Re: Fill: Rubicon, (3/4)xahra99March 3 2011, 10:17:53 UTC
There's a cart at the end of the alley, tilted with its tail in the air and the shafts digging into the mud. They drag Esca up and slam him onto the cart. Splinters bite into his cheek. Cold mud sucks at his feet. He's lost one of his shoes. Blood runs from his lip, soaks into the spongy wood and runs down the slanted base of the cart towards the ground. Placidus pulls his toga up. He presses forwards between Esca's bare legs. Esca fights. He spits a curse in his own tongue and rolls on his side, grabbing for the low sides of the cart. His breath pours out white in the cold air. He hears Placidus groan, and then, miraculously, he hears the creak of a door opening further down the alley. It slides open a crack and then opens wider. A woman hurries out. She looks British, and Esca calls out to her desperately; piuthar, ma 'se ur toil e, but the woman doesn't speak his dialect or else she's not listening. She averts her eyes and scurries out of the alley like a mouse escaping from its tunnel. She doesn't even look at him. "Shut your mouth," Placidus grates, "slave." He knots his hand in Esca's hair. Esca tries to rise but Placidus slams a hand down between his shoulder blades and knocks him back down onto the cart. His weight presses painfully down on Esca, squeezing the breath from him. Esca jerks his head to the slide and gasps for air, his head wedged against his own arm until all he can see is the blurry dark line of his own tattoos. Placidus fumbles in his toga. He draws back for a moment and then surges forwards. Esca bites down on his lip as Placidus forces into him. He inhales painfully, pinned down by the larger man's weight as he thrusts. "Good," Placidus gasps. He halts for a moment, adjusts and then picks up his rhythm, faster this time. Hot breath, smelling of wine, gusts into Esca's face. Placidus' hands move down his body like fat spiders. He can't breathe. One of the legionnaires laughs quietly. Esca wishes he had died in the arena. He wishes he had kept his knife. He wishes Placidus would hurry up. Rome killed his family, he thinks, and now it's killing him. Placidus groans again. His hands curl around Esca's hipbones, lifting him up. Every jerk of his cock hurts like fire. Placidus' breath hisses between his teeth, loud in the still morning air, and a bead of sweat drips from his labouring forehead onto Esca's neck. Esca tries to move but he can't; Placidus has him pinned. "Ngh!" Placidus gasps. His hips jerk and he shudders, coming hard. His hips twitch once more and he slumps onto Esca's body, heavy and damp. Fluid slicks Esca's thighs as the Roman softens and slides out. After a few moments he coughs, releases his grip on Esca's hips and stands unsteadily. Esca hears the rustling of fabric as Placidus adjusts his toga. He curls up in the bottom of the cart and waits. "It should be me, you know," Placidus says from behind him. "I wanted to be a soldier." There is a long silence before Esca realises the sentence his addressed to him. He jerks his head up, his skull throbbing. "And he's a hero," Placidus continues. "It's not fair." He reaches over and pats Esca on the hip. "Hasn't had you though, has he?" Esca closes his eyes and shakes his head. The movement shakes something loose and the alley spins sickeningly, red and white dots flashing behind his eyes. When he looks up Placidus and the legionnaires are gone. He's alone in the alley. The sun is shining directly overhead. The bright light hurts his eyes. He coughs, and tastes blood. Midday is long gone by the time he makes it back to the Aquila villa. Stephanos opens the door, takes one look at Esca swaying in the doorway and says "What happened to you?" Esca shakes his head. He doesn't say anything. Stephanos tuts over his ruined tunic, but he lets Esca lie down on his pallet instead of putting him to work and gives him a bowl and a sponge to wash the worst of the blood away. The sun slips down the wall and Esca drifts towards sleep.
Re: Fill: Rubicon, (4/4)xahra99March 3 2011, 10:18:29 UTC
When he wakes the shadows are long and Stephanos is standing over him with a worried expression on his face. "He's asking for you," he says. Esca does not need to ask who he is. Stephanos offers him a new tunic. Esca takes it from him, pulls it over his head without a word. He staggers to his feet and goes outside. The gardens are bathed in light the colour of honey, beautiful despite their Roman design. Esca catches sight of his own reflection in one of the pools as he passes and is shocked by what he sees. His eyes are deeply shadowed; almost skull-like. The rest of his face is an unrecognisable mess of bruises and ghost-pale skin. The scent of basil and lavender follows him as he limps between the flowerbeds to the patio where Marcus is seated. The Roman watches him with sharp dark eyes. "Who did this?" he asks. Esca just shakes his head. "I can't help if you don't tell me," Marcus says. Esca notices that he is staring at his ear and wonders if he hasn't washed all of the bloodstains away. "I can't do anything." Black anger curls inside Esca, as cold and dark as bog water. He looked away, unable to stand the pity in Marcus's eyes. "It doesn't matter," he says. The Roman stares at him as if he's gone mad. "Of course it matters," he says, his voice thick with some suppressed emotion. "You're mine." Esca closes his eyes briefly. He remembers Placidus' voice, as poisonous as nightshade. Has he even had you yet? It's his fault, his fault for daring to think it would be different with Marcus. This is Rome. Placidus is Rome. Ugly and awful, and it hurts. This is what he gets, what he deserves, for thinking it could be anything more. Marcus reaches forwards to touch the bruises on his face and Esca jerks away. They stand there for a moment, looking at one another, until Marcus flicks his hand in dismissal. "You can go," he says; Roman arrogance wrapping around him like a cloak. I hate everything you stand for, Esca thinks. He spits in Marcus's soup that evening at dinner. Marcus, of course, doesn't even notice.
Re: Fill: Rubicon, (4/4)xahra99March 4 2011, 06:33:55 UTC
So..yeah. I still don't like this fic. I wanted to write a story about Esca, in the filmverse. As the film changes the place in the story when Esca is freed, the only possibility of writing Marcus/Esca without being stuck to a very very very narrow time slot was to make the sex essentially nonconsensual, seeing as one of the partners could not refuse, irrespective of what his feelings were. I think I would have more of a problem writing a story that represented that as a positive thing, possibly something even kinky, rather than a story that featured a rape scene that was pretty nasty to read but was probably pretty realistic when dealing with most slaves actual sexual experiences, given human nature. But I still don't like this one. Must write a happy, non.kinky fic...
Re: Fill: Rubicon, (4/4)sistermineMay 16 2011, 19:29:36 UTC
Wow. Not so much a kink and more like real life. This was powerful and moving and rather horrific, and what an antidote to the slavefic I'll admit I've got going on in my head. Went and read your musings, and thought they were really to the point. Not sure what I think on the topic at the moment, but thought this was a fine bit of writing.
Placidus pulls his toga up. He presses forwards between Esca's bare legs.
Esca fights. He spits a curse in his own tongue and rolls on his side, grabbing for the low sides of the cart. His breath pours out white in the cold air.
He hears Placidus groan, and then, miraculously, he hears the creak of a door opening further down the alley. It slides open a crack and then opens wider. A woman hurries out. She looks British, and Esca calls out to her desperately; piuthar, ma 'se ur toil e, but the woman doesn't speak his dialect or else she's not listening. She averts her eyes and scurries out of the alley like a mouse escaping from its tunnel. She doesn't even look at him.
"Shut your mouth," Placidus grates, "slave." He knots his hand in Esca's hair. Esca tries to rise but
Placidus slams a hand down between his shoulder blades and knocks him back down onto the cart. His weight presses painfully down on Esca, squeezing the breath from him. Esca jerks his head to the slide and gasps for air, his head wedged against his own arm until all he can see is the blurry dark line of his own tattoos.
Placidus fumbles in his toga. He draws back for a moment and then surges forwards. Esca bites down on his lip as Placidus forces into him. He inhales painfully, pinned down by the larger man's weight as he thrusts.
"Good," Placidus gasps. He halts for a moment, adjusts and then picks up his rhythm, faster this time. Hot breath, smelling of wine, gusts into Esca's face. Placidus' hands move down his body like fat spiders. He can't breathe.
One of the legionnaires laughs quietly.
Esca wishes he had died in the arena. He wishes he had kept his knife. He wishes Placidus would hurry up.
Rome killed his family, he thinks, and now it's killing him.
Placidus groans again. His hands curl around Esca's hipbones, lifting him up. Every jerk of his cock hurts like fire. Placidus' breath hisses between his teeth, loud in the still morning air, and a bead of sweat drips from his labouring forehead onto Esca's neck. Esca tries to move but he can't; Placidus has him pinned.
"Ngh!" Placidus gasps. His hips jerk and he shudders, coming hard. His hips twitch once more and he slumps onto Esca's body, heavy and damp. Fluid slicks Esca's thighs as the Roman softens and slides out. After a few moments he coughs, releases his grip on Esca's hips and stands unsteadily. Esca hears the rustling of fabric as Placidus adjusts his toga. He curls up in the bottom of the cart and waits.
"It should be me, you know," Placidus says from behind him. "I wanted to be a soldier."
There is a long silence before Esca realises the sentence his addressed to him. He jerks his head up, his skull throbbing.
"And he's a hero," Placidus continues. "It's not fair." He reaches over and pats Esca on the hip. "Hasn't had you though, has he?"
Esca closes his eyes and shakes his head. The movement shakes something loose and the alley spins sickeningly, red and white dots flashing behind his eyes. When he looks up Placidus and the legionnaires are gone. He's alone in the alley. The sun is shining directly overhead. The bright light hurts his eyes. He coughs, and tastes blood.
Midday is long gone by the time he makes it back to the Aquila villa. Stephanos opens the door, takes one look at Esca swaying in the doorway and says "What happened to you?"
Esca shakes his head. He doesn't say anything. Stephanos tuts over his ruined tunic, but he lets Esca lie down on his pallet instead of putting him to work and gives him a bowl and a sponge to wash the worst of the blood away.
The sun slips down the wall and Esca drifts towards sleep.
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"He's asking for you," he says.
Esca does not need to ask who he is. Stephanos offers him a new tunic. Esca takes it from him, pulls it over his head without a word. He staggers to his feet and goes outside.
The gardens are bathed in light the colour of honey, beautiful despite their Roman design. Esca catches sight of his own reflection in one of the pools as he passes and is shocked by what he sees. His eyes are deeply shadowed; almost skull-like. The rest of his face is an unrecognisable mess of bruises and ghost-pale skin.
The scent of basil and lavender follows him as he limps between the flowerbeds to the patio where Marcus is seated.
The Roman watches him with sharp dark eyes.
"Who did this?" he asks.
Esca just shakes his head.
"I can't help if you don't tell me," Marcus says. Esca notices that he is staring at his ear and wonders if he hasn't washed all of the bloodstains away. "I can't do anything."
Black anger curls inside Esca, as cold and dark as bog water. He looked away, unable to stand the pity in Marcus's eyes.
"It doesn't matter," he says.
The Roman stares at him as if he's gone mad. "Of course it matters," he says, his voice thick with some suppressed emotion. "You're mine."
Esca closes his eyes briefly.
He remembers Placidus' voice, as poisonous as nightshade.
Has he even had you yet?
It's his fault, his fault for daring to think it would be different with Marcus. This is Rome. Placidus is Rome. Ugly and awful, and it hurts. This is what he gets, what he deserves, for thinking it could be anything more.
Marcus reaches forwards to touch the bruises on his face and Esca jerks away. They stand there for a moment, looking at one another, until Marcus flicks his hand in dismissal.
"You can go," he says; Roman arrogance wrapping around him like a cloak.
I hate everything you stand for, Esca thinks.
He spits in Marcus's soup that evening at dinner.
Marcus, of course, doesn't even notice.
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I still don't like this fic. I wanted to write a story about Esca, in the filmverse. As the film changes the place in the story when Esca is freed, the only possibility of writing Marcus/Esca without being stuck to a very very very narrow time slot was to make the sex essentially nonconsensual, seeing as one of the partners could not refuse, irrespective of what his feelings were. I think I would have more of a problem writing a story that represented that as a positive thing, possibly something even kinky, rather than a story that featured a rape scene that was pretty nasty to read but was probably pretty realistic when dealing with most slaves actual sexual experiences, given human nature.
But I still don't like this one. Must write a happy, non.kinky fic...
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Went and read your musings, and thought they were really to the point. Not sure what I think on the topic at the moment, but thought this was a fine bit of writing.
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