Past Lives - Rome
Nov. 11th, 2010 01:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Hannibal/Face/Murdock
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: slave fic
Summary: Sort of lines up with this prompt on the kink meme.
i can has SexSlave!murdock? Plz?
Hannibal brings his patrician lover back a slave from the Germanic campaign. Sex ensues.
Gaius Aelia Paetus tossed his wine cup off in the bushes as he wandered aimlessly out into the wide, open courtyard with the stables beyond. It was night out, the air cool on his overheated skin, fresh and clean, not sullied by the smells of the over-lavish banquet his aunt was putting on. The woman never did anything by half. The damn slaves had been working desperately to finish for the last three days as the tenacious little woman roamed the kitchens, screaming orders and laying about with one of his riding crops when she wasn't pleased.
The feast was being held in his honor, supposedly celebrating his successful return from the uprising in Pannonia, serving as second in command to the general himself, no less, the operation a grand success for his distant kinsman Sejanus, who was surely to become a favorite in the imperial court. There was much to celebrate, but the young man knew better than to think his aunt was free of ulterior motives. Back in the cool recesses of the family’s country estate were some of the most eligible young woman in Rome from the finest patrician families, and he had no illusions about what they were doing there.
He sighed and leaned back against a pillar in the courtyard. He didn’t want this. He wanted to go back to the killing fields, at his general’s side where he belonged, but the campaign was over and he had responsibilities to his family, they kept telling him, the only son of his long-dead parents...
“You look like you need some company, Oris,” said a strong voice behind him, the nickname warm and lustful on the other man’s lips. He’d given it to him the first time they’d slept together, cold and tired after one of those long Germanic storms, saying his real name was too common for one with such a beautiful countenance. His Face, the general had declared him when they first met.
The young man turned with a smile, letting a hand catch up in the simple linen tunic, pulling them closer. “My aunt throws a party, trying to marry me off, the finest girls in the whole empire paraded in front of me as if I am at the brothels, any for my taking, and you dress like this. Not even that toga picta commemorating our most recent victory.” He loved how unpretentious this man was. The best strategist in any of the Roman legions. “Some general you are.”
“I hate those things. Makes it all that much harder for me to get at you here,” the older man growled, pushing Oris backwards into the stone column, hands strong against his shoulders, grip undeniably that of a soldier, made hard by a lifetime of swinging a gladius, the short Legion sword. No better feeling than those on his bare skin, Oris thought. “My boy...”
He arched his neck a little, wanton, feeling his manhood start to swell. “Don’t, Hannibal,” he teased, using the name they’ve all given him the Legion, the one he’s earned himself. “My aunt will come and see and there will be a scandal. A child of the house of Aelia, fucking a common plebian, general or no...”
“Being fucked by a not-so-common plebian,” Hannibal replied with a grin. “Women and their stupid rules and politics will be the death of this empire. But listen to your aunt. You need sons, my love.”
Oris closed his eyes. It was true. “Yes,” he agreed. “But they all look like mares, those women. None half as handsome as you.”
A smiled tugged at the corners of Hannibal’s mouth. “I have a gift for you, love.”
“A present?”
“It’s waiting in your room.”
Hannibal smiled that knowing smile of his, strange blue eyes flashing, and started walking away, sandals quiet on the stone, into the long wing of the villa furthest from the party. Man always had something brewing in that extraordinary mind of his, Oris knew. One of the many, many things he loved about the general. He grinned and took off after him.
Oris entered his own bedchamber and shut the door quietly behind him. He wasn’t sure what to expect, not at first. Hannibal had already given him a new horse, a fine beast, and there was little else he required in their line of work. But when he caught the heated look his lover gave him, and glanced down on the bed, he realized it hadn’t been any question at all.
“Oh, Hannibal,” he sighed, moving in for an embrace. “He’s lovely.”
He loved his bed. It was lavishly appointed, silks and exotic furs and things he loved for their softness, their sheer decadence, fleeting pleasures. Despite his aunt’s best efforts to prevent it, he’d joined the Legion when he’d come of age and left all this behind. But he could touch when he was at home, loving the sensation and slide of it as Hannibal fucked him in every way imaginable.
And laying in the middle of it now, right in the center of his beautiful wolf pelt from Germania, was a young man with shaggy black hair, stripped naked, lean, pale body oiled and gleaming in the smoky lamplight, hands bound against his chest, a leather collar around his neck with a heavy tag.
Oris squeezed Hannibal’s hand one more time, and slipped out of his encircling arms, leaning over to read. “Property of Gaius Aelia Paetus, of Rome... for me, then?”
“I brought him all the way back from our campaign for you, boy,” Hannibal said, coming over to stand behind him and rub his shoulders. “Unspoiled.”
Oris stroked a hand down the man’s cheek, then down his chest, through the thin line of hair around his cock. Azure eyes flared wide and the slave scrunched into himself, as if he was trying to fade into the bed. Hannibal was most likely right about that. There was something about this man, something familiar and hot and wonderful, like they’d met before, like he was meant to own him...
“How do you know?”
“They were using him as an oracle. Holy, or something, fucking pagans, who knows? Nobody was permitted near him,” Hannibal said, covering Oris’ hand with his own as the younger man slowly began to stroke the slave’s cock. The first good downstroke pulls a whimper from the dark-haired man. “Isn’t that just delicious, love?”
Oris nodded. “Does he speak any Latin? My Germanic’s going rusty since coming back...”
“I had one of mine teach him,” Hannibal says, nipping an ear lobe. “But he babbles nonsense sometimes. About the sky, about the wind. Hope you don’t mind.”
Oris smiled, bringing his second hand into play, rolling a stiff pink nipple with his fingers. The slave moaned a little louder, arching. “Oh, a little eccentricity is fine with me, general.”
“I thought so, my boy,” Hannibal purred, and stepped back as Oris climbed fully onto the bed, undoing his robes and tossing the fabric aside, straddling his present, digging his hands back through that thick black hair, tilting the head back, staring down at eyes the color of the sea.
“Can you understand me?” he asked quietly and clearly, thumbing a vein just under the skin along the slave’s forehead. “Do you know what you are?”
There’s a glimmer of confusion there, and then something shifts, like the slave’s coming back up from deep water. “Your slave,” he finally says.
“Do you know what that means?” Oris continued, planting a soft kiss on the spot he was just rubbing. He always found it better to break slaves in slowly, treat them well, ensure their future loyalty, but he wasn’t sure how good his self-control was going to be with this one. His cock was hard already, demanding attention, and it was all he could do to keep from flipping the German over and pounding him senseless.
“No,” the nervous man replied. His accent was impeccable. Obviously a clever one, to pick up a new language so completely in only a few months.
“Means you’re mine. I own you. Anything I want you will do for me,” and he accentuated this with a little roll of his hips that made the slave shudder. He smiled and petted that fine hair. “Anything I want to do to you, you will enjoy. You’ll beg for me, slave. I want you begging for me...”
“Here,” Hannibal said, the bed dipping a little as he knelt up on it and ran a possessive caress across the younger Roman’s back, callouses from the grip of his sword rough on smooth skin. “Don’t tease the boy, love. He’s ready for you. Take him.”
Oris turned, seeing a smirk on his lover’s face, and reached between the slave’s legs, back towards his hole, circling the muscle for just a moment before pressing lightly inside. The slave bucked up a little bit, but Oris held him down and continued his exploration, adding a second finger. Loose, wet, the faintest hint of sandalwood, fluttering around his fingers. He purposely stroked the little pleasure nub and was rewarded with a loud shout.
“You oiled him everywhere,” the younger Roman sighed happily, heat running through him at the thought of his lover prepping the slave for him. Pleased, he let a hand come up behind him to play on Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal caught it and sucked on a finger.
“I know how impatient you get, Oris,” came the reply. “Now, are you going to claim him or should I take him to the slave pens and get an ungodly price out of him?”
Between his clenched legs, Oris could feel the slave start shaking, mumbling something in Germanic that sounded panicked. The tag on the collar quivered. The patrician slapped the older Roman on the thigh and leaned forward again, this time covering the slave’s lips with his own, demanding entrance, receiving it, swirling his tongue around on the inside of that fine mouth, teasing his lower lips with his teeth, enjoying the squirm beneath him as the German’s emotions raged inside.
Oris loved this part, how lust and need warred with man’s natural sense of self-reliance, objecting to being objectified, never entirely certain which would win. If it was a sense of self, he’d enjoy beating it out of this man. But if lust won, as he always preferred, then he’d show the slave things previously unimagined. He wished the latter for this one. He put everything he could into the kiss, trying to tell him without words how much better it would be if he didn’t resist, and when he pulled back, the man’s eyes were wide, staring, stunned and... hopeful, maybe?
Oh yes. Lust. Promises of pleasure to come. Wonderful.
“You and your foreplay,” Hannibal grunted, moving back in and Oris noticed that the general had also divested himself of clothing, erection heavy and hard against his stomach. “Let’s get moving, boy.”
Oris grinned and repositioned himself between the slave’s legs, leaving him on his back. Nothing brutal or hard tonight, although he liked that, too. Something soft and easy, let the slave feel how good it could be. “Legs on my shoulders,” he ordered, but the slave just stared at him. Oris repeated himself, tugging a little on an knee. Same result; nothing. Just wide-eyed staring.
He hauled back and slapped the dark-haired German across the face. He cried out, trying to turn and curl up, something screamed out in Germanic and then again in Latin as Oris came back for another blow.
“Can’t... hearing...”
“He doesn’t understand, boy.”
Oris nodded, feeling a slight flush of embarrassment.
“Help me show him, then, Hannibal,” he said, and together they worked the slave back onto his back and got him how Oris wanted and then with a quick kiss on that wide forehead and another lingering one on the lips, the Roman pushed slowly, surely in.
He swallowed the slave’s initial pained whine, letting him adjust for a moment before starting little movements that drew loud cries from the slave, indecipherable and delicious. Oris grinned and, letting his hands fall to either side of that beautiful face, began rocking harder, faster, letting his head fall back as the muscles of the slave squeezed around him. Gods, this man was tight...
And then there was that hand, Hannibal’s hand, at the small of his back, fingers oiled and moving down, a clear signal. He smiled and slowed, driving forward, letting his ass lift high for better access.
“How are you liking your present, love?” Hannibal asked, a smirk in his voice as he began to stretch his boy open.
The younger Roman shuddered at the sensation and knew how unsteady his voice was. “He’s wonderful, Hannibal. Exactly the thing for warming my bed this winter.”
“Excellent,” Hannibal purred, removing his fingers, and Oris felt that magnificent cock slide between his cheeks, teasing. A hand curled under him, around a hard pec, trailing down to fondle the slave’s own rock-hard length pressing into Oris’ belly, back up to the patrician's balls. “For all the nights I can’t do it myself...”
“Sons of Hades, Hannibal...”
The general gave him a light slap. “So needy, my little patrician,” he laughed, his voice thick with need, and Oris pumped his hips shallowly into the slave a few more times before Hannibal finally has his cockhead right there, sliding in...
Oris groaned loudly as that huge cock dug into his ass, threatening to split him in two, and it had been a while since they’d done this, since the campaign had ended, and he was tighter than he’d been in a long time.
“Move,” Hannibal growled in that sensuous way of his, gently pushing the German slave’s legs off his boy’s shoulders, taking him by the hips and starting to thrust.
The stimulation was incredible. Hannibal was driving into him, easy at first, then harder. Much harder, much faster. Each downstroke sent him deeper into the slave beneath him, whose bound hands were tentatively brushing Oris’ chest now. It had been a long time since he and Hannibal had played this game with anyone, and he’d forgotten how good it was to be buried while Hannibal took him like this...
It didn’t take long for him to reach his own climax, roaring it deep into the slave’s wonderful, warm body, noting with pleasure the wet, warm release on the slave’s stomach. Came on his cock alone. Yes, he was going to enjoy this one, and pushed himself back on Hannibal, and down to the slave’s eager mouth and felt the general go still above him, filling him. Gods, he loved this...and barely managed to roll then both to the side as Hannibal’s strength gave and collapsed onto the bed.
They lay there, sticky and sated for long minutes, the slave muttering in some wild combination of languages and noise, crazed and endearing all at once, soft touches and close little hugs as Oris cuddled his present, until Hannibal sighed and rolled over, rubbing the younger man’s belly. “Your aunt’s going to be looking for looking for you soon.”
“She’s probably drunk by now,” Oris protested, but knew the general was right. He pulled a small knife from off the table nearby and cut the slave’s bindings. “You’ve done very well tonight, German. I think I’ll keep you.”
The slave smiled and rubbed his wrists with a little yawn. He tried to cuddle back in, but Oris pushed him away. A flicker of... what, sadness? Longing? Oh yes, this one was going to be very good. Training him was going to be a thing of beauty. His cock twitched in anticipation.
“There’s a wash basin over there,” the Roman said, pointing. “Clean us up. Hannibal first.”
The slave eased himself up and padded away and back obediently, a wet cloth in his hands and looked at Hannibal expectantly. The general shook his head and pointed to Oris.
“May I wash you, dominus?” the German said softly, kneeling, and the Roman groaned. What a sweet words on sweet lips... he nodded back. The slave was good at this, Oris thought as the man worked the soft fabric over tired muscle, Hannibal smiling with wanton abandon as Oris’ skin was cleansed of sweat and seed.
“Is he going to please, my boy?” the older man asked gently, lips brushing his ear.
His boy. Oris loved the way that sounded in his mind. Something he was determined to keep. Keep Hannibal in his life, his lover. He was going to have to find a woman who didn’t care that her husband played cinaedus, bottom, for a plebian, didn't care if he fucked this slave any time, any where he pleased, wouldn’t divorce him and embarrass the family...
“Anything from you, my love,” he replied, flopping back into the soft furs, into Hannibal's strong arms, and didn’t stir again until he heard his aunt screaming for him.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: slave fic
Summary: Sort of lines up with this prompt on the kink meme.
i can has SexSlave!murdock? Plz?
Hannibal brings his patrician lover back a slave from the Germanic campaign. Sex ensues.
Gaius Aelia Paetus tossed his wine cup off in the bushes as he wandered aimlessly out into the wide, open courtyard with the stables beyond. It was night out, the air cool on his overheated skin, fresh and clean, not sullied by the smells of the over-lavish banquet his aunt was putting on. The woman never did anything by half. The damn slaves had been working desperately to finish for the last three days as the tenacious little woman roamed the kitchens, screaming orders and laying about with one of his riding crops when she wasn't pleased.
The feast was being held in his honor, supposedly celebrating his successful return from the uprising in Pannonia, serving as second in command to the general himself, no less, the operation a grand success for his distant kinsman Sejanus, who was surely to become a favorite in the imperial court. There was much to celebrate, but the young man knew better than to think his aunt was free of ulterior motives. Back in the cool recesses of the family’s country estate were some of the most eligible young woman in Rome from the finest patrician families, and he had no illusions about what they were doing there.
He sighed and leaned back against a pillar in the courtyard. He didn’t want this. He wanted to go back to the killing fields, at his general’s side where he belonged, but the campaign was over and he had responsibilities to his family, they kept telling him, the only son of his long-dead parents...
“You look like you need some company, Oris,” said a strong voice behind him, the nickname warm and lustful on the other man’s lips. He’d given it to him the first time they’d slept together, cold and tired after one of those long Germanic storms, saying his real name was too common for one with such a beautiful countenance. His Face, the general had declared him when they first met.
The young man turned with a smile, letting a hand catch up in the simple linen tunic, pulling them closer. “My aunt throws a party, trying to marry me off, the finest girls in the whole empire paraded in front of me as if I am at the brothels, any for my taking, and you dress like this. Not even that toga picta commemorating our most recent victory.” He loved how unpretentious this man was. The best strategist in any of the Roman legions. “Some general you are.”
“I hate those things. Makes it all that much harder for me to get at you here,” the older man growled, pushing Oris backwards into the stone column, hands strong against his shoulders, grip undeniably that of a soldier, made hard by a lifetime of swinging a gladius, the short Legion sword. No better feeling than those on his bare skin, Oris thought. “My boy...”
He arched his neck a little, wanton, feeling his manhood start to swell. “Don’t, Hannibal,” he teased, using the name they’ve all given him the Legion, the one he’s earned himself. “My aunt will come and see and there will be a scandal. A child of the house of Aelia, fucking a common plebian, general or no...”
“Being fucked by a not-so-common plebian,” Hannibal replied with a grin. “Women and their stupid rules and politics will be the death of this empire. But listen to your aunt. You need sons, my love.”
Oris closed his eyes. It was true. “Yes,” he agreed. “But they all look like mares, those women. None half as handsome as you.”
A smiled tugged at the corners of Hannibal’s mouth. “I have a gift for you, love.”
“A present?”
“It’s waiting in your room.”
Hannibal smiled that knowing smile of his, strange blue eyes flashing, and started walking away, sandals quiet on the stone, into the long wing of the villa furthest from the party. Man always had something brewing in that extraordinary mind of his, Oris knew. One of the many, many things he loved about the general. He grinned and took off after him.
Oris entered his own bedchamber and shut the door quietly behind him. He wasn’t sure what to expect, not at first. Hannibal had already given him a new horse, a fine beast, and there was little else he required in their line of work. But when he caught the heated look his lover gave him, and glanced down on the bed, he realized it hadn’t been any question at all.
“Oh, Hannibal,” he sighed, moving in for an embrace. “He’s lovely.”
He loved his bed. It was lavishly appointed, silks and exotic furs and things he loved for their softness, their sheer decadence, fleeting pleasures. Despite his aunt’s best efforts to prevent it, he’d joined the Legion when he’d come of age and left all this behind. But he could touch when he was at home, loving the sensation and slide of it as Hannibal fucked him in every way imaginable.
And laying in the middle of it now, right in the center of his beautiful wolf pelt from Germania, was a young man with shaggy black hair, stripped naked, lean, pale body oiled and gleaming in the smoky lamplight, hands bound against his chest, a leather collar around his neck with a heavy tag.
Oris squeezed Hannibal’s hand one more time, and slipped out of his encircling arms, leaning over to read. “Property of Gaius Aelia Paetus, of Rome... for me, then?”
“I brought him all the way back from our campaign for you, boy,” Hannibal said, coming over to stand behind him and rub his shoulders. “Unspoiled.”
Oris stroked a hand down the man’s cheek, then down his chest, through the thin line of hair around his cock. Azure eyes flared wide and the slave scrunched into himself, as if he was trying to fade into the bed. Hannibal was most likely right about that. There was something about this man, something familiar and hot and wonderful, like they’d met before, like he was meant to own him...
“How do you know?”
“They were using him as an oracle. Holy, or something, fucking pagans, who knows? Nobody was permitted near him,” Hannibal said, covering Oris’ hand with his own as the younger man slowly began to stroke the slave’s cock. The first good downstroke pulls a whimper from the dark-haired man. “Isn’t that just delicious, love?”
Oris nodded. “Does he speak any Latin? My Germanic’s going rusty since coming back...”
“I had one of mine teach him,” Hannibal says, nipping an ear lobe. “But he babbles nonsense sometimes. About the sky, about the wind. Hope you don’t mind.”
Oris smiled, bringing his second hand into play, rolling a stiff pink nipple with his fingers. The slave moaned a little louder, arching. “Oh, a little eccentricity is fine with me, general.”
“I thought so, my boy,” Hannibal purred, and stepped back as Oris climbed fully onto the bed, undoing his robes and tossing the fabric aside, straddling his present, digging his hands back through that thick black hair, tilting the head back, staring down at eyes the color of the sea.
“Can you understand me?” he asked quietly and clearly, thumbing a vein just under the skin along the slave’s forehead. “Do you know what you are?”
There’s a glimmer of confusion there, and then something shifts, like the slave’s coming back up from deep water. “Your slave,” he finally says.
“Do you know what that means?” Oris continued, planting a soft kiss on the spot he was just rubbing. He always found it better to break slaves in slowly, treat them well, ensure their future loyalty, but he wasn’t sure how good his self-control was going to be with this one. His cock was hard already, demanding attention, and it was all he could do to keep from flipping the German over and pounding him senseless.
“No,” the nervous man replied. His accent was impeccable. Obviously a clever one, to pick up a new language so completely in only a few months.
“Means you’re mine. I own you. Anything I want you will do for me,” and he accentuated this with a little roll of his hips that made the slave shudder. He smiled and petted that fine hair. “Anything I want to do to you, you will enjoy. You’ll beg for me, slave. I want you begging for me...”
“Here,” Hannibal said, the bed dipping a little as he knelt up on it and ran a possessive caress across the younger Roman’s back, callouses from the grip of his sword rough on smooth skin. “Don’t tease the boy, love. He’s ready for you. Take him.”
Oris turned, seeing a smirk on his lover’s face, and reached between the slave’s legs, back towards his hole, circling the muscle for just a moment before pressing lightly inside. The slave bucked up a little bit, but Oris held him down and continued his exploration, adding a second finger. Loose, wet, the faintest hint of sandalwood, fluttering around his fingers. He purposely stroked the little pleasure nub and was rewarded with a loud shout.
“You oiled him everywhere,” the younger Roman sighed happily, heat running through him at the thought of his lover prepping the slave for him. Pleased, he let a hand come up behind him to play on Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal caught it and sucked on a finger.
“I know how impatient you get, Oris,” came the reply. “Now, are you going to claim him or should I take him to the slave pens and get an ungodly price out of him?”
Between his clenched legs, Oris could feel the slave start shaking, mumbling something in Germanic that sounded panicked. The tag on the collar quivered. The patrician slapped the older Roman on the thigh and leaned forward again, this time covering the slave’s lips with his own, demanding entrance, receiving it, swirling his tongue around on the inside of that fine mouth, teasing his lower lips with his teeth, enjoying the squirm beneath him as the German’s emotions raged inside.
Oris loved this part, how lust and need warred with man’s natural sense of self-reliance, objecting to being objectified, never entirely certain which would win. If it was a sense of self, he’d enjoy beating it out of this man. But if lust won, as he always preferred, then he’d show the slave things previously unimagined. He wished the latter for this one. He put everything he could into the kiss, trying to tell him without words how much better it would be if he didn’t resist, and when he pulled back, the man’s eyes were wide, staring, stunned and... hopeful, maybe?
Oh yes. Lust. Promises of pleasure to come. Wonderful.
“You and your foreplay,” Hannibal grunted, moving back in and Oris noticed that the general had also divested himself of clothing, erection heavy and hard against his stomach. “Let’s get moving, boy.”
Oris grinned and repositioned himself between the slave’s legs, leaving him on his back. Nothing brutal or hard tonight, although he liked that, too. Something soft and easy, let the slave feel how good it could be. “Legs on my shoulders,” he ordered, but the slave just stared at him. Oris repeated himself, tugging a little on an knee. Same result; nothing. Just wide-eyed staring.
He hauled back and slapped the dark-haired German across the face. He cried out, trying to turn and curl up, something screamed out in Germanic and then again in Latin as Oris came back for another blow.
“Can’t... hearing...”
“He doesn’t understand, boy.”
Oris nodded, feeling a slight flush of embarrassment.
“Help me show him, then, Hannibal,” he said, and together they worked the slave back onto his back and got him how Oris wanted and then with a quick kiss on that wide forehead and another lingering one on the lips, the Roman pushed slowly, surely in.
He swallowed the slave’s initial pained whine, letting him adjust for a moment before starting little movements that drew loud cries from the slave, indecipherable and delicious. Oris grinned and, letting his hands fall to either side of that beautiful face, began rocking harder, faster, letting his head fall back as the muscles of the slave squeezed around him. Gods, this man was tight...
And then there was that hand, Hannibal’s hand, at the small of his back, fingers oiled and moving down, a clear signal. He smiled and slowed, driving forward, letting his ass lift high for better access.
“How are you liking your present, love?” Hannibal asked, a smirk in his voice as he began to stretch his boy open.
The younger Roman shuddered at the sensation and knew how unsteady his voice was. “He’s wonderful, Hannibal. Exactly the thing for warming my bed this winter.”
“Excellent,” Hannibal purred, removing his fingers, and Oris felt that magnificent cock slide between his cheeks, teasing. A hand curled under him, around a hard pec, trailing down to fondle the slave’s own rock-hard length pressing into Oris’ belly, back up to the patrician's balls. “For all the nights I can’t do it myself...”
“Sons of Hades, Hannibal...”
The general gave him a light slap. “So needy, my little patrician,” he laughed, his voice thick with need, and Oris pumped his hips shallowly into the slave a few more times before Hannibal finally has his cockhead right there, sliding in...
Oris groaned loudly as that huge cock dug into his ass, threatening to split him in two, and it had been a while since they’d done this, since the campaign had ended, and he was tighter than he’d been in a long time.
“Move,” Hannibal growled in that sensuous way of his, gently pushing the German slave’s legs off his boy’s shoulders, taking him by the hips and starting to thrust.
The stimulation was incredible. Hannibal was driving into him, easy at first, then harder. Much harder, much faster. Each downstroke sent him deeper into the slave beneath him, whose bound hands were tentatively brushing Oris’ chest now. It had been a long time since he and Hannibal had played this game with anyone, and he’d forgotten how good it was to be buried while Hannibal took him like this...
It didn’t take long for him to reach his own climax, roaring it deep into the slave’s wonderful, warm body, noting with pleasure the wet, warm release on the slave’s stomach. Came on his cock alone. Yes, he was going to enjoy this one, and pushed himself back on Hannibal, and down to the slave’s eager mouth and felt the general go still above him, filling him. Gods, he loved this...and barely managed to roll then both to the side as Hannibal’s strength gave and collapsed onto the bed.
They lay there, sticky and sated for long minutes, the slave muttering in some wild combination of languages and noise, crazed and endearing all at once, soft touches and close little hugs as Oris cuddled his present, until Hannibal sighed and rolled over, rubbing the younger man’s belly. “Your aunt’s going to be looking for looking for you soon.”
“She’s probably drunk by now,” Oris protested, but knew the general was right. He pulled a small knife from off the table nearby and cut the slave’s bindings. “You’ve done very well tonight, German. I think I’ll keep you.”
The slave smiled and rubbed his wrists with a little yawn. He tried to cuddle back in, but Oris pushed him away. A flicker of... what, sadness? Longing? Oh yes, this one was going to be very good. Training him was going to be a thing of beauty. His cock twitched in anticipation.
“There’s a wash basin over there,” the Roman said, pointing. “Clean us up. Hannibal first.”
The slave eased himself up and padded away and back obediently, a wet cloth in his hands and looked at Hannibal expectantly. The general shook his head and pointed to Oris.
“May I wash you, dominus?” the German said softly, kneeling, and the Roman groaned. What a sweet words on sweet lips... he nodded back. The slave was good at this, Oris thought as the man worked the soft fabric over tired muscle, Hannibal smiling with wanton abandon as Oris’ skin was cleansed of sweat and seed.
“Is he going to please, my boy?” the older man asked gently, lips brushing his ear.
His boy. Oris loved the way that sounded in his mind. Something he was determined to keep. Keep Hannibal in his life, his lover. He was going to have to find a woman who didn’t care that her husband played cinaedus, bottom, for a plebian, didn't care if he fucked this slave any time, any where he pleased, wouldn’t divorce him and embarrass the family...
“Anything from you, my love,” he replied, flopping back into the soft furs, into Hannibal's strong arms, and didn’t stir again until he heard his aunt screaming for him.
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Date: 2010-11-14 03:56 am (UTC)Oh, and 'Hannibal' the Roman general? Nice :D
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Date: 2010-11-14 04:10 am (UTC)If my boss keeps up the way she's been going, there might need to be more of these. Lots and lots more of these.