This story is set in the Roman Empire, and therefore, obviously not true. If you're not meant nor allowed to be here - and you know who you are - skedaddle!
I started out to write a stroke story, and somewhere along the line discovered I liked creative writing. Therefore, what started out as a stroke story with scant plot, became a short story with some - but not a lot - of sex in it. If you're looking to get off by page ten, probably this story's not for you. If you tend to the less-explicit-but-more-erotic side, then this story might just be for you.
One last thing: The Roman Empire era is one of my fascinations. Therefore, I have a somewhat better idea than many how to accurately depict this era. However, I am no expert and there will always be people better schooled in this area than me. I apologize in advance if there are blatant mistakes in my depiction. The meaning of any Latin I've used, I've tried to make self-evident.
THREE PIECES OF GOLD ~ a short story by R. Cameron Reece
Prologue:
Blood spattered across his chest as his fist pulverized the nose of the man in front of him. Under different circumstances, they might have been equally matched, but the aggressor's manic rage preordained the outcome. As the victim fell to his knees, begging for mercy, red bubbles forming from the place his obliterated nose used to be, the assailant reached down, gripped the bloodied head in the vice of his impressive biceps, and twisted. An audible pop was heard, much like the sound of cracking knuckles, and the body went limp in his arms.
"That, worm, is the price of greed and betrayal." As a final token, he spit on the limp, twisted form lying at his feet.
Such was the haze of his fury, that he would only remember accounts of this night, second-hand, from witnesses who testified against him.
chapter one
There were two reasons Giovanni noticed the man right away as he came through the doorway. The first was that Giovanni knew everybody in this neighbourhood, especially those who bought bread at their shop. And two, the man was massive. Giovanni knew right away that he was not a politician or senator, nor was he a centurion from the Emperor Domiziano's legions. By his tunic, and the condition of his sandals, it appeared at first glance that he was a slave. When he spoke, his accent was strange. He was not native to Roma for certain, but still his Latin lacked the guttural sounds of the slaves from Jerusalem who were so commonplace these days. Yet there was a haughty bearing to his nature, and the way that he looked directly into his pater's eyes also added to Giovanni's suspicions. No slave lived well enough to have the hard, healthy body this man did.
The thought ran through Giovanni's mind to wonder what his swarthy skin felt like, on pecs that caused his leather tunic to be stretched taut. Just as these thoughts were born in his mind, the man looked over at him, as if he could sense Gio's thoughts. Giovanni blushed crimson. He quickly put his head down, but not quickly enough to avoid making eye contact. For that split second, it seemed that the man could see right into his soul.
"Castor and Pollux, Gio! Stop daydreaming and pay attention to what you are doing. If that wheat is not ground any finer than yesterday's, no one will come to our shop to buy our focaccia anymore."
Giovanni sighed and with a spirit of resignation went back to mashing the pestle, that was half as big again as he was, into the enormous mortar with more force. Everyday it was the same old routine. Get up before the break of day, fetch two stones of wheat from one of the farmers hawking their produce in the macella, return to the shop at the front of his house, and grind it all until it was fine enough to suit his father for making bread.
He longed to be free of this dull, uninspiring existence. After all, at fourteen, he was nearly a man! His body had really filled out the last couple of years. Gio felt proud when he examined himself lately. His upper body was especially built from all the work he did every day, grinding wheat. And the fine line of black hair that started at his belly button led down to a very impressive pisello. The gods were kind to him, Gio decided, after being at the baths and comparing himself to the other men and boys there. He definitely had more manhood swinging between his legs than the other boys his age, and even bigger than some of the men.
Giovanni wondered at the size of his father's pisello, that his own could be so big. He guessed that it must be big as well, for many nights, he was awakened by the sounds of his mater on the other side of the dividing curtain as his father thrust his manhood into her. And when the moon was full, there was enough light shining through the window that he could see the actions on the other side of the curtain in silhouette. As a young boy he couldn't understand what was happening when his father would mount his mother like some bitch cur, causing her to cry out, and after some minutes, his father too, would curse by Castor, Pollux, and the other gods and then grow very quiet.
However, he was smart enough to realize that this was something he probably was not supposed to see, and if he made his parents aware that he was a witness, by asking about their actions, all would likely stop. Giovanni didn't want that to happen. He loved the feeling he got inside as he watched his father's bare ass thrust up against his mother. If he was really quiet, he could often move in such a way on his side of the curtain as to catch a glimpse of his father's hard member as it disappeared between his mother's legs.
As he got older, he also discovered how good he could make himself feel by stroking his pisello. It was great fun to rub it so hard that his young boy seed would come, all over his chest. By this time, too, he had a pretty good idea of what was happening on the other side of the curtain, and guessed that at the moment when his father often swore by the gods, he was shooting his seed into Giovanni's mother. Giovanni liked it best when he timed his strokes to match his father's thrusts, and could shoot his seed at the same time his father was shooting into his mother.
The sad truth that he tried not to think about, however, was this: Nothing short of a miracle from the gods would get him out of what seemed almost to be a tedious, preordained fate. He was born to a poor baker. There was no money for an education. All he could read and write, and the sums he could cipher, were what his mother taught him when he had time in the evenings. With no money, little education, and no land titles, he could not look forward to a soldier's life, or the life of a politician. In fact, he could not look forward to anything more than marrying the daughter of one of the other neighbourhood tradesmen, eventually taking over the shop from his father, and eking out a living as a baker, just as his father, and his father's father had done before him.
What he longed for however, was to leave here; leave the dreary, monotonous, repetition of his daily life; leave this neighbourhood; maybe even leave Roma. There was a big world out there, beyond Giovanni's wildest imaginings, as evidenced by all the different kinds of slaves the centurions and their legions brought back to the capital. Why, one he saw had skin even darker than night! Giovanni often wondered what went through the gods' minds to make such a bizarre choice for skin colour.
Finally the man spoke. "Give me dua foccacii, please."
"Sic sapiens," Giovanni's father nodded and replied.
A smile briefly flashed on the stranger's face, making his eyes light up. "I am no philosopher, sir, unless you count the study of death."
Several thoughts came rapidly to the fore of Giovanni's mind, one on the back of the other. "With eyes that colour of green, he must be from the north country. Study death? Of course! A gladiator! That would explain his dress and his strong body," Gio guessed. "But gladiators are not liberi, not free men!"
"By Jupiter, Gio," Giovanni's father's thunderous voice broke his reverie. As was his wont, when Giovanni's mind was active, his hands were not. "Get the man his focaccia!"
Startled, Giovanni dropped the pestle he had been working with. It fell with a clatter, tipped over the edge of the mortar, and in the process, flung freshly ground wheat flour into the air, a great deal of which landed on the sandals of the gladiator. "Me indulgeo!" Giovanni cried. "I'm sorry!" He trembled as he spoke, not knowing which man to fear most, his father, or the gladiator.
He flinched as his father took the flat of his hand, and swiftly struck Giovanni's face, then backhanded him for a second blow. "Stupid boy. You never watch your hands at work. Good for nothing! Always dreaming about some place other than here." His father raised his hand as if to strike Giovanni once again, when the stranger spoke.
"It was an accident. I forgive the boy!" His voice, while soft, had a tone of slight menace. Giovanni's father slowly lowered his hand. The stranger continued, "Maybe the boy is not lazy. Maybe he is simply suited to a different work. I am looking for a man to give me salus, some help; a servant if you will. This young boy is precisely what I had in mind. Would you consider allowing the boy to come with me?" Gio couldn't believe his ears! To be a warrior's second, his aide! What better opportunity was likely to come through the door of a baker's shop?!
"Nequaquam, absolutely not! "His father was adamant. "Who would I get to grind my flour?! Out of the question!" Gio had never before had his spirits rise so high, and come crashing down so low, all in the space of two breaths. "Besides, where would a mancipium, a slave like you get money to be someone's altor, his patron, and protector?!"
"Not all bellatori are slaves, sir," the stranger replied. "If one fights well, and the crowds like him, sometimes he can earn his emancipation. Maybe this will help you to change your mind," the stranger said, dipping into a leather pouch hanging at his side. He took out three very large gold coins, bearing the face of Nero and placed them on the small table. "In fact, if a fighting man is very, very good, he may even make money."
Never before had Giovanni seen that much money in one place, at one time. His mouth gaped open; no more so than his father's, however. "For the love of Venus," his father swore, softly."
"I am confident this will be sufficient to hire some peon to grind all the flour you would need, for many years to come, " the gladiator continued. "However, if you aren't willing ..." he made as if to scoop up the coins again.
"No!" Gio almost shouted but he needn't have bothered.
"Let's not be hasty, good sir," his father purred, demeanor suddenly changed. "I must consult with the boy's mother, before I make any decision." Giovanni knew this to be horse shit. His father never let his mother make any important decisions. Ever. He saw this for what it was; a chance for his father to save face.
A moment later, his father emerged from the portal separating their sleeping quarters from the shop in front. "His mother wants to know how we can be assured of his safety. We hardly know you," his tone was obsequious. In point of fact, they didn't know him at all, but his father had a smooth way with words and was skilled in negotiation.
"I have killed savage beasts from far away lands with nothing more than my dagger and a rock. On a day, three summers ago, seven men were no match for me. The would-be cut-purse who assails me on a dark street at night finds himself face down in his own entrails. You need have no fear of this fine young man's safety while in my charge."
Gio blushed again at the man's words. The thought of spending every day with this man, taking care of his personal needs made his member stir between his legs. Gio quickly bent over to pick up the forgotten pestle and started back to work in an effort to hide the sudden bulge evident under his tunic. It suddenly occurred to him why the prospect of finding a neighbourhood girl for his wife never appealed to him. He would be more happy in the arms of this strong, virile, albeit somewhat frightening man.
"I cannot find a good worker over night," his father finally said. "Come back on the day of the full moon, and the boy will be yours." As his father made to snatch the three coins, the gladiator's large hand shot out and stopped him.
"I will leave you one coin now," said the bellator, "to show my good faith. The other two I will give you when you make the boy available to me."
Just like that, Giovanni was sold for three pieces of gold. It didn't bother him that he was no more than property to his father, all that mattered to him was that at last he was free; of the drudgery; of the oppressive heat from the ovens; of the dreary fate of a baker!
That night a bit of light came shining through the window exciting Gio at the thought of the coming full moon, and what its coming meant. He watched his father mount his mother in the usual fashion. As his father's bare ass sawed back and forth into his mother, this time Gio's attention was not on his father. All he could see in his mind was his own body, in his mother's position, with the strong arms of the gladiator wrapped around his chest, thrusting between his legs with an urgency that climaxed in both their seed coming. As Gio stroked his hard phallus to orgasm, he came harder than ever before, thinking of this strong saviour that had miraculously appeared in his father's bakery today, rescuing him. So strong was his orgasm, as his seed continued to spurt on his face and chest, that he couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips. For a moment he froze in fear of being heard by his parents, only an arm's length away. He needn't have worried however, the moans of his mother, and the curses of his father more than covered his own sounds of ecstasy.
As he drifted off to a contented sleep, a hazy thought hovered at the edge of Giovanni's mind. He didn't even find out his saviour's name. No matter, with only a few days to the fully-round moon, he could wait. Ahh, freedom at last.
chapter two
The next days seemed to drag on interminably for Giovanni. At times his joy and excitement at his impending freedom caused him to throw himself into his work, earning a rare compliment from his father. At others, wonder at his fate, and a curiosity at what his new life would bring found him with a wandering mind, and a sore body from the clouts his father gave him to snap him out of his reverie.
Giovanni really had no idea of what to expect his duties would be. A companion to fill this man's sexual needs could be found at a much cheaper price than three pieces of gold; indeed, even free. Many a senator chose an underling to groom as his successor, but rarely from among the plebs, and anyway, this man was no senator. Therefore, a life of book-learning and study of philosophy was probably not in store for him. There might be some training of a military bent given his new master's career. Gio just did not know what to expect.
At last the day arrived. If Giovanni had thought the preceding days dragged out, the last few hours of the morning seemed to make those days fairly race in comparison. The focaccia and olives he ate for breakfast seemed to just sit in a lump in his stomach. His heart at times seemed to beat too quickly, at others not fast enough.
Then just before the second meal of the day, the light in the room dimmed, signaling someone in the doorway. Giovanni's head spun around, for the tenth time that morning. His heart skipped a beat, and then, another. He had come!
"Greetings in the name of Domiziano," the man formally intoned.
"Sic, long live the emperor," Giovanni's father gave the requisite response.
"Are you well, lad?" His focus turned to Giovanni.
Giovanni coughed and sputtered out a "yes, sir." He had forgotten to breathe since the man had stepped through the door.
"Very well. Do you have any belongings that you wish to bring with you?"
"Just my cloak, sir, and one other tunic." Giovanni had not yet, made eye contact with the stranger, such was his nervousness. There was a pause. As it lengthened, Gio thought he must have said something wrong. Timidly, he raised his head just enough to make eye contact. "Sir?" he intoned.
"My name is Aelius, amicus. And please, there is no need to call me "sir"."
He called me friend! Not for the first time that day, Giovanni's hear skipped a beat.
"Go get your things, then and we shall be on our way." As Giovanni scurried into the back room, he heard the stranger - no, no longer a stranger; Aelius - speaking to his father. "Here is the remaining gold you are due, baker." As Giovanni emerged from the back room, and made for the door, Aelius placed his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Shall we depart, then?" A jolt of warmth shot through Giovanni's body at the proximity of the strong man's body to his own.
It was later that night, as he lay there trying to fall asleep, that it would occur to him that he had not even said good-bye to his parents.
"May I ask where we are going sir - Aelius, sir," Giovanni corrected himself. They had been walking twenty minutes, and already he was in a part of Roma he was not familiar with. It was disorienting for Giovanni, walking very far in Roma. All but the major streets were a rat's maze of curving paths and dead ends. And there was often nothing to distinguish one area from another. A vegetable market here or there, was a little different, but it was a vegetable market, just the same. Right next to that was the market for hawking livestock; the chickens at one market looked just the same as at another. The bakery had a different name, but it was still just a variation on a theme. All the houses were the same, no matter where one was in Roma. In fact, except for standing on one of Roma's seven hills, to get a town-wide perspective, or being near one of the town's famous landmarks - Nero's colossus was hard to mistake, and one's nose could not mistake the urine-rancid odour of the cloth dyers - for one, not intimately acquainted with a particular part of the city, it was nearly impossible to know exactly where he was.
Aelius chuckled, and his eyes held a twinkle when Gio ventured to glance up at him. "There you are with that "sir" thing again, Gio. Really, it's not necessary. When we are among people where it will matter, you should call me "master", otherwise, I hope you will call me Aelius. Even "Lee" is fine."
"Yes sir, I mean, Lee."
"To answer your question, do you know where the newest amphitheatre is?"
"Near the giant statue of Nero, you mean?"
"Yes, the Flavian Amphitheatre. I live very near there. I hope you will not be disappointed with my humble quarters. It is not many years that I have enjoyed my freedom, and I am not a rich man."
Giovanni wondered at this. Having given his father more money than he had ever seen, made Gio think Lee must have been very affluent, despite the way he dressed. He had forgotten about the conversation his father had with Lee on the first day in the bakery. He had mentioned that he was "freed", indicating that at some point he was a slave or a prisoner. If indeed then, he was a recently-freed man, then where did he get three pieces of gold at one time, and why was Lee willing to part with it for him?! Giovanni's mind was full of questions, but he held his tongue. He did not want to offend his new ... master? friend? liberator? father? - Gio was at a loss for a label - on the first day.
"I'm sure it will be fine," he replied, almost as an afterthought. "My father is only a baker. We are not rich, either. WERE not rich." Gio found it difficult to think of the only life he ever knew, even as late as this morning, as the past.
"Here we are," said Aelius, as they arrived. He unlocked the gate and motioned for the boy to step inside. It took several moments for Giovanni's eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Once he could see, he glanced shyly around. Aelius was right. The accommodations were rather modest, but then again, it was not as if he had been accustomed to palatial quarters before today.
"It's very simple," Aelius apologized again, "but I don't do a whole lot here besides sleep. Even eating, often I do down the street. You can put your things over there on that table."
"It's fine, sir- Lee. I don't need very much."
"Are you hungry, lad?" Aelius asked?
"A little," Gio was shy to reply.
"Well then, let's go over to the market to get some fruit to snack on, and something else to have for dinner. At the same time, I can show you some of your new neighbourhood."
Later, after they returned from the market and sat eating apples and grapes, Aelius spoke. "You are wondering about who I am and whence I came." It was more of a statement than a question.
"Uh...No!" Giovanni's emphatic response was an admission of his guilt.
"I was born north of here, in a place called Ravenna." Aelius continued as if Giovanni had not spoken. "It is several days' journey away, on horseback, along the coast. My father was a fisherman and I should have been a fisherman, too, but I was afraid."
Giovanni's eyebrows shot up at this. He could not imagine Lee being afraid of anything. Why, he fought and killed wild beasts bigger than horses from far away lands!
Aelius flashed Giovanni an indulgent smile and said, "Oh, yes, even I have my fears. I am afraid of going out on the water. So, in a fishing village, when one is afraid to go out and fish, there is only one other logical choice for making a living. And not to become a gladiator!" Aelius chuckled. "No, I mean to become a builder of boats."
"So, did you ..... eat fish?"
Aelius could not suppress a chuckle at lad's seeming non sequitor, embarrassing Giovanni. He had forgotten that any creature from the sea, even to one as wealthy as a Senator, was a delicacy, indeed. It was a joke, universal among all fishermen, that their everyday, common fare should be valued so highly by those who had so much.
"Yes, Gio," murmured Aelius, his thoughts in a far away place, a far away time. "But a steady diet of sea food is not as glamourous as you might think."
"But -"
"How did I end up being a fighter in Roma from being a builder of boats?" Aelius seem to have this uncanny ability to read Gio's thoughts. The boy wondered just how deeply he could see into his mind.
"I had been building vessels for seven years. It was my job to spread pine resin on the joints of the wood to make it sea-worthy. The master I worked for was my father's cousin. He had seen many moons, and soon would turn the whole operation over to me.
It was a difficult life for my father. For several seasons, Neptune had not allowed the fish to swim in our waters. If soon the fish did not come back, he would lose everything. One day, as I was working on the docks, I saw his boat come into the port. She was sitting very low in the water. That could mean only two things. She was either taking on water, in which case, I would have a great task ahead of me, or she was burdened down with a great catch.
I eagerly waited for her to come within hearing distance. "Hail the ship!" I cried out. ""Hail landlubber," was the reply. What was a friendly taunt of affection from those who were my friends, irritated me when used by others. It was not my father's voice, but that of his fishing partner. I did not like this man. To me, he seemed very untrustworthy but it was not for me to question my father's judgment. Where was my father? I wondered.
"Hadrienus - that was my father's partner's name - said no more until he threw me the rope to secure him to the wharf. 'I have bad news, Aelius.' he said. 'There was an accident and your father fell overboard. I could not save him. I almost could not get so laden a vessel back to port on my own.' I stared at him, numb. 'I will go tell my mother,' I told him woodenly. Such an accident was not unheard of, indeed, 'twas a risk of the trade. Still, I had more faith in my father than that. A doubt pricked at me like too much sour wine in my stomach. Something was not quite right about this story but I had no way to discount anything Hadrienus told me.
"Ahh, but it getting late. Maybe I should continue this story another time."
"Of course. Lee." Giovanni used his master's familiar as almost an afterthought. It still felt strange rolling off of his tongue instead of the more common 'sir' he had been programmed to use since childhood.
"Tomorrow I will introduce you to Agda. She cooks my - our - dinner usually. She owns a shop nearby on the Via della Bovis, Aelius said. You will spend much of your time there, in the coming days, learning from her."
Giovanni was slightly offended. What could he learn from a woman? To take lessons to cipher words and numbers from his mother when he was a child was one thing, but what would people think if they knew a grown (almost) man was taking lessons from a woman?! Anyway, what did she have that she could teach him?
As always, Aelius seem to read his thoughts. "Agda is no common woman," he went on. "She knows everything there is to know about plants, herbs, spices and their uses. I expect you to learn how to make oils that will soothe my body when it aches from combat. If I have been poisoned, I expect you to have learned the antidote. There is a myriad of things that Agda can teach you. And what's even better, she's an excellent cook." There was a hint of laughter in Aelius's voice.
"So that explains it," thought Giovanni. "She's an herb witch."
"Speaking of cooking, I'm hungry. What do you say to the idea of having something to eat?"
Gio had not noticed until that very minute just how hungry he was. The fruit had long since disappeared from his stomach. He had been too fascinated by Aelius's story, however, to realize it until just then. "Yes!" was his emphatic reply.
Whether due to a full stomach, or the energy-eating excitement brought about from the complete change in his life, Gio found that it wasn't long after dinner before he was tired, and ready for bed. Aelius had mentioned an early start the next day, so Giovanni figured it wise to turn in early and have a complete night's rest.
Tired as he was, Giovanni lay awake thinking of all the events of this day long after the regular rhythmic breathing of Aelius, lying on the mat next to him told the boy his new master was fast asleep. In the space of several days, and more specifically just today, his life changed more than his heretofore-sheltered mind could barely comprehend. How did Lee - Gio found himself warming to the familiar moniker - get from being a boat builder to the mighty warrior he was? Was it safe to be in the company of a witch? Especially, to eat her cooking? Speaking of cooking and eating, imagine, eating all the fish you could want! What does fish taste like? Like chicken? Or duck? Like pork? Like the meat of a cow? Gio had only tasted meat from a cow once or twice, so he couldn't really remember what that tasted like anyway. What would tomorrow have in store for him? And the days after that?
Suddenly, in the wake of the high that one gets from an overload of excitement, Giovanni felt alone. It was one thing to look forward to courting adventure from the end of a pestle, it was quite another to be actually living one. While grinding up wheat in his father's shop was mundane beyond all he knew, there was a certain security to be found in knowing exactly what your day - or for that matter, your week; your month - had in store for you. In fact, Giovanni felt a little frightened of all the unknowns awaiting him in his new life.
Giovanni wanted to be held. Growing up with no brothers or sisters, physical affection to him was almost a foreign concept, but once he got the idea into his head, it held on with the tenacity of a dog to a bone. Somehow he knew that being held would drive his fears away.
He didn't want to wake his new mentor for such a silly request, however. Slowly he inched his mat closer to that of Aelius. Gingerly he lifted the edge of the woolen covering that was over Aelius. The man did not stir. Gio wriggled under the edge, overlapping his own cover with Aelius's. It might not be the same as being held, but the warmth he could feel coming from Aelius's naked body was a comfort. As his consciousness faded, his mind was filled with thoughts of Aelius, of Aelius's body, of his own naked body nearly lost in the massive arms of Aelius.
chapter three
If Aelius noticed that the mats were somehow closer together and that there were two bodies under his blanket instead of one when they awoke the next morning, he did not draw attention to this fact. Instead, they got up, ate the last of the bread from Giovanni's father's shop along with some olives, washing it down with some new watered wine. Then it was off to meet Agda.
Giovanni did not know what he expected Agda to be, or look like exactly, but the woman who greeted them was nothing extraordinary like he had worried. She was rather thin, and had a long face that was creased with wrinkles. It was not the face of a pretty woman, in fact, she was rather homely. However, when Aelius introduced them she greeted them with a warm smile, and Gio found that any worries he may have had the preceding night, were mostly laid to rest. Still, there was an aura around her that Gio thought bore some more investigation before he would count her as completely harmless. Aelius left Giovanni there, and said he would be back to pick him up at dinnertime when he came to eat.
"Listen carefully and learn all Agda has to teach you," he admonished the boy as he stepped out into the street. Then he continued in a more reassuring tone. "Don't worry, you'll do fine. I may have happened into your shop by chance, but my choosing you was no accident. I have faith in your abilities."
The day passed quickly in a blur. Agda was kind and a patient teacher, but she also had a very "no nonsense" personality. She generously praised Giovanni when he made progress, but equally, scolded him when he made daft mistakes about things with which he should have been familiar. It only seemed that lunch had barely finished when Aelius was again at the door.
"How went your day, Gio?"
"Well, I wouldn't want to have to bathe in what came of his first attempt at extracting the oil from mentha," Agda replied, "but I do think he could make you a fine poultice from sage." There was a twinkle in her eye that let Giovanni know she did not think his day a failure. "I think I would wait a while, though, if I were you, before I trusted him to make me up a dram of hemlock. Today's attempt would put you in a sleep from which you would never awaken, rather than make your night restful!"
Giovanni blushed due to the praise and the teasing that came in equal parts. "I am learning a lot, Master," he replied. "And I'm learning it as fast as I can."
Lee smiled an indulgent smile. "There's no hurry, Gio. We didn't build Roma back up again, in one day after the great fire, and neither will you become a great master of herbs in a short time. Better to learn well, than to rush anything. What do you have for us for dinner, Agda?" he changed topics.
"It is nearly ready, amicus," Agda replied.
Giovanni gave a start. "What was a woman doing addressing his master as an equal? And as friend no less!" Once again the thought ran through his mind that this was no ordinary woman. After one day spent with her, he no longer feared her, but definitely, there was still more to her than just an herb woman. "Oh well," Gio gave a mental shrug. "Nothing in the past two days has followed what I know of the world, so I don't know why an herb witch's place should make sense to me either."
Later, back at his new home, Giovanni was feeling a little unsteady. Darkness had settled, and Aelius had not lighted a lamp. He did not have so much money that he could spend it unnecessarily, and this was one way they could be more frugal. Gio did not object, but the darkness, along with the wine they had consumed as they sat there chatting after coming home from Agda's house for dinner, left him a mite short on balance. It occurred to him to wonder if it was necessary to economize to this degree, what parting with three pieces of gold - a significant amount of money by any standards - must have cost Lee.
"It's getting late," Aelius stated. "Why don't we prepare for bed, and I can tell you more about how I came to be a gladiator."
Giovanni agreed. He didn't know which he was looking forward to more, finding out the rest of Lee's story, or lying next to him, naked, as they drifted off to sleep.
"Shall I place the mats together again? You seemed to have been cold last night."
Gio felt a hot flush capture his face. He was thankful for the fact that they were in semi-darkness so Lee would not see his embarrassment. "Uhhh, yes, please. That would be great," Giovanni mumbled.
Once settled, under the coverings, Aelius took Giovanni in the crook of his arm, and held him in a protective way. Gio was at a loss as to guess what Aelius expected of him. He had grown up his entire lifetime in Roma. Even though he was only fourteen, he was familiar with what a slave was expected to do for his master or what a mentor expected his young eromenos to do for him sexually. However, Lee had not once made a gesture that was anything more than fatherly. Gio wondered if somehow, he had missed out on one important part of the equation. Was it his responsibility to initiate these nocturnal pleasures for his master? Or, maybe, since Lee was not from Roma, did he even expect the same thing as a citizen from the city, itself? He was saved from any more questions when Aelius spoke.
"Now where was I? Oh yes, Hadrienus was basking in the wealth of a fruitful catch, and my father was dead. I was convinced deep in my heart that his death was no accident, but how could I prove it? When he refused to give me my father's share of the profits from his last catch, I was even more certain that in Hadrienus's chest there beat the heart of an evil man.
"Less than a week later, I was walking near the square in the village one day at dusk, when I heard two fishermen talking loudly. They were obviously drunk, and did not notice my presence. One proceeded to tell the other one how a terrible secret was gnawing at his innards. The other man snorted and said the only thing eating his stomach was too much sour wine. The first man was insistent, however. He said he was at sea the same fateful night my father died. His boat was several leagues away, but what he witnessed happen on my father's boat did not appear to be any accident. He could not be sure as it was too far away, but he thought that Hadrienus was indeed responsible for my father's death.
"At that point, I lost my temper. I ran straight to the house of Hadrienus." Aelius's voice trailed off. When, after several moments, he did not continue, Giovanni stirred in his arms. This movement seemed to wake Aelius from this reverie. "I killed a man that night," he said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself.
After a few moments Aelius continued, "In my rage, I did not stop to get the identity of the man who saw my father killed. I also was not careful that there were no witnesses when Hadrienus died. Several soldiers from the army came the next day, and took me into custody. I turned our household over to my younger brother; I knew I would not be coming home again. I might have gotten off lightly if I had killed a slave, but killing a Roman citizen meant it would only be a matter of a few short days before the people of the village would see me hanging on a cross."
His voice was low, almost a murmur, but in the quiet of the night, Giovanni could hear every word. In fact, his soto voce brought a certain intimacy to the dark room. Giovanni shifted positions again, snuggling closer to Aelius. He laid his head in the crook of Aelius's arm, and tentatively placed his own arm over his master's chest. Aelius did not seem to object. Indeed, he shifted the arm partially under Giovanni up and began to stroke the lad's hair. Giovanni's heart skipped a beat. He wondered if this would lead to what he had been longing for. Alas, Aelius's fingers ceased their movement, even as his breath took on a regular rhythm that could only mean that he had fallen asleep.
chapter four
Giovanni sighed. He was dying to know what had happened to Lee, how he gained his freedom after being apprehended, and how he managed to alter a course with crucifixion as its destination. It was not his choice to make, however, and the deep rising and falling of Lee's chest meant that nothing more would be forthcoming this night.
He had been so caught up in the story Lee was telling, that he had almost forgotten his desire to be close to Lee. Now however, with no story to distract his brain, his body responded to the fact he was lying next to a man, mysterious and gentle, but who was obviously also deadly. His pisello filled with blood until it was almost uncomfortable. Gio reached down and began to stroke it slowly with one hand, while his other traced circles around Lee's nipples, which had become hard nubs under his ministrations.
A soft moan came from Lee. Gio froze. He was sure the pounding of his heart alone, was enough to wake his master. Lee's chest however, continued to rise and fall rhythmically. Gio recognized the moan. It was the same sort that his father and mother often made. He guessed that Lee, although asleep, was enjoying his touch. Slowly, ever so lightly, he let his hand drift down Lee's chest. Gio could not believe what he found below Lee's naval. Lee's member was as hard as his own! A wave of shivers went through Giovanni's body as his hand gently rested on Lee's swollen pisello. Every hair on his body was standing up, making him tingle with excitement. His mouth was completely dry, from the combination of fear, excitement, danger, and desire.
Slowly and again lightly, so as not to awaken his master, Giovanni cupped his hand around Aelius's swollen, hard manhood and began an up-and-down motion. Even though he could go only on touch alone, it seemed to Gio that Lee's pisello was much the same size as his own, except for Lee's head that flared out, much larger. Lee moaned again, brought his free arm up and placed his hand over Gio's. Again Gio froze. He thought for certain this time that he had awoken Lee.
He felt his member deflating. How would he ever face his father again, if Lee was angry with him; angry enough to take him back to his former, dreary life. Silently he cursed himself for his rash stupidity. Lee gave no other signs that he was awake, however. His hand, gripped Gio's own and started a firm stroking motion on his organ. Gio let out a breath he did not even realize he had been holding. "He must be dreaming," Gio thought with relief.
For a couple of minutes Gio continued to stroke Aelius's throbbing member, guided by his master's hand. Then, as is so often the case with human nature, given one bit, people are not satisfied until they have two. Stroking Lee's turgid manhood was more than Gio had ever imagined could happen but he wanted more. He wanted to see his master's swollen organ in its completely-erect state. Slowly he extricated his hand from that of Aelius, and wriggled his way down under the covering.
Then he discovered a problem. In a darkened room, it is even darker under a cover. "For the light of Mithras," Giovanni cursed at his thwarted desires. He was about to give up his quest, and settle for touch alone, when he made yet another discovery. His sense of smell worked just fine in the darkness. He inhaled deeply the musky scent that was Aelius. Gio had never smelled anything like this before. It was an intoxicant as could never have come from the god Bacchus.
He moved his nose a little closer and sniffed once again. The thought ran through his mind to wonder at the taste of Lee's private parts. Startled, he wondered where that idea had come from. That was not something he had ever witnessed his mother do to his father. Where had that thought come from?! The idea had already taken root in his mind, however, and was growing quickly ever stronger. His own member, recently softened from fright, was once more painfully erect. Making sure Lee was still asleep, he stuck out tongue, and placed the tip of it on Lee's hard manhood.
The shock Giovanni experienced was something akin to the result of rubbing two pieces of wool together vigourously. A tingle started at the tip of his tongue and traveled down his body even reaching the tips of his fingers. It was the most exhilarating thing he had ever experienced. His own hard member jerked in response. He knew he had to have more, and slowly lowered his mouth over the tip of Aelius's hard prick, and manipulated his tongue in between the generous folds of skin that covered the head, and the crown, itself. The taste was incredible. It was hard to put into words; not unpleasant, but like something over-ripe. There was a tanginess to it, too. It took Giovanni but a second to decide he was a dedicated convert to this unique flavour. So compelling were his desires, that he threw caution to the wind, and started to devour the treat in front of him like a man starved.
The moaning from Aelius became more frequent, and louder. He began to gently thrust his hips, forcing his member further and further into Giovanni's mouth. Gio's own hands were busy too, one rapidly jerking his own pisello, while the other was on an exploration of every area of his master's body. Aelius groaned particularly loud when Gio took his ballsack in his hand and gently squeezed his master's balls. How anyone could remain asleep throughout all of this was a mystery to Gio, but at this point he was beyond caring.
Leaving just the tip of Lee's head in his mouth, he took his free hand, and rapidly started to masturbate his master's warm, silky-smooth member in time with his own. Giovanni knew his orgasm was approaching, and applied more pressure to both pricks, as he swirled his tongue around the head of Lee's which by now was bare, foreskin completely retracted. With a moan of his own, he began to shoot his warm seed. The cream spurting forth seemed as if it would never stop. While not immense in volume, one, two, three salvos of shooting cream wracked Gio's body. Four. Five. Six. The spurting had lessened in intensity, but not in the pleasure it imparted.
Just as his climax was tapering, he felt another new sensation in his mouth. Aelius gave one final moan, thrust his hips forcefully upwards and shot his own juices into Giovanni's mouth. The thought ran through Gio's mind that he ought not to spill it and make a mess, so he swallowed rapidly. It was unlike anything he'd ever before put in his mouth; warm, thick, sweet, but a bit bitter, all at once.
Out of breath, Giovanni collapsed, his head resting on Lee's abdomen. It was then, much to his dismay, that he discovered exactly where he had shot the product of his own stimulation: all over Lee's thigh. However improbable it was that Lee could sleep through such an incredible experience, Gio was certain that his master could not be oblivious to dried man-juices on this leg when he awakened.
After a momentary pause, Gio knew what he had to do. Once more bending his head over his master's crotch, he began to clean off his own seed from Lee's thigh. He ran his tongue along Lee's leg, much like a cat pruning itself. The taste was a bit different from Lee's. It was cooler now, of course, owing to the fact that it had been several minutes since he had spent his seed, but it was also a bit sweeter, in general less strong than his master's. Being careful to get every single drop, he crawled back from under the covers, placed his head once again in the crook of Lee's neck and shoulder, and fell fast asleep. In that last moment between wakefulness and oblivion, he remarked that his master's chest was still rising and falling with the same rhythm it had been before this incredible experience had started.