A/N: This is SLASH. Commodus x Maximus.
Cool and abandoned was the state of the main courtyard as Commodus slid across the pathway of rock like a leaf under wind. Tonight, a hood laid shadow to his face. Moonlight made visible his cloak, but like a thief, he waded through the buildings unnoticed by guard or caretaker. Caesar of Rome was not his face this night.
Anticipation drove his every step. A glace at a rugged guard standing erect with glistening eyes, so bold and stoic his gaze, stopped Commodus in his tracks. He gazed. How long he could have stood there in admiration whilst the guard stood alert. Yet he desired for another kind man, more raw and tangible. Commodus could almost feel him. That dirtied, damaged skin. Scarred and beaten. Thrashed, forced to become stronger and resilient. A will like the heart of a lion. Unbroken or oblivious to the hopelessness in front of their eyes. On a barbed wire their grasps held. Miles upon miles they reached forward to an unknown end, for only their kind could bring lasting ecstasy. Forever his sinful pleasure was the warrior of the games; the gladiator.
The gate's key slid through and turned. Un-oiled gates creaked as they opened. Commodus stepped through as the stench of the prison engulfed him. To a table he came, a man with a white beard sat, flipping the page of a novel.
Gaze undistracted from the page, he spoke. "And under night, he comes again."
The nerve of this man's disrespect forced Commodus to frown. Time and again, he would not stand, not offer attention. How easy it would have been to put an arrow through his smug tongue. Closing and opening his eyes, he breathed deeply and frustration released.
"Do you have one for me?"
The bearded man gestured his chin. "In the usual cell." Eyes raised. "A marvel that one. And brutal." He smiled something ugly. "I think you'll find him to your liking."
Head bowing slightly, the Commodus left the man to his reading. He came to a wooden door. A small section of metal bars defined a peeping window, yet the Commodus did not gaze through it. Closing his eyes, he felt the air enter and leave his lungs. The beating of his heart quickened. Pulling up the fabric of his cloak over his nose and mouth, he pushed the door forward.
Back bare, glistening with sweat, the gladiator stood with head bowed facing the wall. Lean and curved arms were raised high, shackled by iron. A tattered cloth wrapped his waist, falling only a few inches below his buttocks. The gladiator did not move, even as Commodus closed the door. Slowly, he stepped forward.
The muscles on the gladiator's back were flexed. Legs bent, on toes he barely stood, the chains supporting most of his weight. Commodus slid a hand down his back. Cold and slick. Hard like clay. Lower the hand slid, down the slender curve of his spine, to the cloth, and then underneath as fingertips slid into the crack of his buttocks. The gladiator's head raised, footing found, he tried to turn around. Commodus stepped sideways to avoid his eyes. So beautiful the mouth and chin of the gladiator he could barely see. Brows so dark and captivating. Pain and exhaustion wrote his expression. A man at the mercy of another. A slave to a master. Commodus wanted to see his eyes. So fierce, and grim. Whatever color they were, they would haunt him forever. Always in his dreams.
Commodus stepped towards the gaze of the gladiator. A nose so fitting he could see. But familiarity stuck him like an unseen stone. Closer he moved to the wall until the gladiator's face was in full sight. Mouth parting, the stone in his chest rose high. A palm grasped the wall. A loud breath of air escaped. Throat like wound wire, he could not find words to speak. A dead man was standing before him, a man who once permeated his every thought. Maximus. It was Maximus.
"Maxi…"
Maximus squinted at the cloaked figure. Exhaustion weighing heavily, he was barely able to keep his head up. Commodus stepped closer and slid a hand down the curves of the man's bare chest. Opening his cloak, he rubbed his clothed erection against the gladiator's abdomen.
"Like a god of Rome." Commodus slid the other hand underneath the tattered cloth between the gladiator's legs. "You are mine tonight."
The face he knew stared back at him. Those eyes were like ocean stones, full of power and mystery. Undeniably handsome. Like a moth to flame, Commodus was at the mercy of the gladiator. A kiss would forever enslave him, but to do so would be to reveal himself. Reveal his perversion. What could Maximus do? Nothing. Nothing at all.
Commodus slid a finger down his face, letting the cloth around it fall away. Eyes widened. Before Maximus could speak, Commodus drove his lips into his mouth. Tightly he held on as the man tried to pull away. Tighter. Harder his mouth pushed. Nails clenched into skin. The gladiator's mouth was pushing into his now. Tongue curling onto tongue. He could feel Maximus' erection hard against his leg. Back and forth their bodies moved together like the push and pull of a wave. The gladiator tore away clothing, pieces of cloth fell to their feet. Bare chest on bare chest. Only the cloak remained on his shoulders. Time had frozen for the Commodus, for it was his command.