AUTHOR: Napra
FANDOM: Gladiator
PAIRING: Maximus/Cicero
RATING: PG-13, SLASH
STATUS: complete
ARCHIVE: Please ask first.
SUMMARY: The kissing scene between Maximus and Lucilla in an alternate version…
DISCLAIMER: The movie "Gladiator" which this story is based on belongs to Universal and Dreamworks. There is no profit being made here, so I'm not breaking copyright laws by publishing this.
AURA
*
Maximus hadn't slept anyway. But he felt sorry for his men who were ushered out of their cells by Proximo once again. "You have very persuasive friends," Proximo threw at him sarcastically.
He stood up anticipating the Lady Lucilla. A dark figure slipped in through the gate. The evening sunlight shone behind the person illuminating only the back.
He took a step back. His knees buckled at the wooden pedestal he knocked into.
"Maximus…" He heard a faint hiss in the address.
"Cicero!" he croaked, once again having to swallow down his tears even before his friend lifted his hood.
They clasped both hands this time, fingers gliding along knuckles.
Sometime Cicero started talking. He only listened to the soft lilt of his voice. It was the first time now that he fondly remembered the years in Germania – him lying on his side on that hard bench next to the fire, eyes closed and Cicero kneeling at his side murmuring tales from his home.
"Proximo will come at midnight and let you out of the compound. I will be waiting in the shrubbery outside, and we'll ride to Ostia from there. We don't have much time, I'm afraid. You must hurry as soon as you've been freed."
He sought Cicero's discoursing eyes, held them with his. "You've done all this?"
Cicero smiled his apple-cheeked grin. "I didn't pay for anything, certainly. We have the Lady to thank for this. But – yes. Of course," he added quietly. "What have I to lose?" His hands slipped up Maximus' arm. "Except for you."
Maximus cupped his face and stroked the arched eyebrow, then the scars with his thumb. "Your freedom, your life… your tongue?"
"Oh," Cicero moaned as he leant into Maximus' aura. "We wouldn't want that, would we?"
Maximus' lips escaped into a smile as Cicero's tongue scorched them with a flick. And then there was only that warm, no hot, melting, freezing, skull-cracking pressure closing in on Maximus – he just could not look at those eyes any longer. He placed his palms on either side of Cicero's face, felt flushed earlobes, and kissed him.
Cicero thrust his tongue against Maximus' slowly, persistently. Maximus could taste the nervousness in the other man's dry mouth. He wanted to make it better. But how could he if fear was gnawing at his own innards?
Cicero had moved away, still holding and rubbing Maximus' elbows. "I have to go…" he said. It sounded like an inquiry or a reproach to fate and the one in whoever's hands it lay.
"I don't want – " Maximus' breath caught in his throat. " – you to go."
Suddenly Cicero pulled his hood up and turned away.
"Cicero…"
He span round again, bowed and took both of
Maximus' hands. He brought his lips to them, mumbled something about "…
together soon," and left.
For a while Maximus stayed put at the very spot he had been standing. He could pretend his Cicero was still close, in breath's reach. Only the remaining wetness on his hands was tangible. But not for long.
*
THE END