Sharpie

"My mother, Domine?" Rufus said, quickly dipping the rag in the water and beginning to wash the other man, beginning at his head. "She was British, I think from the Atrebates. She was very young when she was brought here - younger than I am now, even, I think. She was one of the mistress' maids."

He worked down, under-arms, chest, back...

"I got my hair from her, though, Domine," he added. "Hers was... beautiful, very long, a dark red I haven't really seen on anyone else."

It would be hard to, though, living in a land where everyone seemed to have brown hair and brown eyes and red or blond hair stood out like a jay in a dovecote.

@Gil

It was a sharp poke to his side that woke Rufus early the next morning. Very early; there was just a hint of light peering around the shutters.

"Yes, Domine," he said, as the command registered in his still sleepy brain.

He scrubbed at his eyes and rolled out of bed, yawning and shivering as he located his tunic and pulled it on.

Within the hour... that would be a quick wash and breakfast, then. He must have already said goodbye to Master Gaius, if he was expecting to be away so soon. He left, taking the basin of now cold water with him to replenish it with warm, and find someone to bring him breakfast, too.

It was not long before he was back, with a basin of warm water, accompanied by the same girl of that first evening, who was carrying a tray with bread, fruit, and various other breakfast items, as well as a jug of wine and a goblet. She set the tray down on the table beside the bed, gave a bob and retreated to the door, waiting for permission to leave, as Rufus waited for instructions: did Titus Flavius wish to wash himself, or want Rufus to do it for him, or what?

@Gil

"You did, Domine?" The brown eyes that met his were utterly serious before they closed.

Rome... the city of legends. Rufus would like to see Rome, the centre of the world. One day. Maybe not to live there, he would miss the hills and olive groves here, and the sea. But to visit, just for a bit...

He smiled to himself, even as those long sensitive fingers trailed over his chest. It wasn't healthy for a slave to dream, especially dreams like that. Keep your head down, don't look at the horizon, don't imagine there might be more to existence, to life, than this.

"Thank you, Domine."

What would it be like to actually be owned by a man such as this? Rufus didn't know, couldn't put it into words. It would have been nice, he thought, his own eyes drifting closed, though he remained alert for a while in case the citizen wasn't as sleepy as he seemed and wanted something more.

@Gil

"Yes, Domine." Teutus kept to himself the thought that he had no intention of boasting about it  - the other slaves no doubt would dislike it immensely, whether he boasted or not. He also made no mention of the fact that if Antonia Varia had been born, say Antonius Quinctilius Varus, Tertius likely would never have extended such an offer to his slave-born son.

He also kept to himself the thought that he would allow his slaves to earn their freedom, or give them the chance of it at some point; his father might be a good master but the very good ones at least gave their slaves the opportunity of freedom.

As for being Tertius' son... he'd been kept in a strange sort of twilight world for years: a slave and therefore owned, yet the master's son who would one day be his heir and the son of the house. It hadn't engendered any popularity with the rest of the staff. They all knew he'd get his freedom one day, why boast about it now that the time had arrived? They'd be calling him 'Domine' soon enough, no need to rub it in before it happened.

"Thank you, Domine. Will there be anything else?"

@Atrice

"I'm sure he'll be all right," Antonia said, though Teutus was not sure of anything of the sort - something like that might not be able to be made right. He could very well see why Helios had come to the temple to beg for divine aid.

Teutus wasn't sure what to say; meeting someone for the first time in the temple of Apollo Medicus generally meant people were worried about health problems, either their own or those of a friend or family member.

"I hope your friend recovers soon, with no more memory of it than a story to tell over a cup of wine," he said, tightening his hold on Antonia, who'd found something fascinating about the other's hair or clothing or something. "I've heard that wine poured over such wounds helps keep them from getting infected," he added neutrally, though presumably the medicus who'd treated him must have used that remedy, or something like it.

"What was he doing to get bitten by a dog?" Antonia wondered before Teutus could shush her - not that his instructions were entirely effective. He might be her older brother, but she knew he was a slave and treated slaves much as any free person did.

"I beg your pardon, you don't have to answer if you'd rather not," Teutus told their new acquaintance, vowing to tell Antonia why you couldn't ask questions like that of people who were worried about their friend's health.

@Atrice

"The daughter of Senator Tertius Quinctilius Varus," Teutus added, seeing that Antonia's attention had wandered on to the next thing. Helios was obviously a slave like himself, the single name and garments that he wore could not be anything other than a slave's, and he could see how he'd received the name, too; even in the quiet cool dimness of the temple, the man's hair shone like a corona. Or the sun's rays.

Antonia's face was suffused with concern at the injury of the man's unknown friend. "I'm sure he'll like your flowers, if he likes mine. I come here to pray for a friend too, she hurt her wrist."

"A daughter of a neighbour's, she and my Domina are playmates," Teutus put in, in explanation.

"Teutus says that flowers you picked yourself are the very best sort to give," Antonia added confidingly, and leaned over awkwardly to pat Helios' knee, and repeated her reassurance. "I'm sure if 'Pollo likes my flowers, he'll like yours too. Is your friend very badly hurt?"

Teutus was caught somewhere in the middle of wanting to say that you couldn't just pat random strangers, and being grateful that Antonia hadn't launched herself out of his lap to hug the man. She was sensible, for a nine-year-old, if extremely confident and sure of herself. Her father spoilt her, but she was generally nice to the people she met. It might be because her brother was a slave that she was conscious of that distinction between people. He just hoped that she would continue to be nice to people she met!

@Atrice

...or be for you, Domine?

A hand in his hair, soft, soothing, gentle. An arm and leg across him, pinning him down - he couldn't even raise an arm like this.

A mouth on his, kissing softly, tenderly,  the way you'd kiss a girl you liked. The only thing Rufus could do was open his mouth and respond to that kiss, to kiss back. This was nice, after the rough hungry kisses and the rough desperate coupling of earlier. Not to be expected to do anything, not to have to serve, or offer his body in any way, just simply to lie here and be, letting the other dictate for him what he was going to do.

Pinned to the bed just by a couple of limbs... he wondered whether this might build up to another round, or was just a pleasant finale before falling asleep. Either would be... nice, in their own ways.

He'd never had this sort of effect on anyone. Master's fat friend like to fuck him because he was mostly quiet, where the others either got too lippy or too teary. It was a job for Rufus, a risk of his slavery and there was no need to make a fuss.

This time had been different, though. There was some of that impersonal attitude all Romans had towards their slaves, but there was something more, and Rufus had enjoyed the few times they'd lain together - even that one freezing night when Rufus hadn't come at all.

@Gil

There was barely time for Rufus to draw a breath between draping the cloth over the edge of the bowl and being told to strip again. He set the bowl to one side, near the brazier in an attempt to keep the water from growing too cold, and quickly pulled his tunic back off, folding it to set aside with his belt, and came to lay back down on the bed, on his back, though he turned his head to see the patrician.

"What can I do for you, Domine?" he asked, wondering if it was any more than simply being a warm body in a bed on a cold night.

This was not what he had come to expect of  the citizen. Every other time, it had been a quick fuck (or blow-job) and then he'd rolled over and gone almost straight to sleep. This... was unusual.

@Gil

Rufus let out a long slow quiet breath, knowing how close he'd come to getting in trouble.

"A cloth, then, Domine." He rolled off the bed onto shaky legs, feeling the trickle of the man's essence slowly begin leaking out of him. Titus Flavius was not the only one to require a cloth.

He reached for his discarded tunic and added another couple of pieces of wood to the brazier; there was no reason to let that die down too much just yet.

A basin of warm water and a cloth would be quick to locate, he hoped. Anything else would require rousing someone, or making two trips.

@Gil

"A cloth, Domine." Rufus felt wrung out, somehow. The citizen still lay on top of him, in him still, even. He made no attempt whatsoever to get off Rufus to allow the slave to go anywhere and fetch anything, however.

"Domine, you can think all you like, but you will have to let me up if you want me to fetch a cloth, or anything else at all." Rufus spoke without parsing the words, and his eyes widened, then dropped, as he registered what he had just said.

Three days' perfect service to be marred by one unthinking moment. That he had just come was no excuse, there could be no excuse.

"I beg forgiveness, Domine. I spoke without thinking."

@Gil

Rufus didn't honestly care, right now, if he were nothing more than a receptacle for the other's passions and needs. If all the kisses and nips and nibbles were any indication, he was more, there was more to this coupling than just slaking a need. He was breathing raggedly, quivering under all the sensation, trying to meet each thrust as it came and when those long smooth fingers wrapped around his cock, his hands slipped down to grasp the bedclothes as he was wrung dry right as he felt the other reach completion inside him. He didn't know whether it was his own stiffening in completion that tipped the other over the edge, or if it was the citizen's getting there first that did it for Rufus - and he didn't care.

"Oh... Domine..." he breathed, lifting a hand to that soft short hair. The first time he had asked if he had been pleasing, he had been told in no uncertain terms to be quiet and go to sleep, and he wondered if that would be the case tonight.

Anyway,  a slave who had to keep asking whether her was pleasing would soon find out that he was not, any more.

@Gil

It was slow, which was good... and frustrating, at one and the same time. Rufus didn't want this night to be over, didn't want the man to leave and never be seen again, didn't want a lot of things like that.

But who cared what a slave wanted, or didn't want? Their wishes weren't important, they weren't important.

But his pleading resulted only in a soft, almost gentle whisper and a movement in, filling Rufus as deep as possible, even as the fingers loosened their death grip of his hair. And then he was being kissed again, and his clean hand moved from the man's shoulder, daringly, to his hair, a gentle, whisper-light touch in case he was chastised for the boldness of it. It was soft and warm beneath his fingers.

And then the motions began, not desperate, but rhythmic, a glide in and out that Rufus lifted himself to meet, his own cock only receiving indirect stimulation from being rubbed between them. He would take pleasure from giving pleasure, but this was more than a desperate rut such as a man might do with any slave. This felt more like a love-making, if such a term could be used in this context.

@Gil

"I brung him flowers," Antonia said, before she discovered her sense of shyness and put Teutus between herself and the blond man as they sat down.

"Very nice flowers, Domina. You picked them yourself, didn't you? I think he'll like them."

The shyness dissipated enough for Antonia to peek out. "Did you come to pray too?

"Hush, you can't ask things like that," Teutus said, and gave the other man an apologetic look.

"We're in a temple, I don't see why I can't," Antonia retorted, swinging her legs. "Anyway, he asked me a question, I was only askin' one back to be p'lite."

She shifted onto Teutus' lap, curious about the other man but wanting the security of someone she knew, as well. "If I can't ask that, what can I ask? Can I ask his name?"

Teutus thought it was supposed to be a whisper, but she'd gone for the ear nearest the other man simply by virtue of how she'd ended up sitting, and he thought the question was likely to be perfectly audible even before she actually spoke in a tone supposed to be heard.

"Yes, but you have to tell him yours, too," Teutus told her, not unreasonably.

"I'm Antonia Varia, and this's Teutus. He's my... brother."

"Slave," Teutus said, at the same moment, and shrugged. "Same father, different mothers," he added in explanation. "I'm sorry for this, when you just wanted some peace and quiet."

@Atrice

Well, they'd see what happened when it came down to it. Ne need to rush to count chickens before the eggs hatched, of course.

It would be something, to attain all the ranks of the cursus honorum - if he could do so in his year (the youngest it was permissible to hold each office), even better. There would always be those who would sneer at him for having been a slave, but it was what he did that mattered, not what his past had been. If only he could be utterly certain that it would not be snatched away from him at the very last second... but it had been promised for so long, had been always a thing that was going to happen, that he could not see it not happening now that it had finally been given a set date and time.

"I don't think I have any further questions, Domine," he said. Take the rest of the day off... he certainly would. It would be something, to wake up in two days' time able to make his own choices in how to spend the day - there would always be duties, but if he decided to spend the afternoon at the baths, who was going to stop him?

He was going to enjoy being free, he thought. Certainly the first few days, until they got things in place for whatever his career path might look like. There would probably be shopping of some sort to be done, too; he would be entitled to wear a toga or pallium, and not just a tunic, though he was very sure the extra garments would take some time to get used to wearing.

Awake tomorrow morning... he was used to waking early and foresaw no reason tomorrow would not be the same as any other day as far as that went.

"Thank you, Domine for..." For finally getting on with it were obviously words he could not say. "For arranging all of this."

@Atrice

There were bound to be more marks, marks of teeth, more sucked-dark hickeys, marks of all kinds, scattered across Rufus' neck and shoulders come tomorrow morning, but he didn't care. That single finger was a pale mimicry of a cock, being both too thin and too short, and merely served to tease without even coming close to giving full satisfaction. And then he had the other lying full length on top of him, though thankfully he wasn't taking the whole of the man's weight.

His leg was lifted, hooked around the man's arm as he thrust in, halfway, and then stopped dead, teeth nipping at his ear-lobe before there was a threatening growl... "Please, what?!"

"Please, Domine... Oh, fuck... Domine, please fuck... me...."

Those fingers were painfully tight in his hair and he had almost no ability to move, not under the weight of a man taller than himself (and well-fed, to boot!) but he couldn't help trying to wriggle, to gain some sort of stimulation somehow. His own hands were on the other's upper arms, but even now, he didn't dare to do anything that might leave a mark of his own - he was a possession, he could not possess or be seen to have done so.

@Gil

Of course, one of the unspoken things with being a slave was that you were expected to tell the truth at all times. Or what the free wanted to hear, which they regarded as the truth. That it was the case in this instance was almost meaningless when Rufus knew it would be taken so whether he meant it or not. (Thank all the gods he was not a prostitute, he did not think he could bear to murmur the pleasant nothings they were expected to employ daily.)

Whatever else might potentially be fake or faked, Rufus' arousal was very real. The hand in his hair tightened its hold, painfully gripping a fistful of hair and pulled back, tipping Rufus' head back and exposing his throat helplessly. His larynx moved under tight skin as his swallowed, groaning as lips and teeth found their target and sucked, hard, leaving a dark mark that would be very visible over the neckline of his tunic. A single finger circled his entrance, teasing, stroking, for long, long minutes, bringing a sob to his throat. He was caught between conflicting sensations, strung taut in the hands of a master. Just as he thought he could not take much more of the finger just rubbing right there, it pushed inside, hard and fast, accepting no refusal and bringing forth a stuttering sort of groan.

If all Titus Flavius wanted was to take what Rufus could offer, all Rufus could offer was himself and his body - which wasn't even his own to offer.

"Oh, please..."

@Gil

It was a copper-haired young girl who was the next supplicant. She could only have been about nine or ten, and was attended by a young man several years her senior. The girl was obviously well-to-do, and the young man looked as though he were her pedagogus, the slave who would take her to and from school, carrying her wax writing tablet.

"Lift me up," she demanded, and the young man bent to oblige her, so that she could deposit her offering on the altar.

"You need to say a prayer, Antonia," he told her quietly, waiting as she arranged the slightly crushed flowers to her satisfaction.

"Domina, when we're in public, Teutus," she said imperiously, looking for all the world like a miniature Augusta. "What do I say?"

Teutus grinned. "O Apollo, god of medicine, please hear my words and heal... what's your friend's name?"

"Rufilla Salvia, Teutus - you know that!"

"I'd forgotten the second bit," Teutus said. "And heal Rufilla Salvia, let my offering be acceptable to you. And that's it."

"I'm slipping!"

Teutus hiked her a little higher, grinning.

"O 'Pollo, god of med'cine, hear my words an' heal Rufilla Salvia - she's my best friend, lives near us on the Quirinal - an' make her wrist better again where she hurted it. An' please like my flowers, they're picked special for you."

Teutus turned his head away at this irreverent, but utterly sincere prayer, and caught the eye of a man sitting on a bench at one side of the temple. Antonia Varia was wriggling in his arms, now, impatient to be put down, so he obliged her.

"Shall we sit down for a bit before we go home?" he asked, seeing that there was room on the bench, and knowing it was a long walk back up to the Quirinal from here.

"All right!"

He took her hand and they crossed to the bench. "May we join you, sir?"

@Atrice

It was never a good idea for a slave to fall for a free person (and rarely a good idea for a slave to fall for another slave, but that was a completely different story!). The power imbalance was too great, there was an inherent superiority on the part of the citizen, and a corresponding inferiority on the part of the slave, especially if they'd been a slave for a while or had been born into slavery. Rufus knew all that, knew it and didn't care. He was never going to see this citizen again, after all - or was unlikely to see him again, anyway. He wasn't so lacking in control that he would let himself fall in love with the man, though if they spent longer together it might end up up with Rufus being love with him. But a purely physical attraction, coupled with actual respect and not the respect engendered by their society and their ranks within it... Rufus would admit to that, freely.

He was by no means an unwilling bed partner but respective ranks dictated that he take the passive role, and his unfamiliarity with the man - and the citizen's own temperament - meant that Rufus was bound to follow the other's lead rather than really initiate anything of his own accord.

Before their mutual hand-jobs could get too far, and lest Rufus forget why he was here, the prick he was holding (and that was now covered in oil) was pulled from his hand and a slight alteration of their positions meant that it was nudging against that intimate part of him, just resting there, teasing him with what was going to happen, a threat (if you will). Rufus' own cock was abandoned, the hand that had been holding it lifted to his thigh instead. He groaned quietly at the abandonment even as his own empty hand rose to settle on the other's waist, his thumb running along the scar that had so fascinated him the first time he saw it, and that he now knew the story of (all praise to Jupiter for Master Marcus Tullius Messala's insatiable curiosity!).

His breathing was unsteady and he shifted his hips a little, wanting more contact, of whatever sort.

He smiled, his head turned to the side to allow the citizen to do what he wished along jawline, neck and shoulder. "I will miss it, very much, Domine," he murmured. "I have... I have liked being of service to you... and in this way the best of all."

@Gil

Sort-of character development, sort-of ideas generating, sort-of discussion...

I know she's up as a  suggested PB for a wanted character, but this shot of Rachel Brosnahan from The Dovekeepers looks like she could be Rufus' mother - or an older sister I didn't put on his app because I didn't realise this pic existed...

Who do you have in mind for potential NPC PBs for character relations? (And if those relations are still alive - unlike Rufus' mother - why not put up a wanted for them?)

Tertius' daughter... of course she'd be referred to as Tertius' daughter, even though she was Teutus' sister and hadn't really been taught any differently.  Hector, he knew of course; he was as close to Hector as to any other slave in the household. Favian was new and they hadn't really had much to do with one another. There was no reason any of them should not be there, no reason Tertius should not invite half of Rome if he chose - Teutus had no say in any of that right now. His opinion was not something Tertius really sought - why ask what a slave thought about something, really, even if the slave was your son?

Teutus hadn't thought about political office and the cursus honorum, assuming that path would be barred to him. But if it were a possibility, he should at least consider whether that were a path he would be willing to take. He tightened his grip on the wax tablets he was holding, and thought.

"I would seek to bring honour to the family name if that path were open to me just as if it were not. I would be greatly honoured to follow in my father's footsteps in the cursus honorum if I can, but if that path cannot be open to me, then I shall do you honour where I may, Domine," he said, carefully, not entirely liking the sly look on his father's face. He did not dare to hope that something could be done for him to rise through the ranks of quaestor, aedile, praetor and then (maybe?) the dizzying rank of consul.

He would have to do military service first, of course - it was what he had been thinking of doing anyway, whether or not it could lead to greater things.

"If I cannot, I might do well in the legions, Domine," he added, trying to show that he had thought about it, that he wasn't about to pin everything on something that may or may not happen (he'd had enough disappointment in his life to shy away from inflicting more of the same on himself, after all).

@Atrice

Their lips came together again and Rufus tasted the wine that Titus Flavius had drunk at dinner, and the herbs of the meat sauce... A hand behind his head prevented him from moving his head back and breaking the kiss, but having initiated it, Rufus was content to allow the citizen to dictate how long it lasted, how deep it would be.

An electric shiver went through him as a hand not his own closed over his cock, those strong refined fingers stroking over the velvet skin of his erection, slipping with the oil coating them, even as Rufus' hand worked at the other man's own prick in a similar fashion.

He was unable to prevent the soft moan in the back of his throat as the kiss  broke, but then his lip was taken gently between the other's teeth and bitten softly, not enough to draw blood, before those teeth grazed his jaw and down to his neck, where he let his head fall back to allow access, unconsciously pushing into that hand holding his manhood.

He lifted a leg, wrapping it around the other, holding him close, unthinking of what it might look like, or suggest. A slave wanting a citizen, especially one who'd initially used him just because he was there... It was just sex. There hadn't needed to be any reciprocation initially but Rufus had been attracted to him, was attracted to him.

He couldn't find the words to ask how the citizen wanted him, was perfectly willing to be moved as the citizen wished, placed in whichever position best suited him. It was going to be a good fuck either way.

@Gil

And suddenly there was no sensation, all contact was gone, except his legs were pushed apart and the other man was kneeling between them, and then his hand was seized, and a good amount of oil was poured into his palm, some probably dripping down to the bed (not that anyone was thinking about that right now!) and then their hands were sliding together so that the other man's hand also ended up covered in oil and then Rufus found his hand being wrapped around the stiff length of the other's cock. He knew what to do with that well enough, though he couldn't help jerking a little in surprise as oily fingers reached to his buttocks, then his balls and a thumb rubbed gently along the skin behind his balls, sending shivery fluttery feelings through him.

He rubbed at the cock in his hand, thumb swiping gently, delicately, over the head, and shivered again at the look in those hazel eyes watching him imperiously, gone dark with lust and arousal.

Would it break the rhythm too much if... Did he dare ask...? He didn't care any more, the other was leaving tomorrow and who knew if they'd ever do this again. Despite everything, Rufus lifted his head off the bed, his request clear even without words: another kiss, please Domine...

@Gil

Oh Jupiter!! The rest of the household knew for certain before he did? Of course they had, there had been just a little bit more caution around him today.

"I just... I hope they don't all decide to wander along tomorrow, Domine, that's all. To the law-court, I mean." They could wander along to the house as much as they liked, and he had little doubt they would. Tertius would probably want to throw a party, though Teutus had no friends he could invite to such a thing.

He had no wish for all his father's relations, and half his political allies (and possibly a bunch of political enemies) to wander along to witness Teutus in his loincloth. Naked at the baths was one thing, when everyone else there was naked too (and the slaves were in loincloths) but to be the only person deliberately in such a state... It would be over quick enough, anyway. No point in dwelling on it.

"You do remember that even as your son, I'll still be barred from holding political office, Domine?" he asked. There were many many things he could do, but politics... his own son could hold office, but the only way Teutus would be able to would be if the Emperor effectively ruled him to have been freeborn. He thought; he could be wrong.

@Atrice

Rufus barely managed to take a breath before he was pulled down onto the bed, ending up on top of the citizen before he was physically rolled over, bodily, onto his back with the other man on top of him, his hands all over Rufus at once, seemingly, roaming from thigh to belly to arse, back, chest, shoulders to finally tangle in his hair.

Rufus' own work-roughened hands slid over the patrician's skin, a lighter touch as though afraid he would be forbidden from touching in return. He was certainly returning the kiss with equal passion, though, something he had not been able to do the first time they'd coupled. There was no run-up to this, no earlier activity to burn off the energy (unless you counted the ride home, and Rufus did not think that was recent enough, or a frantic enough dash. There had certainly been no walk along the sea-shore tonight.

Gods help him, but he was turning into a lovesick girl. He lifted his hips, as much as he could with the solid (though welcome) weight of the man on top of him, trying to rub their crotches together although he had no leverage to do so nor room to move.

@Gil

Rufus had not expected the other to be quite as direct, somehow. His master's guest crossed the room in about two strides, tipped Rufus' face up and kissed him, about as hungrily and forcefully as he had that first night. This time, however, it was not so demanding that Rufus could not kiss back. Which he did.

Those smooth patrician hands were wandering all over him, possessively, intimately,, one slipping to fondle and knead his bum through the tunic he wore.

He was panting a little, startled and aroused, and was unable to prevent a soft sound of frustration escaping when Titus Flavius pulled back, only to order him curtly to undress. Sensing the other's impatience, and not wishing to add to it, he hastily pulled off belt, tunic and loincloth, dropping them into as neat a pile as he could manage without stirring that impatience into anger.

He hadn't seen the other man angry yet, and had no wish to learn how quickly he could reach that point, and what his anger would be like when he did reach that point.

"Domine," he said, straightening up, to find the other man also naked, his own garments merely dropped to the floor and left to lie where they landed.

@Gil