Fic - Old Habits
Esca's horse DOES change color. (It's brown from Calleva to the campfire scene. After that it's white.) What what.
Working on a kink meme prompt but I won't put it up until I'm done because I am secret ninja anon~
For now, have this one.
Title: Old Habits
Characters/Pairing: Marcus/Esca, movieverse
Rating: M/R
Prompt: Even when Esca is a free man, he sometimes wants to play slave/master. It doesn't even have to start in bed. Maybe they wake up and Esca starts being his old self again, much to Marcus's complete, jaw-unhinged (guilty) pleasure. Also, sometimes he's the master. Esca's a silently-ecstatic slave. He loves belonging to Marcus.
They create a comfortable routine together. Two routines, in truth: one for home, and one for traveling. They travel often, two men and two horses. They prefer the solitude of Britain’s hills, her deep forests and her dramatic plains.
For an island, Marcus thinks, the country is vast. There are always new paths to tread, and where there are no paths, he and Esca create them.
When they are not in the wilderness, they retire to their home. They have built it together, a house in a green valley, a small farm. It is only the two of them. Esca hunts, Marcus too when his leg permits. They are very much equals now, dividing the work, taking turns with most tasks. They sleep side-by-side, Esca’s nose tucked under Marcus’s ear.
Yet there is something Esca wants, something mischievous and secretive that darts behind his eyes, and for a time Marcus does not know what it is.
Then he wakes up one morning, aware that there is no warm body curled into his, and sees Esca kneeling by their bed. He lifts onto an elbow-he is slow in the mornings, his leg stiff.
“Esca?”
“Centurion,” Esca answers quietly, as he used to, but Marcus does not remember ever seeing this slow smile when Esca had been his slave.
“What are you doing?” he asks, though part of him has a hopeful idea.
“Anything the Centurion commands,” Esca answers, his smile more pronounced now. He never calls Marcus “Centurion” anymore. He is, after all, a Roman citizen now. It was the least the Senate could do when Marcus refused command of the proposed new legion. But he seems to have conveniently forgotten that this morning, and Marcus is interested enough to forget it as well. He takes a steadying breath.
“Ready my bath.” He phrases it like an order, in his old imperious tone, and sees a pleased flicker in Esca’s eyes before he bows and stands. He is wearing his plainest old work tunic, which closely resembles the one he had worn as Marcus’s slave.
Marcus is sitting up by the time Esca returns. It is a laborious process with his leg stiff from the night’s chill, winter approaching. Esca knows that Marcus will not ask for assistance. He comes close, offering his shoulder, and Marcus leans on him, and they hobble together to the bath.
Esca helps him to undress and slide into the bath. He keeps his head lowered, to all appearances the respectful slave. Marcus catches a glimpse of his hot eyes and feels an interested heat between his legs. He has never ordered Esca to do anything that might compromise his dignity. They had not become lovers until they were well north of the wall, far outside the bounds of proper society. Now, however…
“Esca,” he murmurs. Esca’s eyes burn.
“Centurion?”
If Esca were not a free man, if he could not walk away at any time, Marcus would never have asked this of him. But this was clearly the game that Esca wished to play. “Undress,” he orders simply.
Esca does so. Eagerly. Marcus discovers that he is not the only one pleased by the situation.
On his command Esca joins him, straddling his lap, always careful not to rest his weight on Marcus’s bad leg. Marcus runs his hands possessively over Esca’s skin, leaving wet trails. He caresses the blue warrior’s tattoo on his arm, always a favorite spot, before taking Esca’s hips firmly. Not bruising strength, but hard enough that Esca shivers, delighted.
“Do it,” he says. Esca obeys, reaching through the warm water to take Marcus’s arousal in his hand. He strokes briefly but well, and by the time he positions himself Marcus is more than ready.
They let out a simultaneous moan as Esca sinks onto him. Marcus moves his hips as much as he is able, but Esca does most of the work. The Briton bits his lip and tosses his head back, and Marcus leans forward to taste the long curve of his exposed neck. He adds another mark to those already there and Esca’s fingers dig into his shoulders.
“Marcus,” he breathes sharply, momentarily forgetting his pretense. Water is splashing onto the floor, but neither of them notices. They are too close, and then they are there, and Esca muffles his shout in Marcus’s neck.
“Centurion,” Esca purrs finally, lifting carefully off of him and reaching for a cloth. Marcus lets him scrub his chest, the soft cloth soothing on his skin. Finally he reaches up and traps Esca’s hand, freeing the cloth before he pushes him back against the other edge of the bath. Practically weightless in the water, his leg scarcely protests as he moves over Esca, a mischievous glint of his own lighting his eyes.
“Your turn,” he murmurs. Esca looks bewildered. Marcus glances to the side, his cheeks heating slightly. “You have also been my master.”
Esca’s lips twist into a wicked little smile. The sight pleases Marcus. The Briton leans down to nip at his earlobe. “I have.”
Working on a kink meme prompt but I won't put it up until I'm done because I am secret ninja anon~
For now, have this one.
Title: Old Habits
Characters/Pairing: Marcus/Esca, movieverse
Rating: M/R
Prompt: Even when Esca is a free man, he sometimes wants to play slave/master. It doesn't even have to start in bed. Maybe they wake up and Esca starts being his old self again, much to Marcus's complete, jaw-unhinged (guilty) pleasure. Also, sometimes he's the master. Esca's a silently-ecstatic slave. He loves belonging to Marcus.
They create a comfortable routine together. Two routines, in truth: one for home, and one for traveling. They travel often, two men and two horses. They prefer the solitude of Britain’s hills, her deep forests and her dramatic plains.
For an island, Marcus thinks, the country is vast. There are always new paths to tread, and where there are no paths, he and Esca create them.
When they are not in the wilderness, they retire to their home. They have built it together, a house in a green valley, a small farm. It is only the two of them. Esca hunts, Marcus too when his leg permits. They are very much equals now, dividing the work, taking turns with most tasks. They sleep side-by-side, Esca’s nose tucked under Marcus’s ear.
Yet there is something Esca wants, something mischievous and secretive that darts behind his eyes, and for a time Marcus does not know what it is.
Then he wakes up one morning, aware that there is no warm body curled into his, and sees Esca kneeling by their bed. He lifts onto an elbow-he is slow in the mornings, his leg stiff.
“Esca?”
“Centurion,” Esca answers quietly, as he used to, but Marcus does not remember ever seeing this slow smile when Esca had been his slave.
“What are you doing?” he asks, though part of him has a hopeful idea.
“Anything the Centurion commands,” Esca answers, his smile more pronounced now. He never calls Marcus “Centurion” anymore. He is, after all, a Roman citizen now. It was the least the Senate could do when Marcus refused command of the proposed new legion. But he seems to have conveniently forgotten that this morning, and Marcus is interested enough to forget it as well. He takes a steadying breath.
“Ready my bath.” He phrases it like an order, in his old imperious tone, and sees a pleased flicker in Esca’s eyes before he bows and stands. He is wearing his plainest old work tunic, which closely resembles the one he had worn as Marcus’s slave.
Marcus is sitting up by the time Esca returns. It is a laborious process with his leg stiff from the night’s chill, winter approaching. Esca knows that Marcus will not ask for assistance. He comes close, offering his shoulder, and Marcus leans on him, and they hobble together to the bath.
Esca helps him to undress and slide into the bath. He keeps his head lowered, to all appearances the respectful slave. Marcus catches a glimpse of his hot eyes and feels an interested heat between his legs. He has never ordered Esca to do anything that might compromise his dignity. They had not become lovers until they were well north of the wall, far outside the bounds of proper society. Now, however…
“Esca,” he murmurs. Esca’s eyes burn.
“Centurion?”
If Esca were not a free man, if he could not walk away at any time, Marcus would never have asked this of him. But this was clearly the game that Esca wished to play. “Undress,” he orders simply.
Esca does so. Eagerly. Marcus discovers that he is not the only one pleased by the situation.
On his command Esca joins him, straddling his lap, always careful not to rest his weight on Marcus’s bad leg. Marcus runs his hands possessively over Esca’s skin, leaving wet trails. He caresses the blue warrior’s tattoo on his arm, always a favorite spot, before taking Esca’s hips firmly. Not bruising strength, but hard enough that Esca shivers, delighted.
“Do it,” he says. Esca obeys, reaching through the warm water to take Marcus’s arousal in his hand. He strokes briefly but well, and by the time he positions himself Marcus is more than ready.
They let out a simultaneous moan as Esca sinks onto him. Marcus moves his hips as much as he is able, but Esca does most of the work. The Briton bits his lip and tosses his head back, and Marcus leans forward to taste the long curve of his exposed neck. He adds another mark to those already there and Esca’s fingers dig into his shoulders.
“Marcus,” he breathes sharply, momentarily forgetting his pretense. Water is splashing onto the floor, but neither of them notices. They are too close, and then they are there, and Esca muffles his shout in Marcus’s neck.
“Centurion,” Esca purrs finally, lifting carefully off of him and reaching for a cloth. Marcus lets him scrub his chest, the soft cloth soothing on his skin. Finally he reaches up and traps Esca’s hand, freeing the cloth before he pushes him back against the other edge of the bath. Practically weightless in the water, his leg scarcely protests as he moves over Esca, a mischievous glint of his own lighting his eyes.
“Your turn,” he murmurs. Esca looks bewildered. Marcus glances to the side, his cheeks heating slightly. “You have also been my master.”
Esca’s lips twist into a wicked little smile. The sight pleases Marcus. The Briton leans down to nip at his earlobe. “I have.”