Title: Rare things
Rating: T with strong language warnings (nothing a gladiator would not say, though).
Notes: originally written for the livejournal community bloodandsandfic's 2010 drabble table and never posted here at FFNet. Prompt: slash. This is an edited version, with a couple of things added, included adjustment to events revealed during the prequel "Spartacus: Gods of the Arena".
Summary: Set between prequel and season 1. His eyes were already set on the boy, still...
OOOOO
"Eat. Training will resume in an hour."
Doctore's command was duly followed, and the men walked towards the shades to fill their stomachs.
Crixus, absent from training, as he had been summoned into the villa, returned to join his brothers and took seat by Barca, the first gladiator he had dared call brother, a bond formed between them under strained circumstances. The mark that welcomed him into the brotherhood was branded by taking Auctus' life, and still Barca had understood. A true brother, worthy of his respect, as Doctore was; as Gannicus had been, he thought to recall. A strange man, that Celt.
The beast of Carthage seemed tense, his eyes filled with hunger, yet not on the shit they called food. "Keep your mind absent from the sands and you will have your ass pierced by Gnaeus."
Barca spoke between gritted teeth. "Fucking retiarius shares my needs, and still the thought of thrusting my cock inside his shit-hole makes me retch."
Crixus remained silent, preventing tongue from speaking uninvited thoughts. At least their cocks had not been deprived of choice. He doubted he could claim ownership of his anymore.
"My fucking cock is throbbing," confessed, not absent disgust, the Carthaginian. "And my hands are no longer enough."
"Spend coin, then."
"Men don't serve their asses but to Romans."
"Then a woman. A hole is a hole, Barca, shut your fucking eyes and enter them."
The gladiator snorted in disgust, his eyes still set somewhere on the sands. "A woman will make it plummet before it gets opportunity to rise."
Crixus looked at him, and then followed the line Barca's sight drew. He saw the boy. "Pietros."
The beast of Carthage shifted uncomfortably. "What about him?"
"He shares your tastes."
Barca let out a grunt. Then cast a glance at the suddenly casual gladiator. "How would you know?"
"The slave girl who serves Domina, the one who fetches the wine in the cellar," he spoke, avoiding further detail on how and why did he actually see her. "She came to me once, afraid one of us would harm the boy."
"And why would you tell me then?"
The answer was quite simple for the gladiator. "I will not place a woman's whim before a brother." Crixus nodded his head towards Pietros as the boy finished placing the training swords by the wall. "He has a cock, he will be a man sooner or later. Turn the dove into a pigeon before someone else eats the bird."
"I will not fuck a child." Before Crixus could respond, Barca rose from his seat, leaving food untouched and the Gaul snorting before laughing.
Seeking solace, he went to the birdcage. The birds no longer brought painful memories of Auctus. Now they were tied to the sight of Pietros taking care of them, not quite daring to look at him when he approached, but bowing his head when he received silent approval by the gladiator.
Barca did know of the kid's tastes, and his eyes had set on him for quite some time now. Crixus was not mistaken, he wanted his cock inside him, but he had been surprised by a thought that halted him from approaching the boy.
He would not do such thing unless Pietros desired him too, and he had not yet gathered words to let the kid know.
He cursed. Love was a rare thing.
Fin.