as family. You may speak freely with me, and I promise you I will listen to your concerns should any arise.”
Khristophoros lowered his gaze, his brow now furrowing more clearly before he nodded and looked back up at Quintus with a tiny smile that hardly reached his eyes. “I shall do that, Domine.”
“Good. I see we understand each other,” Quintus added with a more genuine smile of his own. There was still a shiver running down his spine, straight to his groin, when he looked at the young man; his shyness and obedience, mixed with a free spirit lurking underneath, undeniably there, only added to Quintus' almost burning want to have him, and have him soon. But most of all, he needed Khristophoros to want him as well.
“I am summoned to the Senate tomorrow. Please come to my chamber in the morning and help me bathe and dress. Zoe will show you where to find the appropriate robes. Now I will let you get back to your work,” Quintus ended and barely waited to hear 'Yes, Domine' as reply before he left the atrium. It might take a while with this one, he thought, but was determined to succeed.
~*~
Sleep had not been deep that night, and Quintus knew precisely why. He felt unsettled by images that had followed his consciousness into his dreams, moments of passion and lust he had not shared with another human being for quite some time and that he was desiring to experience soon. He was therefore not surprised that, upon waking up, the erection he felt when running his hand beneath the cover, did not become flaccid as easily and automatically as usual, and he was still hard by the time he heard the door open and feet shuffling, a faint, throaty cough near his bed.
Quintus turned to lie on his back and look straight into Khristophoros' slightly startled, blue eyes.
“Good morning, Domine,” he said and bowed his head. He was wearing the mustard yellow tunic he had been given upon arrival, but Quintus had a sudden thought that blue would suit him much better.
“I hope you had a pleasant night,” the slave continued conversationally as he opened the curtains shielding the window, letting daylight stream into the chamber.
“It wasn't too bad,” Quintus replied and watched Khristophoros approach the bed, putting the simple white house tunic he had held over one arm on its foot and, with some unmistakable reluctance, his eyes shyly averted, he folded down the covers.
Quintus didn't know whether he should be relieved or disappointed that Khristophoros didn't look. He got up from the bed then and stood in front of the slave, letting him help him into the white tunic and then sat back down on the edge of his bed to have the simple brown sandals being slid over his feet and tied.
“You have been taught well.”
It was the first time that what Quintus believed was a genuine laugh came over the young slave's lips. “It's not like I don't do this every day with my own clothing and shoes,” he replied as he stood back up, but his blue eyes widened slightly. “Forgive me Domine, I did not mean to imply that you-“
“That I'm lazy?” Quintus interrupted him and chuckled faintly himself. If at all, the caught look on Khristophoros' features only became more prominent. “I must seem rather pretentious to you then. Not even able to accomplish something so simple and profane as lacing my sandals on my own.”
He knew he was torturing his slave with this; maybe Khristophoros had been treated badly by previous masters and would have endured severe punishment for such a slip of the tongue.
“Domine, please, I didn't mean to-“
“You are right,” Quintus quickly interrupted him again, feeling slightly guilty for the distress he had put the young man in. “We Patricians are a ruled by the conveniences our class grants us. I will tell you a secret, but please do not share it with the other slaves.”
Confused and with his lips opened, eyes still wide, Khristophoros nodded faintly.
Quintus smirked as he got up, put one hand on the younger man's shoulder and leaned in to whisper: “I can tie my shoes just fine.”
Underneath the still present confusion, relief and amusement surfaced on Khristophoros' face, and the faintest blush crept into his cheeks.
“You remember what I said yesterday, do you not?” Quintus went on, making sure his tone sounded soft and soothing. Khristophoros nodded.
“I don't want you to be afraid of me. As long as you do your work dutifully there is no reason for you to worry.”
He found the tiniest of smiles on the young man's features, hoping to have gained another portion of his trust. “Now, how about that bath?”
With Khristophoros in his toe, they descended the stairs to the lower level of the villa, past the atrium and towards the perystilium. The cool, fresh air of the early morning sent a faint but pleasant chill down Quintus' naked legs, and he hoped the bath had been heated to a comfortable temperature. When Khristophoros opened the doors for him to enter the bath, he was already greeted with the pleasant perfume of flower petals and oils that had been dropped into the water. Faint steam was rising from the surface of the basin, and further scented oils burned in bronze bowels in each of the four corners of the room. Quintus smiled.
“Why don't you go into the kitchens and bring me some fruit while I take off my shoes and tunic and get into the water?”
Another faint, shy laugh came over Khristophoros' lips, and he bowed his head briefly. “As you wish, Domine,” he replied and quickly left the bath. Quintus was pleased with himself.
If he was perfectly honest, the only reason why he had let Khristophoros dress him this morning had been the want to feel the younger man's fingers on his skin, see how adeptly they worked and, for a second, get lost into images of what else they could do. His other servants rarely helped him into something as simple as a house tunic; he most often woke up without any of them around.
He was out of his clothing quickly and then slowly descended the four steps into the warm water. By the time he was fully in, Khristophoros already returned, carrying a plate with grapes, apricots and dried dates. He knelt down at the edge of the basin, close to Quintus, and again didn't seem quite sure what to do.
“Please, my hands are wet. If you don't mind...” he said and looked up at the slave with what he knew was a both innocent and challenging gaze.
Again, there was this tiny and somewhat bashful smile on Khristophoros' lips that he clearly tried to conceal as he picked up a slice of apricot and brought it to Quintus' lips who tasted the soft, juicy fruit with relish.
“I suppose... never mind.”
“What?” Quintus asked, raising his eyebrows, as he watched Khristophoros pick up a large, firm grape. “That I can eat on my own just fine, too?”
His eyes averted, one hand running over his forehead, Khristophoros let out a faint chuckle, but it was clear that he didn't yet fully trust the offer to speak freely and not fear repercussions.
Quintus shrugged and leaned one arm on the edge of the basin. “I could. But this has its advantages. Please, a date next.” And again he watched the slave's every move as he picked up the dark fruit and held it for Quintus' lips to seize it. Gently so, he did, his lips deliberately touching the tips of Khristophoros' fingers and his eyes fixed on the other man's, pleased to see that faint flush on his cheeks deepen and his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip.
“Mmmh, delicious,” he sighed and kept his eyes on the young man for a moment longer before leaning back into the warm water and closing his eyes for a moment. “If you'd like to taste any of the fruit please help yourself. There's plenty enough for both of us.”
He didn't watch to see any of Khristophoros' reactions, but he imagined the young man to be as surprised as before, confirmed by the fact that the soft shuffling and then the sound of him sucking up the juice of a slice of fruit was heard several moments later.
“You do not speak much, do you?”
“Do you wish me to speak more, Domine?”
Quintus chuckled and opened his eyes again, turning around to face Khristophoros as he let his upper body float backward in the water. “Only if you want to.”
The young man's brow was furrowed, his gaze averted before he gingerly picked up another apricot and ate it. “I've always liked apricots.”
“They grow plentiful in Greece, don't they?”
“Yes.” The man's gaze became pensive as he sat on his side, his weight propped on one arm with firm muscles straining beneath the smooth skin. “We used to have a little grove with apricots and figs. My mother and I.”
“And your father?” Quintus inquired, strangely curious about the young man's past.
“He died before I had even seen two summers. I don't remember him. Only my stepfather.”
“Who sold you into slavery?”
“After my mother died, yes.”
Quintus swam closer again, one arm on the edge of the basin and his other hand close to the plate without reaching for any of the fruit, though. “I am sorry that happened to you. I hope you can at least find purpose in your current position. And who knows... there's always the prospect of being set free.”
He didn't know why he had even said that; freeing this slave whom he had only just started becoming fond of was farthest from his mind right now.
“Well,” Quintus started with a deep breath, ignoring the slave's surprised glance and not wanting the rather serious conversation topic to last any longer, “why don't you scrub my back while I'm in here. You can take off your sandals and put your feet into the water behind me,” he said and watched Khristophoros' thoughtful expression fade slowly, becoming rather unreadable right after. He reached for a washcloth and, doing as Quintus had suggested, sat behind him to bring the cloth into the water and started running it across Quintus' shoulders and upper back.
“Mmh, that feels good,” sighed Quintus and leaned a little more forward for Khristophoros to reach further down his back. “I hadn't noticed how tense I was. You have very gentle, talented hands.”
“Thank you, Domine,” Khristophoros replied softly, shy and a little uncertain. Quintus decided it was time to advance their conversation a little.
“So tell me, Khristophoros, do you find more pleasure in the female or male body?”
There was silence for a moment; the movements of the slave's hands had stopped, and he cleared his throat faintly before he resumed the soft massage. “I am not sure.”
“But you have lain with a woman, have you not?”
A faintly snorted chuckle. “Yes, I have.”
“And with a man?”
Silence again, though this time Khristophoros continued washing Quintus' back, his thumbs gently but firmly pushing against the strained muscles above his shoulder blades.
“Yes,” he finally replied, but his voice sounded rather strained, suddenly a little cold and hard.
“You have been forced,” Quintus guessed, and while in itself he did not find the thought very unusual - though illegal, it happened every day, especially to those that were not free - it certainly set a dampener to his mood and expectations.
“I had to obey,” the slave replied simply, making it obvious that he did not want to discuss his experience in detail. Quintus turned around and took the washcloth off Khristophoros' hands.
“Than I shall promise you I will not force you to do anything you do not wish not to do.”
It was the first time Khristophoros, even though obviously surprised, did not avert his eyes but met Quintus' own glance for a long time, blue eyes wide but shining with something that Quintus hoped was gratitude and trust.
Quintus almost regretted it, though. Regretted having dived into such topics and allowing himself to see a person with a history instead of just pursuing his intended goal and follow the desires of his body. He ached physically at the prospect of having to wait much longer.
“Now, why don't you help me dry and dress. Oh, and you will also have to shave me. I trust you can handle a sharp knife without causing me any damage?” He smiled at his last words, hoping to light the mood a little and was pleased to see the young man's eyes crinkle with a smile.
Yes, this would take a while, but in the end it would be worth it.
~*~
Almost another month passed in which Quintus had, at times, almost forgotten the initial purpose of acquiring the Greek slave. He had found that, despite the disadvantage of growing quite frustrated with the unfulfilled needs of his body, there were other undeniable advantages to their somewhat unconventional relationship. Khristophoros still came to Quintus chamber in the mornings to help him bathe and dress, and he often brought him food and wine in the evenings when he sat over scrolls that he gladly was distracted from.
But the typical duties of a servant weren't all there was to it, neither was it merely the pleasure of having someone easy on the eye around him. Over the time and with Khristophoros' growing confidence, Quintus had become quite fond of the young man's intellect and humor. For example, they would exchange an understanding glance and a smirk over Quintus' mother's shoulder when she was complaining that he ought to finally marry a woman of a well-respected family. And at other times, after Quintus had discovered that Khristophoros had been well-educated, they discussed literature and philosophy which often turned into heated discussions of such honesty and openness that he missed such an attitude even from his closest Patrician friends. On occasion, Khristophoros had impressed Quintus with words and speech mannerisms no Pleb, let alone slave, would know, and it had even become a kind of game between them that made Quintus feel both highly intellectual and very silly, especially when they used such words in pres
ence of his mostly clueless mother.
Marca did not approve of his relationship with Khristophoros; she said it was unnatural to treat a slave like an equal, and she also complained about him having wasted money on a slave he obviously wasn't intending to make proper use of - as if she had bought a precious gown and would then be wiping the floors with it, had been her comparison. Maybe his mother's growing disapproval was all the more reason to be quite content with things as they were, he sometimes thought with a hint of rebellious mischief that he was, in fact, much too old for.
She was rather outraged when he declared one day that he'd take Khristophoros to the theater, solely for the purpose of having a bodyguard, of course. She had not been able to protest with much authority.
It would have been worth a thousand angry cries from her, though - a fact that Quintus realized as soon as Khristophoros saw a great Roman theater from the inside for the first time in his life. It had even been difficult to pay much attention to the tragedy on stage, as Quintus had found his eyes drawn to Khristophoros' every move: the way the skin around his eyes wrinkled when he laughed, a sound so pleasant and warm in its slight roughness, or when his deep blue eyes became shiny with emotion, enthralled by the events on stage as much as Quintus was enthralled by him.
He had never enjoyed a visit to the theater as much as that night.
When they walked back to the villa, Khristophoros was still so overwhelmed with what he had seen that he could not stop talking about it, his hands gesturing wildly, eyes bright and full of wonder as he praised the fancy costumes, the stage decoration and the epic and tragic battles, but he seemed most taken wit-
“Thank you for accompanying me tonight, Khristophoros,” Quintus said as they entered the vestibulum. Another slave came quickly to take his cloak, but he dismissed him right after, feeling like he'd rather remain undisturbed with the other man for a few moments longer.
“Thank you for taking me, Domine,” Khristophoros replied then, and there was almost a trace of a mocking smirk around the last word. His gaze, however, was indeed full of gratitude, eyes still shining in the dim light of the entrance hall. “I had never dreamed of something like this, never envisioned how compelling a live staging of a play could be. So... thank you. I will not forget this.”
Quintus wasn't sure whether he was merely following an impulse then or did what his subconscious had urged him to do the entire evening. He had leaned in and placed his lips on Khristophoros' quickly to not give the other man a chance to shy away, but also gently, savoring the feel of those full, soft lips though they remained unyielding beneath his. With surprise, he hoped, not aversion.
Although every fiber of his body ached to wrap his arms around the other man, kiss him with all the passion he was feeling in his heart and loins and take him to his chamber, or take him right here, right now, Quintus drew back from the rather chaste kiss and regarded the younger man for a moment. His face was flushed, even visible in the dim light, his eyes wide (as he had probably not even closed them during the kiss) and his lips slightly open before he swallowed and averted his eyes.
“Good night, Khristophoros. I will see you in the morning.”
Had he been confused just a moment ago, the bafflement seemed to even increase on Khristophoros' features now as his eyes grew wider and his brow furrowed. “Do you not...” He made a waving gesture with his hand, obviously unsure how to express himself.
Quintus smiled softly, but his gaze was intense as he leaned just a little closer, smelling the captivating, musky scent of the young man, feeling the warmth radiating off his body. “Oh yes, I want to. More than you can imagine,” he barely more than whispered, voice slightly hoarse. “I want to take pleasure in you, and give you pleasure equally. I want to caress every spot of your body with my hands and lips until you come undone beneath me, in my arms. But most of all, I want you to want me, to wake up at night, hard and panting and desiring me as I desire you.”
Khristophoros gasped and swallowed, and Quintus knew he had achieved a victory tonight. “I'm waiting for the day that happens. But until it does, good night.”
Not waiting for a reply, Quintus made his way to the stairs and up to his chamber. He could have sworn that Khristophoros debated with himself if he should follow.
~*~
It had been uncomfortably hot the past two days. Quintus had been born and raised in Tuscany where the temperatures in summer were more moderate, and even though he had been mainly residing in Rome for over ten years now, a heat wave as that of the past two days still overwhelmed him and made him wish to stay nowhere but within the thick walls of the villa, where it was somewhat endurable during the day.
Tonight, however, rain had set in, some faint thunder rolling across the skies in the distance, cleansing the thick and dusty air, and Quintus enjoyed the fresh coolness standing by the window overlooking the peristylium. He watched the thick drops patter down onto the ground, soaking the almost dried out shrubs and flowers and flooding the small fountain in the middle of the court - water that the plants had desperately needed this July, water that refreshed his senses as well and made his mind circle around that which he had not spared a thought on in the previous heat. It was in that moment, when his mind had recalled the flushed face of the young slave, his full lips and the feel of them beneath his own, that a soft knock at his door made him turn around.
"Come in," he called and then, in surprise at the coincidence of the appearance, looked directly into the face he had imagined in his mind.
"I bring you wine, Domine," Khristophoros said, his tone slightly lower, rougher than usual and his eyes something between transfixing and shy.
Quintus found himself smile all too easily, his heart starting to beat a little faster in his chest.
"Thank you, Khristophoros," he said and took the filled goblet from the slave's hands but remained standing. As he took a sip of the rich red wine, he saw the young man's eyes fixed on Quintus' mouth, tongue darting out to lick over his lower lip.
"You should have brought a goblet for yourself, too," Quintus said as if the wine was what Khristophoros was desiring but hoping it was something else entirely. "But you can share mine."
Hesitating, his handsome face twisted in thought, the younger man took the goblet from Quintus' hands and drank. "Thank you."
Still standing close, Quintus raised a hand and shook his head. "Something tells me I may want to keep a clear head tonight." Though vague, he hoped the words along with the accompanying, questioning glance he was giving Khristophoros suggested the intended meaning, and sure enough he saw a faint blush on the younger man's features as he averted his eyes.
"Do you wish me to stay, Domine?"
"Do you want to stay?" Quintus gave back and held the wine in his hand again.
The reply that followed was barely more than a hoarse whisper. "Yes."
And Quintus triumphed inside, warmth spreading through his heart and stomach, heat shooting to his loins in a wave of shivering anticipation. He put the goblet on a small table next to his bed, a distance of two, three steps between them as he leaned against the mattress. "What else do you want, Khristophoros?"
Again, the young man licked his lower lip, and his mouth remained slightly opened, his chest rising with deeper breaths as he looked at Quintus, obviously unsure what or how to reply.
"Tell me," Quintus continued softly. "What do you want?"
"You."
Quintus smiled, but it was barely with superior satisfaction now; the simply uttered word had touched him in a way he could not have anticipated, and he felt his heart swell with emotion, something heavy but warm and pleasant sitting on his chest. "Then show me," he asked, his hand extended in invitation as Khristophoros slowly approached.
He could feel the other man's warm breath on his face already, see those blue eyes on him, pupils widened, gaze shifting between Quintus' own eyes and his lips. And slowly, very slowly - because Quintus let him take the initiative - Khristophoros leaned in and brought their lips together. At first, it was barely more than a gentle brush, almost tickling on the sensitive skin of his lips, so tender, a barely-there kiss, and yet it sent another wave of warm shivers run through Quintus' entire body, filling every fiber of it with longing and need.
Khristophoros drew in a sharp breath as he finally pressed his lips fully onto Quintus', and one hand came up to grab the front of Quintus tunic with a sudden ferocity that surprised him. Then, they were all over each other. Lips suckling, parting underneath the demanding movements, tongues touching, moist warmth and panted breaths. Quintus sank onto the mattress and pulled Khristophoros with him, allowing him to keep the upper hand for the moment. He enjoyed being in control, and he was quite certain Khristohoros knew that Quintus did not intend to be taken, but he could also enjoy leaning back, letting their kisses and touches be determined by the growing hunger in the young man, the equally strong need he now so clearly could see and feel and taste. And it was wonderful, exhilarating: that hand on the collar of his tunic, thumb brushing over his skin; lips on his own, his chin and jaw; slender but muscular legs straddling him, pinning him down, breathless and impassioned.
The fervent kisses slowed down, and Khristophoros took a few deep but calm breaths as he rose, looking down at Quintus with a slightly crooked smile on his lips. "What… what do you want me to do, Domine?"
Quintus raised a hand to bring it to Khristophoros' cheek, thumb gently caressing the warm skin that was softer than he had anticipated - had he shaved and washed before he had come here, prepared himself in the clear intention of where this was leading?
"Please, don't call me that in bed. And…" He leaned up to kiss Khristophoros again, not getting enough of that delicious mouth, and he wrapped an arm around the younger man's waist to turn them both around. "I want you to enjoy."
A trembling sigh was his response as Quintus leaned in again and traced a line of gentle kisses down the other man's jawline and neck. His hand searched for the cord tying the tunic in the middle, and he opened it slowly, feeling the firm muscles underneath the fabric. Though his desire was strong, he wanted to take his time, wanted to fulfill his promise and pleasure every part of this man's body, from head to toe. He sat back then, further down the mattress and reached for first one, then the other foot, untying the sandals with deliberate slowness. His thumbs gently brushed the ankles, the tips of his other fingers ghosting up the sides of Khristohoros' feet, and Quintus had to smile again as he heard a faint chuckle.
"Ticklish?"
Another chuckle in reply, breathy and low, and it made Quintus wish to find every spot and every caress that would bring forth every possible sound he could receive from the young man. "How about there?" he whispered, his fingertips roaming up Khristophoros' shin, barely more than touching the dark blond hairs there, up to the knee caps and further. No chuckle now but a faint sigh in pleasure. That sound alone was enough to make his cock twitch in arousal, fully hard beneath his tunic by now, but he could wait a little longer.
"Sit up," he said softy, and he leaned in to press another kiss, half gentle, half longing onto the young man's lips as he reached down and pulled the tunic up and above Khristophoros' head, discarding the item of clothing and letting it fall onto the floor. And gently still, he pushed him back down with one hand and crawled above him, further down again to the foot of the bed. He saw Khristophoros' brow furrow, his lips still wide apart with now panted sighs; the young slave could not imagine that his master would want to pleasure him that way, Quintus thought to read on those features. Here and now, however, they were not master and slave but equals. Lovers. And Quintus intended to give as much pleasure as he would receive.
He saw the young man's arousal, the swollen prick leaning almost fully erect towards his belly, begging to be touched and tasted. His eyes firmly on Khristohoros' blue ones, Quintus leaned down, one hand wrapped gently around the hard member as his tongue ran up its whole length in one slow, firm lick. A shuddering moan escaped Khristohoros' throat, and Quintus felt a smile twitch around the corners of his mouth as he closed his lips around the hard flesh, hoping to elicit more of those delicious sounds. His eyes closed then as he started to work on him, first slowly, letting his mouth be filled as much as he could manage, lips tight and tongue lapping, circling as his hand met the movements of his head.
The effect he received was more than he had imagined, those sounds Khristohoros let out, somewhat restrained but slipping his control, became rougher still, little whimpers and hoarse sighs, his chest heaving with accelerated breaths. And Quintus was tempted to just go through with this, pleasure him with his mouth until he'd feel his release salty on his tongue. But he had something else in mind, still.
Slowly, his lips not parting with the thick shaft yet, savoring the taste and feel of him, he raised his head, his eyes searching Khristohoros' gaze before he let go. And the flushed look on the younger man's features - the furrowed brow and shining eyes - was almost as good as those sounds of pleasure.
“Spread your legs,” Quintus ordered in a whisper as he crawled back up to brush a gentle kiss onto Khristohoros' lips. In the other man's slight hesitance he could recognize nervousness and uncertainty, but in the way he finally complied and leaned up to capture Quintus' mouth with lips and tongue, there was an unmistakable hunger for more.
Quintus raised one hand and brought his fingers between their lips, moistening them with his own saliva until Khristohoros understood and took two of the digits between his own lips, mimicking what Quintus had done earlier, sucking hard and letting his tongue run around the fingertips in a way that sent another wave of trembling shivers down Quintus' spine. Only when he heard a faint chuckle vibrate around his fingers did he realize that he had just moaned out in pleasure as well.
He quickly withdrew his fingers. “I'll let you do more of that later,” he said with a mock-scolding gaze.
A crooked smirk on his features, Khristohoros opened his mouth to say something, but the amused expression faded immediately, eyes widening and mouth open in a gasp when Quintus slid one spit-slick finger past the tight ring of muscle, feeling it twitch around the intrusion on instinct. But then it relaxed, and the surprise on Khristohoros face turned to pure pleasure, a loud moan escaping his lips when Quintus changed the angle of his finger. Sliding in another finger, Quintus smiled.
“You enjoy this?”
Another move of his hand, fingers sliding deeper and rubbing harder against that sensitive spot.
“Y-yes,” came the stuttered, breathy response.
“Good. Because I want you to,” he murmured, his lips now almost touching Khristohoros' as he stretched the tightness around his fingers. “I want you to enjoy every moment of it until you cry out my name. My name, do you hear me, Khristohoros?”
Mouth open with panted breaths, almost kissing, Khristohoros only nodded, and his hips squirmed against Quintus' hand, working himself deeper on the fingers as a third one was inserted.
“Do you want me inside you?” Their lips touched and Quintus sucked in Khristohoros' lower, hissing with the trembling arousal he was feeling in his own body. “Do you want me to fuck you? To... make love to you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
Khristohoros pressed shut his eyes and lips, suppressing a whimpered moan the moment Quintus crooked his fingers once more inside the other man's body. “Yes, Quintus,” he replied then, and they met again for a deep and hungry kiss.
Quintus only had to let go off him one more time as he sat up on his heels and pulled his own tunic over his head, throwing it onto the ground, and he saw Khristohoros taking in the sight of him, biting his lower lip as his eyes caressed Quintus' torso with a stare so intense that he could almost physically feel it.
Then he was on him, sliding between the parted thighs, lips united in fervent kisses again as he positioned himself and entered the younger man's welcoming body, tight heat surrounding him and overwhelming all his senses.
He had lain with many men before, but what he experienced now, this perfect unison, the mirrored and shared desire for another, was something new even to him. With each thrust of his hips, slow at first but increasing in pace and strength, he felt as if they merged into one being, heart-beats matching, so close that he didn't know where one ended and the other began. Fingers digging into his shoulders in sweet pain, pulling him closer and closer still. Lips meeting, breathing against each other. Sounds of pure pleasure, sighs, gasps, deep groans. And that tight heat that spread from Khristohoros' body to his, through him, filling him into every corner of his being.
“Ohh, ohhnnngh,” Khristohoros moaned. “Quintus, I... Ohhh.”
The muscles around him started to tighten, and Quintus thrust even harder, deeper for the last few, precious moments, feeling everything in his own body tense. And then, with sudden ferocity, Khristohoros tore his lips from Quintus', his head pressing into the mattress, eyes shut and a deep, deep, low, trembling sigh of pleasure came over his lips that pulled Quintus with him, deep into an abyss of pure, sheer ecstasy that made him think his heart would give out, and then think nothing at all because he only felt, felt Khristohoros underneath him, around him, with him, both coming undone.
Neither of them moved, and Quintus didn't dream of parting with Khristohoros yet as his rapid heart-beat slowed down, his breathing calming gradually with that of his lover. He felt fingertips on the back of his neck, a barely-there caress, as he inhaled the musky scent of sweat and sex, his face buried in the crook of Khristohoros' neck.
“Quintus.” The slightly hoarse, soft sound barely registered over the rush of blood between his ear drums, but he raised his head then nevertheless, looking down into Khristohoros' blue eyes. The look he found there warmed him with an almost-shock of awareness, pleasant and overwhelming at the same time. Blue orbs reflecting trust, thankfulness, affection... something more than just that.
When their lips met again it was the softest of contacts, just the warm and slightly moist feel of mouth on mouth, gently resting, giving, taking.
“Stay with me tonight?” he asked then, surprised at the sudden shyness in his own voice.
Khristohoros smiled, a hint of something confident and determined glinting up in his eyes.
“If you want me to.”
~ Finis ~
Author: leandralocke
Fandom: Star Trek RPS
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto - for Pinto Pornapalooza II - August 2011
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Roman slave fic
Word Count: 7630
Warnings: mention of past dub-con - This is ancient Rome, and we're talking about slaves here
A/N: I'm a little anal when it comes to historical credibility, so I adjusted their names to something that would make sense ~ 100 AD. Fortunately, a version of Christopher already existed then in the Greek name Khristophoros. Zachariah existed as well, but since Zach was supposed to be a Roman citizen he could not have a Jewish name. The options for male first names is rather limited in ancient Rome, so Quintus was the only thing close enough ^^ As for the surnames (one for the gens, the other for the family) I picked from a list of common names of that time.
YES I'M A RESEARCH NERD. SUE ME!! :D And I'm still convinced I made dozens of mistakes nevertheless. Ah well ^^
Most of all though I should mention that I'm made of EPIC FAIL. This was supposed to be porn, right? Err well. I've no idea why this happened, but somehow it turned out more complex and plot-centered than I had intended. Could be because I've had this idea over a year ago already and had started writing, and now recycled it for Pornapalooza. The original idea was even a lot longer than this one.
Okay, now without further ado because I'm already boring you do death (sorry ^^)...
ETA: Ah, latin grammar fail. I've just been informed that the vocative case - the direct address - of Dominus is Domine. Yeah well, I never studied Latin ^^ And I know why! It seems rather complicated ^^
Quintus Acilius Corvinus was bored. And he was even more bored at the prospect of having to pick a new slave for this household. His mother had insisted upon it, however, and if Marca Julia Corvini insisted on something there was no escape. They did not necessarily require another servant, Quintus thought as he picked a ripe green olive from the bowl next to the ottoman he was resting on, though with the tragic demise of Quitipor Britannicus (a new stallion had bolted and trampled him down) there definitely was a lack of certain services Quintus did not always like paying for. And his mother preferred this over him getting robbed and stabbed in a brothel. The only trouble was that finding an adequate replacement seemed near impossible these days.
Many of the slaves that he had already inspected on the slave market were pitiful creatures, wild barbarians from Gaul that had little aptitude to adapt to a civilized Roman household - and Quintus liked to think of his servants as members of the household rather slaves that would prefer being dead over such a fate (many of them had tried before and some succeeded, fortunately never in his house). Others, especially from the Southern provinces, were too proud and strong to accept their role in society, and Quintus did not fancy being murdered in his sleep like poor Gaius Sepunius (though the tall, muscular African that had committed the murder had possessed certain undeniable physical advantages).
Of course, he did not only want a slave for the purpose of physical pleasure. He simply wanted one with adequate skills and education, one that would appreciate and respect his master and was pleasant enough to look at - something Quintipor, whose given name had been Conn, had fulfilled only on a rudimentary level, pleasant and kind but a little too submissive. More like a puppy that said yes to everything and everyone as long as he had been fed (and fucked).
The first two slaves the trader showed him were anything but attractive. Both of them with matted, though short hair and pale and weary eyes, they seemed like dogs that had been left out in bad weather for too long, and Quintus suspected that they didn't smell much better. Creatures he would possibly let deal with the latrine or the horses, but certainly not with his food, his fine robes or his naked body for that matter.
The third was a man several years older than himself, Quintus suspected he was at least thirty-five, his dark hair already graying around the temples, and the fourth had small, narrow eyes that sent a shiver down his spine when he looked at him for a bit longer.
"I have one more," the slave trader said, as Quintus made a waving gesture with his hand for the slaves to be guided outside. Unimpressed, he raised an eyebrow.
"Crito, so far everything you have showed me was unacceptable. Please do not insult me by wasting my time." Quintus was considering the option of simply finding himself a free-born male lover, but that was not something easily achieved either.
The older man looked apologetic and shook his head. "Please, let me show you my latest acquisition. You will not be disappointed."
Suppressing a sigh, Quintus nodded though he assumed the next slave would hardly be any better than the previous ones. He could not have been more wrong.
The young man that was led into the room by one of Crito's men was nothing but beautiful. Tall, probably even as tall as himself, with hair the color of ripe wheat and eyes as azure blue as the Aegean sea. The way he walked into the room, his shoulders straight, chin held high but his gaze slightly lowered was both defiant and shy. He only briefly looked at his potential new master, but there was a spark of something lively in those eyes that Quintus found intriguing.
He could just so contain himself from letting his features light up in approval as he sat up straighter on the ottoman. Never show a trader that you're interested in his goods.
"Well, what do you think now, Acilius? He is from Graecia, a Christian, but that is just a minor flaw since he does not follow his mother's traditions", the slave trader chuckled a little nervously. Naturally, making good business with the Acilii was high on his priority list. "His given name is Khristophoros and he has seen twenty-two summers. He's of perfect health, I can assure you."
Finally, Quintus did get up to take a few steps towards Crito and the slave, making a non-committed motion with his hand. "I am not sure, he is not exactly what I had in mind," he lied. "How much?"
"Seven-hundred-sixty denarii."
Quintus raised both eyebrows at the man. "That is far from a reasonable price, Crito. I remember I payed no more than five-hundred-fifty for the last one, and he was only nineteen."
"Then you can have him for seven-hundred, a special offer for an old, special friend."
Since Quintus was neither old with his twenty-eight years nor any more special to Crito than any other customer he probably tried to lure with the very same words he found it easy to resist. "Six-hundred."
"Oh, but Acilius, I payed five-eighty for him myself. I need to feed my wife and our children, you must understand."
If flattery didn't work, many tried it with pity. Quintus knew these schemes all too well. "Six-hundred and thirty-five, that is my last word."
"And mine is six-hundred and seventy, friend."
The slave, Khristophorus, briefly looked at him again, his blue eyes just the tiniest hint narrowed. But there also was something like worry evident in the very fine crease on his brow.
"This is a very good slave. I could make a much higher price with him elsewhere, I'm sure."
And this probably wasn't an exaggeration, Quintus realized. The only trouble was, he really wanted this one.
"Six-hundred-fifty," he offered firmly, staring the trader right into his watery gray eyes.
Finally, the man nodded and sighed. "He is yours."
Quintus smiled.
~*~
For the first week, Khristophorus had joined the house of Corvinus, Quintus had left him alone and given him time to adjust. He had never believed in whipping his slaves and otherwise using force, physically or mentally, against them. In the end, that approach had proven to be not only the kinder thing to do but also safer and more effective. Gain their trust, respect and even friendship on a level, and you'd have a loyal and dedicated servant for as long as either of the parties lived.
He had a relationship of this kind to another of his household slaves: Zoe, a most beautiful young woman from Africa who had been raised in Greece as well - a fact that made it easier for her and Khristophorus to bond quickly. Quintus often caught and overheard them speak Greek, and he did not forbid it although the language sounded rough and their specific dialect slightly uncivilized to his sensitive ears.
Zoe, as one of the main servants to tend to Marca, was also in charge of organizing festivities, tending to guests and overseeing the other slaves as maybe one of the most important members of the large household. Quintus appreciated her for her sharp wit and kind nature, though he often had the feeling deep down and behind those beautiful, large eyes there was a dangerous wild-cat hidden that made him not want to get on her wrong side. He had little reason to fear such a situation however, as he gave her little reason not to respect and cherish him.
Despite all her appealing properties, her immense beauty and intellect, she had one minor flaw, however: she was a woman, and Quintus found little appeal in lying with them. He had tried it before (same as many Romans that preferred the female body had tasted the pleasures of lying with a man), but found a male body with strong, lean muscles, the masculine scent or the rougher sounds a man made during intercourse much more gratifying than the softness of feminine curves. He sometimes suspected Zoe found that fact to be disappointing; she had come to him on occasion and offered herself, and he had taken her once but never again after that.
He was sure, though, that they had reached a silent understanding after that, and he was furthermore sure that Zoe knew exactly the purpose of why Khristophoros was here, even though the past seven days he had only helped in the kitchens and occasionally as valet. He was to learn everything about the house first, tend to every field of work before he would take his place, and as far as Quintus could tell, Khristophoros was nothing but diligent and adept in everything he did.
One late afternoon, when Quintus sat in the atrium and enjoyed a glass of wine, he watched the young Christian, his strong but slender hands fixing a wicker basket as he had been taught. Quintus could not stop himself from imagining those fingers on his body, wrapping around his shaft and stroking it to hardness before those exquisite, red and full lips that he so often bit in concentration, would close around him and bring him release. He shifted his position slightly, thankful for the folds of the loose-fitting tunic concealing his body's reaction to these images.
Nodding at the slave standing next to him, he put the goblet of wine back on the silver tray before he got up and walked over to Khristophoros.
The slave reacted immediately and put the basket aside, standing up to bow his head in acknowledgment of the presence of his master. Although the moves were practiced and executed perfectly, as well as briefly uttered 'Domine', there was that shy look in his blue eyes again, something slightly fearful in his posture that both intrigued and worried Quintus.
“I apologize for interrupting your work”, Quintus started with a tone as friendly as he could. It caused the tiniest crease to twitch over the slave's forehead for a fraction. “But as I see and hear you are doing each of your work with greatest care and talent. You have already proven yourself a valuable addition to my household, Khristophoros.”
“Thank you, Domine, you are too kind.” There was a trace of gratitude underneath the well-studied response, but Quintus wasn't quite sure if it was entirely earnest.
“Do you enjoy your work so far, Khristophoros?” he tested the waters a little further and was almost pleased to see those bright blue eyes narrow slightly.
“I have no reason to complain, Domine.”
“Ah, but you could, you see?” Quintus said and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, a gesture that clearly confused him. “You may be a slave, but you shall know that I regard my slaves - at least the ones that work for me directly - as family. You may speak freely with me, and I promise you I will listen to your concerns should any arise.”
Khristophoros lowered his gaze, his brow now furrowing more clearly before he nodded and looked back up at Quintus with a tiny smile that hardly reached his eyes. “I shall do that, Domine.”
“Good. I see we understand each other,” Quintus added with a more genuine smile of his own. There was still a shiver running down his spine, straight to his groin, when he looked at the young man; his shyness and obedience, mixed with a free spirit lurking underneath, undeniably there, only added to Quintus' almost burning want to have him, and have him soon. But most of all, he needed Khristophoros to want him as well.
“I am summoned to the Senate tomorrow. Please come to my chamber in the morning and help me bathe and dress. Zoe will show you where to find the appropriate robes. Now I will let you get back to your work,” Quintus ended and barely waited to hear 'Yes, Domine' as reply before he left the atrium. It might take a while with this one, he thought, but was determined to succeed.
~*~
Sleep had not been deep that night, and Quintus knew precisely why. He felt unsettled by images that had followed his consciousness into his dreams, moments of passion and lust he had not shared with another human being for quite some time and that he was desiring to experience soon. He was therefore not surprised that, upon waking up, the erection he felt when running his hand beneath the cover, did not become flaccid as easily and automatically as usual, and he was still hard by the time he heard the door open and feet shuffling, a faint, throaty cough near his bed.
Quintus turned to lie on his back and look straight into Khristophoros' slightly startled, blue eyes.
“Good morning, Domine,” he said and bowed his head. He was wearing the mustard yellow tunic he had been given upon arrival, but Quintus had a sudden thought that blue would suit him much better.
“I hope you had a pleasant night,” the slave continued conversationally as he opened the curtains shielding the window, letting daylight stream into the chamber.
“It wasn't too bad,” Quintus replied and watched Khristophoros approach the bed, putting the simple white house tunic he had held over one arm on its foot and, with some unmistakable reluctance, his eyes shyly averted, he folded down the covers.
Quintus didn't know whether he should be relieved or disappointed that Khristophoros didn't look. He got up from the bed then and stood in front of the slave, letting him help him into the white tunic and then sat back down on the edge of his bed to have the simple brown sandals being slid over his feet and tied.
“You have been taught well.”
It was the first time that what Quintus believed was a genuine laugh came over the young slave's lips. “It's not like I don't do this every day with my own clothing and shoes,” he replied as he stood back up, but his blue eyes widened slightly. “Forgive me Domine, I did not mean to imply that you-“
“That I'm lazy?” Quintus interrupted him and chuckled faintly himself. If at all, the caught look on Khristophoros' features only became more prominent. “I must seem rather pretentious to you then. Not even able to accomplish something so simple and profane as lacing my sandals on my own.”
He knew he was torturing his slave with this; maybe Khristophoros had been treated badly by previous masters and would have endured severe punishment for such a slip of the tongue.
“Domine, please, I didn't mean to-“
“You are right,” Quintus quickly interrupted him again, feeling slightly guilty for the distress he had put the young man in. “We Patricians are a ruled by the conveniences our class grants us. I will tell you a secret, but please do not share it with the other slaves.”
Confused and with his lips opened, eyes still wide, Khristophoros nodded faintly.
Quintus smirked as he got up, put one hand on the younger man's shoulder and leaned in to whisper: “I can tie my shoes just fine.”
Underneath the still present confusion, relief and amusement surfaced on Khristophoros' face, and the faintest blush crept into his cheeks.
“You remember what I said yesterday, do you not?” Quintus went on, making sure his tone sounded soft and soothing. Khristophoros nodded.
“I don't want you to be afraid of me. As long as you do your work dutifully there is no reason for you to worry.”
He found the tiniest of smiles on the young man's features, hoping to have gained another portion of his trust. “Now, how about that bath?”
With Khristophoros in his toe, they descended the stairs to the lower level of the villa, past the atrium and towards the perystilium. The cool, fresh air of the early morning sent a faint but pleasant chill down Quintus' naked legs, and he hoped the bath had been heated to a comfortable temperature. When Khristophoros opened the doors for him to enter the bath, he was already greeted with the pleasant perfume of flower petals and oils that had been dropped into the water. Faint steam was rising from the surface of the basin, and further scented oils burned in bronze bowels in each of the four corners of the room. Quintus smiled.
“Why don't you go into the kitchens and bring me some fruit while I take off my shoes and tunic and get into the water?”
Another faint, shy laugh came over Khristophoros' lips, and he bowed his head briefly. “As you wish, Domine,” he replied and quickly left the bath. Quintus was pleased with himself.
If he was perfectly honest, the only reason why he had let Khristophoros dress him this morning had been the want to feel the younger man's fingers on his skin, see how adeptly they worked and, for a second, get lost into images of what else they could do. His other servants rarely helped him into something as simple as a house tunic; he most often woke up without any of them around.
He was out of his clothing quickly and then slowly descended the four steps into the warm water. By the time he was fully in, Khristophoros already returned, carrying a plate with grapes, apricots and dried dates. He knelt down at the edge of the basin, close to Quintus, and again didn't seem quite sure what to do.
“Please, my hands are wet. If you don't mind...” he said and looked up at the slave with what he knew was a both innocent and challenging gaze.
Again, there was this tiny and somewhat bashful smile on Khristophoros' lips that he clearly tried to conceal as he picked up a slice of apricot and brought it to Quintus' lips who tasted the soft, juicy fruit with relish.
“I suppose... never mind.”
“What?” Quintus asked, raising his eyebrows, as he watched Khristophoros pick up a large, firm grape. “That I can eat on my own just fine, too?”
His eyes averted, one hand running over his forehead, Khristophoros let out a faint chuckle, but it was clear that he didn't yet fully trust the offer to speak freely and not fear repercussions.
Quintus shrugged and leaned one arm on the edge of the basin. “I could. But this has its advantages. Please, a date next.” And again he watched the slave's every move as he picked up the dark fruit and held it for Quintus' lips to seize it. Gently so, he did, his lips deliberately touching the tips of Khristophoros' fingers and his eyes fixed on the other man's, pleased to see that faint flush on his cheeks deepen and his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip.
“Mmmh, delicious,” he sighed and kept his eyes on the young man for a moment longer before leaning back into the warm water and closing his eyes for a moment. “If you'd like to taste any of the fruit please help yourself. There's plenty enough for both of us.”
He didn't watch to see any of Khristophoros' reactions, but he imagined the young man to be as surprised as before, confirmed by the fact that the soft shuffling and then the sound of him sucking up the juice of a slice of fruit was heard several moments later.
“You do not speak much, do you?”
“Do you wish me to speak more, Domine?”
Quintus chuckled and opened his eyes again, turning around to face Khristophoros as he let his upper body float backward in the water. “Only if you want to.”
The young man's brow was furrowed, his gaze averted before he gingerly picked up another apricot and ate it. “I've always liked apricots.”
“They grow plentiful in Greece, don't they?”
“Yes.” The man's gaze became pensive as he sat on his side, his weight propped on one arm with firm muscles straining beneath the smooth skin. “We used to have a little grove with apricots and figs. My mother and I.”
“And your father?” Quintus inquired, strangely curious about the young man's past.
“He died before I had even seen two summers. I don't remember him. Only my stepfather.”
“Who sold you into slavery?”
“After my mother died, yes.”
Quintus swam closer again, one arm on the edge of the basin and his other hand close to the plate without reaching for any of the fruit, though. “I am sorry that happened to you. I hope you can at least find purpose in your current position. And who knows... there's always the prospect of being set free.”
He didn't know why he had even said that; freeing this slave whom he had only just started becoming fond of was farthest from his mind right now.
“Well,” Quintus started with a deep breath, ignoring the slave's surprised glance and not wanting the rather serious conversation topic to last any longer, “why don't you scrub my back while I'm in here. You can take off your sandals and put your feet into the water behind me,” he said and watched Khristophoros' thoughtful expression fade slowly, becoming rather unreadable right after. He reached for a washcloth and, doing as Quintus had suggested, sat behind him to bring the cloth into the water and started running it across Quintus' shoulders and upper back.
“Mmh, that feels good,” sighed Quintus and leaned a little more forward for Khristophoros to reach further down his back. “I hadn't noticed how tense I was. You have very gentle, talented hands.”
“Thank you, Domine,” Khristophoros replied softly, shy and a little uncertain. Quintus decided it was time to advance their conversation a little.
“So tell me, Khristophoros, do you find more pleasure in the female or male body?”
There was silence for a moment; the movements of the slave's hands had stopped, and he cleared his throat faintly before he resumed the soft massage. “I am not sure.”
“But you have lain with a woman, have you not?”
A faintly snorted chuckle. “Yes, I have.”
“And with a man?”
Silence again, though this time Khristophoros continued washing Quintus' back, his thumbs gently but firmly pushing against the strained muscles above his shoulder blades.
“Yes,” he finally replied, but his voice sounded rather strained, suddenly a little cold and hard.
“You have been forced,” Quintus guessed, and while in itself he did not find the thought very unusual - though illegal, it happened every day, especially to those that were not free - it certainly set a dampener to his mood and expectations.
“I had to obey,” the slave replied simply, making it obvious that he did not want to discuss his experience in detail. Quintus turned around and took the washcloth off Khristophoros' hands.
“Than I shall promise you I will not force you to do anything you do not wish not to do.”
It was the first time Khristophoros, even though obviously surprised, did not avert his eyes but met Quintus' own glance for a long time, blue eyes wide but shining with something that Quintus hoped was gratitude and trust.
Quintus almost regretted it, though. Regretted having dived into such topics and allowing himself to see a person with a history instead of just pursuing his intended goal and follow the desires of his body. He ached physically at the prospect of having to wait much longer.
“Now, why don't you help me dry and dress. Oh, and you will also have to shave me. I trust you can handle a sharp knife without causing me any damage?” He smiled at his last words, hoping to light the mood a little and was pleased to see the young man's eyes crinkle with a smile.
Yes, this would take a while, but in the end it would be worth it.
~*~
Almost another month passed in which Quintus had, at times, almost forgotten the initial purpose of acquiring the Greek slave. He had found that, despite the disadvantage of growing quite frustrated with the unfulfilled needs of his body, there were other undeniable advantages to their somewhat unconventional relationship. Khristophoros still came to Quintus chamber in the mornings to help him bathe and dress, and he often brought him food and wine in the evenings when he sat over scrolls that he gladly was distracted from.
But the typical duties of a servant weren't all there was to it, neither was it merely the pleasure of having someone easy on the eye around him. Over the time and with Khristophoros' growing confidence, Quintus had become quite fond of the young man's intellect and humor. For example, they would exchange an understanding glance and a smirk over Quintus' mother's shoulder when she was complaining that he ought to finally marry a woman of a well-respected family. And at other times, after Quintus had discovered that Khristophoros had been well-educated, they discussed literature and philosophy which often turned into heated discussions of such honesty and openness that he missed such an attitude even from his closest Patrician friends. On occasion, Khristophoros had impressed Quintus with words and speech mannerisms no Pleb, let alone slave, would know, and it had even become a kind of game between them that made Quintus feel both highly intellectual and very silly, especially when they used such words in pres
ence of his mostly clueless mother.
Marca did not approve of his relationship with Khristophoros; she said it was unnatural to treat a slave like an equal, and she also complained about him having wasted money on a slave he obviously wasn't intending to make proper use of - as if she had bought a precious gown and would then be wiping the floors with it, had been her comparison. Maybe his mother's growing disapproval was all the more reason to be quite content with things as they were, he sometimes thought with a hint of rebellious mischief that he was, in fact, much too old for.
She was rather outraged when he declared one day that he'd take Khristophoros to the theater, solely for the purpose of having a bodyguard, of course. She had not been able to protest with much authority.
It would have been worth a thousand angry cries from her, though - a fact that Quintus realized as soon as Khristophoros saw a great Roman theater from the inside for the first time in his life. It had even been difficult to pay much attention to the tragedy on stage, as Quintus had found his eyes drawn to Khristophoros' every move: the way the skin around his eyes wrinkled when he laughed, a sound so pleasant and warm in its slight roughness, or when his deep blue eyes became shiny with emotion, enthralled by the events on stage as much as Quintus was enthralled by him.
He had never enjoyed a visit to the theater as much as that night.
When they walked back to the villa, Khristophoros was still so overwhelmed with what he had seen that he could not stop talking about it, his hands gesturing wildly, eyes bright and full of wonder as he praised the fancy costumes, the stage decoration and the epic and tragic battles, but he seemed most taken wit-
“Thank you for accompanying me tonight, Khristophoros,” Quintus said as they entered the vestibulum. Another slave came quickly to take his cloak, but he dismissed him right after, feeling like he'd rather remain undisturbed with the other man for a few moments longer.
“Thank you for taking me, Domine,” Khristophoros replied then, and there was almost a trace of a mocking smirk around the last word. His gaze, however, was indeed full of gratitude, eyes still shining in the dim light of the entrance hall. “I had never dreamed of something like this, never envisioned how compelling a live staging of a play could be. So... thank you. I will not forget this.”
Quintus wasn't sure whether he was merely following an impulse then or did what his subconscious had urged him to do the entire evening. He had leaned in and placed his lips on Khristophoros' quickly to not give the other man a chance to shy away, but also gently, savoring the feel of those full, soft lips though they remained unyielding beneath his. With surprise, he hoped, not aversion.
Although every fiber of his body ached to wrap his arms around the other man, kiss him with all the passion he was feeling in his heart and loins and take him to his chamber, or take him right here, right now, Quintus drew back from the rather chaste kiss and regarded the younger man for a moment. His face was flushed, even visible in the dim light, his eyes wide (as he had probably not even closed them during the kiss) and his lips slightly open before he swallowed and averted his eyes.
“Good night, Khristophoros. I will see you in the morning.”
Had he been confused just a moment ago, the bafflement seemed to even increase on Khristophoros' features now as his eyes grew wider and his brow furrowed. “Do you not...” He made a waving gesture with his hand, obviously unsure how to express himself.
Quintus smiled softly, but his gaze was intense as he leaned just a little closer, smelling the captivating, musky scent of the young man, feeling the warmth radiating off his body. “Oh yes, I want to. More than you can imagine,” he barely more than whispered, voice slightly hoarse. “I want to take pleasure in you, and give you pleasure equally. I want to caress every spot of your body with my hands and lips until you come undone beneath me, in my arms. But most of all, I want you to want me, to wake up at night, hard and panting and desiring me as I desire you.”
Khristophoros gasped and swallowed, and Quintus knew he had achieved a victory tonight. “I'm waiting for the day that happens. But until it does, good night.”
Not waiting for a reply, Quintus made his way to the stairs and up to his chamber. He could have sworn that Khristophoros debated with himself if he should follow.
~*~
It had been uncomfortably hot the past two days. Quintus had been born and raised in Tuscany where the temperatures in summer were more moderate, and even though he had been mainly residing in Rome for over ten years now, a heat wave as that of the past two days still overwhelmed him and made him wish to stay nowhere but within the thick walls of the villa, where it was somewhat endurable during the day.
Tonight, however, rain had set in, some faint thunder rolling across the skies in the distance, cleansing the thick and dusty air, and Quintus enjoyed the fresh coolness standing by the window overlooking the peristylium. He watched the thick drops patter down onto the ground, soaking the almost dried out shrubs and flowers and flooding the small fountain in the middle of the court - water that the plants had desperately needed this July, water that refreshed his senses as well and made his mind circle around that which he had not spared a thought on in the previous heat. It was in that moment, when his mind had recalled the flushed face of the young slave, his full lips and the feel of them beneath his own, that a soft knock at his door made him turn around.
"Come in," he called and then, in surprise at the coincidence of the appearance, looked directly into the face he had imagined in his mind.
"I bring you wine, Domine," Khristophoros said, his tone slightly lower, rougher than usual and his eyes something between transfixing and shy.
Quintus found himself smile all too easily, his heart starting to beat a little faster in his chest.
"Thank you, Khristophoros," he said and took the filled goblet from the slave's hands but remained standing. As he took a sip of the rich red wine, he saw the young man's eyes fixed on Quintus' mouth, tongue darting out to lick over his lower lip.
"You should have brought a goblet for yourself, too," Quintus said as if the wine was what Khristophoros was desiring but hoping it was something else entirely. "But you can share mine."
Hesitating, his handsome face twisted in thought, the younger man took the goblet from Quintus' hands and drank. "Thank you."
Still standing close, Quintus raised a hand and shook his head. "Something tells me I may want to keep a clear head tonight." Though vague, he hoped the words along with the accompanying, questioning glance he was giving Khristophoros suggested the intended meaning, and sure enough he saw a faint blush on the younger man's features as he averted his eyes.
"Do you wish me to stay, Domine?"
"Do you want to stay?" Quintus gave back and held the wine in his hand again.
The reply that followed was barely more than a hoarse whisper. "Yes."
And Quintus triumphed inside, warmth spreading through his heart and stomach, heat shooting to his loins in a wave of shivering anticipation. He put the goblet on a small table next to his bed, a distance of two, three steps between them as he leaned against the mattress. "What else do you want, Khristophoros?"
Again, the young man licked his lower lip, and his mouth remained slightly opened, his chest rising with deeper breaths as he looked at Quintus, obviously unsure what or how to reply.
"Tell me," Quintus continued softly. "What do you want?"
"You."
Quintus smiled, but it was barely with superior satisfaction now; the simply uttered word had touched him in a way he could not have anticipated, and he felt his heart swell with emotion, something heavy but warm and pleasant sitting on his chest. "Then show me," he asked, his hand extended in invitation as Khristophoros slowly approached.
He could feel the other man's warm breath on his face already, see those blue eyes on him, pupils widened, gaze shifting between Quintus' own eyes and his lips. And slowly, very slowly - because Quintus let him take the initiative - Khristophoros leaned in and brought their lips together. At first, it was barely more than a gentle brush, almost tickling on the sensitive skin of his lips, so tender, a barely-there kiss, and yet it sent another wave of warm shivers run through Quintus' entire body, filling every fiber of it with longing and need.
Khristophoros drew in a sharp breath as he finally pressed his lips fully onto Quintus', and one hand came up to grab the front of Quintus tunic with a sudden ferocity that surprised him. Then, they were all over each other. Lips suckling, parting underneath the demanding movements, tongues touching, moist warmth and panted breaths. Quintus sank onto the mattress and pulled Khristophoros with him, allowing him to keep the upper hand for the moment. He enjoyed being in control, and he was quite certain Khristohoros knew that Quintus did not intend to be taken, but he could also enjoy leaning back, letting their kisses and touches be determined by the growing hunger in the young man, the equally strong need he now so clearly could see and feel and taste. And it was wonderful, exhilarating: that hand on the collar of his tunic, thumb brushing over his skin; lips on his own, his chin and jaw; slender but muscular legs straddling him, pinning him down, breathless and impassioned.
The fervent kisses slowed down, and Khristophoros took a few deep but calm breaths as he rose, looking down at Quintus with a slightly crooked smile on his lips. "What… what do you want me to do, Domine?"
Quintus raised a hand to bring it to Khristophoros' cheek, thumb gently caressing the warm skin that was softer than he had anticipated - had he shaved and washed before he had come here, prepared himself in the clear intention of where this was leading?
"Please, don't call me that in bed. And…" He leaned up to kiss Khristophoros again, not getting enough of that delicious mouth, and he wrapped an arm around the younger man's waist to turn them both around. "I want you to enjoy."
A trembling sigh was his response as Quintus leaned in again and traced a line of gentle kisses down the other man's jawline and neck. His hand searched for the cord tying the tunic in the middle, and he opened it slowly, feeling the firm muscles underneath the fabric. Though his desire was strong, he wanted to take his time, wanted to fulfill his promise and pleasure every part of this man's body, from head to toe. He sat back then, further down the mattress and reached for first one, then the other foot, untying the sandals with deliberate slowness. His thumbs gently brushed the ankles, the tips of his other fingers ghosting up the sides of Khristohoros' feet, and Quintus had to smile again as he heard a faint chuckle.
"Ticklish?"
Another chuckle in reply, breathy and low, and it made Quintus wish to find every spot and every caress that would bring forth every possible sound he could receive from the young man. "How about there?" he whispered, his fingertips roaming up Khristophoros' shin, barely more than touching the dark blond hairs there, up to the knee caps and further. No chuckle now but a faint sigh in pleasure. That sound alone was enough to make his cock twitch in arousal, fully hard beneath his tunic by now, but he could wait a little longer.
"Sit up," he said softy, and he leaned in to press another kiss, half gentle, half longing onto the young man's lips as he reached down and pulled the tunic up and above Khristophoros' head, discarding the item of clothing and letting it fall onto the floor. And gently still, he pushed him back down with one hand and crawled above him, further down again to the foot of the bed. He saw Khristophoros' brow furrow, his lips still wide apart with now panted sighs; the young slave could not imagine that his master would want to pleasure him that way, Quintus thought to read on those features. Here and now, however, they were not master and slave but equals. Lovers. And Quintus intended to give as much pleasure as he would receive.
He saw the young man's arousal, the swollen prick leaning almost fully erect towards his belly, begging to be touched and tasted. His eyes firmly on Khristohoros' blue ones, Quintus leaned down, one hand wrapped gently around the hard member as his tongue ran up its whole length in one slow, firm lick. A shuddering moan escaped Khristohoros' throat, and Quintus felt a smile twitch around the corners of his mouth as he closed his lips around the hard flesh, hoping to elicit more of those delicious sounds. His eyes closed then as he started to work on him, first slowly, letting his mouth be filled as much as he could manage, lips tight and tongue lapping, circling as his hand met the movements of his head.
The effect he received was more than he had imagined, those sounds Khristohoros let out, somewhat restrained but slipping his control, became rougher still, little whimpers and hoarse sighs, his chest heaving with accelerated breaths. And Quintus was tempted to just go through with this, pleasure him with his mouth until he'd feel his release salty on his tongue. But he had something else in mind, still.
Slowly, his lips not parting with the thick shaft yet, savoring the taste and feel of him, he raised his head, his eyes searching Khristohoros' gaze before he let go. And the flushed look on the younger man's features - the furrowed brow and shining eyes - was almost as good as those sounds of pleasure.
“Spread your legs,” Quintus ordered in a whisper as he crawled back up to brush a gentle kiss onto Khristohoros' lips. In the other man's slight hesitance he could recognize nervousness and uncertainty, but in the way he finally complied and leaned up to capture Quintus' mouth with lips and tongue, there was an unmistakable hunger for more.
Quintus raised one hand and brought his fingers between their lips, moistening them with his own saliva until Khristohoros understood and took two of the digits between his own lips, mimicking what Quintus had done earlier, sucking hard and letting his tongue run around the fingertips in a way that sent another wave of trembling shivers down Quintus' spine. Only when he heard a faint chuckle vibrate around his fingers did he realize that he had just moaned out in pleasure as well.
He quickly withdrew his fingers. “I'll let you do more of that later,” he said with a mock-scolding gaze.
A crooked smirk on his features, Khristohoros opened his mouth to say something, but the amused expression faded immediately, eyes widening and mouth open in a gasp when Quintus slid one spit-slick finger past the tight ring of muscle, feeling it twitch around the intrusion on instinct. But then it relaxed, and the surprise on Khristohoros face turned to pure pleasure, a loud moan escaping his lips when Quintus changed the angle of his finger. Sliding in another finger, Quintus smiled.
“You enjoy this?”
Another move of his hand, fingers sliding deeper and rubbing harder against that sensitive spot.
“Y-yes,” came the stuttered, breathy response.
“Good. Because I want you to,” he murmured, his lips now almost touching Khristohoros' as he stretched the tightness around his fingers. “I want you to enjoy every moment of it until you cry out my name. My name, do you hear me, Khristohoros?”
Mouth open with panted breaths, almost kissing, Khristohoros only nodded, and his hips squirmed against Quintus' hand, working himself deeper on the fingers as a third one was inserted.
“Do you want me inside you?” Their lips touched and Quintus sucked in Khristohoros' lower, hissing with the trembling arousal he was feeling in his own body. “Do you want me to fuck you? To... make love to you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
Khristohoros pressed shut his eyes and lips, suppressing a whimpered moan the moment Quintus crooked his fingers once more inside the other man's body. “Yes, Quintus,” he replied then, and they met again for a deep and hungry kiss.
Quintus only had to let go off him one more time as he sat up on his heels and pulled his own tunic over his head, throwing it onto the ground, and he saw Khristohoros taking in the sight of him, biting his lower lip as his eyes caressed Quintus' torso with a stare so intense that he could almost physically feel it.
Then he was on him, sliding between the parted thighs, lips united in fervent kisses again as he positioned himself and entered the younger man's welcoming body, tight heat surrounding him and overwhelming all his senses.
He had lain with many men before, but what he experienced now, this perfect unison, the mirrored and shared desire for another, was something new even to him. With each thrust of his hips, slow at first but increasing in pace and strength, he felt as if they merged into one being, heart-beats matching, so close that he didn't know where one ended and the other began. Fingers digging into his shoulders in sweet pain, pulling him closer and closer still. Lips meeting, breathing against each other. Sounds of pure pleasure, sighs, gasps, deep groans. And that tight heat that spread from Khristohoros' body to his, through him, filling him into every corner of his being.
“Ohh, ohhnnngh,” Khristohoros moaned. “Quintus, I... Ohhh.”
The muscles around him started to tighten, and Quintus thrust even harder, deeper for the last few, precious moments, feeling everything in his own body tense. And then, with sudden ferocity, Khristohoros tore his lips from Quintus', his head pressing into the mattress, eyes shut and a deep, deep, low, trembling sigh of pleasure came over his lips that pulled Quintus with him, deep into an abyss of pure, sheer ecstasy that made him think his heart would give out, and then think nothing at all because he only felt, felt Khristohoros underneath him, around him, with him, both coming undone.
Neither of them moved, and Quintus didn't dream of parting with Khristohoros yet as his rapid heart-beat slowed down, his breathing calming gradually with that of his lover. He felt fingertips on the back of his neck, a barely-there caress, as he inhaled the musky scent of sweat and sex, his face buried in the crook of Khristohoros' neck.
“Quintus.” The slightly hoarse, soft sound barely registered over the rush of blood between his ear drums, but he raised his head then nevertheless, looking down into Khristohoros' blue eyes. The look he found there warmed him with an almost-shock of awareness, pleasant and overwhelming at the same time. Blue orbs reflecting trust, thankfulness, affection... something more than just that.
When their lips met again it was the softest of contacts, just the warm and slightly moist feel of mouth on mouth, gently resting, giving, taking.
“Stay with me tonight?” he asked then, surprised at the sudden shyness in his own voice.
Khristohoros smiled, a hint of something confident and determined glinting up in his eyes.
“If you want me to.”
~ Finis ~