The wait was unbearable. Leddicus' impending visit was the only thing Agron could think of in the days following their chance meeting in the city. When would Agron be summoned to the villa, as he'd been those few times before? When would he finally be able to put his plan in motion - reckless as it was, risky as it was - and see to it that he had time alone with the Syrian slave he cared so deeply for? His anticipation was something Agron couldn't easily hide; even during training his eyes ever-wandered to the balcony above, hoping to see Batiatus standing there and gesturing for him to come inside. Duro had even managed to overcome Agron once or twice when the elder had been otherwise distracted, a fact that neither his brother nor the rest of the gladiators let Agron forget. He endured their ridicule and laughed along with them, but his heart wasn't in it. No, his heart was miles away, wherever Tiberius was.
It was in the evening a week later, right as the sun had started to dip down toward the horizon, that the call finally came. Agron was within the gladiators' barracks, sitting and talking with his brother, when Doctore approached. "Dominus summons you above," the man said, and Agron's face immediately split in a grin. It was a grin, no doubt, that Duro recognized, as it graced Agron's features whenever Tiberius was the topic of discussion. "Wash and see yourself changed."
"Have you plans toward your slave again?" Duro asked, as if he needed to. Agron only reached out and ruffled his brother's hair in reply, then stood and made his way to the bath. He scoured his skin and, when he was finished, wrapped around his waist a scant piece of linen. It left very little to the imagination but it was, no doubt, exactly what the Roman wanted. But it wasn't the only thing the gladiator donned. Around one wrist was wrapped a length of red cloth, only a simple decoration - but within its folds was hidden something small. Agron fixed and concealed it there, to be taken out when the time was right.
It wasn't long before Agron's bare feet guided him to that gate again, and the stairway beyond. This time, he knew what to expect. This time, he was prepared for what would be laid before him once he reached the villa; Leddicus would be waiting for him, no doubt in some room decorated with soft fabrics and littered with supple cushions. The oil lamps would be burning low and sending flickering light over their bodies. Not only his and the Roman's, no - but Tiberius's, too, if the slave had kept his promise.
Agron was led through the house by one of the slave girls whose name he didn't know, whose name he never bothered asking for. He had more pressing things on his mind. When finally she stopped before gesturing toward the room he was to enter, though, he did reach out and touch her arm. "Wait only a little while," he said, blue eyes searching her face, "and then bring wine. Dominus will pay it no mind." The gladiator kept his grip on her until she nodded her understanding, and then he let go, stepping forward and turning the corner into the nearby room.
The room looked much as Agron had imagined, though a few details were so extravagant that the gladiator would never have been able to dream of them. In the middle of the room was a platform built high off the ground. Upon it was laid a mattress stuffed with feathers, covered in fabrics dyed the brightest of colors, though they seemed slightly muted in the lamplight. And before the bed was a similarly decorated couch whose legs were finely carved and inlaid with pearl. It was a seat on which an emperor could have comfortably sat - but instead there lounged Leddicus, the swine. None of the disgust Agron felt toward the man showed on his face as he approached, which was a good thing. He would have the Roman believe, for now, that this was something Agron wanted.
"Here is Agron," Leddicus said, gaze dropping from the gladiator's face to travel down, no doubt taking stock of just how little the man wore. "A god among men," he added appreciatively. Agron cared nothing for his compliments, no matter how grandiose, for standing behind the couch was Tiberius, his dark eyes intent on Agron's blue ones. The gladiator might have gotten lost in those eyes had it not been for Leddicus, who stood and broke that line of sight. Agron's attention shifted; he had to remember that he was here to please the Roman. It was his sole purpose.
Leddicus gestured for Agron to come forward, and the gladiator obeyed. He stood before the Roman man and was still underneath the heavy, surveying gaze that fell upon him. Hands soon followed where eyes had traveled; Leddicus reached out and pressed his fingertips into the flesh of Agron's chest, letting them trace the muscle there before sliding down over the middle of his stomach. Without warning, the cloth was pulled from around Agron's waist and dropped at his feet, leaving him naked. For a moment, Leddicus simply stared at the flesh that had been revealed but soon shook his head, as if recovering from a reverie, and began to walk around Agron, dragging his hand over the man's arm and over his shoulder and down his back as he did so.
It was in that moment that Agron allowed himself to return his gaze to Tiberius. In the slave's dark-skinned face was something the gladiator had never seen before - the tiniest spark of jealousy. Those dark eyes were narrowed just slightly and followed the progress of his master's hand as it explored Agron's body. Despite what the gladiator was being forced to endure, despite the fact that he wanted to shy away from the Roman's slimy touch but could do no such thing, Agron couldn't help but smile to himself. He liked seeing that jealousy. He liked to know that, in some small way, Tiberius felt possessive of him. Because the gods only knew how similarly Agron felt about Tiberius. Only he wouldn't have been so controlled in his jealousy; it would have turned quickly to rage.
From behind him came Leddicus' voice. "I will have you fuck me tonight," he said, and any trace of a smile disappeared from Agron's face. Tiberius closed his eyes and the gladiator could see him taking a steadying breath. No. Agron could not let this happen. He would not. But when the Roman stepped in front of him again, he simply nodded his head, shifting his attention from Tiberius and setting what he hoped was an alluring gaze on Leddicus' repulsive face. Because it was the only thing he could do.
As if on cue, the slave girl returned with the wine Agron had requested. Leddicus gestured for Tiberius to come forward and take it from her - but before the slave could do so, Agron turned and took the jug from her and then sent her off with a nod. With the wine she had brought a fine, jeweled cup, no doubt one picked specifically to please Leddicus. And Agron hoped it would.
The Roman sat back on the couch and pulled his legs up onto it, expecting to be served. Agron approached the man slowly, pouring the wine carefully into the cup, but before handing it over to Leddicus, he boldly spoke out of turn. "May I?" he asked, holding up the jug of wine, and Leddicus looked at him quickly, no doubt surprised to hear his voice. When the Roman realized what Agron requested - only a drink of the wine - he grinned slightly and waved a hand in assent.
But Agron didn't simply stand there and drink his fill. No, he instead climbed onto the couch with Leddicus, straddling the man's thighs and kneeling above him. How quickly that got the Roman's attention; his eyes were wide and staring, his mouth open in shock, and he was so surprised he couldn't even lift his voice in protest. And as he stared, Agron hefted the jug of wine to his lips, tilting his head back and letting the liquid spill into his mouth. Some of the wine didn't quite make it down his throat; it slid from the corners of his lips and down over his chin and his neck and, finally, his chest. When he could drink no more, Agron lowered the jug and looked down at himself, slightly breathless from downing the liquid.
In a low voice, Agron spoke. "Would you sample what the house of Batiatus has to offer?" he asked, and he watched as the Roman's gaze dropped to the wine still running in rivulets over Agron's skin. Leddicus seized the opportunity; he leaned forward and slid his tongue slowly up the middle of the gladiator's stomach, careful to capture every drop of the precious wine in his mouth. And it was then that Agron revealed what was hidden upon his body.
The gladiator handed the wine to Tiberius, who stood near. The slave's hands were shaking when he took the clay jug, but Agron couldn't spare him a comforting glance. No, there was much to do as Leddicus was otherwise distracted. From the folds of the cloth wrapped around Agron's wrist, a vial was retrieved. It was tiny, small enough to be so concealed, but its contents were potent. Contents that were poured into the cup Agron held, the one filled with wine meant for Leddicus' lips. Tiberius watched all of this unfold with wide eyes, but he didn't question the gladiator when he held out the empty vial. No, the slave simply hid the evidence of what Agron had done and remained silent audience - but now accomplice.
Agron reached out with his newly freed hand and slid his fingers into Leddicus' closely-cropped hair, gripping it lightly to coax the man's head back. "How do you find the wine?" he asked, meeting the Roman's gaze.
At that, Leddicus smiled. "Delicious," he replied. Agron pulled the man's head back further, eliciting a short noise from him, and gently poured some of the cup's contents into waiting mouth. Leddicus drank it hungrily, no doubt spurred on by Agron's sudden attention, no doubt pleased by his apparent change of heart. What a fucking fool he was. Soon, the Roman took the cup from Agron's hand, then extended his other hand to stroke the gladiator's hip. "A show before I permit you take me," he practically purred, though there was nothing pleasant about it. "Get on the bed. Touch yourself."
The gladiator was quick to comply, happy to pull himself away from the other man. He could still feel that foul tongue on his skin - but it had been a necessary sacrifice. And everything had gone according to plan. Now he only had to wait for the elixir to take effect, but until then, he had orders to obey. Agron approached the bed, had to step on a stool to climb on top of it, it was so high off the ground. It was the first time he'd ever been in one. The mattress felt strange underneath him. Strange but pleasant. He couldn't imagine falling asleep on something like it, especially wrapped in all the blankets and surrounded by the pillows that were scattered on top of it. It must have been like falling to slumber on a cloud.
But he was not there to sleep. Beneath Leddicus' eager gaze, he knelt upon the mattress and slid his hand over his own skin, down his stomach sticky with wine and lower still to where his flesh lay yet unawakened by the Roman's attentions. But Agron closed his eyes and wrapped his fingers around his own length, and behind his eyelids he would find something to ignite him. Visions of Tiberius. Memories of their bodies pressed together and the feeling of the slave's lips against his own in heated, desperate kiss. Those were the things to which his body reacted; he stroked himself to hardness, and soon his skin warmed and his breath quickened.
His eyes opened. They fell first upon Leddicus, who was still drinking from his cup. The Roman did not meet his gaze but instead stared with rapt attention at the hand moving over Agron's flesh. It left the gladiator free to shift his own attention to Tiberius, whose dark eyes he did meet. He held that gaze. His lips parted and a halted moan escaped them; Tiberius drew his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. What Agron wouldn't have given to pull the slave onto this bed and sink his teeth into that lip, too. Perhaps he soon would.
Suddenly, there was a clatter. Agron abruptly stopped in his stroking and his eyes shot to what had made the noise. There was the jeweled cup, now empty its contents, laying on its side on the floor. Leddicus' hand hovered above it, hanging off the side of the couch, and the man himself was still, his eyes closed. Agron's heart beat fast in his chest. He'd done it. He'd fucking done it. But when he turned a smile upon Tiberius, the slave did not seem to share his joy. Instead, his expression was twisted into one of horror as he looked at his dominus.
"Did you kill him?" he asked in a harsh whisper. No wonder he was terrified.
At that, Agron laughed. "He sleeps," the gladiator said gently. Tiberius visibly relaxed. Though what he had done was reckless, Agron wasn't so stupid as to murder a man within these walls. What he had poured into Leddicus' drink had been a sleep serum, something he'd heard the apothecary on the street advertise the day he'd been in Capua. The plan had all fallen into place that day, though the details had never been absolutely sure; how he would get Leddicus to ingest the elixir had been a mystery to the gladiator until he'd seen the man's eyes on his body. And then the solution had been clear.
Now he and Tiberius were left alone. Leddicus wouldn't soon wake. "Come," Agron said, reaching out his hand. Tiberius hesitated but soon put down the jug in his hands and slowly approached the bed on which Agron still knelt. The slave took Agron's hand and stepped on the stool, and that brought him level with the gladiator, who shuffled to the edge of the bed. "He will sleep through the night," Agron whispered, wrapping his arms around Tiberius. He held the other man's body close, so very close - close enough that he could feel Tiberius's heartbeat quicken in his chest. "No sound or touch will wake him." The slave's touch slid up over Agron's arms: a touch infinitely better than what the gladiator had felt before. Brushing his lips against Tiberius's cheek, Agron spoke into the other man's ear, his voice low. "Will you come to my bed?"
Tiberius glanced over his shoulder at Leddicus' prone figure and then looked back at Agron. "He will not rouse?" the slave asked, concern lining his face. The gladiator reached up to gently smooth away that worry.
"He will not," Agron repeated. And then, without another word, Tiberius pressed himself against the gladiator, capturing his lips in a kiss so forceful it pushed him onto his back. They would both easily forget that there was another within that very room; they were together and beneath them was a luxury they'd never felt before and they had the entire night to indulge in one another. Nothing, not even Leddicus' presence, unconscious though he was, would take this away from them.
Agron was already naked and he longed to feel Tiberius's skin against his. As they kissed, he reached down and quickly divulged the slave of his clothes, his hands immediately dragging down the other man's sides, following the curve of his back and then grabbing the flesh of his ass to pull those hips against his own. They groaned simultaneously at the contact and, with Agron's encouragement, Tiberius rocked his hips forward, sliding his flesh against the gladiator's even as they kissed. Whatever small ember had been ignited within Agron when he'd only thought of Tiberius, his hand stroking his own flesh, was now stoked into a raging fire, given breath and fuel by the body moving against him.
Tiberius pulled away the kiss and gasped for breath, his lips still hovering over Agron's. "I have been absent you inside of me for too long," he whispered, voice shaking. "I will wait no longer." There was a table near by and upon it stood bottles of oils, no doubt meant for the time Agron was supposed to have spent with Leddicus, but they would go to better use now. Tiberius snatched one up and coated his own hands in it, reaching behind himself and wrapped slickened fingers around Agron's cock. The gladiator hissed at the sensation, his eyes closing and his head tilting back - but it was nothing compared to what came next.
Suddenly, Tiberius was lowering himself onto that hardened length, taking no time to prepare himself for the invasion. It was so impossibly tight that it drew a long moan from Agron's lips and he roughly grasped the slave's thighs, his fingertips digging in. When the head of Agron's length finally breached the ring of tight muscle, Tiberius let out the breath he'd been holding and, for a moment, lay still against Agron, giving his body the time to adjust that it needed. The gladiator's touch wandered the body on top of his own and he occupied himself with memorizing every last inch of the other man if only to resist the urge to thrust his hips, to start a rhythm, to feel his flesh move deeper.
But it wasn't long before he got exactly what he wanted. Tiberius lifted himself up, pressed his palms flat against Agron's chest, and slowly pushed back onto the gladiator, taking him inside. The pace was torturous; as soon as Tiberius had sat back fully he began to rise again, millimeter by merciless millimeter and Agron was taking in harsh breaths, his nails digging into the slave's skin. But with every thrust, the pace increased. Faster and faster Tiberius moved until he'd found that perfect rhythm, quick and forceful. The air was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking; they both gasped and moaned and underneath their voices was the dull noise of the impact of flesh against flesh.
Agron sat up and wrapped his arms around the other man, his mouth dragging over Tiberius's throat and over his chin to find his lips in another kiss, missing the taste of him. Still the slave rode him with abandon, taking the pleasure as he hadn't the first time they'd laid together. It was a new side of Tiberius, one Agron had never known - and he knew there was more and more he could find out, if only he had the time. But like he had that night, Agron would make the time. He would go to the ends of the earth for it. He would accept nothing less than holding this slave in his arms for the remainder of his life, however short it might be.
The gladiator's hand was between them, his fingers curled around Tiberius's length and stroking it, his grip tight. And as the moments passed, Tiberius began to move with more desperation. His body was conflicted; he wanted to roll his hips and take Agron inside of him deeper, but he wanted to feel his own flesh slide into that hand. And, oh, how Agron loved to watch the struggle on his face. How he reveled in that body shaking in his arms, how he delighted in the frenzy Tiberius was building himself up to. And how he would savor the release soon to come. But it would not be Tiberius's only one. Agron would see to that.
As predicted, Tiberius soon found his end. He cried out, shook against the gladiator, clutched at him but never stopped the movement of his hips, not even in the throes of the intense pleasure that ripped through him. Agron, merciful as he was in the wake of that intense release, stopped the other man's thrusting, sliding gentle hands over twitching muscles and whispering soft words into a sweet kiss. But despite his body's exhaustion, Tiberius was not finished. "More," was the only word he whimpered in reply, right against Agron's lips, and the plea shot through the gladiator in a jolt of arousal. More was something he could give. It was something he would give in abundance.
With strong arms, Agron pulled the smaller man's body off of him and laid him down on the bed on his stomach. Tiberius collapsed against it and the gladiator had to wonder if maybe he wouldn't simply fall asleep there - but when Agron straddled him, pressed the tip of his length against that opening once more, the slave arched his back and parted his lips in a breathless moan that only begged, again, for more. Agron leaned over the other man, pressed his hands down on the mattress to brace himself, and then slowly pushed inside of Tiberius once more. And now it was his turn to set the pace. He made it slow, but there was strength behind it. Agron would rock his hips forward and Tiberius would shift on the mattress beneath him, his body sliding over it with the force of the thrust. And every time their bodies were joined, not the smallest measure of space between them, from Tiberius's throat would escape a short, gasping moan.
And as Agron's thrusts sped up, so did the sounds falling from the slave's lips. The gladiator drove forward, pushed Tiberius closer and closer to another release, and so soon after he'd recovered from his first one. Leaning down, Agron gently grazed the other man's ear with his teeth and then whispered into it. "Will you come again?" he asked, and though he needed no answer - the response of Tiberius's body was enough on its own - the slave let out a whimper that could only mean 'yes'.
Agron's own release was not far off, but he would have the other man trembling beneath him again. Tiberius clawed at the blankets beneath him, pushing himself back as Agron's hips jerked forward demanding more and more until— He stilled beneath the gladiator's body for only a moment and then, suddenly, he was writhing and moaning for the second time, his sounds almost pained. The slave grabbed for Agron's nearby hand and the gladiator gave it to him; their fingers twined together in a grip hard enough to hurt, but neither cared. Certainly not Agron, who was thrusting his way toward his own release. The gladiator bared his teeth against Tiberius's shoulder, closed his eyes tightly, and soon emptied himself inside of the other man. His bared teeth grazed Tiberius's skin and then sank into it, hard enough to bruise and mark him but not to draw blood.
And so it was over. Both were spent, exhausted, satisfied. Agron pulled away only to draw the other man into his arms soon after, their bodies lost in blankets and sinking into the soft mattress beneath them. It would be an easy enough story to tell; Leddicus had had too much of the strong wine and had fallen asleep just as Tiberius had been ordered onto the bed with Agron. The gladiator wanted to tell Tiberius the story but he had been robbed of strength and speech and sleep crept up on him. He managed to press his lips against the other man's in just a few more kisses, but no more than that; the slave was already falling asleep in his embrace.
Leddicus would sleep beyond the dawn but both Agron and Tiberius would rise before then, and they would have time to talk then. And in the waking hours of the day, just before the sun rose above the horizon again, they would whisper alibis and promises and declarations, their bodies still naked and tangled and their eyes bright with mischief and what the future would hold.