Rome rolled off of him, immediately switched from intercourse to snuggling, wrapping his arms around his Germania with no shame. The German wasn't so easily put from one moment into the next, still staring into the cubiculum's ceiling, just past the spot his lover's face had just been, breathing heavily. Physically, everything felt the same as it always had at this point. A little sore, sure, but normal.
Something deep in his psyche was suddenly off, though, and Aldrick couldn't quite place it. He finally shook his head, relenting and turning to rest his head against Rome's chest, inhaling his scent and not worrying too much. It was nothing, he decided, and slept.
A month passed and that feeling hadn't waned. It was itching at him in bizarre ways. And his body had started to react. He saw nothing too different, it just felt wrong. When he swang his sword in practice, making use of the large hortio of Rome's villa, it wasn't swiping at the place he'd meant to. Mind, it was only centimeters from his intended target, but this was still an unwelcomed inaccuracy. Centimeters could be the difference between a kill and a recoverable wound. He sheathed his sword, stashing it in a cupboard, seeking out a dark place to sit.
Aldrick was hungry, but he couldn't bring himself to find the coquus and request another breakfast. His recent lack of stamina had made it difficult to train, too (and the vacation-esque feel of this villa didn't encourage much physical activity, save sex). He didn't dare look to his torso, where his toned musculature was starting to fail him. He frowned, wondering if his arrogant Roman would want him if he failed to maintain a certain level of fitness.
Hell, had Rome even noticed how off of his game he'd been lately? Unlikely. He'd been off dealing with domestic disputes and transactions during the daylight hours. And how well could one see the one below him in the dark of the night?
He hoped, wordlessly, that this was just some sort of disease he'd contracted during his stay. It would fade when he left the civilized lands of the Empire. It had to.
Leaving a week or so later, as he'd always meant to, he found the predicament only worsening. Aldrick didn't tell Rome, not wanting him to worry, or worse, lose interest. Germania was nothing without Rome to work with or against him. They needed each other, politically, economically, intimately.
When another full month had come and gone and the last of his discernable abs faded, stomach distending a little, Germania felt that something was truly wrong. None of his local women, and gods help him if he wanted to get a man's opinion on this mess, seemed to be able to give him an answer that he liked. Some suggested outrageous things, impossible things, and Aldrick left in a huff, resisting what urges arose to lash out at the innocent tribespeople around him.
Whatever this horribleness he'd contracted from Rome was, it was beyond the medicine of his people. He ventured south to visit the man he suspected was responsible, and was glad to find him less busy.
"Ah, Aldrici, you're visiting me? Again, so soon? To what end do I owe you for this?" Strong, still strong, arms enwrapped him mercilessly, kisses assaulting his cheeks and lips.
"Nngh, Rom…" the German brushed him off, reaching to push some of the hair out of his brilliant eyes, "…nothing good. Would you do me a favor?"
Rome blushed the slightest bit, grinning, "Would you do me a favor, carissime?" It looked like he might get smacked, so he added a more sensitive, "Of course, whatever you want."
Edgy, Aldrick pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, "I need one of your doctors… a good one," and said no more, in spite of Rome's queries and nonsense, using his brunette's shoulder as a makeshift pillow.
The doctor, despite his fame, could do nothing for Aldrick. Rome was forced out of the area, with much effort, and Germania became candid, explaining his needs and cravings and inadequacies at great lengths. He wouldn't waste this chance to understand what was happening to him with stoic silence. He would, however, punch the next doctor that suggested he was bearing Rome's child. This medical professional was obviously a sham, decided Germania, demanding and receiving an audience with another doctor, who came to the same conclusion.
That just could not be.
He wasn't some childbearing woman! Aldrick had not the parts for such a thing, much less a want for it. Roman doctors were obviously just as mentally unfit as their personified Empire, who Germania refused to explain anything to.
It took a further full month for Germania to tell Rome anything at all, and what he did tell was grudging and scared and embarrassed, "It's ridiculous, I know… but surely you've noticed, Rom…"
The golden-eyed man simply stared at him for a moment, daring to lift his lover's tunica and observe the visible evidence of what he'd been told. A small bump confirmed it, and his expression changed, like the flicker of a waning fire, into one of enthuse, "…and it's mine, right?" was the first thing he could think to say. Germania gave him a look of the utmost dissatisfaction before softening.
"Of course it's yours, idiot… who else would ever be allowed to penetrate me that way…?" they both blushed just a little, punctuated by Rome not having dropped the tunica, leaving the blonde mostly-exposed.
They took a late dinner hours later, disheveled and uncaring for much around them, save each other. Rome insisted on sitting on the couch across from his lover, watching him shamelessly in the dim light. He didn't care how, but he'd never found Aldrick quite as beautiful as he did in that moment.
Germania didn't care either, eating Rome's portion handily and remorselessly.