A/N: First of all, profuse apologies for the frankly unconscionable length of time since the last update. You know how it goes, real life intruded, as did a succession of minor health issues which were time consuming to get under control followed by a total loss of motivation and before you know it it's been a couple of years since you last wrote anything. Anyway, I promised I would never leave a story unfinished and I meant it so here it is at last, the newest chapter. And I promise the next one won't take as long to arrive.
Pietros cast brief glance at both men then scuttled off, with a chorus of soft melodious giggles rising in his throat, to relay Tiberius' answer to their master.
Tiberius extended a hand, head tilting to one side slightly when the man before him, still mute and mesmerised, did not take it in his own. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Perhaps you would care to come inside." He gave momentary pause before adding. "Unless you hold preference for having me here against the wall. I am yours to command but I assure you my bed is quite comfortable."
Blood burning hotly beneath his skin caused Agron to flush deep red and long forgotten stirrings of lusty arousal to curl low in his belly.
"B, bed." He croaked, mouth so dry as to make words difficult if not impossible.
The boy's smile grew wider, his hand reached out yet further and captured Agron's, leading him slowly into the bedroom and closing the door behind him.
"Will you remove your cloak? Or do you intend to remain fully clothed?" The gladiator blinked twice then shook his head wordlessly. In his head a voice that sounded like his own cursed and named him dumb fuck. The boy smiled, no smirked, again. He was doubtless well accustomed to men losing their tongues before him, indeed it appeared to amuse him to have it so. Knowing this made Agron prickle with combination of embarrassment and anger yet still he found himself without voice. "Then, if it please you master, perhaps you would allow me to assist you in undressing."
A strong yet slender hand slipped beneath the wool of his cloak and made to travel higher. Without conscious thought Agron slapped his hand hard atop the boys, halting it's journey.
"I am master to no man." He hissed roughly, first words proper and unprompted to pass lips since beauty had stolen breath. The boy started briefly and lowered his gaze, seeming now uncertain of his actions. Agron supposed that in his position all men were masters to this boy and he wanted to rage against it, to tell the boy it should not be that way, that no man should be master of another, but that was not his mission. His mission was only to glean information, if indeed there were any. "Agron." He said, his tone softer than before. "I am called Agron, and I have no desire towards power or control. I seek only pleasure."
This seemed to ease the boys tension and he lifted his gaze once more, dark eyes warm and smiling, lashes fluttering delicately against his cheekbones.
"Then I respectfully request the pleasure of flesh revealed to eager gaze." Upon Agron's reply, a simple nod, the boy Tiberius returned to earlier task, hands sliding across plains of muscled chest and over strong broad shoulders until the cloak slipped off and fell to puddle at its owners feet.
Tiberius sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening to take in the sight. He had spent his life as little more than a plaything, an instrument of pleasure for others to use at their will. Never had he been allowed desires of his own. In truth he was no longer certain he was able to feel desire. It had been so long since he had felt anything but shame and disgust that he thought perhaps he was ruined in that regard. And yet, in rare moments of loneliness Tiberius would try to imagine what kind of a man might illicit such a reaction in him. He fancied that should such a man exist, he might look something like this one.
The man was built as a gladiator, solid and tan and strong with a deep scar marking one shoulder and eyes that spoke of terrible sorrow. He was beautiful in his own way. And had he not already claimed to have no intentions towards control? Tiberius could not help but hope that perhaps, just this once that pleasure might be mutual, that he might find some small measure of satisfaction with this man who called himself Agron.
Slowly and with great reverence he trailed a single fingertip down the man's arm from shoulder to wrist, marvelling at the restrained strength he found there and wondering what it might feel like to be held in tender embrace by those arms.
With some reluctance he let go his pointless wonderings and prayed the man would at least treat him well enough that he might return to such idle fancies on some future occasion should he wish to escape the reality of his life.
Setting mind to present task, Tiberius clasped fingers around muscular forearm, wrist twisting, thumb caressing pulse point then twisting yet again to stroke fingers downwards across palm. He heard the man take breath, felt him tremble under touch and upon further glance saw green eyes almost black with desire.
Lips curling slightly to gentle smile, Tiberius picked up his companions other hand and tugged him forward.
"Tell me, how is it that you come to seek my services?" He asked, flattering words part of the service he offered and yet this time spoken with genuine interest. "You are a handsome man. I would expect there to be no shortage of people eager to warm your bed."
Agron found himself tripping over tongue again, several moment passing before he was able to formulate suitable response.
"My work keeps me busy."
"And what is your work?"
"I, uh, I..." For just a moment he forgot the lie he and Spartacus had constructed before he left to conceal his true identity. The lapse in memory was thankfully brief. "I am a, a blacksmith. " He stuttered.
"Well, blacksmith, I am glad to have you kept so busy for otherwise you may not have found your way to my door. Come." He murmured. "Let us move this to the bed where we might both find comfort. I find it aids in pursuit of pleasure"
Agron complied in silence for he had used up what few words he could muster and was dumb once more. As he allowed himself to be led he forced himself to remember his purpose here. He had come not to fuck but to learn secrets, and he had sworn to Spartacus that he would not be swayed from task by cock or ass but fuck the gods, this boy was a temptation like no other and Agron feared he had not the will to resist.
Furthermore, this boy was no empty headed beauty. He was clever and alert, aware of his power over men and, Agron suspected, aware of a great many other things. He would likely not charm anything from him with just sweet words and leading questions, he would need to use his cunning also. Perhaps, he mused, bedding the boy and fucking him until he was dizzy with pleasure and utterly spent might be a plan that held merit after all.
While Tiberius' hands busied themselves at Agron's waist, Agron's hands busied themselves in Tiberius' hair. At first, the touch was gentle, not unpleasant but experience told Tiberius that it would not remain so. He steeled himself in anticipation of rougher touch and continued on in his task. Through the man's breeches he felt a cock of girth and length to suit it's owner. It was no surprise to find it hard already nor once it sprang free to find it appeared bigger than first imagined. Tiberius shuddered, part fear and part uncommon arousal, to think of it inside him.
Reaching out to touch, he wrapped fingers around the base. The big man gasped and trembled before him. Now, thought Tiberius, hand in hair would tangle and tear and he found that though it usually discomforted him, this time he could not bring himself to mind. The touch did remain gentle however, to his great surprise, it tickled and caressed in manner he found strangely pleasurable and he leaned unconsciously into it, a soft sigh on his lips.
The boy's sigh sounded as a plea and touch of fingers to aching flesh produced similar sound in Agron. His desire was fierce, he hungered for this boy in every way possible, could scarcely wait to have him writhing and breathless beneath him.
"I want to see you." His voice roughened by lust, little more than a whisper, desperate.
"Yes." Hoarse, whiney, similarly desperate.
Tiberius shuffled back, tongue darting out to moisten dry lips as he lay down, arms stretching above head, chest heaving. Agron drank in the sight, his own chest heaving, cock throbbing. A step nearer, he moved to join the boy on the bed but a commotion outside the door halted him.
Momentarily the door crashed open and in barrelled Pietros, hands flailing windy.
"Apologies sir." His garbling directed at Agron . "You must leave immediately. Tiberius, your Praetor has arrived ahead of time. He sent a man ahead to ensure you are ready for him. He is but minutes away."
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