A/N: Disappointed by the lack of Ashur on FF, let alone Ashur smex, so I decided to write him some. I chose to write the scene between him and Naevia (ep. 12), because I find it odd that it's the only sex scene, as far as I can tell, that the directors do not show. I can only assume they felt it made Ashur creepier? Or else they didn't want to deal with the issue of Naevia's (non)-virginity?
Also, I have included several Latin words/phrases with immediate translation, since the show does a reasonably good job of using appropriate Latin terms. Please let me know if you find this distracts you from the flow of the story.
Anyways: smex. Enjoy!
I do not own the characters of Ashur, Naevia, or Crixus. The first lines (in italics) are from the show.
oooOOOooo
"My heart quickens at such a vision. Please. Set mind to ease: I cling to no grudge for past transgressions."
"I do not understand."
"You spoke with Doctore, after it was said Barca secured his freedom."
"I told him nothing!"
"It is of no consequence. Turn it from your thoughts, as I have turned it from mine, in favor of more...intimate concerns. I have admired your beauty for many years. Were you aware of my affections?"
"I have felt your gaze linger of late."
"My gaze is all I could dare, your position placing you forever beyond my grasp. Delicate, ripe Naevia. Always the forbidden fruit, until now. You tremble. Has a man never kissed you? Caressed the soft curves of your hips? Slipped inside of you?"
"Domina has seen me remain untouched."
"Then we are both in her debt."
Ashur stripped the stola from her body and guided her to the bed. "Sit, mea columba, my dove."
Naevia obeyed him, settling onto the lectus without meeting his eyes. He leaned forward and parted her knees gently with his be-ringed fingers. She allowed her thighs to fall slightly apart, although he could feel the resistance in her muscles. He knelt between her feet, sinking as gracefully as he could manage onto his bad right leg. A slight wince twisted his face when his knee struck the ground. He glanced at Naevia's face to see that she was still staring off into the middle distance, avoiding his gaze. She remained frozen like a statue while he brushed his mouth against her full lips. It nothing skilled: Ashur was accustomed to playing the long game. He was content to spend all night soothing her, if necessary, before fucking her.
He kissed her again, this time pressing more firmly. He reached up to brush his fingertips against her jawline, and her mouth yielded to his pressure, her lips parting. His tongue slipped just inside to stroke the edge of her even, white teeth. Her eyes darted wildly around the room. Ashur cupped his hand around the back of her neck, not threateningly, but Naevia immediately met his gaze. He stroked her cheek with the back of one knuckle. Her breath came fast, but her lovely dark eyes were wide with something more like confusion than fear. This time, when he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, she let her jaw fall open to accept him. Ashur had been chewing cardamom before she arrived to sweeten his breath; she seemed to explore with her tongue the taste, one that he imagined was foreign to her. His fingers toyed with her hair, and one of her slender hands rose tentatively to ghost across his forearm. He allowed a tiny sigh of pleasure to escape his lungs. Her eyes closed.
When Ashur broke from the kiss, her mouth followed his longingly. "Melissa mea," he whispered, "my honeybee," as his lips traveled over her jaw onto her throat. He kissed the tender bronze flesh, working his way down toward her leather slave-collar. Her hand lightly clasped the back of his head. He tilted her chin up to give himself better access, and Naevia yielded willingly, her breathing now distinctly labored. She bit back a gasp when he slid his tongue up the hollow of her throat. He caressed her collarbone beneath the collar and let his palm come to rest between her breasts.
The firm swell of her tits reminded Ashur suddenly of how he had witnessed Naevia locked in Crixus' embrace, and the Syrian's cock swelled at the thought of possessing the champion's woman. He held it with certainty that Crixus had not tenderly initiated the ancilla into the joys of Venus; the gladiator's first taste of the slave-woman would have been overenthusiastic, if athletic, as was everything about him. Ashur, however, kissed her and caressed her gently, with the awed respect owed to a maiden who had never yet lain with a man. In his usually skillful estimation, only three people under heaven knew that Naevia was no virgin, and it did not suit his plans to yet reveal his own cognizance.
Struggling to rein in his flaring desires, Ashur sat back on his heels. Naevia noted the grimace that clouded his face as the old wound in his thigh sang out. He had to stifle a smile at the expression of womanly sympathy that softened her eyes. When he replaced the hand between her breasts with his mouth, she did not retreat in disgust, but instead cradled his head against her. His lips crept to one side, seeking her nipple. Naevia stiffened as his mouth closed around her sensitive berry, though it was taut with desire. Ashur stroked the strong muscles of her back and waited for her to calm. After a moment, he flicked his tongue cautiously. An "O!" of surprise escaped her lips. He licked her more firmly, and she shivered. Soon he was suckling her with a will, guided by her hitching breaths and trembling muscles. Her fingernails dug into the short-cropped curls on the back of his head.
"Attat!" he murmured wonderingly as he curled down toward her ribcage. "Were you a woman of my land, Astarte would envy this beauty beyond reason."
"'Astarte'?" Naevia repeated breathlessly.
Ashur looked up at her and flashed his devilish grin. "The Cyprian. The goddess of love. The one Romans call 'Venus'."
Shocked at his blasphemy, the slave-girl forked her fingers toward the candles to avert the Evil Eye. "Such comparisons invite disaster," she protested.
"I am named for a god myself, the king of my ancestors' gods." Her eyes narrowed slightly, and he knew she was thinking about how one of the cleverer guards had begun to refer to Ashur as 'Vulcan', misquoting Homer's line about the god of fire limping on his ruined leg through an Olympian banquet. Of course, Ashur mused, it was Vulcan, out of all the gods, who took Venus to wife. "But tonight," he continued, "tonight I would serve as a priest in your temple. Will you not allow me?" He kissed her belly, his eyes wide and innocent.
Naevia frowned, suspecting – and not unjustly – some trick in the Syrian's words. Her doubt turned to slight alarm when Ashur parted her knees and lifted one of her heels to rest it on the bed. "Will you...are you going to fuck me now?" She made use of the rude word, the low one, perhaps never having heard any more appropriate verb. Ashur certainly could not imagine that the brutish Gaul Crixus had enriched the girl's vocabulary in any way.
"Not yet, bellula, little beauty." His fingertips spidered along the insides of her thighs toward her center. "There are always preparations to be made, before worship can begin." Ashur reached her thick, dark curls and stroked the outer folds of her cunt. Naevia bit her lip uncertainly.
"These ways are unknown to you, I am aware," he continued. "But a devoted priest is ever concerned for his goddess' satisfaction." He slipped his thumb between her folds to find her slick with desire. Her chest was heaving, her eyes wide. "You will enjoy this, I promise. Lie back."
She obeyed hesitatingly and would lower herself no further than where she could prop herself on her elbows. Her gaze remained locked on his. Ashur smiled broadly, showing his teeth, and dragged the broad part of his thumb over the nub above her passage. Naevia drew a sharp breath. He set to rubbing the swollen button, gently at first, then with more pressure as she released air in a slow exhalation of pleasure through parted lips.
"Placetne tibi?" he murmured solicitously. "Do you like it?"
Naevia simply watched his eyes. Ashur's grin did not falter; she just needed a little more time. He twisted his wrist, still massaging her nub, to slip his forefinger into her cunt. Her body rocked back, ever so slightly. He waited, stroking her, until she seemed calm enough, then inserted his middle finger as well. Still staring into her eyes, he leaned deliberately forward and replaced his thumb with his tongue. Naevia hummed with concern, and in that moment Asher was sure that Crixus had never tasted her flesh in this way. He buried his nose in her curls and licked her firmly, again and again. She let her head fall back and tilted her hips to welcome him, her thighs parting just a little more. He set his fingers to thrusting in and out of her cunt as he continued to explore her sensitive nub with his tongue. She moaned softly, and his cock jumped with need. He pushed her legs farther apart with his left hand. Her muscles tensed, but with building tension, not discomfort. Naevia began to choke back tiny cries of pleasure. She strained for release.
Just before he felt her ecstasy crest, Ashur released her with his mouth and withdrew his fingers. He chuckled to hear her small gasp of disappointment. Moving as quickly as his bad leg would permit, he clambered onto the bed with her. She curled shyly onto her side; her eyes, dilated with lust, followed his movements. He tugged on her hips and guided her up onto all-fours. When she was facing away from him, he reached under his new tunic, the silk-embroidered tunic he had earned from their dominus, and into his equally-ornate braccae to free his cock. He positioned himself at Naevia's slick entrance, stroking her breasts and whispering encouragements, maintaining the fiction of her virginity. At last, with infinite care, he slid into her cunt.
Forgetful of her supposed maidenhood, Naevia pushed back hungrily and surrounded his cock with her flesh. Ashur had not expected any barrier, nor did he meet one. He pulled out slightly. She whined in the back of her throat when he thrust into her again. Her hips pulsed eagerly, and they developed a rhythm.
A smirk curved his lips. A half-formed hope grew in his belly that she would moan Crixus' name. But, upon reflection, he decided that it would delight him even more if she moaned his own. Her firm, round buttocks bounced delightfully against his hipbones each time he plunged into her. She arched her spine now to tilt her pelvis, and a long "ooooh" of pleasure escaped her lips at the new angle of penetration.
"Ten' delectat?" he grunted. "Does it please you?"
"Sssssic," Naevia hissed. "Yes, like that."
Ashur grimaced, stifling his climax, and fucked her even harder. He would rather suck Crixus' cock himself than sacrifice to his own fleeting desires the triumph of driving Naevia to ecstasy. And now it seemed the crisis was not far distant. She let out a short, gasping cry every time he slammed into her, and she began to roll her hips frantically. Hands clenching his blanket, she lowered her head, a bodily shift that drove his cock against the side of her passage with every thrust. He murmured encouragingly to her in his own language, in words that she could not understand but would surely know the meaning of.
Suddenly Naevia went silent. Her entire body tensed and then shuddered, a wail of release emerging from her mouth to disappear into the blanket. It was not quite the spectacle Ashur had hoped for, but it pleased him to hear her gasp for air as he continued to pound into her, drawing up his own orgasm. Her cunt was still spasming when the panic seized him, and he emptied himself inside her, the thrill of vengeance mingling with the electric pleasure rolling through his body.
When Naevia moved to crawl from the bed, Ashur arrested her progress and shoved her face into the blanket, his hand fisted in the waves of her dark hair. He leaned down to add a flourish to his work: her scream was muffled by the wool as he gripped the flesh of her buttock with his teeth, firmly enough to brand her with a mark that would last for days and remind Crixus that even his woman was not his own.