Gil

Persephone had shut the door to the small bedroom once Lexus and Phaedo had stepped inside. It was dark as pitch, but there would be less chance they'd be seen or heard this way. The two boys got her mistress laid out on her bed. The slave didn't care if Prima was in a comfortable position or not. The other girl had ruined her own fun, so let her wake all stiff and cramped! The boy she'd been walking and talking with had leaned up against the wall, hardly detectable but her eyes were quickly adjusting to what scant light there was. When he whispered to his friend that they should go, Persephone stepped quickly to him, lifting her arms to rest on his shoulders. She leaned her body against his, her mouth ready to seek his in the darkness, her nose guiding her to the source of the fumes of wine coming forth with each one of his worried breaths.

"You don't have to run off. We'll be safe here. I tell you - no-one else is about," she whispered. "Stay with me. Your friend can keep watch for us..."

She closed the final few inches and pressed her lips to Lexus'.

@Atrice

The medicus worked methodically, first cleaning the wound, and then rinsing it with some hotter water in which herbs had been infusing, to somewhat assist in the healing process. Medicine was far from a certain science. There was much that was not within his power to address. Having probed gently, he had come to the conclusion that the wound would do better with a pressure bandage than to try to stitch up the jagged and torn edges of skin. Plus if the wound was going to fester, it would be better to not sew the infection up tight inside the muscle. He relayed as much to Helios and Calvunus as he finished up the cleansing part. Calvunus merely grunted. He was fine with whatever, if only the old kook would be done and leave him to get shit faced drunk so he could sleep.

In answer to Helios' question, the old man replied mildly, "Well, that is in the hands of the gods, but yes, I think it will mend well enough. It looks worse than it is, actually. He'd lost some blood. But as long as he is kept warm and still, for a few days, that should cause no problems. Of course, infection is what we have to worry about. Being so close to the scrotum, it may be that the testes will be influenced. I've seen cases like this where the balls may shrivel up to nothing" He shook his head a bit gravely, and Calvunus would have exploded, but he was in too much pain and half blotto with the wine already. So he only slurred, in an agonized way, "My-my...b-balls? What? What are you saying??

On the inside, the medicus was laughing at his little joke. He was a mild mannered, quiet old man, who wouldn't say boo to a mouse. So it amused him sometimes to take these cocky young arses down a peg or two. Oh and weren't they all so worried about their dicks and their balls?! It was too funny. Of course, he didn't let on he was having a little joke at Calvunus' expense. That would have been an exceptionally foolhardy thing to do. After all, the thug was very unlikely to die!

He reached to pat Calvunus' hand. "There, there. No need to worry about that now. With luck and someone to keep an eye on things, I'm sure you'll come right as rain." He cast a glance at Helios. "Looks like you have at least one friend here. I'm sure he'll not mind to lift your skirts and take a peek at your tackle a few times a day, hm?" He winked at the whore.

Within the half hour, the medicus finished up by swabbing some ointment around the wound site and bandaging it up loosely. It was enough to encourage the bleeding to stop - if Calvunus would lie still and let his body do its thing. But it was not so tight that no air at all could get to it. By this point, Calvunus was almost insensate with the wine. At one point, his eyes blinked open and he slurred, "Thank-thank-than...you, 'Lios."

@Atrice

Could a man value his horse, his sword, his hunting hound, or covet those of another man? Yes, certainly. Where did those human beings born or forced into the status of slave fall, considered against that variety of possessions which a man might treasure or desire for his own? In the world into which both men, standing there, had been born, many held the belief that those enslaved were inferior by nature, not even human, lacking a soul. This might be considered especially true of those born into slavery. There was some who philosophized that bad luck might occasionally be at work, when a man was born free but later enslaved - and the one who suffered that bad luck might be some sort of equal to the ones who had not.

Titus, like many others (if not all) of his class were raised believing they had a right to domination – over free men, slaves, foreigners, the very earth itself. Only the gods were due his worship. It was this which in some large part helped him do, every day of his life, the things which he was tasked to do – by the Emperor, and by himself. Without a social structure that saw a few on top and many below their feet, it was believed that order would sink into chaos and all would collapse. In fact, the powerful nobility believed they were doing the rest of mankind a service by providing a world in which most could know peace and a full belly a good part of the time. That any one specific man might not be deserving of either high status or low was irrelevant. Men were born to live out their fate – that was a huge part of what he’d been taught, growing up.

But Titus had been a soldier for fifteen years. He had been handed the leadership of hundreds and then thousands of other men, without any real regard for his merit. And he had learned firsthand how rank structure was vital to conditioning and training men to literally march into the jaws of death, upon his order. Yet he had also seen, close up, every day, how often, the place accorded to a man, or not, by birth, had little to do with his true worth – and this most especially when it came to the men of his own class.

He’d been in too many battles to count, too many skirmishes to now have exact recollections of each. He’d been in tight spots and he had killed with the ferocity of wondering if he was about to draw his last breath. He’d seen men – human beings – on both sides of the field fight with a similar drive, to live, to avoid death, to win, to come out on top, and he’d come to the silent conclusion, in his own head, that men – those human beings that mirrored his own form – who seemed to think in such a similar, visceral way to his own, in those moments – could not possibly be as different as he had been taught. He’d worked perhaps even more closely than many a typical Roman with the Auxilia, men who were not citizens, who were looked upon as inferior, although free born, and he knew – train a man up, strip a man down to the bare essence of survival in the moment when his head was about to be bashed in, or a spear about to be thrust through his chest – and…all men were the same. He had, and would, put his trust in a man based on his true value as a soldier, and not anything handed out just because he had been fathered, or birthed, by this person or that one. It went against all that he had learned – these lessons that life had taught him – in the military.

There were no gods and social structure was there to keep his kind in power. All to the good, from his point of view. But that did not equate to a true, iron clad belief that any man standing before him, should be accorded, in his heart and in his head, the status their society gave him. To believe that would make him a fool indeed. There were men of merit in all strata, just as there were men who he would not trust, or value, even if outwardly it might be socially awkward or even potentially suicidal not to do so. Perhaps it was this aspect of the patrician which Rufus had caught a glimpse of, touched the edge of, felt as Titus’ breath warmed his neck, as they slept, together, man and man alongside the man and the slave.

Titus smiled at Rufus, a genuine smile of pleasure taken in his company, in his service, which Titus had valued. Rufus was good at what he did, he knew his stuff, and if life had cast him in the role of servant, well, at least he did that well and he seemed very much to have the potential to do more, much more. Titus could accord him merit, even if he was a slave.

He reached to clap a hand about Rufus’ neck and nodded. ”And you have done well. Keep it up. Who knows? One day you may see your chance to do even better. Even a slave can rise in station. You seem like such a one, Rufus.”

He let his hand fall and turned and left the room, ready to begin the trek back to Rome, his wife, his child, and his future. Although he had the sense as he walked to the stables that he would not completely forget this little side step in his long journey home.

@Sharpie

For the last time, Titus reached to touch Rufus' hair and he nodded. "I saw more than a few there, when I served in Britannia. Gold. And copper. And orange almost like the fruit. But yes, yours is like rust, or red clay. It's no wonder your master was not inclined to part with you. I'm sure you remind him of her."

He said no more. He let Rufus finish the washing of his skin, then the slave shaved him, dressed him, and buckled his riding boots on. Titus ate throughout, thus killing two needed birds with one stone of minutes spent in preparation for departure. When he was ready, sword buckled about his waist and cape over his shoulders, he flung the satchel across his chest by its strap, and nodded to Rufus. "Bring the saddle bags and that chest." Neither was heavy and should have presented little trouble to the slave.

Before Titus stepped through the door, he smirked and stooped and planted a kiss to Rufus' mouth. It lingered a short moment, but then Titus pulled back. "Mind that you take good care of your master. He values you, and you should value him."

@Sharpie

Titus had busied himself with jotting down a few notes, while waiting for Rufus to return. He was sitting at the table, rummaging in his saddle bags to find a piece of wax, when the young slave returned, accompanied by another. He withdrew his hand and looked at the girl. He gestured. "Leave us," he instructed, then gestured again, for Rufus to approach and he rose, pulling off his tunic. Apparently he was going to let Rufus do the fussing this time around.

"Tell me about your mother," he said, probably as if out of the blue, as Rufus began the ablutions.

@Sharpie

It might not have been as nice as Rufus might have thought. Rome was wondrous, but also noisy and dirty and smelly. And then life traipsing around the Empire - which was probably still in Titus' future - wasn't always safe or pleasant, as the last few days had borne out in miniature. Regardless, it was a moot point. Titus was actually disappointed, but the reason given, by Gaius, made it clear why Rufus was to stay, and why he was valued.

Titus said no more. His eyes remained closed. Within a few minutes, he was asleep.

******

The next morning dawned as mornings always do. This time it was Titus' eyes that opened first, before even the slave who shared his bed had stirred. Without any regard for that fact, Titus sat up, yawned prodigiously, scratched his chest and then his ear, stretched out his arms, and gave Rufus a poke with his hand. "Get up. I want to be gone with the hour."

@Sharpie

The kiss lingered a bit longer, and then Titus withdrew, tugging gently, playfully, on a lock of red hair. His eyes held Rufus'. "I offered to buy you, from your master. But he said he could not part with you. He values you. Remember that."

Titus then let his eyelids drop closed. His fingers moved to chase over the hair on the slave's chest. "It's a pity," he said, sounding sleepy. "I would have liked to take you to Rome with me. I would have valued you as well."

@Sharpie

"Nothing," came an almost lazy sounding reply. Titus had turned onto his side, as Rufus had lain down. Now he threw a long leg over the slave's and his arm across his chest. With Rufus' head already turned his way, Titus' fingers found their way to the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Slowly, Titus leaned over, to kiss Rufus, something slow and lingering.

@Sharpie

It was the work of...ten minutes or so? For Rufus to go in search of what was needed, and come back, and then do the "honors" of seeing to it that Titus was clean. Titus let himself be taken care of. He enjoyed it, although often enough he didn't care for people fussing over him. That was simply because it seemed he could do things quicker himself. But for now he was content, and he lay on his back, while Rufus rubbed the warm, wet cloth over various bits of his body. He watched him work. He seemed to like looking at Rufus, or maybe there was just nothing else to distract his attention in the moment. Actually, he did enjoy looking at the comely slave, and just as soon as Rufus put the cloth back in the bowl, Titus reached for his wrist, and sat up a bit more, propped on an elbow. "Take this off, and lay down with me," he said, pinching the cuff of the tunic Rufus wore between his thumb and fingers.

@Sharpie

Titus just laughed, amused. No he wasn't the type of man to tolerate disrespect from a slave. But to be fair, Rufus was right. He lowered his head for one more kiss before he pulled back, withdrawing his spent cock, then rolled off and to the side of the slave. This time, though, he did not close his eyes again, throw his arm over them or strive for sleep. "You make a good point," he said, laying on his side, tucking his arm under his head, looking at Rufus.

@Sharpie

The orgasm ebbing, his muscles relaxed. Yet this time he did not immediately roll off of Rufus. Titus waited, as his breathing came back to normal, and the thudding in his chest quieted a bit. With one arm, he held Rufus, eyes closed, the side of his head was pressed against his warm cheek, his breath on Rufus' neck. He felt the fingers running lightly through his hair. It felt good, that. His other hand was on the slave's hip. He chuckled quietly. "Oh Rufus..." Then he wiggled his fingers, the one on Rufus' side, the one into which Rufus had come, which was also the one which had been oiled up.

"I think...I need..a cloth," he said with amusement, pushing himself up a bit to smirk down at his redheaded bed companion.

Although, it was obvious, someone was going to have to move his ass, if he expected Rufus to fetch it for him - and he made no immediate move to do so.

@Sharpie

Was it something more than just the satiation of carnal lust? Was there some hint, some edge of something more mutual, less one sided, in the movements of Titus' body over and about and within Rufus'? Perhaps the slave was like a piece of furniture. But then, Titus didn't kiss his chairs and tables. Maybe Rufus was a speaking tool. Still, Titus never cradled his sword like this. There had to be some part of the slave's humanity, that reverberated within the patrician's chest, even if it was only temporary. Titus was no monster. He was good at what he did, and some of that had involved killing other men, sometimes even women and children, though not by his own hand. He had forced himself on those of both sexes, as a means of demonstrating conquest, in the wake of battle. But that had happened no more times than the number of digits on his one hand. He was ambitious. He knew very well what it took to rise through the ranks, both on merit and on appearances. He knew his place in this world. But he was as human as any man, rich or poor, and he liked what he liked, and sometimes for no better reason than he fancied red hair.

He did make love to Rufus, or he fucked him. Perhaps that was all in how one looked at it. He wasn't gentle. But he was kind, in a way. It wasn't like bending him over a chair and being done in two minutes. They were face to face, and Titus' lips never left Rufus', unless it was to press or nibble on some other part of his neck or shoulders or chest, or to look down into his sun freckled face. He took his time, and eventually, he felt his arousal building towards completion. He didn't attempt to find out of Rufus was near to the same feeling himself. But he took the slave's erection in his own hand, during the last rapid series of thrusts, and in rhythm with his moving body, he pumped his fingers up and down that hard shaft. Was it for himself, and some greater pleasure he derived from feeling another's cock in his hand, as he finally came groaning into Rufus's arse? Or was he in fact trying to give some pleasure, to a slave? Only the gods and Titus knew, and probably even he wasn't quite sure himself.

@Sharpie

"Dead? From a chill? Gods..." Titus' face undoubtedly registered how unexpected this news was. He was astonished. It had been no more than...six weeks...since Titus had supped in Messala's villa, at his farm in Paestum. Of course, life was never certain. People died every day, just as newborns came along to take their place. And Gaius had been no spring chicken. Still, it had taken Titus a moment to process what the slaver had said, his glance going first to the man, and then back to Rufus as he had added a quiet detail. Well, it wasn't as if he and Gaius had been close - the man was a contemporary of Titus' father. He himself had only met the man a handful of times. Still, it was a loss. The retired soldier was loyal to Caesar and Caesar's family and also canny. He would be missed for those attributes alone.

When Octavius leaned to whisper for his cousin to have a care, Titus looked at him and nodded., his thoughts all on this news of Gaius. No need to broadcast anything about his previous mission all over the market. His brows were drawn down in a slight frown, not in any way connected to the slave before them. He was only pondering on the swift and sudden hand of death, thinking of the two sons and what path their lives would take. Yet in the next moment, his gaze went back to Rufus, and certainly his eyes refocused on the young man and his mind turned to what the dealer had just said. Gaius' widow had wished Rufus to be sold? Now wasn't that ironic? After...

Well, it mattered not, the whys and wherefores. Rufus was here, and up for sale. He would have liked to ask him more questions, about Gaius and the sons and if he knew how things had been left at the home which the slave had apparently just recently left. Although there were certainly other means to get at the same information. And a slave might very well not be in the know - even though a household of slaves and servants was always like a gossip mill.

But Octavius had already moved the exchange with the dealer on, asking what slaves he had for sale, so Titus remained quiet, his eyes on Rufus, a thoughtful look on his face.

@Sharpie

@Sarah

@Gothic

 

 

Titus chuckled. It was a pleasant sound. Apparently he found the moment amusing. He was tempted to ask in response, "And if I don't?" But his own desire was too great. He wasn't a tease and he wanted what he wanted, without too much wasting of time. Instead, he said in almost a whisper, "Alright..."

He pushed in, and stopped, feeling the trembling satisfaction of filling Rufus up, at least as far as his cock could go. After a moment, he pulled back, and then plunged forward again, slowly, pausing again at the terminus of his course. As slowly, his fingers relaxed, and loosed in Rufus' hair. His other hand still gripped Rufus' leg, holding it up and out of the way.

Softer lips sought the slave's, and he kissed him less ferociously, but still greedily. He began to thrust in, and pull out, rhythmically, as their bodies and limbs entwined to whatever extent they could. Titus humped away, in no hurry yet to build quickly to a climax, and the friction of his lower pelvis and the area right below his navel should have been providing at least some stimulation to Rufus' poor neglcted cock.

@Sharpie

Please... Always polite - though Titus suspected that in the current context, the word had as much to do with everything a slave should not  be as much as the expected demeanor of subservience. It didn't bother him, though. It only encouraged him, just as perhaps Rufus had somewhat unconsciously meant it to. The kisses to his neck and throat were fierce, as Titus plunged his finger in and then withdrew it, almost all the way, before thrusting it in again and caressing Rufus from the inside. His erection rubbed back and forth against Rufus' thigh, leaving a thin trail of oil and pre-cum, his hips already rocking in anticipation. Then his finger was gone, completely, and in its place, his cock. Titus had shifted to lay atop Rufus, bearing as much of his own weight as he could on one elbow, though the fingers still wound tight in that red hair. His other hand lifted Rufus' leg once again and he pushed, entering the slave halfway on that first thrust. Chest to chest, he thrust inside, his lips pressed against Rufus' ear, as he growled, "Please what...?"

It was just a little game. A pleasant game, to pass the time, until it came time for him to depart, and leave Rufus behind, more's the pity.

@Sharpie

I want to make him! But I'll need some help I'll send you a PM.

The smirk remained. Of course there was a certain smugness to it, and to Titus' frame of mind as well. A slave - or any person he deigned to bestow such attention on - would do well to at least voice such a sentiment, regardless of how they really felt. Being fucked by Caesar's cousin was an honor, apparently. And even if he'd been bald, fat and toothless, no doubt he'd have heard something similar murmured. Yet, Titus was egotistical enough to believe that there was more then just deference to what Rufus said. The slave sounded sincere, and Titus had no problem whatsoever accepting that Rufus really had enjoyed their few physically intimate moments, regardless that they'd been once interrupted and a second time it had been all completely one way, to Titus' sole advantage. What slave wouldn't want such attention? Yes..he was very privileged and he thought the way men of his ilk did, in many instances.

But there was no denying, Rufus was aroused and receptive, or else he was just a good actor. Titus discarded that possibility, in favor of his own belief that Rufus really was enjoying his attention, and his shifting about propelled Titus further down the path of giving the slave the best fuck of his life - though mostly for Titus' own benefit, of course. The pleasure to be had by the slave was incidental and merely an ego stroke. The fingers that twined in Rufus' ruddy locks tightened their grip, and he pulled the slave's head back a bit, to even better expose his neck. He clamped his lips to it and sucked, no doubt he'd leave a mark. His other hand shifted, rubbing down the back of Rufus' raised thigh, once again finding his entrance, and he played it there, for a few long moments, stroking, before shoving his finger inside the slave's arse.

@Sharpie

If there was a - somewhat futile - attraction on the part of the slave (for what a slave did or did not find desirable was of no importance in this instance) - it was actually reciprocated by the man who held temporary sovereignty over him. This wasn't so odd or unexpected. Men, of whatever status, were prone to desiring others, be they male or female. Men of high status and power, like Titus, could be expected to find this face or that body attractive, desirable, perhaps even intoxicating or mesmerizing. Thus did courtesans and others - sometimes of the lowest class - rise in favor. Typically this was due to great physical beauty, sometimes helped along by a quick wit, an opportunistic outlook and skill at manipulating the men who desired them.

It wasn't something reserved exclusively for noblemen. Even a common plebe might lust after his comely cook, or a the head slave of a great household fall further enslaved by the beauty of the boy who cleaned the latrines. It might be a Roman virtue to exercise moderation and restraint in all things, including sexual appetite. That didn't mean it was always an unbroken rule, or even one which most citizens adhered to most of the time. Titus was no exception.

Admittedly, and quite obviously, he found Rufus quite alluring. It was a physical attraction. If fate had seen fit to throw their lots together, for longer, it might have become more. All men can fuck without thought beyond their physical pleasure. But, there is a pleasure to be had which transcends a simple orgasm. To form some bond with the object of your desire, to posses that person, in all ways, can shift purely physical release to something more. It wasn't to be, not with Rufus. Gaius had declined his offer to purchase the slave in whom he had seen such potential. In a word, Titus had taken a fancy to Rufus, and if tonight was going to be it, well, he intended to take his time and take his pleasure. Unlike three nights previously, it would not be merely a way for him to spend himself in order to find sleep. He meant to enjoy this - to enjoy Rufus - and in so doing, if he gave pleasure, he would, actually, enjoy that as well - even if, more often than not, he wouldn't have cared what was going on in the head attached to the body under him.

He continued to nip lightly along the crest of Rufus' neck, where it blended into the top of his shoulder. He liked the taste of skin on his tongue, and the feel of firm muscle between his lips. When Rufus lifted his leg, Titus shifted his hand yet again and wrapped strong fingers around that lean thigh. He slid from Rufus' grasp, to poke at his exposed entrance, not to penetrate, just to tease, the both of them. He heard the small sounds of pleasure coming from the redheaded slave and he smirked, breathing out a low, "I think we shall miss this game, hm?" as his hips moved slowly, pushing himself against Rufus.

@Sharpie

They were certainly on the same page, as if in the moment, there was a connection between them, forged of mutual desire. Titus bent to the unvoiced request and met Rufus' lips with his own. Wanting to keep tasting him, he stretched out beside Rufus, and as on the previous night, his free arm wrapped about Rufus head, pulling him close. With his other fingers, he continued fondling him, as the slave stroked Titus' hard cock. Their bodies pressed one to the other, and the feeling of Rufus' erection bumping against his own was highly erotic.

His oiled fingers moved upwards, coming to close over Rufus'hand, bringing their two cocks together, so that together, they could stroke each other, while their lower bellies parted only enough to allow the movement of their hands. Titus bit gently on Rufus' lower lip and then he grazed the edge of his teeth along Rufus' jawline, and thence to his neck.

In due course, with ample amounts of writhing, on both their parts, and touching and kissing, Titus shifted, to push himself up and off of Rufus, and come to kneel between his thighs. Reaching out a long arm, he captured the bottle of oil with one hand. With the other, he reached for Rufus' hand. Holding it, he poured a good amount over both their palms, and fingers, rubbing Rufus' in his own. Then he set the bottle back in its place, still holding onto the slave's hand. Then leaning over Rufus, he placed the redhead's hand on his stiff cock, leaving it there, with a clear intent that Rufus put that hand to good use. His own, slicked with oil, moved to search between Rufus' legs. From there it slid to his bottom, fingers probing,  while he used his thumb and the heel of his palm to gently massage his scrotum and the sensitive area between the two.

His eyes stared into Rufus' face with a marked intensity. But perhaps that was simply the look of arousal.

@Sharpie

In a motion, Titus had pulled Rufus down onto the bed with him, their bodies tangling momentarily, as the kiss resumed. Once again, Titus' hands roved freely, up and down, as if he wished to feel every part of Rufus, from thighs to scalp. This is where his hands ended up, running roughly through the hair that seemed to hold such intrigue and elicit such carnal desire in the patrician. With his body, Titus pushed Rufus onto his back, stretching out on top of him.

There would be no vigorous walk in the rain tonight. Whatever energy he had would be expended here, until he had found some relief, in the heated worship of Venus and her kin.

@Sharpie

Titus had no intention of wasting time. He walked straight to Rufus and cupped his fingers under the slave's chin, raising it up, and lowering his head to kiss Rufus, a bit forcefully. But there was mingled in the demand both passion and some frustration. The latter burnt up quickly enough. The desire would only build.

His hands roamed like prowling wolves, exploring and claiming, pulling their two bodies together, one hand slipping to grip and knead the flesh of Rufus' bottom. After a few moments of this very much lustful behavior, Titus pulled back and said curtly, "Get undressed."

Then for once, he yanked off his own belt and the tunic came next. The loincloth was unwound with almost a snap and the sandals he wore while inside were easily stepped out of. All of it fell to the floor, unheeded. Already, a half erection bobbed between his thighs. Apparently, Titus was ready to get done to business. He did mean to make the most of this last night spent with the red headed slave.

@Sharpie

It was a fine meal, and Titus enjoyed it, and the company of his host, his wife, and their sons. He didn't let on that Gaius minor and Marcus had joined him in his bath and peppered him with questions about the military life. The two seemed fairly circumspect about that themselves. Perhaps he'd drop a word in Gaius' ear later. The Empire needed good men in the army, protecting its borders and keeping order within them. It might not be such a bad thing to let at least one of the two pursue such a career.

The evening stretched out, not unpleasantly, and Titus was a good guest to have at table - congenial, good manners, a good story teller - he even knew a joke or two, although honestly, keeping people entertained and seeking attention was not part of his personality. Still, he was neither shy nor tongue tied, and although he had strong opinions, he knew the dinner table was usually not the best place to most effectively push them. 

The red haired slave was discretely in the background, both literally and in the back of Titus' mind. Gaius had remarked only, upon seeing the slave, with a "Oh good, excellent. Rufus can take your man's place this evening, if that will be agreeable to you, Titus." Admittedly, Titus enjoyed intermittent momentary thoughts of having sex with Rufus, one last time before he left, which popped into his head at random points throughout the prolonged meal. It might not have been considered a very masculine thing to do, allowing himself to dwell on sexual gratification. But there were many things that were aspirations, according to the standards of Roman virtues, which men and women fell short of every minute of every day, across the face of the Empire. Titus would never claim he was a paragon of those ideals. Far from it.

Finally, the hour grew late enough that Titus felt he should make his good byes and give his thanks to Gaius for all his help in this errand. He had a private word with his host, after the others had left, the outcome of which was only nominally disappointing. But he accepted what he was told with good grace and left the old man still with a warm embrace of friendship, both personal and familial. He returned to his room, expecting to find Rufus within - and this time, no Gallus.

@Sharpie

Perhaps it was a good thing that Titus did not, or could not, relax completely. Under the ministrations of another's skilled hands, and given the warm silence, he might well have relaxed himself right into sleep. But his energy levels weren't flagging yet, and so he stayed awake, and when the slave stepped back, he grunted in satisfaction. He rolled onto his side and then up to a sitting position, as he answered, "No. That will do. I wouldn't mind you applying the same skill to the front. But I'm afraid that would lead to me requiring another need to be met, and I'm sure your master would not appreciate me abusing his hospitality by  misusing his lovely bath in that manner."

He was looking at Rufus all the while, his eyes and lips holding humor, and not salaciousness, although he was referring to getting aroused and then being in need of sexual relief. There would be time for that later. At least, it was already on his agenda of "things to do" before he slept. Sex with Rufus seemed to have a very salutary effect on his insomnia. He would save that for right before sleep, and hope his luck with the slave held.

Instead, he rose and moved on yet again, to the adjacent caldarium, and went to step down into the heated water. He had a soak and it felt good, as surely it would, further loosening tight muscles and joints. He'd found it especially helpful for those times when his knee was aching. He sat, arms outstretched, head resting back against the lip of the good sized, in floor, bath. Soon, though, he was joined by one of Gaius' sons, and within a few minutes of that, his other son. They were young men, but just barely, somewhere in their late teens, and desiring to talk to the older man who had seen so much of military life. For they both wanted to pursue careers in the army, despite their father's desires that they stay and farm. Titus, aware of this already, was careful not to paint too glory-filled a portrait of life as a soldier. Though honestly, their own father had followed such a course so how could Gaius in good faith tell them no.

Apparently, having already known somehow that their father's slave waited upon the guest, the two lads had shown up without personal attendants of their own. No doubt they felt Rufus could handle whatever service was required for the three, as much as he could the one. In any case, after a good long soak, Titus cut short the curious questions and the intense attention with which the two boys listened to him. They were a rapt audience indeed. He wondered if their father even knew they'd snuck in, to pick his guest's brain - although they were polite in all ways.

"I think we had best be getting dressed and heading to eat the dinner which I'm sure your mother has taken pains to arrange and direct," he said with a smile.

He rose dripping from the bath, and nodded at Rufus, who seemed to be standing by, with a ladle , near the labrum, ready to douse each of them with some cold water.

@Sharpie

 

The bathing arrangements of Messala's home were a bit more elegant than those of the simple farmhouse of Frontnius. Naked, Titus nodded his assent, and moved into the tepidarium, which was beautifully tiled in mosaic, and pleasantly warmed with the heat coming from the pipes in the walls and floor. There was a marble bench, upon which was laid a thick cloth. It was certainly long and wide enough for him to stretch out on, and he did so, face down, resting his head on his crossed arms. Eyes closed, he tried to relax, although neither his life nor his nature lent itself to such. He supposed in the coming weeks and months, and ultimately years, he must readjust somehow, from being a man of action to a man of more cerebral battles. He was not daunted by the thought of such challenges. He simply knew himself well enough to know that lack of physicality in his life was going to play havoc on his peace of mind.

But for the moment, he enjoyed the touch of Rufus' nimble fingers on his skin, the feeling of his flesh being kneaded under skilled hands. Rufus was a good slave, a quality slave, and one of value. He'd be sure to speak of him again to Gaius, before he left Paestum.

@Sharpie