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Chapter Text

Crixus nods his thanks to the medicus and makes his way across the training sands. He sighs heavily staring at the closed door. He couldn't imagine taking over this cell when the man leaves. Already expressed his mind in this matter to Batiatus. That being said he hesitates in his actions. His plan seemed so logical and easy when he formed it this afternoon. Now? Well: his heart was pounding and his fist was just hovering in mid-air. 

"Do not crowd, either break words or fuck off." Gannicus' voice was muffled through the door but Crixus didn't miss the tone of annoyance. Sighing he pushes the wood open and steps in. 

"Apologies. I was trying to find voice." He mutters trying not to stare. Gannicus was, gorgeous as usual of course, but lounging in his bed in nothing but his loin cloth. Barely any bruising from such a wonderful battle. Which Crixus found unfair what with his own injury.

"Well find it quickly and begone from sight. I have much on my mind and do not need the intrusion." Gannicus waves his hand lazily not looking up. Crixus shifts leaning against the doorway. 

"I do not know how to express heart." Gannicus tilts his head still staring at the ceiling. 

"Your words hold naught but confusion." Crixus sighs the silence between them stretching on for what seemed an eternity. 

"Never before had I wished for something to call my own." Gannicus finally looks at him quirking an eyebrow, "If only for the purpose to give it to you. A memento to recall me on quiet moments." 

Gannicus very slowly sits up staring intently at Crixus. The man was impossible to read. Hesitant, his eyes full of passion as they always have been. A fire only dimmed by a lack of confidence. Something he will need; or he will perish. Gannicus resists the urge to roll his eyes. The dumb cunt.

"You are not a common slave. Neither are you a normal gladiator. Crixus you are unlike any man I have ever met. That alone will keep you in memories." He didn't miss the red that stains the younger man's cheeks when he was called by name.

"You honor me." Gannicus snorts.

"You honor yourself. I speak but truth." Crixus shifts before stepping closer. 

"I spoke to Barca earlier." Gannicus raises an eyebrow confused with this change of topic. 

"Speak clearly so as I may try and find rest." He was annoyed again and Crixus crosses his arms. Something Gannicus notices he does when he was nervous. The two were silent for a moment before Crixus turns to leave. Sighing Gannicus follows him, "Crixus, don't be a fucking cunt. Come. Break words." Crixus pauses looking over his shoulder.

"Do not patronize me Gannicus. The sword comes naturally to me. Words not so much." Gannicus puts a hand on his shoulder. 

"I do not seek to insult. Perhaps if you tried speaking from the heart instead of the brain?" He offered steering Crixus back to his cell, noticing Ashur with the medicus. Ashur had been glaring darkly at Crixus since he woke. 

"Perhaps. I only fear you will turn away in horror and disgust." Gannicus laughs loudly shutting the door behind them.

"Wine?" He offers. Crixus shakes his head. Gannicus shrugs pouring himself a cup. "Proceed. I swear to it the worst I will do is tell you to fuck off." Crixus chuckles watching him chug. 

"I was told by Barca that the last time a man tried to lay with you they ended up with no cock." Gannicus laughs again. Crixus smiles softly and it was strange because no man's smile ever made Gannicus's cock stiffen before. Yet......

"Where as that is true it is not the full truth. I rejected his advances and in turn he tried to strike me down the next time we entered the arena. Twas how Batiatus gained an interest in me." Crixus nods. Makes sense.

"So, if I were to inform you that I wish to give you pleasure like you've never had before nor ever will again as a way for you to remember me by you wouldn't try to kill me?" He asks shifting. Gannicus blinks at him eyes wide. Never before has someone tempted him with such words. 

"Gods help me I've never had a proposition like that before." Crixus looks at him nervously. "Tell me then," Gannicus stands waltzing over smirking at the way Crixus flushes a muscle in his jaw working furiously, "what exactly is it that you would do to me?" Crixus swallows before looking Gannicus dead in the eye,

"I would worship you as the God you are. My tongue would memorize every inch of your skin," Crixus steps forward into Gannicus's space, "I would have you writhing, cock leaking and aching as you begged for my touch," Gannicus lets his mouth fall open in surprise. He never thought of Crixus in a sexual manner before. But at his heated words he feared that maybe Melita would be the last woman he lay with. 

"You seek to rest your cock in my ass?" He asks sarcastically smirking to hide his sudden worry. Crixus's eyes become hooded his hand reaching out to trace the necklace hanging on Gannicus collar bone.

"I seek," He starts leaning in, breath hot on Gannicus's neck, "to have you desperate for it." Goose bumps fly over his skin as Crixus gently kisses his shoulder working his way up Gannicus's throat. 

His first instinct was to shove Crixus away from him. But something kept him rooted to the spot. His heart was hammering against his ribs trying to gather his thoughts. They were interrupted as Crixus sank his teeth into the tender part of Gannicus's neck. A moan slips past his lips uncaring of the clatter his cup makes when it falls from his hand. Crixus hums as if in thought as he starts caressing Gannicus's sides. The Celt shivers tilting his head so Crixus could have better access to his neck. It was inconceivable to him just moments ago, yet now he found himself suddenly curious as to why a man would wish to have a cock in the ass. 

"Crixus." He breathes gaining the man's attention. "If you mention this to a single soul, know-"

"That you'll come back from whatever brothel you've made a home at and part my cock from my body. I understand." Crixus murmurs running his fingers through Gannicus's hair. His breath hitches as Crixus walks him backwards against the wall. 

"With my bare hands" He gasps as Crixus continues lavishing his neck. The man was being tentative. Gentle but firm with his attentions. He surprised himself by spreading his legs when Crixus's thigh nestle's between them. Crixus was solid and heavy against him and Gannicus was scared by how comforting he found it. 

True to his word Crixus seemed to be mapping out Gannicus' torso using his mouth and tongue to drive him mad. Parts of him that he doubted would ever be pleasurable had him gasping and keening. At one point he thought he heard himself whimper when Crixus sucked a bruise on his wrist. Crixus drops to his knees in front of him making quick work of his subligaculum. Gannicus felt a tremor of shame at the erection that bobs free. He's lived his life being repulsed by the same sex, always favoring the fairer in the highest regards. But there was nothing to stop the twitch of anticipation while Crixus rubs circles in Gannicus's hips. 

"Not yet where I'd like you." Crixus comments spreading Gannicus's thighs nipping at them distractedly. Gannicus tilts his head back with a moan. He didn't know what that meant. But he knows he was jutting himself outwards silently asking for Crixus's attentions just slightly higher and to the left. Instead he works his way down to his knee, then back up the other one. A bruise was made on his hip bone and Gannicus gives a small shout at the sharp bite. 

"Crixus," He growls tangling a hand into his hair. He was a little sad when Crixus had stepped outside this morning and was clean shaven and trimmed. However now was not the time to be sentimental. "Move to purpose or find consent withdrawn." His voice was a little more gravely than he intended but with the smirk Crixus gives him, lets him know that his point got across regardless. 

"Impatient as with all things. I am surprised how quickly you wish for me." Gannicus's eyes pop open and scowls down at him.

"And you are slow, and slow-minded. Too timid to take what you want and most assuredly going to find yourself on your back yet again." Crixus quirks an eyebrow at him his smirk never faltering. 

"Perhaps when we meet again. But not tonight Celt." Gannicus squeezes his eyes shut helpless to suddenly be imagining Crixus on his back being taken by him. "There it is." Crixus praises at the clear liquid beading on his tip. Gannicus feels his face grow hot, realizing he was leaking with want. It wasn't until Crixus has his hand wrapped around the base does Gannicus realize what was about to happen. 

Crixus laps at Gannicus fueled by the noises he was making. When Crixus slipped his dick down his throat Gannicus's breath stopped entirely for a moment and he seemed to forget his reservations as he whispered Crixus's name a few times his finger nails raking the Gaul's scalp. Crixus moans at the sensation taking note for future uses the way Gannicus cried out when he did. Crixus experimented with his tongue hoping it wasn't obvious that he's never done this before. Gannicus was limp against the wall, he felt dizzy as Crixus bobbed his head up and down. In a haze he realized that Crixus was only pumping when Gannicus was silent for more than a second. Gannicus moans hitting the back of his throat. He knows at some level that he's been softly thrusting into Crixus's mouth. He almost looses it when Crixus hollows his cheeks with a hum. He was panting feeling his balls tightening. He was close, more than ready even if it was because of another man.

"Fuck the gods, Crixus I-" Gannicus whines when Crixus pulls away standing up.

"Fear not, I shall take care of you." He rasped moving to the sensitive skin under Gannicus's ear. He groans loudly letting Crixus lead him to his bed and guide him down. He watches Crixus rid himself of his own clothes one handed, keeping Gannicus on edge with the other. It didn't surprise him when Crixus pulled a small vial out of the folds. 

"Oil?" Gannicus asks with a lope-sided smile. "Confident are you?" Crixus chuckles settling between Gannicus's thighs coating three fingers, earning a curious stare. 

"In truth, I did not think I would be successful. But after talking to Barca he gave it to me, noting it was better to be prepared." Gannicus nods tensing up when Crixus moves sliding a finger between his cheeks. "Relax. He said it was important for you to relax." Gannicus frowns laying back.

"I'm always relaxed, for starters. Secondly; what the fuck did you and Barca talk about?" Crixus chuckles again leaning down peppering Gannicus's chest with soft kisses jerking Gannicus until he was no longer tense. 

"I wanted to get this right. My desire is for you to remember me in a good light not a failed test." Gannicus huffs. 

Crixus strokes his fingers against his entrance making Gannicus arch. He wasn't sure if he wanted Crixus to do this. If he was going to enjoy it. If it was going to hurt. But before he could voice his concerns Crixus was slipping one finger in down to the knuckle. There was a burn as he was stretched. It made Gannicus gasp twisting. Whether to get closer or to get away he doesn't know. Then there was two fingers and Gannicus was gripping the blanket leaking more while Crixus scissors and curls his digits twisting his hand mesmerized by the way Gannicus was muttering in his native language. Then there was three. Gannicus grunted with slight discomfort. He's never been this full before and the sensation was strange but not exactly unpleasant. Crixus furrows his brows twisting and turning his fingers, wiggling them in focus. 

Then Gannicus's sight turned white. 

Crixus smiles at the silent scream Gannicus makes. His mouth a perfect 'O' as Crixus's finger pads rub the sensitive bundle of nerves. Barca had told him about it, and said it was difficult to find, but every man had it. Turns out to be true. Gannicus was leaking profusely pushing down against Crixus's hand awkwardly. Crixus beams, he never thought Gannicus could be awkward. It inflated his ego to be the one to do this. He worked Gannicus open loving the way the Celt found his voice in a strangled cry. 

"Beg Champion. Beg and learn the truth." Crixus whispers. Gannicus tosses his head back and forth his senses being assaulted. He wanted to scream the heavens down if only Crixus would end his suffering. His voice failed him. Nothing but a low whine was audible. Crixus refuses to stop his torment, not satisfied until he had words. Gannicus felt the heat twisting in his groin, he gasps thrusting into Crixus's hand; "Not yet," Crixus pulls both hands away quickly. Gannicus snarls sitting up to glare at him.   

"The fuck? Getting scared Crixus?" He snorts at Gannicus. 

"Hardly. But I told you; you have to beg." Gannicus rolls his eyes.

"I do not beg." He snips. Crixus tosses Gannicus's thighs onto his shoulders.

"You will." Gannicus bucks in utter shock when Crixus's mouth replaced his fingers. If this occurred to him before he does not recall. The only thing he was aware of in that moment was that he didn't want Crixus to stop. 

"Ah fuck, oooooh fuck the gods Crixus," Gannicus locks his ankles behind the Gaul's head humming in satisfaction at the delicious way Crixus worked his tongue. It amazed him how close he became just like this, "If you do not stop-" and then Crixus was pulling back, "Aah fuck no don't!" Gannicus wails reaching for him as Crixus moves to stand. 

"Worry not Champion," He whispers dipping his hand in the oil. "I simply move to increase your pleasure." Gannicus watches hungrily as he coats himself thickly. He didn't pay attention earlier but looking now he sees that Crixus was rather large. Perhaps not as long as Gannicus himself but noticeably thicker. Of all things his asshole twitches, a thing he thought impossible, when thinking about how much Crixus's fingers burned. Instead of being wary Gannicus found a rush of excitement fuel him. 

"I worry only of your delay. I do not wager we have much more time alone, do you?" He challenges not liking the way his heart skips when Crixus's eyes twinkle in amusement. The Gaul nods with a small smile.

"I mentioned to Dominus that I wished to talk to you at length about your departure." Gannicus tilts his head feeling his cock loosing interest. Crixus notices and settles on his knees in between Gannicus's thighs, "He has asked me to convince you to stay." They both snort at that, Gannicus spreading his legs farther without paying attention to it. 

"The man has a better chance of becoming a Gladiator himself." Crixus laughs a low and throaty sound that goes straight to Gannicus's dick. 

"Truer words have never been uttered." Crixus's expression changes to serious as he lines himself up correctly. "There is not stopping this time Champion." He informs rubbing circles on Gannicus's thigh. The Celt licks his lips breathing heavily,

"Good. Time to see if your bite is worse than your bark you mad dog." Crixus rolls his eyes before pushing forward. "Fuck the gods!" Gannicus yelps being breached. His head falls back a low moan caught in his throat as his hips arch upwards. He was right. Crixus was huge, and the pain was blinding. Yet it felt so strangely good that he couldn't get enough. He wanted Crixus to to stay still, but he wanted him to move. Gannicus makes a fervent noise quietly when Crixus bottoms out. For the first time in his life he felt complete. A wave of fear hits him causing him to soften.

"That won't do." Crixus murmurs. Without warning he thrusts himself deep into Gannicus earning a shout. In his surprise Gannicus wraps his arms around Crixus's torso gripping tightly. He dips his head to suckle at Gannicus nipples jerking his hips quickly. 

Gannicus was fighting to keep silent. This entire experience was filled with things he usually didn't do or like. Instead of being focused and silent he was loud, almost screaming. His cock was back to being fully erect in no time, those bundle of nerves of his being attacked mercilessly. He couldn't think, as soon as a thought began forming it faded out into an echo of encouragement. His hands trailed down and gripped the tautness of Crixus's buttocks tugging insistently. 

"Crixus damn you," He growls when instead of doing what Gannicus wished the stupid man slowed down,

"Something you wish for?" Crixus mouths down the side of his neck. He never stopped but he was still going at an agonizing pace. 

"I have seen you fight, so I know you are faster than this! If you do not pick up speed- gods fuck it!" He screams when Crixus finally manages to do what he was asking. Their skin was slapping together obnoxiously, the oil causing some obscene squelching noises that served only to have Gannicus wrapping his thighs around Crixus's waist. The two of them were making more noise than they should. More than was safe; but neither could stop themselves. Gannicus unabashedly put both hands into his hair yanking and pulling the short brown strands meeting his thrusts greedily. 

"So eager for my cock aren't you Celt?" Crixus preens draping a large arm across Gannicus's lower belly to keep him stilled as he leans back, the head of his cock barely staying inside the blond. Gannicus presses his heels into Crixus's lower back attempting to pull him back. "Tell me Champion. Tell me how badly you ache for me." Gannicus bites his lip. He didn't want to beg, didn't want to admit out loud what he was feeling. What he wanted. Crixus shifts to remove himself completely and Gannicus is over come with a panic;

"Crixus, please! Place cock in ass and fill me to completion. I can not take anymore." Gannicus begs a broken sob escaping his lips. Crixus places their foreheads together for a flash of a second before he slams back into him. "FUCK!" He screams at the top of his lungs burying his face into Crixus's shoulder. 

Crixus wraps an arm around Gannicus holding him close using his free hand to fist Gannicus's cock hurriedly. Their breathing was labored as Crixus's hips began to stutter. Gannicus couldn't help but smile when he felt his balls tightening once more, punished enough for one night he was more than exited for this to come to a climax. Crixus had a vein straining in his neck sweat trickling down his back as he raced the Celt. Gannicus pulls himself up without thought his lips finding Crixus's with a desperate moan as he was pushed over the edge. The second the hot liquid hit Crixus's chest he stilled, clutching Gannicus to him both of them lost in the kiss as they slowly came down. 

Gannicus hums slipping his tongue into Crixus's mouth, finding it ironic how inexperienced the Gaul's technique was here versus anywhere else. He tasted of wine and that gods awful pain relief the medicus makes. Quickly their mouths became less intense and wild, changing instead to lazy and sated. Gannicus nibbles his lower lip while Crixus pulls himself out. Gannicus hates that he likes the way he feels Crixus's release seeping out of him. He shivers in sensitivity watching amused as Crixus pants staring down in shock. 

 "Damn." He sighs rolling so he was half propped against the wall and half laying on Gannicus. The Celt chuckles at the understatement.  

"Agreed." They spend a few heartbeats regaining their breath in silence. Gannicus stretches testing out any soreness. There was going to be some discomfort on the morrow he was sure. But other than that he felt rather...peaceful. 

"I don't suppose that was enough to convince you to stay?" Crixus asks in a small voice tracing the outline of Gannicus's bicep ideal. Gannicus watches his finger distractedly.

"No. Apologies." He says slowly thinking as he talks. "There are too many...memories in the walls of this accursed house." Crixus frowns sitting up and dressing. 

"I see. I understand, whatever happened between you and Doctore's wife must still be painful." Gannicus blanches at the words, looking disbelieving at him.

"H-how, what?" 

"Do not take me for a fool like the rest of the Brotherhood. Oenomaus trusts you too much to realize the change in you was due to his wife and not his promotion."  Gannicus was quickly recognizing anger and resentment coming from his lover. 

"Crixus, it is not personal. I'm surprised to find I enjoyed our coupling as much as I did." Crixus snorts. 

"Could have been a goat would not have made a difference to you. Either way, happy to be of service Champion. Sleep well." Gannicus sits up reaching for him but it was too late, Crixus was already shutting the door behind him. Gannicus curses laying back scratching his chest, the evidence of what just happened drying on his skin. He couldn't leave tomorrow with Crixus hating his guts and believing so little in himself...but he couldn't stay another day. 

Gannicus cleans himself up with a slight wince. Everything was sensitive. His face burned with how he acted. But the guilt churning in his stomach was more on how he made Crixus feel. Sighing he fiddles with his necklace trying to decide what he should do. He blinks a few times before looking down. Well...it won't be the last thing he owns but it would be the first thing Crixus did. Sighing he decides to deal with this all in the morning. 

Chapter Text

Crixus nods to the Medicus ignoring the quizzical look. Ass did not need to know why he was there. Just mild curiosity, and fuck all what Barca said. Crixus huffs seeing the mad dog slumped on the table. A tiny man really. He supposes the shits in the pit weren't good at fighting if this mongrel bests them. The Beast of Carthage tells tale that he is to be rejoining the Gladiators when he was able. A bit of rage flows through him at the thought. The shit eater did not deserve it. No matter whom he bested in the test. Crixus scowls squatting next to the table studying his wounds. A blackened eye, a few cuts, last he saw a red ring in his eye. Nothing major. Only the gods know the mental damage. The other morn he had over heard the blond fuck; Varro, press concern with the Medicus that the Thracian was talking to himself. A clear sign of madness. 

"Sura!" Spartacus shouts sitting up in a panic. Crixus leans back blinking in surprise at the sudden wake. The smaller man was taking deep gulps of air eyes flying around as if unaware of his location. "Sura?" He asks in a whimper. Crixus rolls his eyes sighing heavily as he moves to sit on the table across from him.

"You have a one track mind you piss ant." He comments nonchalantly. Spartacus's eyes were still wild even as his breathing calms a little. 

"I-I have to find her. My wife. Before...before the rains come." Crixus watches him wring his hands together around that damned bit of cloth as if it was his life blood. He chews his cheek looking the man up and down wondering if he would ever love a woman as completely as Spartacus did. To the point of madness. The image of Naevia swims into his mind making him frown. Perhaps it was possible. But he doubts it was something he wanted to do. Being Champion was all that had mattered for so long. Crixus fiddles with his necklace in thought. "Why? What purpose do you have for being here? To mock? Torment?" Spartacus barks closing his eyes. 

"Speak plainly Thracian. Keep mind in the present, even if heart and soul wander elsewhere." He scoffs snapping his fingers in Spartacus's face. His eyes open slowly looking at the Gaul as if only just now seeing him.

"Crixus? What possesses you to haunt me with your presence?" Crixus chuckles at the bewilderment in his voice. Oddly enough a question he was just asking himself. He looks over his shoulder at the Medicus,

"Leave us you simple fuck." The man rolls his eyes walking out the door. Crixus swallows his doubts turning back to Spartacus. "What makes you think I am truly here?" Spartacus's eyes widen and he looks down at his hands.

"Another vision from the gods....what message do they bring tonight?" He asks out loud not looking back up. Crixus almost laughs at the absurdity of the question. But he was one to take advantage of another's weakness. It was what they were taught to do after all. Look for it, exploit it; fuck it. 

"Their message, Thracian;" He whispers pushing off the table to sit on his knees in between Spartacus', "Is for you to take it." Spartacus looks up confused, "Like a cunt." Spartacus tries to process what was happening, but his mind was so muddled. The events of tonight, Sura's warning. Plus whatever was in that gods awful concoction that the Medicus forced down his throat. He tries to focus on what Crixus was saying but still wasn't even sure if the man was really there.

Then he was pushing him down, crawling up the length of him, Crixus's cock hardening quickly at the aspect of a warm tight hole. He was nipping and mouthing his way up Spartacus's chest to the side of his neck careless of the irony taste of blood that lingered. Spartacus gasps tilting his head for Crixus to have better access. The Gaul smirks sucking a bruise in the tender flesh where it meets his shoulder. A spot that had always been sensitive to him. As if his mind needed further reason to be clouded and unfocused. Spartacus makes a complacent noise his own cock thickening at the Gaul's touch. It had already been so long since someone had touched him, and even longer since it was another man. 

Crixus was amazed at how responsive the Thracian was. The smaller hips rolled upwards pushing their groins together. Crixus growls in warning reaching down and removing both their clothing. Spartacus was moaning running his finger nails up and down the Champion's back. The thought of Lucretia has him pulling and pushing until the Thracian was bent over the table on his knees unable to scratch him. 

"Crixus, I-" He makes a face of contempt as he wraps a hand around Spartacus's throat. Using just enough pressure to stay his voice. 

"Hold tongue, or find my cock between your lips." Spartacus keens pushing back spreading his legs. Crixus raises an eyebrow in slight surprise. "The dog likes to be treated as a cunt does he?" A whine was his response. Crixus slides a finger between the taught cheeks while his cock was twitching in anticipation. It had been many months since he last had a male lover. The necklace he wore burned as if reminding him of that fateful night. 

"P-please." He begs voice strained against the Gaul's tightening grip. Crixus spins him around not releasing his throat forcing him onto his knees. Spartacus feels his whole body start shaking. If the gods wished this, then he must truly be done with the pits. How he was to get this to happen when he was awake? The gods often ask impossible tasks

"Then wet me Thracian. Suck the cock you desperatly want." The night was full of surprises it would seem, as Spartacus parts lips and eagerly swallows Crixus. He hums biting his tongue to stop any other noise. His hand shifting to hold Spartacus by the shoulder. Lucretia rarely had him this way, and it was something he enjoyed in the highest regards. Spartacus makes a noise of delight as he works his tongue devilishly to lap at Crixus's leaking head. Crixus closes his eyes for a moment letting himself be washed up in the sensations for a moment. He couldn't help himself to milk his cock in the Thracian's mouth. It was when Spartacus was gagging with the force of his thrusts that the Gaul pulls back,

"Did you not feel pleasure?" Spartacus asks sounding concerned. Crixus snorts, the dog was more bitch than man right now. Not even a shadow of the dominate problematic recruit that tried to bare his teeth at him. 

"You did well, but it is time for this to come to a head." Spartacus's eyes widen hopefully scrambling to re-bend himself over the table. Crixus doesn't move in shock at the action. Now this was something highly unexpected. If the two of them were still insane on the morrow he might have to explore this further. Instead he scoffs softly boldly inserting a finger inside Spartacus's slightly puckered hole. If it wouldn't raise suspicions he would think to ask Barca about that later. As such he content himself with the mewling sounds the Thracian was spouting. Unlike a previous partner of his, Spartacus was easily made to beg. A second digit had him writhing fucking backwards on Crixus's fingers, his knuckles going white with how hard he was gripping the edge of the wood. 

"Crixus, please! I can not last, please I beg of you." Crixus lets out a sharp bark of a laugh at that. Spartacus was glad this was a dream. If this was reality then he would be humiliated at how he was acting. But like most of his dreams, it felt so real. His nerves were on fire, burning for Crixus's touch.

"Look how easily you ache for me you mad cunt." He scissors his fingers, cock leaking at the noises Spartacus makes while being stretched. Crixus spits at the opened hole as he removes his digits switching to hold Spartacus down a large arm sitting on his lower back. He grunts at the lack of effort it takes to push past the outer ring of muscles. "This is not your first time being taken by a man is it little rabbit?"  Spartacus shakes his head, panting with effort his ass bouncing lightly against Crixus's hips as he bottoms out.

"Move, gods please Crixus." He pleads moving to fist his own cock. Crixus scoffs again grabbing his hands and pulling both hands behind his back. Spartacus wails quietly feeling a familiar heat quickly pooling. His cock was pulsing and if the stupid Gaul didn't hurry up he was going to lose it. Dream or no dream he would have trouble looking the man in the eye.

"I can hold both your wrists in one of my own, that's pathetic rabbit." Spartacus was shaking with the attempt to stay level with just his core strength. The Gaul rolls his eyes giving one hard thrust. Spartacus exclaims something Crixus doesn't understand as he falls thumping his head against the table hard enough to re-open a cut above his eye. Crixus leans down pinning the smaller man underneath him. "Do not think yourself in charge here you stupid fuck. Take what you get and be honored for the privilege." Spartacus nods dumbly mouth slack open. 

He wasted no time after that. Knowing when to hurry, Crixus starts snapping his hips in a bruising pace. Spartacus tucks his knees into his chest on the table the shift allowing Crixus deeper access. The Gaul stills, brushing against that sensitive bundle of nerves. He watches, pleased to see the Thracian writhing. His cock ached wishing to continue ramming into Spartacus with purpose. But he prolongs it. Suddenly, the muscles around him tighten, and he notices Spartacus biting his lip hard enough to cause blood. The little man shudders, and twitches. 

"Gods fuck." He whispers shakily. Crixus blinks. He pulls out to turn Spartacus around looking at his softening cock.

"You came? With so little effort." Spartacus swallows, blushing darkly. Asshole even in his head. The gods were truly cruel. Crixus laughs quietly shaking his head. "In that case, you're in for a helluva time rabbit." Spartacus tilts his head, but before he could ask what Crixus meant, he was being wrestled down onto the table. He hisses as his cuts come into contact with the streaks of his release. The blood trailing down his back in a way that tingled.

Crixus made quick work of manuvering the wounded man to his desires. One leg was tossed carelessly over the Gail's shoulder, a large arm wrapped around the thigh able to fist the spent cock. His other hand holds both of Spartacus's above his head, and a knee keeping the leg not in the air spread making it all the easier to force his cock back inside him.

"Fuck!" Spartacus cries straining against Crixus. He raises an eyebrow at the muscles contracting around him. Again something to ask Barca when able to not arouse suspicion. 

"Quiet you mad fuck, if we are discovered it will be the death of us both." He hisses leaning down to suckle one of Spartacus's nipples. Spartacus jolts at the sensation, trying to get away from the torturous mouth. Everything was overly sensitive. Crixus was larger than the last male lover he had. The burn was something he craved and hadn't remember how much so until now. If Crixus did not let go he wasn't going to last any longer. His eyes widen at the twisting motion the smaller man makes at his touch. Crixus hums rocking his hips flicking his tongue. Spartacus tosses his head back and forth much to his amusement, then he turns his head biting his own forearm. Crixus sucks curiously, when something hot and sticky hits his chest spilling over onto his fingers. He sits up never stopping with the way he thrusts looking at his stomach. 

"Fuuuuuuuck" Spartacus whimpers at the pleasure-pain sensation. Crixus blinks slightly impressed. His ego more so,

"Had enough Thracian?" The question was supposed to be mocking and yet Crixus finds that he couldn't bring himself to stop unless Spartacus was completely finished. 

Instead of answering Spartacus lowers the leg on Crixus's shoulder down to his waist yanking him closer. He might be reacting like a woman, but if this was the gods wish then he was going to hold out as long as he could. Even if it kills him.  The Gaul smirks moving to look at his hand then at Spartacus. His smirk turning predatory as Crixus taps his finger tips on Spartacus's lips. The second they opened Crixus shoved two fingers in, his tongue curling as he cleaned his own cum off them. Crixus curses under his breath his balls tightening. The heat was pooling quickly and he was racing it, wanted to send Spartacus over the edge once more before he follows. 

He was moaning and panting around his full mouth as Crixus's hips start to stutter. Watching through hooded eyes the Gaul coming undone was one of the most exotic things he has ever seen, the sight went straight to Spartacus's cock. Crixus releases his wrists when he feels Spartacus start to bite him, moving to pinch and twist the nipple he hadn't found with his mouth. Spartacus starts screaming, much too loudly. Crixus snarls moving to cover his lips with his own muffling the noise. Spartacus clutches the sides of Crixus's face rocking up against him his third orgasm coating both their chests. Crixus dominates his mouth spilling into Spartacus with a low groan of satisfaction. 

The two pull apart enough to breathe not daring to move as they try to regain their breath. Crixus shivers pulling out making Spartacus gasp and his leg fall to the side. Instead of rolling away from him or letting him move off of him, Spartacus wraps his arms around Crixus's torso holding him close, burying his face into Crixus's neck. The Gaul was shocked at the affection. It was something he didn't think the Thracian was capable of. Not with him at least. Crixus tucks his head surprised on how he enjoys the comfort he finds in this action. A distant thud brings him back to his senses. He curses yanking himself away dressing quickly and walking out without looking back. 

Spartacus sits up blinking in confusion. Crixus was gone faster than he had appeared. He felt a small sting of rejection and he wasn't sure why. Medicus wanders in shaking his head in slight disgust. Spartacus blushes realizing he was naked. Was it all just a dream? It doesn't feel that way...but how else was he to explain it? Spartacus sighs letting the Medicus address his wounds, in a silent debate with himself. He decides to worry about it after he's found Sura. Let the Gaul believe that he doesn't know what happened. Even if he himself isn't one-hundred percent sure. 

Crixus storms to the baths ready to wash himself clean before he remembers the drought. Cursing he reaches for the strigil and at the very least scrapping the evidence of their coupling off his front. Tomorrow was going to be hell if Spartacus was in his head for even a second of any of that. Sighing Crixus makes his way to his cell and was halfway inside when he heard laughing. Worriedly he turns to see Barca leaning against his own cell door. 

"My sources say Domina did not summon you tonight." He remarks grinning widely. Crixus feels a flush creep across his skin. 

"And? Is there a purpose to your words?" Barca shrugs lightly as he stretches.

"Depends. Were you in the Medicus this entire time? Or perhaps you've found more shattered wine jars to throw over the cliffs?" Crixus closes his eyes. Damned Beast of Carthage. 

"You should count yourself lucky." He grunts folding his arm and giving Barca a scowl.

"And why is that little man?" The brotherly tone of voice was not missed. Crixus smiles softly,

"Because I count you as dearest friend, and do not make attempt on your life for speaking to me in such a manner." Barca laughs loudly throwing his head back. Crixus waves him off and maneuvers to find sleep. Something tells him the morning was going to bring bad news. 

Chapter Text

Crixus fiddles with his hair worriedly. It's never been this short before. With a noise of discontent he rubs his face where his stubble used to be. Clean shaven too, his entire world was changing. And tomorrow they were to step foot in the new arena. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. He was ecstatic obviously. The Arena. Where he could show his prowess and impress all of Capua and his fellow Gladiators; maybe even best Gannicus and become Champion. The thought of becoming so renowned had his pulse quicken; yet the thought of the Celt dying made him feel hollow. If the man was still leaving it wouldn't cause an issue. Some how Batiatus and a few others made it so Gannicus wouldn't be sold in the morning and now he doesn't know what to do with himself or these strange new feelings.

"Well look at that. There's a face under all that fur." A mocking voice draws his attention. Crixus whirls around to see the Beast of Carthage lounging in the door way holding his bandaged side. 

"Barca. How's the wound?" Barca scoffs away his concern limping over.

"Better than yours." Crixus smiles ruefully.

"Is the new look really so bad?" Barca rolls his eyes placing a hand on his shoulder. Crixus's heart sores, it was a mark of how much he impressed the older man to be shown this much respect. 

"Your new look suits you well enough for whatever it is the Domina has planned for you, Brother." Crixus grimaces thinking of Lucretia. The woman was borderline insane. Barca chuckles watching him. "I will not press on that. But; that was not the wound I was talking about." The Gaul frowns confused. He wasn't injured. "The wounded heart you wear on your sleeve you sad fuck." Barca laughs shoving Crixus a little. His eyes widen as he wrings out the cloth he was washing himself with.

"Heart? We are Gladiators. We have no heart." Barca crosses his arms looking doubtful.

"So Auctus was just a distraction for me?" Crixus grimaces turning away embarrassed.

"Apologies. I meant no offense." Barca nods sitting down with a groan for his effort. Crixus nervously sits next to him. "Who do you think I keep my affections for?" He asks worriedly. The Beast of Carthage snorts untying his bandages. 

"I do not need to think. Any fool who pays attention long enough can see it." He states flatly, "You pine after the Champion like a bitch in heat." Crixus blushes deeply opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "Do not try and deny it little man," Barca teases with a grin, "I once set sights to the Celt myself. There is no lie that he is of a form." Crixus fiddles with the cloth for a moment before sighing tossing it down.

"If you were unable to win his affections after being in the Brotherhood with him for so long, then I have no chance." Barca watches Crixus silently for a moment as the Gaul interlocks his fingers making a popping noise with his knuckles. 

"You know...I didn't try." He admits slowly setting the soiled bandages to the side. Crixus slowly looks at him raising an eyebrow. Barca smiles softly starting to clean his wound. "Shortly before I came here, another did make attempt." Crixus shifts a little.

"What happened to the man?" He asks trying to sound disinterested. 

"Gannicus cut off his cock." Barca answers holding back a laugh. Crixus pales staring at him. He opens his mouth to speak, "No I do not jest you cock sucker." Crixus blushes again turning away. He tilts his head at him.

"Perhaps, I should avoid him and the subject of my desires." 

"Have you ever sucked a cock before Crixus?" Barca nearly laughs at the shade of red the smaller man turns. He was shifting in his seat unable to look his peer in the eye. 

"No. I have not." He mutters to the ground. Barca nods finishing his task and re-dressing the cut. The two sit in silence for a while, Crixus's mind reeling as his imagination goes rampant. Barca silently debating with himself. He watches Crixus wrap his towel around his hips as he stands, with mild interest. Maybe once Gannicus was gone he would have a go at the Gaul. He wasn't lying, the new look did suit him. But he supposes that would all depend on how much he held the Champion in esteem.  Crixus sighs deeply then glances at Barca, "Do I look so weak? So submissive?" Barca barks out a laugh slapping his back standing next to him.

"Looks have nothing to do with it. Auctus was truly skilled with his mouth occupied by my cock," Crixus's brows furrow together eyes wide in shock,

"Auctus was...you were not the dominate?" Barca laughs loud enough to echo. Crixus smiles a little at the sound. 

"It is possible in a relationship to be both you cunt." He smacks Crixus on the shoulder wincing at the sharp pain in his side. Laughing too much hurt. Crixus gives a worried glance at the wound but doesn't press the issue. He has questions after all.

"The Beast of Carthage has sucked cock." His voice was quiet and filled with amazement. "Yet...I do not understand." Barca raises an eyebrow.

"Set pondering mind at ease, any and all concerns you have, will be answered and reassured if you but ask." Crixus nods chewing his cheek staring at the wall lost in thought.

"Why, or more rather, how is a man to find pleasure with a cock in ass?" He wonders out loud deciding the big questions should be answered first. Barca grins and motions for him to follow, the two make their way to the dining benches before he speaks.

"Multiple reasons. The feeling of being filled is one that can not be recreated. The pleasure you're giving your partner if that fuels you. There is a burning sensation with those under prepared that..." Barca trails off trying to think of the words to describe it, "well, to some it is intoxicating." Crixus makes a face. Burning usually means pain, or discomfort. 

"I'll take your word for it." He mumbles trying to figure out how this makes his situation any easier. 

"There is something else." Barca whispers glancing at a guard. Crixus leans in confused.

"Something else?" Surely he was mistaken. Barca nods a wicked grin on his face. 

"In every male, from every corner of the earth, of every height, weight, slave or not, there is a nub of nerves." Crixus frowns looking at Barca like he has three heads, 

"Nerves." He echos dumbly. Barca winks at him reaching into the folds of his loin cloth.

"After the Primus tomorrow go to him and ask him if he'd like you to show him unimaginable pleasure. Pleasure like only you can provide him." Crixus only catches the small vial that Barca throws at him. The taller of the two smirks watching him uncork it with inspection. 

"Oil?" Barca wonders if the little man was ever tired of feeling like a moron. 

"If you do not prep, if they are not relaxed it will hurt. I'm not sure how your tastes run in the bed but I do not wish pain upon my lovers." Crixus re-seals the vial nodding putting it into his own clothing. 

"I see....how does one prep their lover in that manner?"

The two of the spent the next couple of hours talking about first times. Crixus asked a lot of questions, more about Gannicus than anything. Barca finds he loves making the Gaul blush. It was easy enough to do. The man barely knew cunt let alone cock. He pressed about what Lucretia wished him clean shaven for, but not wanting Dominus to find out he simply put that it was a private affair. 

"How should I approach him?" Was his final question of the night.

"I can not tell you. It is up to you. But rest now. You fight in the opening games in the morrow." The two stand and shake hands with a shared smile. 

"Gratitude."

Chapter Text

Varro watches him walk out of the baths with a sad smile. Spartacus knew he was making his friend worry but he couldn't bring himself to care. His heart constricts and he fears he might vomit. His feet carry him through the maze like corridors of the Ludus without him thinking. All he could see was Sura. Laying dead in his arms. Perhaps if he had fought harder in the pits. If he had defeated Theockles sooner? Or even defeated the Gaul when he first found himself in the arena. The gods warned him...before the rains. Spartacus feels his lower lip tremble as he finds his way into the Medicus. His vision was blurry with tears but he could still make out the resting figure on the table. A table he was all too familiar with. Spartacus blinks numbly looking the wounded man up and down wondering how this came to be their fate. What had he done?

'My wife thinks you're cursed by the gods....I'm inclined to agree' 

Batiatus's voice rings in his head and he chuckles to himself, feeling rather mad. 

"You'll find no argument here," He whispers his answer staring at the Gaul. If it was a dream from the gods then he shouldn't ignore it. But if it wasn't then he was surely going to die upon discovery. 

If you're discovered. He thinks to himself. Quickly he looks around noting that the Medicus was out tending to some minor wounds of other Gladiators from training. 

"Spartacus." Varro's voice has him jumping.

"You startled me." He explains taking a calming breath. Varro makes a face looking over his shoulder. 

"What are you planning now? Whatever it is, it can wait. Give yourself some time. I can't imagine-"

"No you can't. I'm not going to do anything to harm anyone if that's what you're worried about." He snaps folding his arms. Varro sighs reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. Spartacus smiles softly. "Apologies. I know you mean no harm it's just..." They stare at each other for a moment each waiting on the other to say something. Something must have flickered in the smaller man's gaze because the blond was sighing, resigned as his shoulder's sag.

"What do you need me to do?" Spartacus claps him on the shoulder with affection. 

"You truly are a wonderful friend. I do not deserve you." Varro snorts with a grin.

"I know you do not, you crazy buffoon. Now tell me what you need of me or see my back in answer." Spartacus beams at him even as his cheeks turn a ridiculous shade of red.

The crowds roared his name. Chanting over and over again. The sound had his blood pounding and his cock hardening. That was strange. It happened from time to time after facing a difficult opponent. Or with the promise of having Lucretia after wards. But when he looks to the pulvinus all that sat there was Naveia and Spartacus.  He lowers his sword looking around at the crowd. Suddenly it was raining, and the roar of the crowd was for Spartacus. But the crowd sounded like his own voice. Suddenly his sword and armor was gone. He was standing bare assed in the middle of the Arena. Despite hearing his rival's name, he was painfully hard. It hurt to breathe. Panicked he looks up and Spartacus was standing in front of him, smirking that self satisfied smirk of his. Crixus shakes his head backing away a little. The scene changes when his back hits the wall. They were in Gannicus's cell. Crixus was back to being unshaven with the Thracian on his knees in front of him. He was thrusting gently into the willing mouth slightly horrified. Not here, not in this place. The wall behind him turns to skin and he didn't have to turn around to know who was behind him stroking a questioning finger over his ignored entrance. Hot breath spoke in his ear,

"Live, and show me the Undefeated Gaul." Except the voice was wrong. It wasn't the Celt. Not exactly. Like two people talking at once. "Crixus," It was less Celt this time. He felt himself waking, as his name was chanted again, this time quietly. In a harsh whispers of need. Crixus gives a gargled gasps as his cock was pulled into a slightly familiar tight heat. His eyes fly open wide confused on what he was seeing. 

Spartacus, straddling him, lowering himself onto Crixus head tilted back murmuring under his breath. Crixus convulses uncontrollably, the pain in his chest and back at odds with the pleasure coming from between his legs. The action shoved Spartacus down as his hips jerked up making him bottom out. Spartacus arches backwards with a low hum locking his knees on either side of Crixus. Enough pressure to keep himself tethered but not enough to re-open his wounds.

"CrixusCrixusCrixusCrixus," Spartacus whimpers as he starts impaling himself on Crixus repeatedly strong thighs working to hold his balance, matched by his hands on Crixus's ankles. The Gaul moans helpless in this. 

"Spa-Spartacus? Am I -oh gods- what are you- why? Why now, why here?" He pants out his half baked questions gaining a bark of a laugh from the Thracian.

"What makes you think I am truly here?" He echos Crixus's own words back at him mockingly. Crixus feels a smile tugging at his lips, his hands managing to find their way to Spartacus's hips. 

Quickly, speech was lost to the both of them as Spartacus focuses on his task. It took everything he had in him to prolong his release. It was one thing to let himself be overcome by the size of his partner when Crixus was able to finish himself, but his wounds haven't even healed and probably shouldn't be doing something this physical. Spartacus wishes he could find it in him to care. But the way he had angled Crixus kept being slammed against the sensitive bundle of nerves and he was losing focus on much else. He found it endearing the way Crixus's hand shook, one reaching up. He was leaking when Crixus rolled a nipple in between his thumb and index finger, but cries out softly at the brief contact. Obviously the pebbled flesh was not his goal. Either the way he was leaning was farther than he thought, or the Gaul was more drugged and injured than was to believe; his hand falls short, resting his finger tips on Spartacus's pulse. Swallowing hard he shifts with a hitch in his breath and takes two fingers into his mouth. He was rewarded with a strained moan. 

"Keep that up and you will find this cut short." Crixus manages to growl out a warning. Spartacus whimpers doing what he could to speed up his pace, talking around the digits.

"I would have it so," No need to even try to admit that his desperation to find Sura was spurred by this craving he had aquired for the Gaul. Something he was running from normally. Yet whether it was a dream, vision from the gods, or reality; last time was the first time he had felt at peace since meeting Glaber. Spartacus trails his hands up and uses both to ancher himself, gripping Crixus's arm adding a satisfying twist to his thrusts. This was a peace he was desperate for at the moment.

"Gods fuck it." Crixus winces when his hips buck more than his wounds were agreeable with. The added friction has Spartacus shouting. "You stupid fuck." He whispers using the fingers in the Thracian's mouth to drag him down swallowing the noise with his lips. Spartacus whimpers into Crixus's mouth hands lacing into Crixus's hair. 

The pair of them struggled to breathe, not ready to part far enough away for it, but having to otherwise risk death. Spartacus was vaguely aware that their skin was slapping together obnoxiously and he was sure to catch shit from Varro later, but he could feel Crixus's cock twitching inside of him. He was close, perhaps not as close as Spartacus but still. It fueled him, he wished he knew something that would drive the Gaul mad enough to fall over the edge. As it was, he was back to mindlessly chanting his name.

"Crixus, ah fuck, Crixus." The Gaul makes a noise that catches Spartacus's attention. "If we were far enough away from prying ears," He whispers into Crixus's ear smiling at the arch of the man's neck, "I would scream your names to the heavens." Crixus makes a 'hnng' noise, "Oh yes, Champion. The gods will know your name from my voice. There isn't a crowd large enough to shout it louder than I." 

It didn't take too much more for Spartacus to bury his face into Crixus's neck the heat of the Gaul's seed filling him with an audible groan from him. Spartacus pants heavily as he stops his hips spurting between the two of them. He notices his arms shaking with the effort not to collapse ontop of his partner. Odd, he wonders when he began to give a shit about the Gaul's well being or comfort. 

"You mad cunt. I had heard tale-" Spartacus was off him before he could blink.

"Do not speak of her. And do not speak of this. Else you find yourself like Ashur." He threatens fixing his towel and storming out. Crixus blinks shaking his head when the Medicus walks in tsking and tuttering away like a mother hen. Crixus snorts at the man. Truly, why this simple fuck was more than caring was beyond him. 

Varro tries to hide his amusement as he and Spartacus walk towards their cells. The smaller was refusing to look at him rubbing the evidence of his coupling into his chest, rather than making his way back to the baths were surely others still loitered. It wasn't until they were at the benches does Varro actually speak.

"So," Spartacus flinches at the laugher there, "did you find what you were looking for?" Spartacus gives out a shaky laugh.

"I believe I have found a vice that can distract me from thoughts of Su-" He takes a deep breath, tears springing to his eyes, "thoughts of my wife." Varro nods scratching the back of his head. 

"Well, instead of laying with filth and staining one's self..." Varro trails off a little, until Spartacus looks up at him, "for the favor of friends, I um..." Spartacus looks him up and down for a moment,

"Are you offering distractions?" Varro's cheeks stain pink making Spartacus smile for the first time since losing Sura a few days ago. He watches his friend stutter and trip over words for a moment feeling his heart warm at his treasured friend. "Because the change would be most welcome." Varro looks at him stunned, "I do not wish to continue smelling of shit, and would have proper distraction from a real man." He comments already feeling his cock re-harden underneath his subligaculum.

Chapter Text

Barca watches half amused as Crixus attacks the pulvinous. It was cute how every so often he stopped to make sure the necklace he wore was still in place. Things with the Celt must have gone in his favor if Gannicus was more than willing to part with the damned thing upon his departure. It was only mildly annoying becuase the Gaul did nothing but rant and rave about how he was going to be a better champion than Gannicus, and make the man proud. As if the drunk gave two shits. Poor tiny Crixus was paid off with the trinket like a two bit whore. His eyes catch one of the newer slaves moving to hand Gneaus a new net as the current one rips. His eyes narrow at the bruising on the young man's arm. The way the slender frame curls away from Barca's fellow gladiator. He's heard tale of the man being less than gentle with his lovers, even worse than himself and Actus were....used to be. 

"Pietros." He calls out getting the little man's attention. "Water." He instructs. The boy , (there was no other word for him) scurries off to do as he was told. Gneaus makes a face at Barca before going back to what he was doing. 

"Here you go, sir." Pietros whispers not looking Barca in the eyes. Perhaps it was his loneliness having been over two months now without Actus and at least a fortnight without his friend Gannicus to keep him company, but his heart softens at the scared little man. 

"Just, Barca." Pietros glances up at him, the setting sun hitting his eyes turning the brown to amber. Barca's breath catches hand closing over the offered cup, brushing finger tips against knuckles. "Ju-just call me..." His voice leaves him as Pietros smiles softly,

"Barca," He whispers up to him. The water was definitely needed as Barca's mouth dries hurriedly. 

"Boy, I require some water." Crixus's gruff orders huff at them breathing slightly labored. Barca scowls at him glad that the idiot was tired. 

"Apologies." Pietros mutters running off. Barca sips his own drink watching the Gaul.

"The Best of Carthage, takes to boys instead of men now does he?" Crixus teases leaning against a support beam. Barca snorts rolling his eyes.

"Just as soon as you start actually pleasing the Domina with your constant summons." Was his retort just before Pietros returns handing Crixus a cup and running off to do some sort of chore or another for someone else. Barca couldn't help a warm content feeling in his stomach as he watches him work. 

"Still your tongue or find the both of us to the mines; or worse over the cliff." Crixus hisses at him, instantly regretting having told Barca anything. The Beast shrugs, there were worse ways to die. He smirks watching Ashur hobble after Batiatus. Much worse. 

"Don't be jealous. The boy could only be good for my cock." Crixus frowns in thought. Barca tries to hide his laughter. He knows a million more questions have just flown into the Gaul's mind. "Worry not. I'll teach you little man. For now, excuse me." He informs noticing a Guard motioning for him.

It was sometime later in the city that Barca approaches Batiatus with a request. One he's been considering for some time.

"A what?" The Dominus asks in confusion. Barca glances at Ashur who wasn't even pretending to hid his interest in this conversation. Barca feels heat flush his cheeks.

"I have told the cripple to save up my winnings in order to purchase it myself. I was simply wishing for the permission to do so during this outing." Batiatus looks him up and down in slight disbelief and for a while Barca was afraid he was going to be denied; but Batiatus was full of surprises,

"Very well. Make it quick and take Ashur with you. I shall head back to the villa promptly. Do not dally. I do not like the idea of being unprotected for long." Barca beams and bows slightly.

"Thank you Dominus." Ashur grimaces following the Beast into a shop down the street. "If you breathe a word of this, know that I will kill you." Barca snips walking into a shop. Ashur sighs deeply with a short nod glancing around. The place was unknown to him. There were strange basins filled with scented oils. 

"Welcome! How may I help you?" Barca glances at Ashur and leans closer to the vendor to talk.

"I'm looking for a certain tool, marble made and larger than an average man." Ashur glances over at them looking slightly disturbed. The vendor smiles with a curt nod. 

"For you and your partner there?" Barca's eyes widen in horror.

"What? I'm insulted that you think that I would sleep with that disgusting Syrian." He says with a snort. Ashur turns around making a face. 

"And the insults keep rolling." He mutters to himself crossing his arms. 

Crixus was focused on the pulvinous when Dominus and the others walk back in. Ashur seemed to be hobbling faster than normal, a clear indication of Batiatus leaving before him. He scoffs glad to have already dealt with Lucretia. The two of them were a little surprised at themselves; she actually enjoyed their coupling this time. It seemed Barca's verbal instructions were working to Crixus's benefit after all. Speaking of his Brother in arms, Crixus notices the Beast carrying a bag. Something personal! He doesn't hesitate to make his way across the sands to greet him.

"Barca." His voice was raised just enough to let him know Crixus hadn't missed the sack. It wasn't often that the taller man blushed, but his cheeks were a bright red when he faced the Gaul.

"Crixus. Just the man I didn't want to see." He jokes with a small chuckle. Crixus rolls his eyes and walks with him off to the side away from eavesdroppers. 

"Do not bullshit me, what's that." Always one to get straight to the point when voice was willing. Barca grimaces and shifts a little.

"I am...wary to tell you." Crixus folds his arms causing Barca to sigh defeated. "I purchased it for you...and me." The scrunched look of confusion made Barca twice as nervous. 

"For the pair of us? Is this something we should be discussing in your cell?" Crixus asks looking between the bag and his friend. Barca sighs and nods looking a little relieved. Crixus nods and motions him to lead. On the sands Onemaous frowns watching the two of them disappear. Whatever the pair was up to he hopes it at least has something to do to help young Pietros. He had noticed Barca's interest in the boy earlier. The Beast of Carthage would be better suited with him than Gnaeus in his opinion.

Crixus dutifully follows his fellow gladiator through the twisting halls. He has kept his questions to himself and waited patiently. If this was something to make this man embarrassed then he wasn't exactly looking forward to it. However he finds that being knowledgeable in these things made him feel...confident...when it came to Domina. Which was apparently the key to extracting her pleasure. He smiles softly to himself with pride at the memory of today. 

"Do not look so smug you cock eater." Barca snips opening the door for him. Crixus blinks quickly,

"Apologies, I do not-"

"Save it you fuck. In and shut up." He instructs. Crixus shrugs and does as he's told, making his way to sit on the stool Barca has been allowed to own. 

"Very well. Explain yourself." Barca shuts the door fiddling with the draw strings for a moment before retrieving the contents. Crixus's eyes widen staring at it. "What in the Gods names, the fuck is that?" 

In truth, Crixus could obviously tell what it was. It looked to be made of marble. A cock, complete with a set of balls. Fully circumcised, about as round as his fucking forearm, and just as long. The detail was shocking. Even from where Crixus was seated he could see a vein on the under side and a slit was made on the mushroom head. Although hollow it was not. It looked like it was stolen off of a statue or something. 

"It is called a dildo you simple shit." Barca mutters offering it for inspection while looking at the ground. Crixus looks between him and the...thing hesitantly. Carefully he takes it, surprised at how heavy it was. 

"Alright. And I am to assume it is not used as art?" He questions hoping to earn a smile. Barca scowls at him instead. 

"Yes Crixus, I am slowly buying you and myself a statue to piece together at our pleasure." Crixus couldn't help but bark out a laugh. 

"Apologies brother, I just do not yet understand it's purpose for the two of us." Barca watches as the Gaul studies the toy using his fingers to trace it's length, almost admiringly. He swallows. 

"I recall..." He begins slowly hoping not to mess this up, "The day after...Gannicus left." Crixus looks up at him shoulder's straightening and eyes darkening. Nobody was supposed to talk about the Celt. "I had offered my services to you...and you mentioned the only man you wished in your ass was...him..." Crixus gently sets down the dildo to re-cross his arms. Damn.

"Make your meaning clear." Barca sighs at the tight lipped tone in his friend's voice. 

"I was hoping that instead of you just using me as someone to answer your questions that...perhaps we could use this to more accurately teach you." Crixus's eyes widen. 

"You mean to use that on me?" He asks incredulously. Barca winces at his raised voice, 

"Well-"

"How would that even fit?" Crixus asks pointing at it. Barca tilts his head. 

"What?" Crixus scoffs standing up.

"Do you see what you have purchased? It is a horse cock, and would likely never be able to be anything more than torture. Might as well try and shove your fist up there." Barca opens his mouth only to pause. Perhaps he wasn't ready to know. Crixus looks at his face, and realizes. 

"Uh.."

"You're fucking shitting me....there is no way an entire fist can fit up a man's ass and be pleasurable." Barca scratches the back of his head trying not to laugh. Sometimes he forgets how little Crixus actually knows. 

"Perhaps a demonstration?" He offers knowing that it would calm the Gaul down enough to try one or the other. Crixus lets his arms fall to his sides in shock.

"Y-you wish for me to stick my fist-" Barca bursts out laughing shaking his head.

"No! Fuck the Gods no! You are woefully too inexperienced to do that correctly." Crixus looks both relieved and insulted. "No, I was simple going to suggest you watch me do so to someone else." The Gaul frowns looking confused.

"Who?" Barca opens and closes his mouth a few times not having thought this far. "That boy you were drooling over earlier?" That'll work. Barca shrugs placing his hands on hips.

"Would it make you jealous?" Crixus snorts headed towards the door. 

"Don't let your ego get in the way. Besides, Gnaeus needs to leave him alone, and you deserve a consistent lover. This will eliminate two issues." Barca raises an eyebrow watching him.

"Where are you going?" 

Pietros was shaking from head to toe as he followed the Champion of Capua down the hall. The man had said he and the Beast of Carthage of all people needed his assistance! So long as it kept him away from his current..."lover". The man was insatiable, and never cared for Pietros safety or pleasure. He prays to the gods every night and day that another Gladiator would be bought that also liked cock and ass. He eyes Crixus as they approach a door. Perhaps this was what he was needed for? Did Crixus and Barca wish to add a third person to their love making? 

"Do you know why you're here boy?" Barca asks him sitting on the bed in nothing but his subligaculum making Pietros blush. 

"N-no sir, um Barca..." Crixus rolls his eyes shutting the door behind him. 

"We need your assistance, but we also need your silence." Pietros stiffens in fear looking up at Crixus with a curt nod. Gnaeus wants to hurt him, not kill him. Crixus has always looked like someone who wouldn't hesitate to end the boy's miserable life.  

"O-okay. Ye-yes sir." Barca chuckles reaching over smacking Crixus on the shoulder.

"The boy is more afraid of you than the birds." Pietros swallows a lump in his throat glancing around the pigeons. He still wasn't sure the purpose behind them. The Gaul shifts looking slightly contrite. 

"Apologies...Pietros correct?" He asks in a gentler tone. The small man nods up at him taking a deep breath. Barca reaches over and gently pulls Pietros to stand in between his legs inspecting the bruises on his arm.

"Gnaeus did this to you?" Pietros was questioned. He nods again finding his voice has failed him. The gladiators glance at each other, the Champion's mouth drawing into a thin line. "Do you enjoy it?" Without thought Pietros scoffs and snips,

"As much as Batiatus likes drinking piss." Startled at himself he quickly covers his mouth looking at them in horror. Both sets of eyes were wide as they stared at him, mouths slightly agape. Crixus recovers first doubling over with his laughter. Barca shakes his head joining him. 

"The boy has some bite in him! Shame you were not built like the rest of us. Such a spit fire spirit would have done marvelous in the Arena!" The Champion praises leaning against the wall. 

"Perhaps the young one would like to put it to better use in my bed?" Barca suggests running his hands up and down Pietros' arms. A blush darkens his cheeks as he looks at the older man.

"W-wha-? Um, would," He quickly glances at Crixus, "Would th-that be alright?" The gladiators tilt their heads.

"You look to me as if I have say in the matter." The Gaul states eyes narrowing. Barca has a small smile as he looks between the two of them.

"Pietros?" He gains his attention, "Do you believe Crixus and I to be lovers?" Crixus's expression was thunderous while Pietros' eyes widen in horror. Quickly he shakes his head back and forth.

"N-no! A-absolutely not! That would be highly presumptuous! I-I have no thoughts about whom the two of you lie with o-or if it could ever be together." He could feel his embarrassment eating him alive, and prayed the gods strike him down now before he makes this any worse than he already has.  

"Great, so let's get started." Barca exclaims winking at Crixus.

Crixus's breathing was labored as he watches Barca stretch Pietros. The Beast already had three fingers in the small man's hole and it didn't look likely to be able to fit more. Noticing the Gaul was distracted Barca leans down taking the slave's sack into his mouth. Pietros cries out twisting first upwards as if to get away before sinking back down with a low moan. Crixus takes a gulp of air placing a heavy foot on one of the crates for the birds. The stool was adequate for sitting, but Barca was firm when he instructed Crixus to stretch himself, as such the Champion was slightly awkward half on the stool and half on a cage legs spread and two fingers up his ass. 

"B-Barca! I-ah fuck- I do not think I can take much more." Pietros whimpers as Barca pushes his smallest finger in. The Gladiator smirks as he licks his way up to Pietros' neck, sucking a mark as he jerks his wrist. 

"Hush little thing, you'll be amazed at what your body can do, when handled properly."  Barca winks at Crixus when he says this. A subtle reminder that his statement matches Crixus's situation as well. Crixus groans not for the first time in his life wishing he hand at least one more hand. Stretching himself took up one, but the other was being used to support his weight against the wall for his balance. As a result, his cock was standing proud and leaking profusely. He absolutely ached to be touched.

"Th-that is, -unh- not what I meant." Pietros gasps out between mewls. Barca raises an eyebrow at this. 

"Then what-"

"Ah GODS FUCK SHIT CUNT!" Pietros shouts wrapping his legs around Barca's chest scrambling to clutch at his arm as his orgasm wracks his small body. It shocked Crixus enough to stop, but Barca's eyes simply widen staring at him. Pietros pants as he comes down, slowly releasing his partner a small smile on his face. 

"Pietros...does that...do you act like that every time you're brought to completion?" He asks breathlessly. Crixus doesn't blame him, his heart beat was still pounding against his ribs. Dazed the young man shakes his head,

"I've never reacted so violently before." Crixus curls his fingers eager to find his bundle of nerves with a grimace. 

"Have you ever been made to climax so gently before?" The Gaul questions honestly interested in the answer. Again a shake of the head no. Barca's eyes darken dangerously.

"You are not going back to Gnaeus." Crixus's mouth slacks watching Barca pull his hand back enough to curl it into a fist and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, sinks his fist into Pietros. "You are mine now." He all but growls mouthing his way across Pietros' collar bone. Pietros keens arching towards Barca. 

"Barca" Crixus pants pushing down on his fingers, desperation slowly building. Barca grins reaching over and pulling the marble toy out of the small basin of oil. 

"Get on the bed next to Pietros on your hands and knees" Barca instructs pulling his hand out and coating his cock. Crixus makes a choked noise as he does as he was told. Pietros hooks his leg on Barca's hip to make room for the Gaul, biting his lip as he takes the Beast of Carthage. Barca's breath hitches as he bottoms out squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. 

"Are you in pain?" Pietros's voice was barely more than a whisper as he stares up at this beautiful man. Barca laughs thrusting once to silence him.

"No you fuck. I'm trying to focus. Doing more than one task at once is difficult when so tightly held." Pietros blushes again turning away. However; he gasps noticing he was face to face with Crixus. 

"Am I that hideous you forgot my presence?" He said it with a grin but Pietros detected genuine hurt. Nervously, after a quick glance at Barca he leans in and carefully presses his lips to Crixus'. 

"You are the farthest thing from hideous. My mind was blown by one god of the Arena and it had difficulties handling the idea of another sharing my bed." Barca thrusts again smiling at the way Pietros shouted. 

"Your bed now is it? I'll be sure to let that fucking cripple Ashur know." He teases tilting himself so that his cock was nestled against the deepest part of Pietros. Crixus smiles ghosting his lips across the slave's. Barca stills himself, seeing the two of them kissing nearly sent him over the edge once. If he wasn't careful it would be his undoing. Pietros whines a little wrapping a hand around Crixus's arm. The Gaul hums using his tongue to gain access into the younger man's mouth. Barca sucks in a harsh breath eyes glued. Not one to forget his purpose however, he moves the toy pressing the well lubricated head between Crixus's cheeks. 

"Oh shit." Crixus murmurs pulling back.

Crixus folds his arms and buries his face in the crook. His throat was tight and his mouth was dry. Not with fear, or pain; much to his surprise it was with desire. He recently saw young Pietros climax without his cock being attended. Crixus treasures the memory of Gannicus coming close to orgasm without being touched. And now, well he very much wished to learn the same. From experience he wanted to feel what others have.

When Barca started easing the dildo past the outer muscles with little resistance, Crixus easily understood most of the appeal. The feeling of being full, that burning that his digits couldn't mimic was practically ecstasy. Insistently he rocks his hips trying to portray that he was ready for more. Barca reaches over running his tongue over the curve of Crixus's ass muttering something the Gaul couldn't hear. Crixus jerks his hips with a strangled cry when Pietros' soft hand leaves his arm to wrap delicate fingers around his cock. 

Barca smiles softly as he furthers the dildo into the Gaul. The way Crixus reacts sets his blood a fire. He uses the molded balls as a handle as he fills Crixus. Carefully moving the toy in and out in an increasingly faster pace. Crixus starts thrusting into Pietros' hand urgently. Barca tilts his head quirking a smile angling the marble slightly higher. The scream tells him he found his mark. As does the slight white puddle between his thighs. 

"That's it you mad fuck, tell me how much you want this." Barca fucks into Pietros with earnest. 

"Barca, shit! Show me how badly you wish for your cock to replace this simple fucking toy." Crixus orders louder than he should. Pietros shudders reaching up a hand on Crixus's and Barca's shoulder each digging his nails in. 

"Mouthy shit," Barca grits out hips stuttering. Crixus curses under his breath gripping the edges of the bed another climax slamming through him. Barca moans spilling into Pietros, hips stilling as does his hand. 

The three of them collapse to the bed with a combined sigh of satisfaction. 

"Lesson....well received...." Crixus whispers.

Chapter Text

"Jupiter's cock!" Varro moans as Spartacus shoves him against the wall mouthing at his collar bone. In truth he's never been with a man before, but the more time he spends with the Thracian the more he's been contemplating it.

"His is not the one I seek," Spartacus growls in his ear slipping his hand down his subligaculum. Varro tilts his head back banging it against the wall of Spartacus's cell.

"Continue speaking like that and find my performance less than pleasing." The smaller man chuckles deep in his throat as his fingers carefully wrap themselves around Varro's cock. 

"With the size of you, I fear that will not be a problem." 

It felt like a frenzy to Varro. He had a whore just last week; yet with the way Spartacus was kissing him, urging their bodies to grind together it might has well been a life time ago since he had been with a woman. His mind was a muddled mess as they worked each other's clothes off, falling onto the Champion's bed. It creaked under their combined weight and to his surprise the mad man laughed. The blonde shakes his head with a grin. It shouldn't have been a shock. He watches entranced as Spartacus slips two of Varro's fingers into his mouth. Tongue lavishing them while blue eyes burned into each other. 

"I feel we should talk about this," An irritated suck, "-unh- briefly. Exceptionally brief." Spartacus pouts guiding Varro's hand from his lips down his abdomen and straight for his already used entrance. 

"What's to talk about? I would rather you than the Gaul and am in dire need of the distraction. This will keep you satisfied-" Spartacus gasps as Varro instinctively slips the lubricated digits inside him, "extremely satisfied, to the point where purchasing- oh gods-" Varro tilts his head as he scissors his fingers curling and pumping them as he listens. 

"Go on," 

"T-to the point where purchasing wh-oh-res is no longer necessary." Spartacus grips onto Varro's forearm his legs falling open with a whimper. 

"Your victory today marked the end of your past. That was the deal you held with Batiatus." He reminds his friend. Spartacus hums when Varro's erection juts against his hip. It was hot and leaking enough for the Champion to ache. 

"Yes, that was the arrangement. However I find I need assistance in forgetting. My sorrows, my loss. P-please Varro." The fellow gladiator leans down nibbling on his earlobe. 

"You understand, than in a little over a year; I will be going home to my wife and child?" He questions using his knees to support him so his free hand could stroke absently at Spartacus's ignored cock. Spartacus jerks his hips up into his grip with a shout. 

"Yes. I understand. I will make do with fucking Crixus should he survive when you are gone. Or else find another." Varro grins twisting his wrists getting Spartacus to writhe at the new sensation. 

"And why would you not do so now?" His breath was hot in Spartacus's ear, sending goosebumps down his spine. "Explain it to me champion." Varro demands settling himself between Spartacus's thighs. 

"Because, you set my blood a flame with just a touch. You're my only and closest friend. I trust none other. Anyone else would be flesh and flesh alone. I need you Varro." Spartacus explains squeezing his eyes shut. Varro sighs contently before replacing his fingers with cock in a flash of a second. Spartacus screams something in a language Varro knows not, wrapping his legs and arms about the larger man. 

"I find myself sharing your fate in this, oh Bringer of Rain." Varro teases, as he starts a bruising pace. "Since I met you my thoughts have not been my own." He buries his face in the crook of the Champion's neck. 

The noise was obnoxious. Skin slapping, ass practically squelching from the angle it was taking the large cock. Quiet moans and soft groans from the blonde. Yet Spartacus could not hold back his screams of encouragement. Even when biting his lip till it bleed. It took a few shifts of angles for Varro to find that sweet spot deep within his partner. But once he did Spartacus was lost. All senses forgotten in the pursuit of release. He met Varro thrust for thrust, greedily sucking on the other's tongue forgetting on who might hear. 

"Oh fuck the gods Varro I-" Varro quiets him by joining their lips once more shivering with delight when Spartacus stills under him, streams of hot white splattering their chests adding to the obscenity. It didn't take long after for Varro to join him, a shuddering gasp escaping as he falls half on top half beside Spartacus. 

The two lie their panting in silence for a while. Both in a limp state of spent satisfaction. Spartacus pets the curly blonde hair bemused at what has happened to his life. Although his heart clenches at the thought of Sura, his stomach no longer threatens to force its way up his throat. An emptiness inside of his has been...occupied. Not quite filled. He huffs in dark, ironic, amusement. 

"Something funny Champion?" Varro asks turning his head to look at him. Spartacus laughs softly. 

"Not at all...just..." He sighs looking up at the ceiling, "Sura once told me I would never love another woman." Varro stares at him intently waiting for him to make some sense. "She never said I wouldn't love a man." A snort catches his attention.  "You believe me false?" 

"No, not false. Just...misguided." Spartacus frowns quirking an eyebrow, "True, I do not think you will love another woman as wholly and truly as you did your wife. And it is in fact possible for you to love a man. I agree with this..." Varro explains running a thumb across Spartacus's cheek. His breath hitches noticing the sadness in the dark blue eyes staring at him.

"But you do not believe it to be you?" He questions.

"No." Varro admits after a moments hesitation. "No I do not believe you do or will love me. Not in the way you think." Spartacus opens his mouth to argue but Varro silences him with a quick kiss. "Hush now Champion. Get some rest and I shall see you in the morrow. Doctore will not doubt have some extra training for us. I also hear tale of the Legatus's wife visiting." Spartacus grimaces.

"That woman is a snake dressed in silk." Varro laughs getting dressed.

"Aren't all "proper" Roman women?" Spartacus chuckles watching Varro leave. He hopes one day he can convince his friend how much the man means to him. He sighs laying down. Oh well. Troubles for the morning. 

Chapter Text

Crixus watches him as the rest of the Gladiators chant his name. There was something like resentment settling in his chest. Barca told him earlier that Batiatus offered the Celt coin to come and go as he pleased if he decided he wanted to stay and fight. And the drunk ass decided not to. He's leaving because of Doctore's wife. Gannicus turns and offers his hand to Crixus. His stomach twists in embarrassment. After last night? That's all he's worth to him? He smiles softly taking the hand. Fine. If they were going to act like nothing happened. Then that's what they were doing. Ignoring the ache in his chest Crixus states,

"We have not yet had proper contest."

"Win your own freedom and seek me out." The two blink at each other. Crixus's heart was pounding against his ribs. There was so much more held in that sentence than just a legendary battle. If he wasn't mistaken he could see a blush forming on the Celt's cheeks. Gannicus smiles quickly passing him with a pat to his shoulder. It left a bitter taste in his mouth knowing that would probably be the last touch he received from the man. The moron was probably going to get himself killed. A wave of panic hits him when he thinks about all of the terrible things that could happen to Gannicus while he was out. What if he couldn't get a job? Be homeless? Hungry and alone? Cold in the winter months? What if he got set upon? Robbed and left for dead? Crixus stares off into the distance in horror and almost didn't hear the gentle voice.

Gannicus stops mid step as he passes Crixus. Guilt was eating him alive. About Melitta, his betrayal to Oenomaus, and his leaving Crixus. It shouldn't mean anything to him. The Gaul shouldn't mean anything to him. But every time he closes his eyes, it was either Melitta he was seeing, or Crixus. He hates seeing either, but it was so much worse when it was the Gladiator. He could barely remember how Melitta felt now. Before last night every nerve seemed hyper set on sinking the feel of her into him. Everything has changed. Everything has shifted so that his skin burned with the memory of Crixus. His hands, his mouth, that tongue. Even just shaking the man's hand had his cock hardening. He sighs heavily and turns slightly. 

"Crixus." He calls, taking his necklace off. The hesitation from Crixus actually stung a little. "I was given this when I became Champion of this house." Gannicus was glad for Barca, the way the Beast glared at others to have them disperse and prepare for the day's training instead of watching them. The awe on Crixus's face was heart warming and made Gannicus debate on whether or not maybe...he should stay. At least in Capua? "Wear it with more honor than I have." He finds himself saying instead. 

Crixus's hands shake a little as he fastens the necklace in place. He swallows a lump of emotion as he straightens his shoulders. There were those who were watching him. He knows that now from Lucretia's stare, and the pathetic little thump he can hear in the back ground. A sure sign of that fuck Ashur. He should have killed him when he had the chance. As it stands, it mattered not. He was never going to be a Gladiator before. Crixus nods to himself. In retrospect, it was almost like he's saved the Syrian's life. Bastard should be grateful.

Barca moves to stand next to him while Gannicus talks to Doctore drawing Crixus out of his thoughts. The two smile at each other before turning to watch Gannicus. His heart clenches when the former Champion turns back to smile at them. He was interrupted by someone handing him a wooden sword and shield. He hopes that he can do it. Honor the house, and more importantly honor Gannicus. It was strange but Crixus had the oddest feeling that he was never going to fight the Celt. And he was alright with that. With that note he focuses on training, especially when Doctore calls for first positions. 

"I'm going to miss that mad fuck." Barca sighs blocking a blow. Crixus nods slowly.

"As will I. Apparently proper competition doesn't exist here without him." He banters tapping at Barca's injured side. The Beast barks out a laugh twisting away and managing to smack Crixus's back. 

"I do not believe it to be competition you are wishing from him, little man." Barca taunts dodging another hit. Crixus blushes slightly.

"Hold your tongue. My life is the Arena. My blood its sand." He informs defensively. The two swipe at each other, colliding their weapons with a loud thunk. 

"And what of your heart, Champion?" Crixus blinks at him. 

"Gladiators do not have hearts." Barca laughs loudly shaking his head.

"So Auctus was merely a hole is that what you're implying?" Crixus grimaces at the accusation. 

"Apologies. I did not mean insult." The Gaul barely ducks in time to miss the spear hitting the side of his head. Grumbling he throws a few blows at his sparing partner aggravated. Barca rolls his eyes.

"You have much to learn little man." Crixus scowls at the nickname. Even with the faint tone of affection behind it; it was still annoying and certainly pissed Crixus off. 

"Oh and I suppose you're offering to step in to teach me?" He snips managing a couple of good hits. Barca shifts looking around before shrugging at him, Crixus hits the spear a few times waiting for a response when he realizes; "Wait...were you offering your services?" Barca snorts.

"I was offering to be beneficial. Something the both of us could use right about now." The Beast says matter-of-factually. But it didn't hide the blush that rose to his cheeks, Crixus stays silent for a while thinking it over. On the one hand it would be useful. But on the other...the necklace- no- his necklace bounces against his collar bone making him look down at it.

"I...To be honest Barca, I respect you. You're a friend one I am hoping to be close to for the rest of our days. Glory shining upon our names...but I do not think I would want another man in the same way I wish for the Celt." He spoke softly, so as not to be heard but also to convey his thoughts on the matter. Barca nods slowly listening to him. 

"Alright. Then I offer you any and all advice I can give if you simply ask for it." Barca smiles reassuringly. Crixus looks a little surprised.

"You aren't going to try and see if I-" Barca manages to hit him on the ass. 

"Silence you fuck. The last person I was willing to submit to is now dead and I've decided that he was the last." Doctore instructs for the midday meal and they trudge off to get some porridge. Crixus is still a little wary of it considering who he was with. 

"So, what service do you think the newest Champion of Capua can offer?" Barca laughs at him. 

"Much more than his conversation skills I hope." The two laugh draping an arm around each other's shoulder. It was going to be the start to a wonderful friendship. Crixus could just feel it. 

Chapter Text

Ever since he was allowed out and about it was damned insufferable to be around Crixus. With Barca leaving, Pietros killing himself and Spartacus tossing Gnaeus off the side of the cliff Crixus didn't have anyone he was close to. Plenty of the Gladiators were behind the Gaul and gave their full support to his return; but it was different. Watching Spartacus toss Crixus around and quote the same speech they were given by the former Champion was heart warming. But afterwards when Crixus was sent to the medicus it wasn't long until Spartacus was following. Varro scowls as he watches him go. Probably used more force than necessary on the pias. When the sword breaks he curses and stomps off to drag Spartacus out if need be. Getting closer he could hear them arguing and couldn't find it in him to be surprised. 

"...put your ego away,"

"Eat shit,"

"If you would just let yourself heal properly-" 

"Nobody asked for your concern you shit eating-" Rounding the corner he stops dead to see Crixus pinned to the wall by Spartacus, their mouths locked in a furious debate. He was close enough to hear the Gaul groan as Spartacus grinds against him. They break apart long enough to gasp and Crixus mutter, "fuck" under his breath before their lips crash together again. 

In a way it was erotic to see Crixus's hands slide through Spartacus's short hair, gripping the roots tight. It certainly had blood rushing down to see Spartacus whimper his hands running down Crixus's side to dig his fingers into his hips. But more than that it sent a rage through him. The only thing that kept him in place was a mix of shock and a loud sense of logic that reminded him that he was married to Aurelia. 

Then of course the Gaul moved a hand down into Spartacus's subligarium  and grabbed his ass. 

"A fine showing." He states loudly. The two break apart as if burned. Crixus looking merely startled while Spartacus looks guilty. Varro folds his arms noticing the Thracian's lips were red and slightly swollen from the kiss.

"Varro! I-" Varro holds up a hand silencing him.

"Save it." Crixus looks between the two of them raising an eyebrow with mild interest. "It seems our little discussion the other night was little more than a cheap replacement." Spartacus's face falls with a disbelieving scoff.

"Varro, I never meant...my intent was never..." Lost Spartacus sighs walking over putting a hand on his shoulder. "My apologies. Hurting you is the last thing I wished. My behavior with Crixus was inappropriate and ill timed." A snort has them both turning. 

"Oh, apologies I did not realize I was allowed words. Especially in this matter." Spartacus glares at him darkly while Varro huffs. "Know that it was never my intent to sleep with this cunt. Had I known he was yours I would have kept twice the distance." Varro grins a little.

"You think him mine?" Varro almost laughs at the insult huff Spartacus makes going red.

"And your reasoning?" He demands. Crixus motions between them,

"Besides this obvious lovers quarrel?" 

"Oh are we lovers now? That's nice," Varro comments leaning away from his friend. Spartacus grimaces,

"It makes sense. I simple originally thought he was just your only friend." Spartacus's mouth drops while Varro laughs loudly.

"If you must know, unlike you Crixus, I have laid with people before. You were certainly not my first." Crixus folds his arms looking between the two of them in careful thought. 

"Follow me you fucks."

Varro tries not to pout as they fall in step behind the Gaul. He had tried to argue against it, but Spartacus muttered something about not bruising an already injured ego. It was appalling the amount of underlined concern the two held for each other. If he didn't know any better he would think it brotherly. As is, Varro was not overly convinced that Crixus had never lain with a woman before. Certainly the way he all but gawks at Lucretia's personal attendee would make one think as much. He sighs heavily as they turn a corner making it to Crixus's cell. 

"A proper bed to use, that has to be new to the pair of you." Spartacus makes a face while Crixus rolls his eyes. He motions them in and shuts the door behind them, standing off to the side out of site from the hallway. 

"I do not particularly like either of you two shits," Spartacus sighs,

"His dirty talk needs work." Varro notes earning a small smile from the small man. 

"However," Crixus says loudly, "I do believe you two can keep a secret." Suddenly both fellow gladiators were interested. He sighs deeply and pulls out a cloth bag from a chest. Varro doesn't miss the blush creeping up on Crixus' face as he hands it over. Spartacus takes it and his eyes widen in question. Varro doesn't hesitate to take it from him. It was heavy, and feeling around in the bag makes him scrunch up his face in confusion. It almost felt like, 

"What in the Gods names, the fuck is that?" Varro asks while Spartacus reaches in the bag and pulls out the object. Crixus smiles looking reminiscent. 

"Marble." 

"Where did you get it?" Spartacus asks inspecting the toy. Varro wishes he could tear his eyes off of the way Spartacus was focused on the damned thing. Pointless to try, all he could do was hold back a moan while a finger traced a carved vein. 

"....Barca..." Crixus mumbles folding his arms. Both of them snap their attention back to him. Crixus purses his lips looking at the ground. 

"You...and...Barca." Varro whispers trying to imagine it. Thinking back, it made sense. The way the two always were sparring together. Barely interacting without the other. In fact unless Barca was out with Batiatus they were pretty much together. Even Pietros didn't spend as much time with the Beast of Carthage as the Undefeated Gaul. "Huh..." 

"He used this on you?" Spartacus asks in disbelief. Crixus turns red.

"Why?" Varro asks confused. Crixus leans against a wall looking, well...nervous. Varro blinks, it was not a look he was used to seeing on the man. Who knew the Gaul had insecurities? Glancing over, it seems the patient look Spartacus gives, he did. 

"Because he was busy with Pietros?" Crixus answers hesitantly, almost as if he wasn't telling the whole truth. 

"You, Barca...and Pietros?" Spartacus re-confirms eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. 

"How did that even work?" Varro asks taking the dildo from Spartacus looking between it and Crixus. The Gaul gives a slow smile sauntering forward.

Chapter Text

It took some instruction but with help from the two of them Varro was able to situate himself on the chest that Crixus was allowed to use, and after being handed a vial of oil had managed two fingers inside of himself. Truth be told he wasn't sure if he wasn't gifted the showing before him, whether or not he would enjoy it. As it was, he could see the moment when Spartacus bites his lower lip as he whines, squeezing his legs together. Varro struggled to keep his balance thrusting his digits in and out at an increased pace. He didn't know Crixus was so talented with his mouth. The Gaul glances up at the current Champion eyes dancing with self-satisfaction. Spartacus jolts when Crixus turns his head and gently bites one of his thighs.

"I have to admit; it is a sight," Spartacus sits up on his elbows looking past Crixus to Varro, "watching the Slayer of Theokoles made a writhing mess by just a mouth." Spartacus huffs in annoyance. 

"You come and have the Gaul tormenting your ass this way then." Crixus rolls his eyes and smacks Spartacus's hip twice.

"I will not, but I cannot do much with you suffocating me, you cunt." Spartacus blushes unlocking his ankles from behind Crixus's head, legs simply falling to the side. "Are you ready for your lesson then? It was you who pondered this out loud in the first place." He asks the blonde, as he dips his hand into a basin of oil he had retrieved from the chest. Varro bites his cheek in debate. He was curious, but that damned dildo would put even the horse cock of a recruit to shame. 

"And you are certain, that this works?" Crixus grins coating his own erection with the liquid. 

"Are you frightened? A little deer without the balls to grow its horns?" Varro scowls as he rights himself, standing to his full height. He was not afraid. "Good, now come to the bed, knees drawn to your chest." 

Spartacus was even exasperated at the amount of explaining they had to do for his friend. Crixus had to swat his hand away from pleasuring himself in his impatience. Varro muttered under his breath earning a smack upside the head by the Gaul making Spartacus chuckle. Of course that simply earned him a smack from the pair of them. Crixus actually pushes Varro onto the bed and starts rearranging the Roman's limbs. Soon Crixus had Varro's head tucked into his folded arms looking at Spartacus, while his hips and ass were slightly elevated, knees on the bed touching his chest. 

"Well, maybe next time we can borrow Doctore's whip. You seem to take direction better with it." Spartacus teases reaching over and placing a soft kiss on his lips. Varro makes a small noise slipping his tongue into the Champion's mouth. Crixus blinks standing at the edge of the bed. If he had ever known; that this was the view Barca had....shaking his head Crixus pulls out the marble. He was careful to let any excess oil drip onto himself instead of the floor. 

 "Perhaps a smaller whip, made for such things." Crixus adds, climbing on top of Spartacus slinging one of the Champion's leg over his shoulder. He grimaces remembering this was one of Lucretia's favorite positions. The two were busy with each other and didn't notice, thankfully. So Crixus moves Spartacus's limb so it was slung over Varro's back, ankle hooking onto the curve of the elevated ass. They glance at him but he ignores the questioning look they give. 

"Perhaps not." Varro says reaching out to cup Spartacus's face. Crixus shrugs lining himself up between Spartacus's thighs. "Suit yourself." 

"Oh fuck!" Spartacus shouts when Crixus slides into him with one hard thrust. Varro's eyes widen before he starts kissing him in hurriedly. 

"Silence you mad fuck. Or we will be discovered." The blonde whispers against his lips. Crixus smirks. Nobody would bat an eye at Spartacus and Varro being a pair. He can only think of two people who would have an issue with Crixus joining them. One of which has the power to send them all to the mines. Or worse. 

"He's right, little man." Crixus mutters pulling almost all the way out, looking down to watch the way Spartacus's muscles try to keep him inside. He finds the way Spartacus arches up towards him addicting. The senseless murmuring that tumbles out of his mouth, Varro's breath hitches when Spartacus snakes his hand down and wraps around his unused cock. Crixus feels nails dig into his shoulder, he wasn't aware of when Spartacus reached up to grab hold. 

Crixus moves to hold the dildo by the balls, nestling it against Varro's hole, gliding it first up, and then down. He smirks at the shiver Varro does. Spartacus rocks his hips and wraps the leg that wasn't on Varro around Crixus's waist trying to pull him closer. Crixus shushes him, pinching a nipple. Spartacus jumps a strangled noise escaping him. Varro hesitantly starts pushing backwards biting his lip. Crixus smirks focusing his attentions on him and not Spartacus. He releases the nipple so he can smack the closest ass cheek, gripping it and pulling it away enough so he could see exactly what he was doing. Spartacus makes an impatient noise trying to stroke his own cock again. Crixus glances at him before thrusting back into him fully. Spartacus groans hips jerking. 

Varro swallows hard pulling away from Spartacus to press his forehead into his arm panting slightly. Crixus slowly pushes the toy in. Inch by scrutinizing inch. Varro gasps. The sensation of being full, was new and strange. There was a burn he wasn't prepared for as he was stretched open far wider than his own fingers could have ever. He felt every ridge of the damned thing and was convinced that the only reason his cock continued standing proud was the way Spartacus's hand worked him. When he felt Crixus's thumb at his entrance he took a few deep breaths. Bottomed out, Crixus gives him a moment to adjust, starting a steady pace with the Thracian. Spartacus cries out softly a smile falling on his face matching his thrusts to Crixus's. 

It was distracting for Varro, when Spartacus releases his cock in favor of clawing at Crixus's arms. The noises they made were borderline obnoxious. He takes a few breathes to calm himself, allowing the marble cock within him to become comfortable. He must have managed it as Crixus starts pulling it out and then easing it back. Varro grits his teeth when the stupid Gaul shifts it. Angling it higher, to the side. Almost as if he was searching for something. At the softening of his cock he was ready to call it quits when all of a sudden a jolt was sent through him. In surprise he shouts out a curse spilling over Spartacus's hand without warning. The two beside him chuckle putting a halt to their own fucking. 

"There we go." Crixus murmurs as he starts to fuck Varro in earnest with the toy. The Roman thrust backwards desperatly a small noise tumbling past his lips as a bundle of nerves he never knew he had was assaulted. After a few changes Crixus was able to match his hand and his hips in sync. Nothing, not a single fight in the Arena, not his night with Gannicus, or any of the times with Barca and Pietros, could have prepared him for the amount of, for lack of a better term, power he felt having the two of them moaning his name while they writhed under his touch. 

"Oh fuck!" Spartacus keens pulling himself up, wrapping himself around Crixus as best as he could. The Gaul shifts, with the new position keeps the weight off his ankles. Varro grips the edge of the bed gripping until his knuckles turned white. Varro gasps with a shudder as he comes again. Crixus slows his hand down, almost thankfully so, with a slight cramp forming in his palm. Spartacus whimpers and bites Crixus's shoulder. 

"Do not leave mark you cunt." He harshly whispers their hips stilling at the same time. Spartacus groans deeply coating their chests. With his release the muscles surrounding Crixus's cock contract drawing his own out with him.

Slowly and carefully Crixus pulls the toy out of Varro and himself out of Spartacus. The Roman and the Thracian collapse on his bed panting heavily. He smiles almost fondly and he gets up and starts cleaning. The marble was quick and easy. Himself he had to be more thorough. His wounds for starters so as not to get an infection so close to being fully healed. Also anything that might draw Lucretia's notice. Or Naevia's.  He would not look forward to that conversation between either of them. Once finished with himself he gently helps was the other two, not pointing out the fact that even though he and Spartacus have fucked twice before this, that they had never been so...intimate or...soft with the other. 

"You clean as if Jupiter himself were to smite you if otherwise soiled." Varro smirks from his arm. Crixus rolls his eyes. 

"Are you ashamed of our coupling?" Spartacus asks looking wounded. The Gaul grimaces at the sadness reflecting in the pools of blue. Varro rolls a little quirking an eyebrow waiting for some sort of response. Crixus sighs and leans against the wall glancing through the door to make sure nobody was around. 

"Don't be foolish. I would never do something I was ashamed of unless so ordered by Dominus or Domina." Spartacus smiles reassured by his words. Varro however looked unconvinced. 

"So why do I feel like we are being rushed?" He questions sitting up and reaching for his loincloth. Spartacus glances between the two of them shoulders sagging. Crixus sighs heavily.

"Because of Lucretia." Both sets of blue look at him in bewilderment. "Keep this silent as well as what transpired between us." It was not a question, or a request. Calling it a veiled threat would be putting it nicely. "She and Batiatus have tried for child for years, and Gauls are known for the fertility." He mutters a blush creeping on his cheeks. 

"That...that explains so fucking much." Varro whispers more to himself. Spartacus just stares at him in open mouthed horror. 

"Yes, well...Domina is rather...possessive. I fear death for all if she discovers the truth." The pair nod at him.

"You have our word, none will speak of this." Spartacus vows dressing. Crixus smiles softly at them. 

"Good. Now go you shits."

Chapter Text

Spartacus fought hard not to smirk while these Roman women ogled him. He could see how Domina and the Legatus' wife resented this behavior. It warmed his heart to piss the two women who had part in stealing his fate away off. The way the other three kept on, comparing him to Mars had Spartacus practically preening. Besides the crowd all but throwing themselves at him it had been a while since a woman had admired him. Especially up close and personal. They way they seemed memorized. An idea forms about how these women's husbands all must be similar in physic as Batiatus or Glaber if not worse. Roman's never did care for the effort it took to get in good shape. The one they called Licinia sucks in a breath as she studies him. He takes a deep breath to steal himself. It would not do anyone well to insult the two off to the side, either of them. Even if it was just with his pleased smile. They were all young, curvy and pretty women, understandable why he liked their eyes on him.

Something that makes his stomach churn however; was the way he had to keep his eyes off of Glaber's young woman. He first saw her back when he was in the Auxiliary. A life time ago in Thrace. He was giving his report of the Gigae and their plans to circle back around. She was wearing a coat of furs and presumably nothing else. What with the noises they heard at their approach and the state of both the Roman's hair, it wasn't exactly difficult to figure out what they had been doing. With her state of dress Spartacus had thought her a common, or possibly even favored whore. He understood the appeal. True it was rare to see one with such pale hair in his village. Her eyes were certainly startling and now that he's seen her in an actual dress, her curves were revealed, reminding him that however much he enjoys the affections and attentions of Crixus and Varro his preference seems to remain with women and- did they say blood?

"The mighty Crixus, certainly." Illythia remarks, fiddling with her cup, gaze not quite making it to his face.

Spartacus takes a breath focusing on the discussion the women were having. A legend about the blood of the champion being the blood of the gods? Fucking Romans were riddiculous. He could hear Sura warning him in his head about laughing at legends and the gods. He wished to argue that Crixus was nothing more than a short angry fuck who refused to use his brain for anything but the sword but,

"What of you Spartacus?" The blonde in blue was asking. "Are you a blessing to us?" He gives a curt nod glancing at her.

"So some. To others;" He looks up at Glaber's wife, "a curse." When she dismisses his slight with a reminder that he was a slave Spartacus resumes looking at the wall, demanding his cock to quit hardening. The women were talking about having blood, first in wine, then in a vial. But this...Licinia. She gave off the air of not being patient. Getting what she wants, when she wants it. Greed and lust radiated off her skin, much like she said being more than a common slave did his own. Then he watched as Illythia lifted up a knife and  started walking towards him with a smile. A sliver of fear runs down his spine. It doesn't escape his notice the blood lust shining in the eyes he used to think innocent. Nor does he forget that the entire reason he's in this ridiculous mess, the reason his wife was dead was because her useless fuck of a husband went back on his word and Spartacus as a result ended up "insulting" the cunt. Not his fault the bastard wanted to seek glory rather than be a man and own up to his own actions. The tip of the blade touches his abdomen causing slight worry. It seemed to be an understanding in every culture that if you insult a woman's husband you're also insulting the woman. Lucretia's warning dissipates his concern immediately. He almost forgot he was too valuable currently to Batiatus to be killed just yet. 

Illythia makes a face, and Spartacus couldn't help but glance down at her. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes as she brushes off Lucretia's words with a flourish. A couple of images flash through his head of all the ways he could rid the burning hate in those blue eyes. She was obviously a passionate thing. For such a spoiled brat. A few positions and a well placed hand could have her attitude changed to his favor. Spartacus realizing he was looking down her dress as she slowly trailed the knife upwards to his chest. Spartacus clenches his jaw, forces his back to remain rigid but could not manage to look away from her face as she draws blood. The blade glides against his skin, while she watched with a satisfied smile. The Thracian flexes a muscle in his jaw, hating the way his cock twitches in anticipation. Some how his stupid body has associated being cut with sex. How, he would never understand. Everything in him wanted to beg her to cut him again while she collects the blood in a cup. Something tells him that Illythia would only have to cut him twice more before he would be undone.

"He's nothing but a Thracian dog." Spartacus blinks, his skin a fire, aching for her to bring the blade back, "His treachery dishonored Rome!" She quips at her friend. He clenches his fists to keep himself from reaching out and taking a hold of her wrists and guiding her back to the task she started. He had to get out of there. He knew of one way that could get him killed but; it would be worth it. Rather than making a complete fool of himself in front of these women, especially Glaber's wife.

"It is your husband who bears the dishonor." Predictably once he spoke Lucretia demanded the guards to remove him. But he couldn't help finish his comment and the slapped look on Illythia's face, "He abandoned  defenseless women and children," She looked more memorized than anything at his voice, reminding him these were the first words he's spoken directly to her, "leaving them to be raped and murdered." He was practically breathless at the end of this statement as the guards dragged him off. Unnecessarily, he was going willingly. Their grips did not need to be so tight.

Being shoved back into the social area of the Ludus Spartacus glances over to where Varro was playing dice. Stupidly. Winning it seemed, but without having learned his lesson. Even with being in here while his wife and child await. Crixus was no where in current sight, and even though Varro would gladly follow him off to some solitary spot to be of a physical distraction, (one his cock was straining for) Spartacus decided to forget his own issues for a moment. His friend needed a wake up call. And some humility would do just the trick.  

Chapter Text

She smiles as she settles the wig in place. It was Gaia's favorite. It rather suited Lucretia herself if she dared to think so. Tilting her head this way and that she smiled more and more. Gaia always seemed bold and powerful, strong willed and lose morals. A woman. In every sense of the word.Nodding to herself Lucretia gives the guard the go ahead to summon Crixus. Gaia was always fond of the Gaul and to Lucretia's knowledge her friend never got the chance to lay with him. The wig and the Gaul were two ways she could honor and remember her friend. Be damned with what Titus says the old fart, may he rest in peace. She thinks to herself with a satisfied smirk.

Crixus stands warily in front of her a few moments later. He was obviously strong. Physically, of course. All men were weak when it came to the softer sex. And of course intellectually. But he was a slave so he was already at a disadvantage that way. However, as strong as he appeared, it was obvious that he was nervous. They had already discussed that she was his first lover. Which made him the more sanitary choice from the get go, but the power she wielded over him. If she wanted to, all she had to say was that he lost mind and came at her and have him thrown over the cliff. A few tears here and there, maybe a scream or two would have her darling Quintus eating out of her hand.  

"Raise eyes," She orders after a greeting speech. "What do you see?" She questions as he does as he was told. 

"The Domina of this house." He whispers harshly eyes glancing down. Gaia would not be satisfied with that answer. A title surely, but also a label. Oh how her friend used to hate labels. 

"Is that all?" A slight hesitation. 

"A woman. Unlike any other I have ever seen before." He admits straightening his shoulders as if summoning courage. 

"Better." She praises, noticing as she does, a small look of relief crosses his features.

"I did not think I had pleased you, when last called to your chambers." Lucretia smirks slightly remembering. He didn't. It was clumsy and awkward. But part of that was her fault. Expecting him to handle her as her husband does. 

"I love my husband beyond all men." She emphasizes in case Crixus has gotten the wrong idea stepping up into his personal space, loving the way he shifts his stance into a defensive position. "And I would do anything for him and his," She glances down, "legacy." Lucretia smirks at him. The Gaul kept looking up and down, as always his stare was intense. A shiver of anticipation actually manages to weave its way down her spin. "I do not seek pleasure. I need only your cock." She tells herself more than him. "Speak of this and see it parted from your body." Crixus surprises her by roughly stripping his clothes off, as if insulted by her insinuation that he did not please her last time. He was an impressive size after all, and like all men obviously sensitive about it. Delicate creatures they were. There was something of a challenge present in his eyes. It startled her, because she could feel the heat pooling in her lower belly as she stared back at him.

"Yes, Domina." He answers clearly. Lucretia smirks again, deciding to remind him of his place.

"Your hair and your beard," She takes his chin and forces his gaze to the wall behind her, "give the appearance of a fucking animal." There was a light dropping from his eyes, she liked that she caused it. "I would have you reformed into some semblance of a man, to make the lie I must tell myself more convincing." She states haughtily turning on her heel to walk off. Crixus was following in less than a breath. 

The sound of wet skin slapping echoed slightly through the villa. Crixus was panting with effort, and there were a few harsh breaths from Lucretia but he didn't get much more. He was still nervous about this whole situation. For starters, if Dominus found out the two of them would be killed. If anyone else found out, they'd tell Lucretia that they know and Crixus would be killed. If they succeeded then Domina would have his child and he would be forced to watch it grow up as the son of Quintus Luntulius Batiaus. None of these options appealed to him. But then Lucretia contracted around him, her wet heat convulsing tightly making his hips jerk out of rhythm, harsher than he had intended. Her surprised gasp makes him concerned but she reaches out and grips his ass pulling him closer with a soft moan. He was doing something right! Encouraged, Crixus speeds his thrusts up finding the way she arches sends a rush of excitement to his cock. And here he thought the only thing he was attracted to were drunken blood soaked Celts. Last time it took every bit of will power to finish, but the way she wrapped her legs about him angled him deeper, to the point where his balls were lightly slapping against her ass sending small shocks up his spine as they did. Shame and self disgust twist in his gut as he holds onto her hips, chasing his release with a bit of desperation. Shortly after he grunts spilling into her with a few hard thrusts. The two collapse in a small heap of shocked sighs and groans. 

"Off. I need to bath your sweat off of me." She hisses. Crixus blinks before nodding and following orders. He dresses quickly and follows the guard back down into the bowels of the Ludus. He was in need of a bath himself, but figured he would eat something first. It was past time for the evening meal anyways. Sighing he fixes himself a bowl nodding over to one of the newer house slaves. A boy named Pietros he thinks. The gates open as Dominus and the others make their way through. He doesn't miss the fact that all of them were covered in blood. Barca was being lead to the Medicus by Oenomaus and Gannicus. Even with just being spent, the mere sight of the Champion has his cock thickening again. Not a one of them give him a sparing glance. Figures. 

"Crixus." A guard calls him. Sighing he turns to glare at them. 

"You are to come with me." He nods and follows pitifully.  

He sits in silence on the side of the stone basin the Gladiators use as a tub while a slave girl he barely recognizes takes a knife to his hair. More carefully so with his beard as not to cut him. She was experienced in this. Young, and very determined. He's seen her before but he isn't sure where. True she was pretty but...a bud of a flower, yet to bloom. He nods his thanks after she wipes him down to rid him of any excess. 

"Good luck in the opening games tomorrow." She murmurs, probably more out of politeness than anything. 

"Thank you," He pauses ready to ask her name; but she was already fleeing out of the baths. The mark of the Domina was seen on her back shoulder. Lucretia's personal slave. He wonders if that means he did good. Shaking his head Crixus steps into the water and bathes himself feeling the weight of his actions. He was here to fight. To win. To kill for the honor of this Ludus. To become the champion of Capua. To defeat the Celt and win his respect. Fighting harder and better than any other slave in history. He would not be forgotten. Yet; twice now, Crixus sighs again sinking into the water, twice now he's been treated like some sort of whore. A horse to be bred and used. He's never thought about children before, however he knows he would not like seeing his sons, or hell even his daughters be called a Roman's. Lucretia's sure, the mother did not matter...but to not be acknowledged as the father? Crixus shakes his head and stands up. 

"Whoa, uh apologies." Crixus looks up to see Ashur stunned in the doorway nothing but a towel around his waist and one bundled in his hand. "I, er, I almost did not recognize you brother. The new look," Ashur motions to Crixus's face but rubbing his own smiling brightly, "it suits you." The Gaul's shoulders slump a little. Wonderful. The fucking Syrian thinks he looks nice. Ashur frowns stepping forward. "I meant no offense." Crixus shakes his head.

"None was given. It's simply...strange and new." He admits with a shrug looking down at the water. Ashur pats his shoulder.

"I am sure in time you will become accustomed to it." Crixus nods wading to the edge to step out. But Ashur slides into his way. "Forgive me, but something else seems to be troubling you friend." Crixus grimaces. He wasn't sure why he was friendly to Ashur when they were both recruits, but he regrets it now. The Syrian was as shady as the rest of his race seemed to be. Receiving the mark absent the test or oath, using under handed tricks to win in the tournament. The bastard would not be alive if it wasn't for such treachery. However, Crixus had no friends, and the weight of his new responsibility was suffocating him. But what was he to say? Surely he could not admit to anything without being parted from his cock or life?

"A secret." He finally mutters, after it was clear Ashur wasn't going to let him free without an answer. Ashur nods,

"The secrets in this house are many and heavy. I understand. The consequences of shouldering them weigh on you as they do others." Crixus blinks looking up at Ashur. He doubts Lucretia laid with him, but...perhaps someone else used Ashur the same way Domina used Crixus? Was...Batiatus?

"Indeed they do. It is...difficult to find solace." Crixus states suddenly concerned that one day Dominus will ask him the same as Lucretia, or worse.... Ashur tilts his head a little with a nod. 

"There, ah," Ashur looking Crixus up and down quickly before glancing behind towards the doorway, "There is something I can do to help." Crixus leans backwards a little. 

"I have no interest in you Syrian," Ashur rolls his eyes.

"No," He laughs, "Crixus, no." He says more firmly as if trying to convince himself. "I have this." He says pulling out some sort of plant from the towel he was carrying. 

"The fuck is that?" Crixus asks slightly disturbed. 

"It helps to calm and relax you. I myself use it when I find myself troubled and, ah unencumbered." Ashur explains with a waggle of his eyebrows that Crixus doesn't understand. 

"Relax huh?" He questions picking up the grass like substance to study it. 

"I am more than willing to share it with you my friend." Ashur offers shedding his towel and stepping into the bath. Crixus shrugs handing it back.

"How does it work?" Ashur's grin was predatory as he sank low into the water. 

"Trust me, and everything will be fine."

Crixus blinks slowly raising his hand out of the water to stare at it. The water seeping down him, like some sort of clear fabric. Encasing him in its own warm silk. It had been about ten minutes since he and Ashur consumed the herb. He felt light headed. Light in general. It didn't seem to matter if Lucretia used his cock for her own purpose. He was the mighty Crixus! Soon to be Champion of Capua! He would need a name. Something to be whispered about in the streets. On the lips of every Roman and every slave. 

"I need a title." He murmurs gruffly shifting to look at Ashur. The Syrian was smiling at the ceiling both hands under water.

"Hmm? A title?" Ashur asks blinking at him, his voice breathy. Crixus nods firmly, unable to keep the grin off his face. 

"A fearsome one. To strike fear into the hearts of the fearful." Ashur laughs throatily swimming closer to him, their knees touch under the surface, but Crixus pays no mind. He was in such a wondrous mood. 

"How about; The Undefeated Gaul?" Ashur provides reaching over to stroke the sides of Crixus's face.

"That is the best name I have ever heard," Crixus agrees only barely noticing Ashur's touch. The Syrian hums in appreciation.

"Your skin is so soft." He states looking surprised. The Gaul shrugs turning so Ashur could reach better. It wasn't until he was opening his mouth under Ashur's lips did he realize the Syrian was in his lap, grinding down onto his hardening cock. The two moan as they work together to position Crixus against Ashur's hole.

"Wait, I have never-" Ashur cuts off his concern by kissing down his neck.

"Hush, future Champion. I have." Crixus opens his eyes, confused as to when they closed when he thinks of Dagan. Ashur could have been with him. Surely they were always together up until Ashur gave him to the Roman for rough use. But perhaps it was a form of payback? The eye however could not be ignored. 

"Ashur I do not think-" He's interrupted once more,

"Then don't. Just feel." Crixus moans as Ashur sinks down onto him. He was tighter than Lucretia. The water acting like a lubricant of sorts making it easier than he thought it should be. Ashur mutters something in his native tongue as he starts lifting himself up. Crixus grips his hips and pulls him back down enjoying the way the water splashes around them. His head was hazy and unclear, but the sensations from his cock were direct and sure. Wet, hot, tight, yes. The two grew increasingly louder as time passed, both of them speeding as best as they could. Their paces were ill timed, not in sync. Sloppy kisses passed between them as they tried to match each other's rhythm and failing. Crixus almost slips further into the water and has to use an arm to hold onto the side of the basin. Ashur slips one hand into the water to fist himself while clumsily steadying himself on Crixus by holding his shoulder with his free one. 

"Fuck," Crixus groans placing his head in the crook of Ashur's neck, "M' close." He complains. Ashur whimpers twisting slightly. Crixus grunts shifting himself to a different angle. 

"Oh fuck!" Ashur yells suddenly, bouncing faster pushing himself down harder. Crixus looks up startled at the change, stopping momentarily. "Do not stop, there fuck me there,Crixus please! Please!" Ashur begs with a broken sob. Crixus nods slowly watching in amazement as Ashur reacts to his resumed thrusts. Head thrown back, mouth gaping open with a near silent shout. Suddenly Ashur's whole body was convulsing and he clings to Crixus with a scream. The muscles around his cock hold him in place, tightening almost painfully triggering his release. Crixus lets out a small whine jerking twice squeezing his eyes shut, his brain screams at him that this was not what he wanted. An image of Gannicus swimming into his mind. 

The two remain locked together for a few moments panting, trying to regain themselves. Crixus recovers first, having had less of the drug than the Syrian. Slowly and carefully he removes Ashur from his lap and rinses himself off. Ashur chuckles lounging against the side of the bath. Crixus could feel shame and horror gripping him. Whatever that plant was; never again. Not even for those few moments of relaxation. A primal sense of satisfaction nags at him, and he does his best to ignore. 

"Gratitude. The name is good, and...I feel more centered." He says hoping to appease the Syrian enough to flee. Ashur laughs lightly 

"Centered? Ah, well if any time you need to be re-balanced;" Ashur opens his arms, palms up, with a smirk, "Ashur will provide service." Crixus smiles quickly before leaving the bath grabbing his towel as he does. This was something that was never to be repeated.

"Ashur?" He gains the Syrian's attention, the smaller man looks at him with a loopy smile, "Speak of this and see cock parted from body." he echos' Lucretia's warning, simply because he knows it to be effective. Ashur shrugs still grinning.

"Of course." Crixus nods and all but runs to his cell. Something was going to have to be done about Ashur and soon, apparently. 

Chapter Text

Crixus storms to his cell in a huff. It shouldn't have pissed him off hearing Spartacus echo his words to that new recruit. But for some reason it just grated him. There was a part of him that wanted to just blame Naevia...but his heart rebels at the very idea. It wasn't her fault he didn't think that way anymore. Maybe he just felt guilty for encouraging Spartacus to feel that way. 

"Troubled mind?" A voice asks from the doorway. Grimacing he turns around to see Varro smirking as he leans. How that Thracian fuck could stand this Roman pissant was beyond him. 

"Nothing that concern you or your bitch." He tosses out. Varro glares momentarily before chuckling.

"I forget you mean our Champion." Varro says smoothly. Crixus steps into his space glaring up at the blond.

"He is not my Champion." Crixus growls at him. That smirk ever present, but Crixus has been a gladiator for too long to not notice the rage behind his blue eyes. The itch for a fight. Crixus scoffs backing off. It wasn't worth his head or cock to kill this simple fuck. "He is still being shown off to the Roman women then is he?" Varro tilts his head.

"Is that what you think they're doing?" Crixus sees him clench his fists. "Looking at him? Admiring his clear skin and" he rolls his eyes "buldging muscles?" He asks sarcastically. Crixus smirks.

"I forget the two of you aren't as familiar as the rest of us with the way Lucretia and Batiatus plot and scheme." Varro frowns while Crixus settles onto his bed leaning against the wall looking smug.

"And what is the procedure then?" Varro asks with a scowl. Crixus hums as if debating on whether or not he was going to answer.

"They will not request anything of him yet. It is simply to...early." Varro slowly sits on the chest he occupied only hours earlier. 

"Explain." Crixus scoffs simple fuck felt entitled to an explanation right off the back.

"What do I get in return?" Varro's mouth opens and closes at a loss. Crixus knows his situation. Knows he has nothing but blood and flesh to offer. The blond sighs heavily bowing his head.

"What would you have of me?" He asks defeated. 

The door was closed but Varro stilled worried about the amount of noise they were making. It was difficult to focus on it however as Crixus gripped his hair by the roots. The amount of force he was using threatening to yank the curls free of his skull. 

"Careful you in heat bitch!" He snaps twisting the marble toy harshly. Crixus shouts at the new angle wrapping his legs around Varro's waist.

"Then keep mind on current task or see yourself unsatisfied." Crixus warns fisting his and Varro's cocks together with enough pressure to have the taller man jerk his hips forward. 

"Gods fuck, what the hell did Barca teach you?" Varro asks through gritted teeth. Crixus laughs his head hitting the wall. 

"Perhaps I will show you everything one day. For now," he pushes down onto the dildo with a moan, "speed up you ass." Varro chuckles happily complying to the request. 

Words were lost to the two of them while they busied themselves with each other. Crixus was panting heavily his head resting in the crook of Varro's neck. He was loosing rhythm as Varro smacked and massaged the one ass cheek he could reach. His other hand thrusting the marble in and out of the Gaul as fast as he could. Crixus mumbles something too incoherently for Varro to make out, but he takes it as encouragement, especially when Crixus turns his head and bites him his hips bucking slightly as he coated Varro's chest. It surprised him that it was practically clear. 

"Fuck!" Varro swears when Crixus's hand stops. Rather reluctantly he slowed his down before carefully removing the marble shaft. Crixus smirks with a shaky laugh. 

"At the very least I will answer your question." Varro curses some more as Crixus untangles himself and starts clean up. 

"Very well." He grumbles dressing with a hiss. Crixus nods in understanding. 

"Lucretia is probably planning on using him for everyone of the little friends Ilythia has brought with her. Whichever one will pay the most shall receive him first. Should they be plied towards having him in their bed." He explains as if it was no big deal. 

Varro gaps at him in shock and horror. There was nothing else to ask he nods a thanks and numbly wanders back out to the common area. Raskos offers him the dice pointing out his sour mood. His cock twitches in agitation reminding him of part of the reason he was in a mood. Scowling he nods and sits down with the rest of them patiently waiting for the Champions return.

 Like a good little bitch. He thinks to himself.

Chapter Text

He was walking on air after leaving Lucretia. Naevia did not spurn his affection. True she scolded him for openly looking at her how he did; but he was honest. He couldn't help it. As of late she was haunting his dreams. His heart beat faster when she was near, or even in sight. The past few times he was with Lucretia he's even had to fantasized about the exotic beauty to be able to finish. The small touch she gave him and that absolutely beautiful smile she had blessed him with was certainly going to help next time. Everything was going his way. He grins as he downs the last of his drink rounding the corner into his cell. 

Just for his mood to plummet, his cock rising faster than should be possible. 

Spartacus turns and jumps up looking worried at the dark glare he receives. Crixus grips the pouch that held his drink desperatly. Everything in him wanted to kiss away the fear and concern in the Thracian's eyes. The fucking cunt. It should be Naevia and Naevia alone that makes him feel this way. 

"I seek no quarrel!" He blurts out.

"Your presence here would state otherwise!" Crixus snaps at him taking a step forward tossing the drink holder. Spartacus sighs,

"We've had our differences. I own my part in them." He sates firmly, as if that makes up for everything, "Yet if we are to defeat Theokeles-" An image of Spartacus dead by somebody else's hands flashes through his mind and a panic like he's never felt before grips him,

"We?!" He interrupts, "There is no such thing in the arena." He warns darkly. Spartacus glances him up and down, barely containing a smirk.

"You believe, you can slay the giant?" Crixus doesn't miss the humor in his voice. "Alone?" The Thracian dog has never even seen the Shadow fight before. Only recently learned of his damned existence. Yet thinks the monster a better fighter than Crixus.  

"As I have always stand."

"This time you do not." Spartacus reminds him never backing down. Crixus ignores the sudden urge to just pull the bastard down on top of him, battle for dominance in an entirely different way, one he hasn't had in an embarrassingly long time. Instead he informs the simple fuck;

"When Theokeles falls, the victory will be mine." He says confidently. There was barely two inches between them. A wrong tilt of the head and they would be touching. 

"And if we do not come to common ground," Spartacus retorts as if he was unaffected by their close proximity, "the death shared, shall be ours." Crixus nearly laughs at him. The notion alone was ridiculous. Before he could ask if there was something else the Thracian wanted, Spartacus walks off, leaving Crixus hard, furious and wanting.

Crixus curses himself, and his bodies desires. His heart belongs to Naevia he knows this. Technically his body belonged to Batiatus and by extension Lucretia. His bone, blood, and flesh belonged in the arena. His mind wasn't even supposed to be his own.  Yet every which way he found himself torn. Spending time alone with Spartacus was no longer an option he decides. The more he does, the more he finds himself pulled towards the Thracian, and whatever the man would want from him. Scowling Crixus readies for bed knowing he has a long day of training in the morning. Since his interest in Naevia has started spiraling him out of control, there would be neither Barca or Pietros to help de-stress after the baths and evening meal. At own request like an idiot. Sighing he forces sleep to come.

He was correct. The days training was one filled with humiliation, anger, and defeat. Doctore was never once open. Crixus has never felt like such a fool; even as a recruit. The amount of times he was on his back. He glares to himself as he scrapes off some of the dirt. He was sore. Something he hadn't been in over a year. Blame was obviously on Spartacus. Thracian moron. He refuses to turn around and even acknowledge him. If he hadn't kept getting in the way, maybe he could have at least gotten a hit in. Or more. Like usual the dumb-ass wanted to talk.

"How are we to fare against Theokeles?" Crixus makes a face as he glances to where Spartacus was sitting, cleaning himself off as well, "when we cannot even best Doctore?" Crixus feels his pride flare at the insult, and insinuation. 

"I could have bested him a dozen times," He glares over his shoulder, "if you hadn't gotten underfoot." He could have been mistaken but he thought he saw Spartacus glance down at his rear in interest. Now was not the time to delve into matters which he may or may not remember. 

"I take the sands beside you in this fight, Crixus." Spartacus sounded exasperated. As if Crixus was the one being stupid he ached for a reason to show the Thracian who was in charge. His rising cock agreed, making him hesitate to turn around.

"Just because you stand beside me in the arena with sword and shield in hand, do not mistake yourself for a gladiator." He said passionately. 

 You can get yourself killed that way He thinks nervously to himself. His cock was softening slightly giving him enough room to turn slightly, "I fight to honor these walls; you fight to LEAVE them!" Crixus spits at him, surprised at how the thought of Spartacus leaving hurt. With much more bravado than a naked man should have, Spartacus stands up,

"You fight," He pauses to take a sigh, all the anger leaving him, "because you are a slave." Spartacus sounded like he was taking pity on Crixus, as if he needed to explain this to a child. "Like me." Definitely pity. Furious Crixus throws down his strigil down turning around fully at last. 

"No!" Crixus's voice was loud enough to echo. "Not like you." Everyone else in the baths was staring now, unsure on whether or not to intervene. "I accept my place here." He informs pacing like an angry animal. "I embrace it. But you," Crixus puts as much disdain in his voice as he can, "still dream of a life beyond the arena. With that wife we've all heard about still nestled at your side." It infuriated him to have Spartacus turn away slightly at the mention of his woman. As if it was painful to talk about her. A little bit of the fight leaves him as he takes a step forward. "And that is all it is Spartacus," Saying his name gained his attention again. "A dream. And one day soon you will have to awaken to the truth." 

He could see the way Spartacus was breathing heavily. Controlling his anger. Being more than just the cock sure animal he was a month ago. His heart went out to the simple fuck a little. It truly did. Crixus has been a slave since before he could hold a sword. Pretty much his entire life. Spartacus was free for twice that amount. He knows how difficult it could be for those who don't adjust quickly. Maybe if he explained it softly? Blinking, Crixus frowns hating the way Spartacus makes him feel so...weak. Soft. Gentle. A man should feel like that towards his heart. Towards Naevia. So;

"You will never leave this place," He had Spartacus's full attention. "And your wife," He couldn't help the venom in his voice at the term thinking of Lucretia, "if she's not dead already, has been fucked to madness by a hundred Roman cocks!" He emphasizes loudly. That made him snap. The two grapple after Spartacus throws them over the bench, holding Crixus by the neck. They rolled too far and fell off the bench. Spartacus smacks his head on the stone floor, but Crixus wouldn't give him time to recover. Spartacus instinctively has his legs up, ready to wrap around Crixus' waist. Crixus could feel himself hardening against the jut of Spartacus's hip. He scrambles backwards a little and works on strangling the source of his slow decent into madness. Unable to do this, Crixus tries to head-butt the fuck, suppressing a groan when he realizes this does nothing much than just thrusting himself against Spartacus and hurting each other's nose. Spartacus grunts wrapping an arm around his shoulders and rolling so he was pinning Crixus down. He managed to get a good punch. An obvious payback for the head-butt. Crixus catches the second punch, more from luck than anything. Deviously he pushes his thigh up against Spartacus's cock, a thrill shooting up his spine at the heat coming from it. Instead of moaning or stealing a kiss like he wanted Crixus lets out a frustrated shout rolling them around to get the upper hand. He was close enough to hear the whimper Spartacus unwillingly lets slip from his lips. Slightly panicked he covers Spartacus's mouth willing his erection to remove itself from the picture.

Crixus was able to hold them in place, but before he was able to do anything else, two large hands were yanking him backwards into a standing position. There was no hesitation following the silent orders from Doctore as they watched Spartacus right himself. Spartacus's cock bobbed slightly, practically begging for Crixus's attention. His mouth thins glancing at it before glaring disapprovingly at Spartacus. Doctore folds his arms like he does when Crixus does something stupid or explaining something to one of the house slaves. Spartacus stares at Crixus panting slightly, disbelief and hurt clear as day on his face. Doctore rolls his eyes.

"Get yourselves cleaned up." He glances harshly at Crixus as if this was all his fault, "Domina requests your presence. Both of you." Spartacus walks away first, leaving Crixus to suffer through the stink eye from his teacher. 

It wasn't much later that Spartacus stands stock still next to him. The Thracian in chains, the Gaul free of the cuffs. Crixus does his best not to sneer at the simpleton. It was obvious he was confused and nervous. The two Roman women in front of them could sense that. The blonde woman looked as a snake ready to snatch up its dinner. Keeping his eyes forward Crixus does what he can to convey to Naevia that he's happy to see her. If he was honest he was just happy in general. Having to work side by side with the Thracian aside; he was going to face Theokeles! The Shadow of Death. And what a victory it will be when the Undefeated Gaul takes off his fucking head. Crixus shifts forcing himself not to smile at the thought of having to save Spartacus's life. The mutt would probably be grateful and after his wounded pride healed would do anything to show appreciation. His cock gives a twitch of interest at the idea. Chiding himself he focuses noticing Lucretia's guest was asking Spartacus a question.

"Speak." Lucretia instructs Spartacus when he remains silent. The smaller man sighs glancing between the women.

"I have seen you." He straightens his shoulders a wave of anger obviously coursing through him if the roll of his shoulders were an indication, "With Legatus Glaber." The hatred and disdain was not missed in his voice. 

"I am his wife." Illythia proudly claims. Spartacus should thank the gods Crixus was the only one to hear the snort he gave in response. "He is regrettably abroad, and will not get the chance to witness your death at against Theokeles." She was walking towards him, the dress she wore barely contained her breast, and even Crixus had issues keeping his eyes averted. It amused him to see the eye roll from Naevia and the slight disgust from Lucretia. If he has learned nothing from the past few years, is that women were just as eager for sex as men. Some more so. It was obvious to him that the young blonde was attracted to Spartacus, (and himself obviously) but the Thracian did more than just wet her cunt. Perhaps it was because he spurned her husband?

"But," She continues stepping in between Crixus and Spartacus, her back facing him. Crixus momentarily worries for her life the rage barely contained behind Spartacus's blue yes. "I shall whisper of it to him. Replaying, the moment," Crixus notices Naevia avert her gaze and Lucretia smirk. She out right disliked Spartacus, and for good reason, but there was no hidden lust or desire. No kindness towards the man. "When we are entwined in our bed." From the corner of his eye he could see her look the Thracian up and down before his head tilted to meet her gaze. This would not end well if it did not come to climax soon. 

As it was, Crixus had never been happier to see Batiatus rounding a corner. A look of confusion and wariness upon his face. Lucretia fans herself lazily looking nervous while Crixus and the Dominus share a look. Spartacus needed to leave the room immediately. The two of them understood the issues that would arise should anything happen between the Thracian and Glaber's bitch of a wife. 

"Apologies. I require the Thracian for a moment." Illythia's hand falls from where she was about to trace the curve of Spartacus's arm. 

"Extend it by a life time." Spartacus pulls head from ass, and lifts his gaze from her chest to stare at the wall. "I am done with him." With a snap of his fingers Batiatus has the guards escort Spartacus to his office. 

"The Champion of Capua." He nods impressed and when she looks away gives a sympathetic look towards Crixus. "A rare honor, to receive a private audience."  She glances up at Batiatus before going back to openly staring at the Gaul.

"One I am most appreciative of." Batiatus nods his smile forced as he looks at Crixus. "Although," Everyone tenses at her tone of voice, "he does seem...a touch overdressed for the occasion." Crixus saw the fury in Lucretia's eyes as Illythia reclines backwards, Naevia's eyes widen glancing between the three Roman's and Crixus. This was not going to end well. Batiatus looks annoyed but he turns to the Champion. 

"Your subligaria; remove it." He orders. With a small glance at Naevia Crixus does as he's told. While Illythia ogles with a gasp and a giggle he contemplates. Barely registers what she or Batiatus says before the Dominus leaves. What was he to say if any of them questioned his half erect cock? Which lie should he choose? That it was Illythia alone? That'll end in death. Does he say it was for Lucretia alone? That'll end with Batiatus learning of the affair and the cutting off of his appendage. Then death. Does he go for a quick death and say it was for Naevia alone? Perhaps he'll only be thrown from the cliffs if he says it was for the three of them. Or a variation? Just the Roman women might earn him a whip lash and nothing more for, "being a man helpless to his desire for tits and cunt" as he was once called. Shit she was walking towards him. 

Nervously he tries to will his cock to go back down. The reason for its rising wasn't even present. Guilt nags at him when he glances at Naevia. It should have risen for her. And if he thought about it for more than half a second it would. Double the time for Lucretia, perhaps. Crixus all but winces when Illythia places a hand on his shoulder. Her life was going to be hell if she kept it up. His flesh pebbled slightly when her breath ghosts the back of his neck. 

"His skin is hard." She whispers circling him, placing a hand on his shoulder in admiration, "like marble." Of course she had to compare it to that. Crixus swallows thickly the image of the last time he was with Barca and Pietros jumping into his mind. He makes a mental note to ask to borrow it for a while.  Illythia started caressing his forearm still talking more to herself than anyone else. "Were that every man were carved so..." Her voice trails as a hand falls on his hip. Her touch was warm but it felt like ice on his soul. Crixus forces himself to stand still, only daring to clench his jaw, finding it ironic that his cock remained persistent. Blood lust. He shall blame it on that. His luck seemed to be improving as Lucretia sets her fan down and sits up.

"We'd best not keep him." Crixus knows her well enough to hear the underlined rage. Illythia might not survive whatever revenge scheme was being plotted against her. "His training resumes at first light." She states with a polite smile. Crixus shifts ever so slightly at the reminder. Illythia pauses her stroking glancing up at his face.

"Do you think he will survive against the Shadow?" Her curiosity reminded him of her youth, as did the way her hands traced his wrist, as if the only man she's ever been with was her husband. Lucretia stiffens at the question, the pride on her face shining bright as she smiled at Crixus. 

"Only the gods know."

"It would be a pity to see such a man marred." Something about the way Lucretia looked up made Crixus uneasy. Illythia kept her palm open on his shoulder her mouth not even an inch away from his skin. 

"Perhaps there is a way to see such a tragedy averted." Crixus glances repeatedly at her, feeling his heart rise into his throat. His battle against Theokeles was going to be his crowning achievement! Crixus, the Undefeated Gaul, Slayer of the Shadow of Death! To be feared and remembered throughout history! "If your father, were to speak to the magistrate perhaps-"

"To what end?" Illythia interrupts. Crixus's heart was pounding. He couldn't speak unless told. Yet here was his moment slipping from his grasp, and there was nothing he could do to stop it! Spartacus would probably fight with that simpleton Varro, and get himself killed! And Crixus? Would he replace someone else in the games? Or just not fight? Slipping into the shadows like some sort of Syrian? Alone and forgotten?

"To seeing Crixus replaced in the games." Lucretia says like it would solve all of her problems. Crixus's mouth thins into a tight line. 

"Is that what you want?" Illythia asks him, draping herself onto his arm. "Do you fear entering the arena with Theokeles?" She questions. Naevia looks up at him, eye full of hope and longing, and what he hopes was love. Lucretia stares at him, her affection and worry actually making him hesitate. All the lies he was debating on earlier...nothing was easier to say than the truth. Something he suddenly vows to only speak the truth to Naevia. No false words. Not for her. She deserves more than that. 

"I long for it." He answers firmly staring at the wall. Crixus sees the hurt on Naevia's face, and feels sad about causing it. But it was better than having a lie eat him alive. 

"As I long to see it." Illythia states, the blood lust unmasked in her statement. 

The next day was a blur. No time to settle his thoughts. All he could do was keep an eye on the Thracian and make sure he didn't get himself killed or injured before the games. Besides a conversation with Ashur, the man seemed to keep out of trouble. Spartacus glanced back at him. When his heart soared Crixus glared at him, without averting his gaze. It wasn't until they were the only two left in the baths that they had a chance to talk one on one. Crixus kept his back to him, and as usual, the stupid cunt was the first to talk. 

"You were right." He admitted, shocking Crixus a little. "I do not honor these walls." He explains himself further turning to look at the Gaul. Crixus wrings his hands together reminding himself he was trying not to spend alone time with the Thracian dog. Instead of getting up and leaving like he should, Crixus snorts.

"A fact well known." Spartacus sighs.

"Has it always been so for you? When you were brought here for the first time? Against your will?" Crixus briefly closes his eyes and remembers that day in the market place. "Your life traded for a few coin?" Seeing Batiatus, and his chance to be more than just a simple house slave. More than just... he huffs.

"More than a few." He briefly recalls hearing Lucretia complain about the amount he was bought for. Ironic now. 

"Is that your worth then?" Spartacus's voice was filled with displeasure. Crixus sits up straight, thinking about the past. His current situation...Naevia. Her smile. A flash of Spartacus writhing under him forces its way past all of that. 

"Has it ever occurred to you, why the great Theokeles would grace us with his presence?" From where he sat, Crixus could hear the small laugh. Could just imagine the smug smile on the Thracian's face. Traitorous cock of his. 

"The promise of wealth?" Crixus makes a face, and musters up all of the patience he could. Treat him like a house slave. He advises himself. 

"The Shadow has earned a thousand fortunes." Spartacus glances at him, "He comes here not for coin." Crixus makes a face of contempt. "He comes here, for the glory of facing the Champion of Capua." A weight settles onto his chest, thinking about this. The Shadow comes for him. To kill him. And...Crixus isn't sure he stands much of a chance. "The Undefeated Gaul." He says, for the first time not liking the name. It felt like a jest at the moment. He could feel Spartacus staring at him. Trying to read him. Crixus wishes he could put their differences aside. Prayed to the gods that maybe he could take comfort in the Thracian. Let his fear bleed out....but then Spartacus would think him weak. Try to take on the Shadow alone: and end up dead. 

"Glory." He whispers after a moment. Crixus knows Spartacus doesn't believe in to coming from the arena. Crixus keeps his voice level and calm.

"There is no greater thing, than standing victorious in the arena."  For once Spartacus seems to be genuinely trying to understand this instead of scoffing or mocking.  

"Is there no purpose beyond the blood?" There was no hostility, nor smugness in the question. He wanted to know. Crixus stares at him over his shoulder. "No dream beyond cheering crowd?" Spartacus started to look worried, "Is there nothing else you fight for?"

Naevia was the first face that swims into his mind. Her smile, and her kindness, the very thought warming his heart. Then, it changed to Barca and Pietros, it didn't surprise him that they were one in the same. He could not feel for one without feeling for the other. The relief he feels when Barca comes back from his outings with Batiatus is equal to Pietros's. The two had shared countless moments murmuring their happiness that they survived another fight. A brief flash of Lucretia, her concern from yesterday marking a change in their relationship. Then of course; Spartacus. So innocent, and yet so battle hardened. Kind, and stubborn. Impossible, and logical. Maddening, and irresistible. And then of course; the Celt. Even thinking his name made his soul burn with longing. An ache that was caused by purely missing the blond fuck. That smile, his laugh. Crixus felt his throat tighten up. He wanted to tell Spartacus, at least about Naevia. About someone, or something. How he feels, his fear...but before anything comes out a guard steps in.

"Crixus. You are summoned." Crixus walks away without a word instead. 

Naevia wouldn't say a word to him. He tried once, to figure out why she seemed upset. But, it seems she wasn't in the talking mood. Lucretia must have something special planned for tonight. The moon was their only light, which worried him. Once before she tried to have them sleep together while Batiatus was sleeping. It didn't work. Namely because Crixus was so concerned about discovery that he couldn't keep it up. Most embarrassing performance of his life. 

"Step into the light." She says from behind the curtain. Crixus sighs stepping forward. "I would gaze upon the Champion of Capua." 

It took all of five minutes to convince Lucretia that he didn't want to do this tonight. He had to give her a bullshit lie about wanting to stay focused. Guilt hit him when she looked so...crest fallen. There was something about this encounter that she or Naevia wasn't telling him. It made him uneasy. Plus, his talk with Spartacus weighed heavy on his mind. Did he fight for something else? Regardless, he wasn't going to be able to please Lucretia. When she sent him away, he almost stopped when he heard her start crying. Instead he followed Naevia back down. He had to figure out what was wrong. 

Turns out he didn't have to press. She grabs his arm looking desperate. 

"You are going to die tomorrow aren't you?" The fact that she wasn't sure he would survive hurt his pride. 

"Only the gods divine the future." He mutters instead of being mad. How was he supposed to be angry at her for something he himself thought and felt? There were tears in her eyes as she questions him.

"Why didn't you let Illythia help you? She could have spoken to her father!" Crixus sighs, wishing he could take away her pain and worry. 

"To what end? Humiliation?" Crixus knows he has every reason to be nervous, but to express such would only be seen as cowardice. 

"Honor and glory." Naevia's voice shook, as a tear fell, "That's all you care about isn't it?" She asks glancing down before looking back up at him Spartacus's question burns in his mind. Crixus's heart breaks when he realizes he's made her cry. His own eyes well up as he wipes it away. 

"Not all." He admits, wondering why it was so hard to say that to Spartacus. But so easy to say to her. She intertwines their fingers pulling gently, drawing him in. He was helpless to resist, as her hand held his tightly. 

"Still the fool." 

"Still." He agrees. The push past some linen as he presses her against the wall placing a heavy kiss to her lips. She pauses pushing back. 

"You said love drains a man." His heart was beating fast, as his cock hardens against her thigh. 

"It can give him hope, in the right arms." Crixus allows himself to be lost in her embrace. Her hands explored tentatively, always eager. They were still new to each other's flesh. The way she quietly moaned when he slipped two fingers into her cunt had him shivering. If it wasn't for the fact that they had to be quiet, he would have been faster. She quickly became impatient if the leg wrapping around his waist was any indication. Naevia had to hide her face in his neck to keep from shouting when Crixus spreads her legs holding her up by the back of her thighs as if she weighed nothing and slides into her wet heat. She was still so tight, and briefly he worried that he was going to hurt her. Naevia chased those worries away when she started gripping his ass and pulling insistently. Crixus angled himself better his hips jerking quickly having Naevia clench around his cock. He wishes all his fears could be alleviated this way. She started whispering his name in rapid session as she reaches her climax. Crixus moans softly as he quickly follows suit. The two of them pant together slightly before they right themselves.

"Crixus." She starts.

"Do not worry. All will be well." He whispers ghosting a kiss across her lips before walking to his cell. Never, out loud, to himself, or to anyone, would he admit to seeing Gannicus's smiling face when he came. Crixus's heart breaks, hoping beyond hope that the Celt will hear of this victory and be proud. 

Chapter Text

"Another showing?" Lucretia mutters the words back to Illythia. The blonde smiles brightly at her from her perch. They had just discussed Lucretia making arrangements for Illythia to bed Crixus. The Lanista's wife has already started plotting about how to discourage this without seeming to. It should be easy. Discreetly send a message to Glaber making note that wife misses him but was too proud to admit it. Or perhaps her father. She knows how much Illythia wishes to return to Rome. 

"Yes. I think it will be delightful. Some," There was a slight pause as the younger woman ponders for the correct word. "foreplay as it were." She giggles delightedly as her choice. Lucretia smiles politely. 

"Very well." She turns to Naevia and nods, solemnly. Her body slave's mouth thins obviously displeased by this. The girl was such a loyal and trusted friend. Lucretia smiles fondly watching the stiff back walk away. At least she could confide in her later. 

"Crixus. You are summoned." Crixus and Varro share confused looks. Batiatius was currently talking to Spartacus upstairs. Crixus himself only barely healed, and everyone a little heated over Segovax's attempt on the Thracian's life. Dropping his spoon with more sass than necessary, Crixus moves to follow the guard. Varro reaches up grabbing his arm to hold him back for a moment. Crixus glares down at him, not liking being restrained outside the bedroom.

"Be cautious. I've heard Lucretia's in a mood of late." Crixus grimaces and nods. It never ends well for him when she is. Carefully he walks through the gates, unsurprised to see Naevia waiting. Unsurprised but still elated. 

"It is good to see you again so soon." He tells her quietly so as not to be heard. She smiles tightly at him. Not a good sign.

"As it is you." She whispers back. "Be cautious. It is not Domina who summons." Crixus frowns looking at her. That made no sense.

"Yet you retrieve?" Naevia pauses at the top of the steps, shocking him by kissing his forehead momentarily. Risky, not something she does during the day.

"It is Glaber's wife. Illythia. And what she wants sours Domina's mood. I understand men do not have much control over their cocks, but for your sake try." Crixus makes a face as she continues scurrying off. What in the fucking gods name did that mean? Twice as confused he follows, managing a quick grip of her hand as he passes. A reassurance. He will once again remind her that he is NOT like other men. Illythia and Lucretia were lounging on some chairs, much like they were nights before his fight with Theokeles. Crixus suppresses a grimace at the thought of his defeat. Illythia downs her wine as he steps in between them standing still, and awaiting orders. Lucretia looks furious, something Glaber's bitch seems to not notice. Rude. 

"Remove your cloth." Illythia tells him shortly. Crixus spares at glance at Domina before nodding, and swiftly doing as he was told. Illythia preens, standing up to circle him. "Even with such horrid scars, he still stands a god." Lucretia folds her arms.

"Yes, he does." Crixus doesn't miss the haughty tone. Illythia hums in appreciation as she walks around him. Crixus twitches slightly when her hand ghosts across one of his buttocks. 

"I have never seen," She pauses to pat gently at the other cheek. "a man's ass, so..." Illythia's voice was breathless as she used both hands to squeeze him. "perfect." Crixus grimaces his eyes going between Naevia and Lucretia. His cock, thankfully, remained uninterested but he was aware about how both women were. Possessive. 

With difficulty, Crixus let Lucretia think he stares at the back wall, while his gaze remains focused on Naevia. Her concern shown in her eyes, and her displeasure about this showed in the way her shoulder's set. He remembers the other day, having her. Holding her close. The way she was overly eager to please. Crixus almost smiles at the memory, but Illythia gave another squeeze letting him recall where he was and how his face should be. Straightening his shoulders he tried to portray to Naevia his thoughts, while keeping his dick under control. Easier than he thought it would be considering his train of thoughts. It was strange how the memory of their time together did not quicken his pulse like a certain mad dog's did. Crixus clenches his hands into fists for a second while Illythia rubbed circles on his ass mumbling about being carved from the gods. 

"Illythia?" Lucretia asks after Glaber's wife stays silent for a moment. Crixus makes a face as she places her chin on his shoulder to look at Lucretia over it. Her hands have yet to leave his ass, and he was over it. Barca and Pietros repeatedly in the past remarked on how it was his best feature. Even though it was said as a compliment Crixus has always found it insulting. Women have marvelous backsides. Not men. He pushes the thought of Spartacus out of his head and studies Naevia. 

"Has he ever been with a woman before?" Illythia asks smiling her laughter barely contained. Crixus looks at Lucretia slightly horrified. He has to lie in this instance, otherwise risk all. Lucretia fans herself irritated and motions for Crixus to answer.

"Speak."

"I have lain with a woman." He states truthfully. Lucretia nods, satisfied with it. Naevia rolls her eyes.

"And did you love her?" Illythia asks, her question more loaded than the first. Lucretia raises an eyebrow looking at Crixus. He takes a moment to think about it. It was something he was sure about, but how to word it carefully. Crixus could feel his heart hammering, trying to do this quickly without raising too much suspicion. Lucretia is bound to be furious if he says no, but it would also be a lie since he's lain with Naevia and she holds his heart. So saying no will piss her off too. But saying yes, then well, Lucretia will be happy and Naevia will just think he said it to appease Domina and that he didn't mean Naevia herself! Why did women have to complicate things? He had hoped to discuss this with Naevia at great length, but no time soon. Sighing deeply he glances at Illythia, the simple bitch who started this cluster fuck. 

"A goddess holds my heart. One day I hope she will hold my child." What else was there to say? The past few nights he's dreamt of little else besides Naevia, belly swollen with child, already carrying one in her arms with him by his side. His vow of truth held, and all three women look content. Lucretia even had a tear in her eye, her body slave looked stunned.

"Does she mind? What I have planned for you?" Her nails rake across the back of his thighs around the curve of his cheeks and settling on the dimples that lay on his lower back. Crixus looks between the other two. 

"I imagine she will be less than pleased." Iliythia giggles smacking his ass with more force than he imagined she could have before she grabs his arm tugging him down closer to her.

"It shall be our secret then." It wasn't a whisper. Lucretia fans herself faster while Naevia turns away to hide her face. Crixus gives a strained smile. It was funny in an ironic way. However, it was dangerous as well. Keeping this up any longer and Lucretia was sure to snap. 

"He should resume his training. Having been out of the arena for so long he's going to need it." Crixus winces at the harsh tone of her voice, but more so at the demeaning words. They cut too close to home. Closer than he was comfortable with. Surely his recovery time left a gap between his skills and Spartacus's. Something to be rectified soon. Iliythia rambles on about something as Crixus dresses and follows Naevia down. Once out of sight of the others he reaches forward his heart swelling at the simple contact. She beams up at him, placing a quick kiss to his lips. 

"You are such a stupid man." Crixus grins kissing her quickly.

"I am ever the fool." He kisses her once again. "For you." Naevia shakes her head a tear falling down her face.

"You speak of children? Did you truly compare me to a goddess?" She was crying, but she was smiling. Something Crixus was learning she did when overcome with joy. His heart was always so full of such strong emotion. They make their way down the stairs a little to make way for a passing guard. 

"You are a goddess. The only one to hold my heart." Gannicus's face flashes through his head, quickly followed by Spartacus. Naevia turns to look up at him with a small gasp when he grabs her wrist. Crixus smiles down at her cupping the side of her face. "The only" He says with all of his conviction. Shaking her head a little holding his hand to her skin for a moment Naevia hums happily.  

"Go you foolish man. Before we are discovered." She pushes him slightly, with no force or heat behind it.

"Will I see you tonight?" He asks, feeling more like a child than the man she believes him to be. A quick kiss as they finish descending the stairs. 

"I will try." Naevia watches the guard lock the gate behind him before she scurries off to continue attending Lucretia. Iliythia was leaving soon, as the sun was setting faster. Lucretia was certainly going to be in a mood after this visit. Crixus smiles after her feeling happier than he ever had. His grin widens when he remembers he wasn't even the current champion. Naevia definitely held his heart. Entirely, completely, and only. 

"Spartacus! Pair with Duro." Crixus grimaces turning around. 

"Only." He mutters to himself retaking the sands. 

Chapter Text

When Batiatus was done having them stroke Spartacus's cock as it were, Barca makes his way to the medicus to check on Crixus. His heart aches seeing his friend and lover in such pain and torment covered in blood as he was. His breath stops when he even thinks about how this happened to him. Watching from the sidelines was the worst thing he has ever done. Barca shivers in horror and disgust when he remembers the child's neck snapping under his grasp. One of. One of the worst things he has ever done. His shoulders felt heavy and he knows without fail that he was going to have to leave this place. But...he sighs instructing the medicus out.

"If he wakes or starts a fit then fetch me." Barca nods and sits on the stool next to the Gaul.

"I'm conflicted old friend..." He whispers not even sure if Crixus can hear him or not. But the guilt, the weight of his actions was too much to leave unsaid. 

"Batiatus's schemes become more dire. More...bloody. My hands are already stained in a way that they can never be clean again. I will one day have to admit my sin to Pietros and I fear he will turn from me when I do." A silent pause. One he very much expected. Barca lets his eyes roam across Crixus for a moment worried about the deepness of some of the wounds. 

"You yourself will have a turned stomach once you've learned. The way you look at me...with pride, admiration," Barca chuckles leaning forward resting his arms on his knees and supporting his chin on his hands, "with desire and carnal lust...I treasure those looks. Your eyes are certainly a mirror of your soul Crixus." A deep sigh, "And they will change. My dark deeds will forever be reflected in those pools of yours and it will haunt me in a third way."

Barca licks his lips feeling himself start to shake slightly. Having Crixus's friendship and yes his body too, was something he loved. It was a gift from the gods and because of his station he has done something so awful, that it will be forever stained. Barca swallows hard feeling tears spring to his eyes. He has to take a couple of deep breathes to calm himself. Never has he claimed to have liked Batiatus, but it was clear as day now how much Barca hated the mad man. The image of the boy flows into his mind and he couldn't help the choked sob that escapes him.

"I've been made into the worst kind of monster. And it is something I will never forgive....I won a large sum of money from Ashur. I take no pleasure in earning it through your pain." Barca closes his eyes gripping his hands tightly together. "I'd give anything to be in your place. To take your pain away....but I cannot. And I cannot stay here a moment longer than I need. I am going to speak to Dominus about buying my and Pietros's freedom." Barca's stomach threatens to give way at the thought of leaving Crixus behind.

"Were you awake I would beg and plead for you to move to do the same. To come with us perhaps. The three of us could move off to the hills and become goat farmers. Pietros already knows how to milk them and we could kill off any wolves, or boar that threatens." Barca smiles opening his eyes and lazily watching Crixus's face. It was strained. With pain, distress, worry, tears, the beginnings of a fever he thinks. Barca feels a tear slide down his own face. "But you will not. Part I know is because the Arena has been your goal and your life blood for many years. Part I know is because the idea of being domestic scares you." He laughs softly reaching out and running his hand through Crixus's hair. His fingers came back red. Barca swallows another sob.

"And now of course there is Naevia. Someone to at last have your heart and soul. I hope you and she find great happiness and peace brother. I must find the Syrian now, even if I have to cut off his cock, the cripple will pay what he owes.....if I am gone before you awaken know that it is with a heavy heart. To be taking Pietros with me as well, as you know I'd rather part with my own cock than leave him behind." He admits before leaning in and placing a soft kiss against his lips. There was a twitch, but otherwise no response. "Try and get along with Spartacus. I hear rumor Batiatus found his wife. Also that fuck Varro might be a substitute for Pietros. I wish you the best, my friend." Barca lets out a shaky breath before going to find Ashur and confronting him. He needed his coin. 

"You drown me!" Pietros laughs after Barca dumps a cup over his head. Much deserved for the teasing way the brat sat on his lap. Grinding down as if his life depended on it. 

"In more than just wine!" He calls over the noise earning a laugh. It was music to his ears. Barca beams into a kiss his heart soaring. Soon they will be free. Free of this fucking house, and it would be just the two of them for the rest of their days. Days filled with love, laughter and sweet kisses like this. 

"Pietros, you are summoned."  Barca frowns, feeling sorry for his little lover. If it was in the middle of their celebration it wasn't going to be anything good. Barca smiles moving to his cell for a moment. Nodding to himself he digs out a cloth bag. It was heavy with its contents and the thought of the beloved marble toy made him chuckle. Where he and Pietros were going it was not going to be needed. Perhaps one day he will confess to Crixus that he broke his vow to Auctus and was submissive to his boy. Never to his face of course. A letter once they were settled in. Still smiling Barca moves to Crixus's empty cell and secrets the bag inside the chest he was allowed. It saddened him to see all that occupied the chest were different subligaculum and some towels but nothing more. When freed he and Pietros were going to send Crixus all kinds of things. Trinkets and what not. If he thought Crixus had the mind or the patience he would leave him the birds. Barca laughs loudly as he makes his way back to the party refilling his cup. 

He was busy laughing at the misfortune of those stupid enough to wager coin on dice. He tossed wine onto Rhaskos when someone turned him around. Barca was almost knocked to the ground by the sheer force of Pietros's kiss. 

"Whoa, what did the Dominus require?" This felt almost like an apology.

"Nothing of import." But, Pietros was preening. His eyes glittering happily his smile wide as he pressed his lips against Barca's once more. He wanted to know what happened, and what Batiatus wanted, however he supposes it could wait. Who was he to turn his lover's happy mood sour?

"You kiss with purpose." He accuses knowing exactly where a kiss like that would lead. 

"For the thought of freedom!" Pietros admits clasping his hands to either side of Barca's face. The Beast of Carthage hums his cock stirring past the wine. It was going to be one of those rare nights where he submitted to Pietros's will. He could feel it with the way they were beginning to intertwine. And then he heard the Syrian clear his fucking throat. Both men turn to glare at Ashur for daring to disturb them.

"A word if I may?"

"Fuck your words." Barca wraps an arm around Pietros's shoulder fiddling with his hair. "Unless coupled with coin." 

"The very matter I came to discuss!" Ashur says in that fast way where he has more to tell you and he knows you're going to like it. "I have secured a sizable loan from good Marcellus to cover your winnings!" The news lifted spirits higher and for once Barca was happy to see the Syrian. "Terms of interest were outrageous-" Barca cuts him off, not giving a single fuck about Ashur's loans and debts,

"Give it here." 

"Marcellus brings it when he comes to collect his whores," At the glare he receives Ashur quickly adds, "in the morning!" Pietros was sly enough to slip his hand into the back of his cloth to squeeze Barca's ass. Scowling at being interrupted Barca steps forward towering over the cripple.

"You interrupt my cock with empty hands?"

"And intelligence!" Ashur adds fear obvious in his eyes. "Batiatus knows of your desire for freedom and makes noise for discussing terms." Barca feels a sliver of fear and trepidation run down his spine. How did Batiatus find out? Was he how Ashur found out? Or the other way around? Instantly Barca was suspicious. "Your skills while impressive in the arena," The wine had Barca unfocused enough to mentally complain about the way Ashur talks with his hands, waving them about as if they explained things his words could not. "lack a certain gentle touch in the art of negotiation." Barca hates being reminded of the day he bought the marble dildo. Ashur was with him on orders of Batiatus. And if not for his sarcastic remarks Barca would have spent more money than he should have. So in this, the cunt had a point. Ashur leans forward talking a little faster now.

"I can offer to bargain better price from Batiatus for your release," Pietros grabs Barca's shoulders, knowing the Beast well enough to know he was losing his patience, "half the difference be subtracted from my debt to you." Barca glances at his love who smiles and nods encouragingly. It wasn't Barca's area of expertise so he was unsure. "Batiatus is in agreeable spirits." Ashur purrs, "If we move with haste!" He urges. Barca again looks at Pietros who chuckles lightly, the sound warming Barca's heart, 

"Go!" He nods and turns back to the Syrian.

"Lets go. And call him Dominus for the final time." Ashur nods and smiles moving so Barca could walk in front of him. 

"Or he lies to you now." Ashur speaks up, not to defend him. But to condemn him. Barca quickly turns to him before looking around noticing the guards moving in closer. Of course the Syrian fuck betrays him. He has to make it out of here. Has to make it to Pietros. His heart throbs in despair when he realizes he forgot to kiss him goodbye. Fucking Syrian's. 

"Either way we have a serious issue of trust." Batiatus spits before turning to walk away. Barca glances at the guards again his heart pounding.

"Dominus!" He calls out, "Let me expl-ahh!" There was a burning sharp pain in the back of his shoulder where Ashur's knife stabs him. At that point he had no choice. He was going to have to fight his way out of this. 

The stupidest thing he did was not pick up a sword sooner when there were fewer soldiers. The pain was excruciating, but nothing was worse than realizing they were going to lie to Pietros. To Crixus. He prays to the gods that Crixus will be better in time to save Pietros from Gneaus. The thought of what that fucking bastard would do to Pietros had him crawling, towards to the stairs. He had to save Pietros. Batiatus grabs him by the hair hauling him up to a kneeling position. Tears were in his eyes begging silently that Pietros would be safe. Know that he did not leave him willingly. He chokes a little on some blood as Batiatus scowls down at him.

"Now you're free!" He snarls before slitting Barca's throat.

It was an odd sensation. Pain sure, but struggling to breathe over ones own blood was simply odd. Perhaps it was the wine, or the adrenaline. Or his heartbreak for Pietros and Crixus. When he drops into the water he momentarily feared he would drown in it. But then of course remembered what was the actually happen. Tears flowed as freely as his blood when he realized he could have let the boy live and have his death mean something. It would have been the end of Batiatus and his bitch wife. He wondered when he was going to die. Certainly nothing hurt anymore. But he knows he wasn't breathing. There was hurried movement around him and muffled voices. Nothing was clear enough to make out.

A pair of feet make there way to him. They didn't splash in the water. They weren't stain in his blood as it dyed the pool red. They were almost familiar. 

"Get up you ass. Or are you planning on spending eternity here?" Confused he looks up and was startled to see Auctus! He was so startled he forgot his throat was slit.

"Auctus!" Wait...he spoke?

"Come on. Welcome to the after life. Let us get going." His former lover extends a hand. Stunned Barca takes it and is pulled into a loving embrace. One he has missed. After a moment he looks back a little freaked out to see his body. 

"But...Pietros. And Crixus?" Auctus smiles softly, a strange look on him. 

"They will join us in their own time. And I will fight both of them for your affections." Barca laughs and strolls off with him a wave of content passing over him. Everything was going to be alright. Batiatus was right: he was free. 

Chapter Text

Tears were still hot upon his cheek when he steps out onto the sands to see what is happening. Pietros gasps loudly at the scene. His already aching heart bleeds for Spartacus. Sobbing while holding his obviously dead wife. Pietros hugs himself and nervously glances over at Gneaus. Maybe he could find a way to stop something like that happening to him. A fresh wave of anger towards Barca washes over him and Pietros makes his decision. His rage shadowing his shame. 

Spartacus sat numbly in the middle of the bath. The funeral was over and all the other Gladiators were giving him a wide birth. Shakily he looks down at his hands. He could still see the blood. Her blood. Sura's blood. He blinks, happily ready to continue bawling over the loss of his heart. But he was dehydrated. No more tears to give. For now. Instead he closes his eyes and sinks into the water. Every fiber of his being wished to submerge himself and join her. Yet he knows that she would turn from him in the afterlife for dying such a cowardice way. 

"Oh. Apologies." A soft voice whispers from the doorway. Spartacus's eyes fly open and see's Pietros of all people hovering. Spartacus stands quickly, reaching for his towel. 

"No need. Pardon, give me a moment. You and Barca can have your privacy." Pietros snorts looking hateful, giving the Thracian pause. 

"Barca. The Beast of Carthage, my lover," The word spoken with anything but, "has purchased his freedom and left me for dead." Spartacus's eyes widen. He had thought more of Barca. Shaking his head. Truly, Varro was the only decent man in the brotherhood. An image of Crixus pushed hard on top of him floats into his mind. He shakes his head. That dream was more haunting than Sura's death sometimes. 

"I am sorry." He tells. "He does not deserve one as kind as you if that is how he treats you." Pietros snorts again and rolls his eyes in a way that almost has Spartacus smiling. Without a word the slave discards his towel and climbs into the bath with him. 

"He was always rough, but never in a painful way. I suppose this is his version of a punishment." Spartacus tilts his head. Pietros glances at him as he begins cleaning himself. "For not letting him treat me the way he wished to. The way some will." Pietros informs not caring to hide the disdain from his voice. Spartacus scoffs.

"One such as you does not deserve rough treatment. Rather to be worshiped and treasured." Spartacus replies knowing how he would have treated a lover such as Pietros. The young boy tilts his head looking the Champion up and down.

"Is that how you would have me?" Spartacus feels a small blush creep upon his cheek. "Slow, and delicate?" Pietros seems to glide through the water stepping closer. The boy wasn't much shorter than Spartacus, and not without strength. A promising fuck. Guilt grips his stomach at the thought. Sura's ashes barely to the wind and here he was ready to fall into bed with Pietros. With a sigh he answers honestly. How could he not?

"If you were mine, yes." He states truthfully, his cock only half interested in where this was going. His heart sinks lower thinking about how quick he was to lay with just anyone now that Sura was gone. Running fast back to his old ways. Before marriage. Where any willing whole or cock would satisfy his needs. 

"I could be." Pietros offers sinking low, they were close but still not touching. "If only for tonight." Spartacus hisses when Pietros licks his waist line. "To forget our sorrows for a few moments." The Thracian's head tilts back while the slave mouths his way across Spartacus's stomach. "Traded," a hand slides up his hip, "for bliss?" It was an offering. A sweet one his cock was hardening for. 

"Pietros," Spartacus breathes out, the young boy smiles wickedly up at him,

"hmm?" He was eager to hear what the Champion had to say.

"I," A moan as Pietros stroked his cock without warning, "I ca-cannot protect you the way Barca did. I will not claim you as my own in front of the others." It was a warning. 

"I understand Champion. This is a one time thing." Pietros pouts not looking up at him. Maybe if he was good enough it didn't have to be. Spartacus nods. He could indulge the boy. He understands the slaves anger. Barca recently tossed him aside. If he was a comfort to someone then it wouldn't be too bad. Perhaps Sura would approve of his reasoning. Spartacus almost laughs. No, his wife would not. She would roll her eyes and tell him his truth before he even understood it. 

Pietros works his hand around Spartacus's growing erection for a moment. It seems the man's grief had him distracted, he was going to have to fix that. When the head of his cock was above water the younger leaned down to lick around the tip. He was very proud about the broken noise he pulled from the Thracian. A clear sign he had the Champion's full attention. Holding his breath Pietros manages to swallow half of the Thracian's cock into his mouth without drowning. Spartacus moans clenching his hands into fists at his sides. 

"Pietros stop." He gasps at the first bob of the slaves head. The fear of rejection was clear on his face when he looks up at Spartacus. 

"Have I done something to displease you? Apologies. I wished only for a shared comfort." His soft voice was so full of hurt that when he released Spartacus's cock the Champion snatched the boy's wrist holding him in place. 

There was a pause. It was more out of instinct than anything. The boy did nothing wrong and Spartacus did not wish them to end things on a sour note. The last thing he wished was to cause someone as delicate and kind as Pietros any sort of pain. Especially one so similar to his own. Emotions and desires not always in balance; his cock gives an irritated twitch at the sudden lack of attention. Pietros glances at it with a small gulp. Tilting his head Spartacus gently pulls Pietros up to a standing position in front of him. 

"Gesture is much appreciated. And this night it shall be accepted." Spartacus whispers softly moving to cup both hands around Pietros's face. "But I shall do it on my terms. The baths are much too public. Join me in my cell?" It was a question. If Barca was as forceful as Pietros has lead him to believe then maybe it wasn't a relationship as full of love as he originally thought. Relief swept across the boys features and a small smile even graced his lips. 

"Gratitude." Pietros surprises him by giving him a swift kiss. "Come then. I shall not waste any more of your time." Spartacus shakes his head following the slave out. The two barely bother with covering themselves. Erections impeding any sort of decency anyways. 

"By the fucking Gods!" Spartacus shouts bucking his hips into Pietros's throat. The boy chuckles around him, vibrations making him moan and sag back against the bed. "A-apologies." Pietros pops off with a perverted slurp grinning up at the Champion from between his thighs.

"For what?" His laughter was not mistaken for innocence. Spartacus pants a little looking down at him. 

"I boasted earlier about being gentle and sweet with you. Yet here I am, choking you-"

"Pfft. Thracian your cock is of an impressive size, tongue cannot bare false words in such a matter. But you are far from the largest I have ever had." Spartacus chuckles sitting up on his elbows. Having shared a bath with Barca in the past he knows this to be true. 

"Fair enough." Spartacus reaches down and pulls Pietros up on top of him. "But the rest of this shall be what I promised." Pietros rolls his eyes but smiles brightly. He has heard similar promises before. He wasn't sure what it was but always at some point his lovers become rough with him. As if they cannot control themselves. With those who do it properly such as Barca and Crixus the slave found he didn't mind. He shivers thinking of Gneaus. 

Spartacus sensing the boy's mind wandering rolls them so Pietros was on his back. He ghosts kisses across his lover's face, down his neck biting and sucking gently here and there. Mere whispers against Pietros's skin. Moaning Pietros arches up into Spartacus's touch, begging for more. Spartacus ignores the plea as he teases each dark nipple slowly and carefully. No rush and just the barest hint of teeth. His already leaking cock throbs in impatience. Something he long ago learned to enjoy. Pietros whimpers when Spartacus uses his hands to spread his thighs making more room for him between them. He found he enjoyed the little noises he was able to draw from the boy. Usually when he took a male lover he was the submissive. But this was nice as well. A first for him. Spartacus dips his fingers in some leftover wine before slipping them into Pietros's mouth. The Thracian holds back a whine at the way Pietros swirls his tongue. Instead of focusing on that he leans down using the flat of his own tongue on the underside of Pietros cock. He prides himself with the way his hips jerk upward.

"Spartacus," Pietros keens throwing his head back, abandoning his attempt to soak Spartacus's fingers. 

"Hush, you're safe. I will take care of you, Delicate one." Pietros smiles at the reassurance letting his eyes close. Spartacus beams, he likes knowing that he is trusted. Carefully he traces the wet digits down, watching the way he encircles Pietros's cock head swiping some of the clear liquid beading there. Pietros let out a harsh breath but spread his legs further, encouraging. 

"Please, it has been too long." Pietros begs surprising the Thracian. Barca has only been free for two whole days. He knows for a fact that Barca and Pietros were together every night but he had no idea...Spartacus huffs out a small laugh before pressing his index finger against Pietros entrance. His eyes widen at the wanton way Pietros pushes down against him. The way his whole body seemed to rise up. A strangled moan escapes him as he pushes past the outer ring of muscles with little resistance. Spartacus watches the way Pietros's face scrunches up with frustration. Mesmerizing. Curiously he adds a second digit perhaps sooner than he should have. Instead of seeming uncomfortable or even in pain, the boy cries out with a smile spreading across his face. "Yes, please Champion." Blinking stupidly Spartacus pours some of the oil Pietros brought with him on his cock, hissing at the contact. As he did this he was sure to stretch his young lover, scissoring his fingers, curling them waiting until, "OH FUCK!" Pietros convulses violently grabbing a hold of Spartacus's wrist his nails digging in. Spartacus lets out a shaky gasps, looking down. Pietros almost broke skin and for some reason that had him close to the edge. 

"Pietros are you alright?" He asks trying to shake off this might be discovery about himself. A lazy smile was his response. Shaking his head Spartacus eases his hand back and slowly places the tip of his cock against the slightly puckered hole. Pietros lifts his hips wrapping a leg around Spartacus's waist. 

"Now, please. I cannot stand to wait any longer." Spartacus hums at the thought of making him, but decides against it when Pietros wiggles against him. Spartacus eases himself in slow, tortuously so. The muscles gripping him were contracting, hot, wet and eager. Now he was starting to understand the issue Barca had with being gentle with this delicate thing. Just as he was fully situated Pietros thrusts upwards. 

"Fuck." Spartacus moans, pulling back almost all the way and slowly pushing himself in again.

"I cannot. This is too soft." Pietros complains with a frustrated sob. Spartacus smiles, carefully speeding his thrusts up a little. 

Between the whimpers and moans and curses Spartacus was soon lost. Delicate in most things, it became apparent quickly just how demanding Pietros was as a lover. Spartacus was doing his best to be gentle, having lost the battle for slow, soon after Pietros had grabbed his ass. Before he could say another word Spartacus was turned onto his back with a lap full of dark, sweet skin. 

"Champion my fucking ass. You are to kind for such brutality." Pietros snaps at him lifting himself up before slamming himself back down. Spartacus shouts as much in surprise as in pleasure. He was awed into near silence at the way Pietros rides him. Fast, hard, and loud. Their skin smacking echoed, the bed creaked and gods save him the sounds coming out of his mouth were dwindling any reservations he had about hurting the young man. Groaning Spartacus grabs his hips and aids in the pursuit of release. With a shift Pietros was crying out, a smile back on his face. Two more strokes and their chests were being painted with white strips. The Thracian tries to slow down to ease Pietros off his high, but the slave growls and doubles his efforts. "Not until you finish." He demands. Spartacus makes an obscene noise pushing Pietros onto his back once more and all but pounding into him. Pietros shouts his encouragement locking his ankles behind Spartacus's back. Their thrusts became erratic, the clenching muscles around him almost painful, he was close to the edge, but unable to tip over. Frustrated Spartacus lifts Pietros slamming his back against the wall harder than he meant to twisting his hips when he thrusts. It was better but not enough, something was missing something was-

"Oh fuck!" Spartacus moans. Pietros scratches his back in efforts to pull him closer, the breaking of his skin was like a small fire sending shock waves straight to his cock. It was the trigger he needed apparently as he spills inside Pietros stilling his movements. The two slowly sink onto the bed panting and gasping for air. "Apologies." Spartacus whispers after a moment pulling out with a wince. Pietros laughs brightly.

"No need. I enjoyed it. You were still far gentler than any other lover I've had." Spartacus looks him up and down.

"I do not need to remind you that-"

"This was a one time thing yes." Pietros sighs shaking his head. He grabs his towel and kisses Spartacus on his cheek. "Rest well Champion. You have my gratitude." Spartacus frowns watching the boy leave. It felt more like resentment than gratitude. He sighs rolling onto his back. He perhaps would consider taking Pietros, if only for the boys protection. Once he knew Crixus's thoughts on the matter. The Gaul was close to Barca and therefore Pietros. He would know maybe a way Barca controlled himself? He was rougher than he wished to be and not being in control of his actions while being the dominator was not something he enjoyed. Sitting up quickly Spartacus looks around. He could have sworn he heard Sura laugh. Sighing deeply he lays back down. Tomorrow was another day. His stomach threatens to show itself as he closes his eyes thinking of his beloved wife.

Pietros slinks back to his cell shame covering him. He threw himself at the Champion of Capua. The Thracian. Crixus was going to be furious. Heartbroken. His heart clenches when he thinks of Barca. Was he simply working fast to make enough money to free Pietros? Did he just throw away their love for nothing? Shaking he shuts the door behind him and curls up on the bed tears forming in his eyes. He had always found Spartacus appealing, but he always liked the man's kindness more. Perhaps he just ruined a friendship as well. Perhaps he deserved whatever it was Gneaus was sure to have in store for him now that Barca and Crixus could no longer protect him. The coo of the birds, something that usually helps him fall asleep, aid into reminding him of his grief, and sleep is only found after a long shedding of tears. 

Chapter Text

He only half listens to Spartacus answer Doctore's question. It hurt a little since he was once asked the same question. But with his wounds still healing if anyone acted out the way the Thracian had then he would not fair well at all. Instead he leans against a post and watched the new recruits. A couple of them looked better suited for house work. One was dark of skin and it was Crixus's belief that the man would not survive the training. Two tall fucks that could only be from the East of the Rhine. And another Gaul. He smirks a little wishing he could feel a kinship. The way Rhaskos and some of the others felt towards him. But he had always felt his family, his kin, was more of the Gladiators alone. More so of Barca and Pietros. Thinking about them hurt. Crixus felt the ache in his bones. Barca off to the hills, (supposedly) and Pietros...he sighs thinking of the young man. He had yelled at Spartacus for killing Gnaeus. Yet when he learned why...well Crixus knows he would have done the same thing. If only he had healed faster. If only Pietros had waited just one more day. Or come see him at all. Why the boy did not was still a mystery to him. He hopes the past few years were not an act to keep him protected from the net wielder. Crixus fumes as he ponders this doing his best to keep his eyes off of Spartacus, shit seemed to always be just in sight. 

"Doctore!" Batiatus never interrupts the welcoming speech. Crixus glances upwards. He can picture Lucretia standing next to that girl that Glaber married. Children marrying children in his opinion. "Our honored guest wishes to access the recruits' virtues." Crixus rolls his eyes at this. Of course. Illythia was going to chose someone to sponsor. Probably fuck them the way he's used with Lucretia. He's already glanced and assessed them all. In his mind Illythia would probably go for the shorter, younger looking of the shits East of the Rhine. The one who answered like a moron. The pup looked eager to please. Crixus scowls at this before looking towards the Thracian. The only one besides himself not jeering and laughing at the newbies. Crixus wonders, as Doctore cracks his whip and orders them about, if Spartacus knows what's happening.  There was a stab of sympathy that one day soon the false Champion would be used as a piece of meat before the rest of the nobles. He sighs turning to pay attention again. One by one the recruits removed their clothes as ordered. Crixus couldn't help but mentally compare to others. He had hoped to imagine Gannicus, or Barca, or even Pietros. Yet instead the image of the cunt Spartacus appeared in his mind. He swallows thickly thinking about his fevered dream. Was it a dream? Crixus's eyes widen a little at the Rhine brother's. Both larger than he expected having heard tale of their kind having disappointing performances in bed.

Before he could see the Gaul's he notices Spartacus glancing at him. Almost as if hoping Crixus would explain what was happening here. Crixus curses himself when he feels his cock hardening. His heart was racing in ways only Naevia should make it. It had been days, days since he has laid eyes on Spartacus, and vice versa. They had not spoken since he learned of Pietros's death and he was starting to feel the weight of loneliness crushing him. Even with new potential rivals, or replacement allies, possible friends Crixus finds difficulty taking his eyes off of Spartacus. 

"I wish to alter my bet." Varro's voice carries, "Everything on the one with the horse cock." Crixus glares when Spartacus turns to look. He already knows Spartacus was an eager little cunt when it came to cock. Crixus huffs looking past the Thracian and makes a soft choking noise when he see's what has everyone else feeling shamed. That marble be fucking damned. He hasn't ever agreed with the blond in the past, but Varro was right. Horse. Cock. Spartacus turns just as Crixus found the strength to tear his gaze away from the recruit. The Thracian passes him, almost close enough to touch. Crixus shifts, barely glancing at him making sure their shoulders do not touch. They were in a distance enough that he could feel the heat coming off of the leaner man. Even though he had just poorly serviced Lucretia, and his wounds kept him far from his usual abilities, Crixus's cock still manages to have a mind of its own when it came to Spartacus. His skin burns knowing Spartacus was looking at him, almost in an offering way, a challenge to follow him. Crixus glares after Spartacus walks off. Grumbling Crixus storms off to his cell knocking over his chest as he does. There was a clatter that didn't make sense right away. 

"The fuck?" Crixus whispers to himself turning around to look at the mess he made. Blinking slowly he squats down and picks up a cloth bag that he has seen only once before in his lifetime. Shakily he opens it and pulls out the familiar toy. Tears spring to his eyes understanding the meaning. Barca would never have left this in Crixus's possession if he planned on not writing. Not visiting. Not taking Pietros. Crixus sinks down onto the floor cradling the marble crying softly.  

It was a little while later he was joining the men for midday meal. The recruits were just given the signal to get in line. Crixus nods remembering those days;

"...only yesterday we were of a similar position." Varro and Spartacus once again eating together. Crixus scowls. If Spartacus loved his wife so much then how was he able to attach himself so firmly to the shit's side so soon after her death? Crixus knows if Naevia were to die then his own heart would stop beating too. Crixus tries to imagine it, but instead sees Spartacus's head rolling across the sand. The thought scares him. Which was infuriating.  He wonders what Barca would say about any of this. His heart clenches realizing nobody messed with the porridge. Nobody pissed in it, or spit in it, or put feathers at the bottom. Crixus could feel his mood sour. Between thoughts of caring for the Thracian, and missing Barca. Varro passes him leaving Spartacus to sit alone. A seat vacant and waiting. More than anything Crixus wanted to go sit next to him and discuss the new recruits. Guilt sinks into his stomach. Naevia should be the one he wants to talk to. Scowling he knocks one of the recruits to the ground, hitting the bowl out of the horse cock's. 

"You fucking wait, until gladiators have filled their bellies!" 

"Crixus." He looks up, eyes widening at the warmth that spreads through him when Spartacus says his name. "Let them eat." As a recruit he would have given everything to have Gannicus stand up for him this way. Crixus feels an old bitter resentment rising at the thought of the Celt. He wonders which newbie caught Spartacus's eye. 

"They must embrace suffering and pain to become gladiators." Crixus explains with a clip in his voice. His irritation with the Thracian knows no bounds. For starters the man had no reason to hold his interest. He had no honor. Did not care for the ludus. Did not care for Crixus, and did not care for the proper way of training gladiators! "This is how it is done!" Spartacus chuckles and nods slightly. 

"But not by you," Crixus's mouth thins at the taunt. "Let them eat." He says as if it wouldn't insult Auctus and Barca's memories to let them. Crixus looks around noticing everyone was watching the two of them. Much like their fight in the baths. He scoffs.

"Spartacus." He opens his arms, "The kind and gentle one." A few chuckles. Spartacus smirks before slowly getting up. Crixus straightens his shoulders ready for a swing. 

"Do not mistake me Crixus." A strange flutter of the heart at his name. He was going to have to speak to Naevia. Have her say it more. Perhaps that was the issue. "I give no shit for these men." Crixus calls bullshit. But...these men? If not these men then maybe? Spartacus draws up to his full height once again reminding Crixus that he was shorter than the Thracian. "But you are no longer the Champion of Capua." The reminder squeezed at his heart. "You do not take lead here." Crixus clenches his jaw forcing the sting of tears back. "You follow." Spartacus says happily. The only thing that kept Crixus in check was the memory of Spartacus, begging for him. The thought had Crixus smirking. He moves to walk away before,

"The one who follows. Is forever at your back," He snips using his own subtle reminder, "Something to consider, Champion." He mocks before throwing his food at the recruit still on the ground. As he storms off he noticed the puppy from East of the Rhine look at him before quickly looking away, almost shyly. Good. Fucker should show some respect. 

Crixus avoids the baths that night. He feels like he hasn't earned it. There was no training from him today. Besides. A grimace, Spartacus would be there. If he encountered the Thracian again today it would end in a fight....in front of the others at least. If it was just him and Spartacus? There were a mass of ideas flowing through his mind. Everyone of them going straight to his cock. It was much too early to pleasure himself. The thought barely crossed his mind when his eyes stray to the chest where he now keeps the toy. If he ever encounters Barca again he was going to thank him. After he smacks him for leaving Pietros. Willingly or not. Crixus paces a little trying to figure out what to do. Lucretia was going to be busy with Batiatus. The man had no cause for leaving tonight. Spartacus was now in Gannicus's old cell. And he knows how quiet and private that is. He groans a little his erection becoming painful. And with Lucretia being busy Naevia was going to be stuck at her side all night. He makes a face. Naevia was better than that. She deserved more than sweet words and a quick fuck. She wasn't a whore.

.....

Whore.

Crixus brightens up at his genius. He's never taken one before. Generally he uses his coin for oils. Once he was questioned by Lucretia and he said it was to help him relax and think of her upon occasion. So that means he should have enough saved up for a whore! None but Ashur would have to know. Crixus is well aware he can threaten the damn Syrian into silence. Nodding to himself he leans casually against the bars. Every end of the month the fucking cripple would come by and ask Crixus what he wished to do with his coin. This month should be no different. In fact Crixus almost smiles as Ashur approach- aaaand he's passing?

"Ashur." He calls out. The Syrian stops, "You pass my cell by mistake." He doesn't wait for the fuck to turn around. "Where is my coin?"  Lucretia favored him too much to have him go without. Ashur saunters over, the smile growing on his face making Crixus uneasy. 

"The mistake is yours. You do not fight, you are entitled to neither coin," Ashur looks him up and down suggestively, "nor cunt." Crixus scowls, gripping the bars. If Ashur was doing this just to get Crixus again, he was going to kill him. 

"The Dominus shall hear about this."  

"Oh," Ashur nods and laughs, "His very hands set the names." Crixus feels his heart pounding in fear. If Batiatus does not wish him to fight? Is he to be Barca's replacement? "Perhaps next month you should find yourself again among them," He once again gives Crixus a once over. Barca and Ashur were forced to spend time together while the Beast was the Dominus' body guard. A chill runs down his spine thinking about spending time with Ashur. "Should your wounds ever heal." Crixus seethes furious at the course his life as taken. Spartacus passes his cells as he leaves the baths. Crixus glares at him turning away. He hears the Thracian sigh and continue on his path. Arrogant fuck. 

He tries for hours for sleep to find him. None of course do. His cock aching for attention. Sighing Crixus waits for some more of the candles to die out before removing his subligaria. It had been many years since he's pleasured himself just to pleasure himself. Nobody to watch or entice. The only one who's blood is set a flame will be his own. Shaking his head Crixus closes his eyes and works his fist over his cock. A groan slips past his lips as he imagines Naevia. 

After a few minutes it becomes clear that his calloused large hand was far from her small smooth dainty one. Frustrated Crixus rolls off the bed and digs around in the chest. pulling out the marble and a vial of oil. Settling back on the bed Crixus spreads his legs while coating his fingers.  

A low moan escapes him when he ignores any sense of patience applying two fingers to himself. It burned, the lack of attention these past few months had him tighter than he had been in years. Knowing he didn't have enough oil he eagerly slips the marble past his lips, moaning at the weight on his tongue. An old fantasy of his starts to play in his mind. Gannicus. Back and there for Crixus. The Celt whispering of long suppressed desires finally coming to a head. 

Crixus was panting when he shifted to switch flesh with toy. A hand now free he starts fisting his cock imagining how much Gannicus would enjoy the fact that he was leaking. It had been a whole season since he last used the dildo on himself, and this angle was slightly awkward. It took more effort to fill himself with it. But his wounds agreed with this position more bearable. Crixus arches his hips murmuring as he was breached. In his mind Gannicus's face was perfect, mouth formed in a shocked and awed 'o', and then when he felt the marble fully sheathed:

Spartacus's smug smirk. 

"Fucking shit." Crixus growls thrusting down. Bastard didn't know how to mind his own business and stay out of a perfectly good fantasy. Hell he could even imagine what the fucker would say:

"Such words beg for more punishment." Crixus whimpers a little as his mind takes hold of this new madness. Spartacus was generous as a bottom, Crixus envisions how satisfying he could make it be as the dominant. Crixus's breathing hitches as a familiar warmth builds, his hips snapping as best as they could.

"Is that the best you have to offer?" He whispers to his mental version of the Thracian. "Pitiful excuse for a lover and a Champion." Crixus writhes easily picturing the rage on Spartacus's face. The challenge having been set and demanding to be answered. "Fuck!" Crixus twitches violently his own orgasm surprising him, slicking his hand and making a damned mess. With a groan he removes the marble cock and regains his senses. Spent, yes. Satisfied? Far from it. Closing his eyes Crixus sighs deeply. His emotions were never something he understood easily. Usually had assistance from Barca or Pietros. Now he was sure to fuck something up if he wasn't careful. 

The next morning had him being examined by the medicus. He has spent too many days with the old fucker to not know the man would do anything for him. Why he still was unsure. But anytime Crixus looked him dead in the eyes he found the man to become as of clay. Batiatus was attending this examination, making it so Crixus refused to speak. To show pain. Be silent instead of complaining about Naevia having to be busy, or Spartacus in general. Or even get the chance to ask the medicus how his wife and children were doing down in the city. The man too infrequently gets to see them he's learned. There was a particular wound that had him wince, but he refused to cry out.

"His wounds yet need more time." The medicus mutters. Crixus's heart drops at the news but relief consumes him when medicus moves away.

"How much longer?" Batiatus asks sounding agitated".

"A fortnight or two. Perhaps three." Crixus feels the color draining from his face at the news. Batiatus scoffs, 

"Jupiter's cock!" Crixus glances up at the Dominus worriedly. 

"His recovery may be aided by certain herbs. Absent the apothecary" Crixus can feel a panic rising in him. He's heard of Spartacus's latest victories, against pathetic men. What if he once again finds himself facing a dangerous opponent? Will they pair him with someone? But who? That idiot Varro? Rhaskos? One of the new recruits?! Crixus swallows hard. Spartacus was going to die if that happened. And Crixus? What is he if not a gladiator? He shivers thinking about his life before this ludus. He has to do something.

"Dominus. I've been without sword for too long," Batiatus looks at him, and the paper he was handed, "Let me resume training?" There was a hesitation as he looks to the paper again with a long sigh. 

"I will see all on the list procured. Heed Medicus' warning." Batiatus instructs pointing to Crixus. "Your sword will return to your hand soon enough." He nods before walking out. Crixus sighs shakily before walking out to watch the men. There were a few openings in many of them. That pup from the Rhine had more than most. Someone needed to help him or he too would fall. The tall fuck, the pup's brother was doing better but there was a rage there. Fool would die too. He noticed they had placed Segovax with Spartacus. His hand clenches into a fist watching them. Fucking horse cock. Spartacus probably couldn't wait to be only with the ox. 

"Crixus." Naevia's voice had him confused. At first....

Medicus was dealing with his wounds when Spartacus strolls in. Crixus could still feel the bruise to his pride. Yet here the fucker was to add to it.

"You over reach. And are the results." Crixus refuses to turn around to look at him.

"Do not address me as you would a recruit."

"Then do not act like one." The sass was not missed. Crixus could feel tears springing to his eyes. He had failed. He was going to be sold and there was nothing he could do about it. 

"Words of import. From the mighty Spartacus." He was going to be sold. And he would never see Naevia again. And without him, Spartacus would die. His heart clenches at the thought, "Bringer of Rain." He continues bitterly, remembering how close the idiot came to Theokeles' sword. Before he pushed the Thracian out of the way and took all the blows. "Slayer of Theokeles. As if you stood against him on your own." His throat was tightening, making it difficult to form words. "Without my aid. You would have nothing. Not even your miserable life." He says swallowing a lump of emotion. 

"True." There was something like regret in his voice, "But here I stand. And there you sit." Crixus could laugh. And he called Spartacus the kind and gentle. When his words stung worse than his punches.

"You know shit about being a Champion." Spartacus was a blemish on Gannicus's memory. He wanted to stand and yell so damned bad. "About being a true brother. You are only playing at your own part." He smiles darkly thinking about how he was going to be sold. "And one day the game will end." Spartacus steps closer, Crixus could see him clearly out of the corner of his eye. That ever present smirk set upon his face.

"Death comes to us all." Crixus turns away still refusing to look at him. That guard near the door was all that kept his hands from the Thracian's throat...or subligaria. He hasn't decided which. "Press me again. And you shall find yours." Spartacus turns to leave...but he pauses. "Leave us." He addresses the guard. Curious Crixus turns to look. The man raises an eyebrow at him but shrugs and steps down the hall, just out of sight. 

"And what do you think you are doing now you mad fuck?" Crixus asks standing slowly. Spartacus gives him a pitying look moving to pick up a cloth and extends it.

"To clean your face." Crixus hesitates before taking it and cleaning himself off. Spartacus moves closer with a different cloth. Crixus runs his over his face, covering his eyes momentarily. The second he does this Spartacus reaches out to dab at his chest. 

"Arrogant fuck." Crixus snarls stepping back. "Is this your version of an apology? Keep it. I neither want it nor need it." Spartacus tosses the rag down with a huff. 

"I am simply trying to help, to make amends why don't you put your ego away," Crixus throws his cloth at Spartacus,

"Eat shit!" Spartacus makes a face stepping closer, 

"If you would just let yourself heal properly-"

"Nobody asked for your concern you shit eating-" Crixus could not manage to finish the insult when Spartacus shoves him against the wall and crashes their lips together. A groan escapes him when Spartacus grinds against him. Last night's fantasy fresh in his mind Crixus was more than eager, more than willing. Perhaps he could get some true satisfaction this time. The two break apart gasping and panting for breath, "fuck," Crixus mutters under his breath, just before Spartacus's mouth was on his again. 

Distractedly, Crixus slides his hands up to comb through Spartacus's short hair. He remembers how much the man liked it pulled. The sensation had the Thracian whimper, his hands making their way down to Crixus's hips, practically clawing at them. The pressure was infuriating. Enough to keep him on edge. Close to desperation. If Spartacus thought he could make Crixus beg he was mistaken. Skillfully he slips his hand into Spartacus's subligaria pulling their hips tighter together, the friction setting his skin on fire. This was wild, this was dangerous and it was everything Crixus wanted.

"A fine showing." 

Crixus let Varro and Spartacus have a moment. He wasn't sure why he decided to be civil. To not cuss the Roman fuck out and toss him over the cliff for interrupting. His stomach was in knots over his own mind. His thoughts were clouded. It was dangerous to be with Spartacus alone. The man was simply too...distracting. Crixus banters with them for a moment trying to decide what to do. His cock was throbbing, and even his ass hole twitched. Last night proved to him that pleasuring himself would be futile. Perhaps...well if these two were able to keep their relationship secret it was possible they would remain silent about a one time affair. He could find someone else. One of the new comers perhaps to replace Barca and Pietros. But for now, these two could serve to take the edge off. Have his mind cleared. 

"Follow me you fucks." 

What the fuck had come over him? Crixus was in the baths with the rest of the gladiators trying to decide if he should just throw himself over the cliff now. He had revealed one of his biggest secrets. Two even! And to Naevia? No of course not. To the simple fuck Spartacus. He glares at the ground as he passes. yes he knows Spartacus looked up eagerly. The idiot could not hide his emotions for a moment. Yet Segovax was speaking to him. And Crixus would not interrupt. He wished to see how the Thracian interacted with the horse cock off the sands. Would he treat him the same as he treats Crixus? Or would he be kind like he is with Varro? 

"Victories in the arena; and freedom." Crixus rolls his eyes. Here was to come Spartacus's speech about patience, and keeping dreams of freedom alive and well. Thinking about life outside these walls as he did. Crixus shakes his head with a small smile. Stupid fuck. 

"Forsake any thoughts of freedom." Spartacus warns softly. Crixus's mouth thins and his eyes widen as he turns slightly too look at his rival. "And the life you once had beyond these walls. Accept your fate." Spartacus looks up at him. Crixus couldn't meet his eye. "Or be destroyed by specter's of a past never to return."  Crixus lets his head hang low with a nod when a guard comes to retrieve him. He knows Lucretia and Illythia had guests. So his duties as a Champion were coming to the light. He wonders if Spartacus was going to mess anything up. 

He frowns as he cleans himself. Spartacus no longer wished for life outside of the ludus. Good. He was finally learning. Crixus feels his heart sinking. Which made no sense. Perhaps it was because it was an echo of the words he once said to the Thracian? Was Spartacus turning into a newer version of himself. Scowling he finishes his bath and storms to his cell.

Crixus paces his cell ignoring his stomachs grumbling for morning meal. Spartacus and Varro were at odds. He knows this. Something happened last night after the blond left his cell. After Spartacus came back from the women. He had seen it before turning and retreating back here. A scar, newly formed on Spartacus's chest. He worries it was from the Roman Gladiator. But it could also be from the women. This was possibly his last day in this ludus. How was he going to tell Naevia he loves her? How was he going to deal with leaving Spartacus? The man currently had no friend and with Crixus leaving would surely descend into madness once more! What if Spartacus didn't understand where Crixus went? Would anyone tell him? Ashur's fuck ass would probably gloat about it. He had to get Varro and Spartacus back on friendly terms. Whatever happened was obviously bullshit and obviously Spartacus's fault. Crixus was just about to go confront him when Varro enters his cell. Shocked Crixus raises his eyebrows. 

"I require distraction." Varro growls storming over. Crixus scoffs letting himself get pushed against the wall his wrists held next to his head. 

"And why should I give two shits about what you require?" He asks smugly. Varro mouths at the side of Crixus's neck sending jolts through him. 

"Because you desire it too." Crixus bites the inside of his cheek tilting his head so Varro could have better access. "The rush of a good fuck," Varro releases his wrists as he licks and nibbles his way down the Gaul's chest, "the burn of your precious toy," Crixus tilts his head back allowing his cloth to be removed. "a chance to piss off Spartacus." There was venom in his voice when he says the false Champion's name. An eyebrow quirks looking down. Varro pumps Crixus's hardening cock a few times before lapping at the head. Crixus hisses at the contact. 

"And why would you wish to do such a thing?" He whispers sucking in a harsh breath when Varro wraps his lips around the tip of his erection. Varro hums a little barely teasing him. Refusing to have Crixus any further in his mouth. Crixus whimpers slightly his hips jerking in small thrusts. Varro pops off with a wet noise. 

"Because he is an ass who always seems to be right." Crixus nods in understanding. Varro makes his way back up Crixus, nails scraping lightly across his sides. Crixus arches into him his breathing becoming labored. Varro slides his thigh between the Gaul's delighting him with the friction. The taller of the two grinds down against him with a low moan. Crixus lets his hands reach out gripping his hips tightly pulling himself up to match Varro. Crixus sighs happily when Varro grips his short hair, tugging harshly. 

"A fine showing indeed." Varro springs away from Crixus as if he was caught on fire. Crixus huffs in annoyance looking over at his doorway where Spartacus leaned. "Crixus is summoned." He informs crossing his arms. Cursing Crixus dresses and stomps off trying hard not to think about what Naevia said last night. He was going to have to fuck Lucretia, and fuck her well. Better than he ever has before. To what end he has no fucking clue. But...he glances back at Spartacus noticing the stiff back, the rigid shoulders and the refusal to acknowledge him. Maybe he would at least have the chance to say goodbye? Much like he did to Gannicus. Nodding Crixus follows a guard to Naevia and makes his way to Lucretia. At least his cock was looking forward to this. However there was the small option that one day he would meet Spartacus on the sands of the Arena and it would not be against a common foe. One day, perhaps he would have to be the one to give Spartacus his glorious death. 

He spent hours with Lucretia. Once he saw Naevia watching with more than vague interest as he has caught her doing in the past, Crixus decided he was insatiable. Vibius was owner of shit and mongrels. There was not going to be an attractive male there. And Vibius was also unmarried. No wife, no pretty women. Crixus was probably never going to have sex with another person again. He prays to the gods, wishes that the last person he sleeps with was Naevia instead of Lucretia. But all he could do was put on a show. It helped that Lucretia was greedy for him. She was ready for any position he turned her to. So long as he was man handling her. It had been a while since he gained pleasure just from her cunt without having to picture anyone. But as she met his thrust with determination, convulsing around him Crixus grunted at the sensation, spilling into her. He almost laughs realizing it was probably for the last time. 

He needed a bath. Crixus had basically spent the entire day fucking Lucretia. A bath was in order. He grimaces remembering he needed to wash the marble cock as well. A detour to his cell was needed then. Getting closer to his cell he hears what, at first could be mistaken for fucking. But he knows those kind of grunts and snarls. Fighting. In the baths. A sweep of his eyes tells him, whoever was fighting, they were fighting Spartacus! His heart seizes in his chest as he ignores the slight pain in his side rushing to the Thracian. Crixus wasn't even sold yet, still within the fucking walls and Spartacus was getting into trouble because Crixus was not by his side! Because Varro's dumb-ass was not either! As soon as he saves the fuckers life he was going to drag him by his hair to the blond and have them make up. Rounding the corner he thinks his heart stops all together to see Segovax strangling the life out of Spartacus. The Thracian's face was quickly turning purple! It must have been a surprise attack because Spartacus was losing! Son of a bitch!

Crixus launches himself at the fellow Gaul scrambling to sit on the taller's chest to allow enough leeway for Spartacus to become free. Crixus works quickly to try and dig his thumbs into Segovax's eyeballs. But he was thrown off. But he wasn't former Champion for nothing. Crixus bounces to his feet just as the recruit desperatly runs at Crixus, attempting to land a punch. Crixus side steps him throwing him into the wall. He doesn't give the stupid fuck a chance to do more than turn around before he's landing his fist against the man's jaw. Crixus was seeing red. Spartacus was hurt, Spartacus almost died and it was because of this cunt! Segovax manages a back hand but it wasn't strong enough. Crixus lands another right hook, but Segovax jabs him in his injured side, gaining a small advantage. Crixus shouts angrily as he throws the bastard over his shoulders, A mistake apparently as he grabs one of the cleaning tools and swipes at Crixus with it. It slices his leg a little earning the man a chance to stand. Crixus hopes someone was getting assistance since Spartacus wanted to lay on the ground gasping for air! Fear envelops him at the thought of Spartacus choking on his own blood seeps into his mind. He couldn't let that happen. He had to finish this soon! He catches Segovax's next hit and punches the opened side right before he broke the fuckers arm for trying to stab his eye with the tool. Another punch to the stomach to aid Crixus in throwing the recruit into the side of the bath. The stone basin cracking the man's teeth and knocking some of them out. Crixus feels his stomach threatening to make itself known, as Spartacus manages to untangle the rope he had still around his neck. Crixus collapses onto his knees holding back his vomit. 

"You'd," Spartacus was panting just as heavily as Crixus was, "kill a fellow Gaul? To save a man you hate?" Crixus looks up at him in utter disbelief. Spartacus truly was a fool. Well if that is what he wished to believe.

"I did not save 'Spartacus'," He informs clutching his side wondering where the fuck the guards were. "I saved a Brother, who shares the mark." Crixus does his best to say this like he was explaining that the sky was blue. Shakily he forces himself to stand feeling a little smug that Spartacus seemed unable. "You have earned a glorious death." he continues once righted, "And will die at the hands of a gladiator." Crixus leaves to go get help. After instructing the nearest guards he finds Varro. 

"Wish to finish what we started earlier?" He asks barely glancing up from his seat. Crixus rolls his eyes.

"You need to go assist your bitch." Varro stands quickly, glaring at him.

"What have you done to him?" He was in Crixus's face and frankly...Crixus didn't have any fight left in him today. The past few have drained him.

"Nothing you cunt. Except save his fucking life." Varro's eyes widen before he runs off. Rhaskos steps closer to check on him. Crixus waves him off, feeling someone watching him. A glance over his shoulders shows the East of the Rhine brothers. The older looked furious. The pup; curious. Crixus rolls his eyes. 

He waits until Segovax is high against the wall before speaking to the Thracian again. Saving the life of Spartacus will no doubt secure his position here. For now.

"I will regain my position. Champion." He felt like he was insulting Gannicus every time he called Spartacus that. But the thought of Spartacus did not fill him with the hatred and rage as it used to. He knows his purpose with the Thracian. Protector. Otherwise the fuck would get himself killed. Spartacus glances at him but stays focused on the crucified man.

"I welcome the attempt." Always ready for a fight. Crixus smirks. It was one of the few things he liked about Spartacus. Nodding he does his best to focus on Segovax too...but he could still sense someone staring at him. Looking across the sands he sees the Rhine brother's but only the pup was looking his way. The man's eyes widen when he realizes Crixus was looking at him, and he quickly turns away. The older doesn't even bother looking up before he smacks the pup upside the head. Crixus frowns. He was going to have to talk to Doctore. Pairing with the young recruit should he survive the test was going to be necessary. For more than just himself.  

Chapter Text

"Agron." Crixus glances over at the only two recruits left. Unsurprisingly it was the two shits from East of the Rhine. The taller steps forward at Batiatus's command. Crixus nods storing that information away. "You will face Hamilcar." Dominus instructs with a wave of his hand. Crixus could hear Spartacus scoff somewhere behind him. His skin tingles when he does. Scowling Crixus folds his arms firmly keeping himself in place. It has been a few days since he saved the ungrateful Thracian. Not a thank you. Nothing. The last thing he spoke to him was about fighting. Bastard think's he is hated. Crixus scrunches his face watching Hamilcar climb up with Agron. The man drives him mad but no...as much as he has tried to Crixus does not believe he hates him. Hate was what he felt for Ashur. For some of the Guards, Batiatus. 

"Come on Agron!" Crixus turns his gaze to the younger brother. He was smiling, eyes bright with pride. Definitely the younger. Crixus raises an eyebrow when the pup looks over at him before quickly turning away, a blush fresh upon his cheeks. Odd. The clashing of swords draws his attention back to the two contenders. He almost laughs at the ridiculous height difference. Always he has prayed that Hamilcar would not fall. He was the only man shorter than Crixus in the brother hood. 

"Fucking shit!" Agron shouts when Hamilcar manages a small cut on his arm. For reasons unknown to him he looks to the brother, who looks neither worried nor angry. In fact he looks pleased. Laughing even. It only took a few seconds to figure out why. Agron, it seems did not like seeing his own blood. The thud of his large foot to Hamilcar's chest echoed when the Gladiator fell off the walk way. There was some cheering and a small curse from Rhaskos who bet against Agron. The oaf jumps down and offers a hand to his opponent. Rolling his eyes Hamilcar takes it and allows himself to be pulled up. Doctore nods and motions for him to stand to the side. He passes his brother clapping a hand on his shoulder squeezing it tight. Crixus tilts his head watching them.

"Duro." The pup looks up, excited and eager. The light from a nearby torch catches something on the man's nose. Crixus narrows his eyes. He's seen piercing's before. Lucretia has her ears pierced. And he knows during some parties there are slaves or whores who have their nipples done too. He's even seen one in an eyebrow once. But the nose? It made no sense. "Facing Rhaskos." Crixus' hand twitches when Duro climbs the scaffolding. That was something else that didn't make any. Gannicus was obvious. Barca and Pietros was a no brainer, and women were women. Spartacus he has chalked it up to madness, and Varro was understandable. But this...pup? Was he even attracted? Curious? Crixus did not know. But he watches Duro with far more interest than he did Agron. 

"Fucking idiot." He hears Agron grumble when Duro gets tripped. From the corner of his eye he could see Spartacus move closer to the angry brother. 

"Calm yourself. It would do nothing but get the two of you killed if you stepped in." Spartacus says softly. Crixus scowls not even blinking anymore as he watches Duro roll out of the way and managed to catch Rhaskos off guard. But Rhaskos wasn't as slow as Hamilcar. The two clashed swords. 

"I'm going to strangle him." Agron growls clenching his fists. Varro laughs cheerfully making his way over as well.

"Which one?" He teases. Crixus stiffens his shoulders. He does not believe it, but it feels as if he was being brushed aside. Replaced by Agron. Which was ridiculous since he held no care for either one of those crazy fucks. 

"I have not decided." Agron answers through his teeth. Crixus even smirks at that knowing full well that indecision was the only thing keeping the dumb-ass in place. Duro was faster than Rhaskos due to his slimmer frame, the only thing that saved his life in Crixus's professional opinion. He managed to get behind Rhaskos aiming his sword directly to the back of his bald head. 

"Duro!" Doctore shouts. Everyone freezes. There was always the one possibility of a rebellious one. Duro however smiles brightly lowering his weapon. A few chuckles was the signal he needed, Rhaskos stands and turns around rolling his eyes and extending his hand. Awed the idiot takes Rhaskos' hand practically shaking in delight. He hops down and Agron beams in pride. The two share a hug before Agron muses Duro's hair. 

"You need to be more careful." He says clasping a hand on the back of his neck pressing their foreheads together. Duro snorts.

"Says you. I made it out without a scratch." Agron laughs sticking his tongue out. Crixus's eyes widen. There was a lot of things Agron could do with a tongue like that. His eyes slide to the laughing Duro who smacks his brother away from him. Crixus wonders if Duro had a similar tongue. Shaking his head Crixus makes his way to the baths while the rest of them watched the brother's receive the mark and recite the oath. 

"Crixus." He almost jumps at the soft voice to his right. 

"Naevia?" His voice was a harsh whisper as he rushes over looking around. She smiles and his heart skips a beat. "Has something happened?" She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

"No, I had just noticed you were not among the rest of them. I grew concerned." Crixus feels guilt twist his stomach. He smiles reassuringly reaching through the bars to cup her face. 

"I am uninjured. Simply confused, by my own mind. Everything is tangled. It is a thing you will find happens often." Naevia places her hand over his, her eyes shining with love and kindness. Crixus sighs feeling everything was finally right with the world.

"Express thoughts and see them unraveled." Crixus shifts a little. The last time they talked about something like this she got mad and he did not see her from Lucretia's side for two days. 

"Do you recall," She tilts her head when he pulls his hand back, "when I told you about Barca, Pietros and myself?" Her mouth thins a little as she crosses her arms. 

"I do. What of it?" Her tone of voice was clearly unhappy. 

"And I told you about Gannicus and..." Crixus takes a deep breath, "Spartacus myself and Varro." Her eyes narrow.

"Yes." Naevia's voice was barely recognizable when she was mad. It was unnerving. Crixus shifts.

"I am not confused about why I did what I did with any of them. I was attracted, they were attracted. It was lust and passion and fleeting. Pleasure for comfort and pleasure just for pleasure." Naevia nods her eyes softening a little as she notices his slight distress. 

"So what is troubling you my love?" She asks reaching through the bars to hold his hands. Crixus sighs resting his head against the door. 

"I've been doing my best to ignore Spartacus. In doing so has me avoiding Varro...it seems that I'm..." He closes his eyes, embarrassed, shamed, and hurt.

"Lonely." She finishes for him. He glances up at her his shoulders sagging.

"I know you must be too and I have no right to complain. Spending all day surrounded by the men as I am. Most friendly." Naevia giggles a little taking her turn to cup his face.

"I am never lonely dear Crixus. Domina keeps me too busy to be such. I only have time to miss you because I love you so." Crixus swallows hard. He nods.

"And you are my heart. Which is part of the reason I am so lost." Naevia nods encouragingly. "The younger brother from East of the Rhine....Duro?" Naevia smiles.

"He seems nice. Did you wish for him to take Barca or more likely Pietros's place? I understand sometimes men need to release their seed, and would rather you do so with a fellow gladiator than a whore." Crixus beams at her. Truly she was a gift from the gods. 

"You have been sent from the heavens." Naevia blushes lowering her head shyly. 

"What is the issue with the man?" Crixus scoffs pulling away to lean his back against the wall.

"That is not a term I would use for him. More like a puppy. Not even vicious enough to be called a dog." Like Spartacus, they both think with disdain. "Eager, and earnest. He wishes to be as good as his brother, but he's..." Crixus struggles to find the correct word. "He's just too..." Naevia tilts her head waiting. Crixus often had issues identifying his own fucking emotions, other people's was twice as hard especially without seeing their faces. He blinks. 

"Happy." He says at last.

"What?" Naevia laughs a little in disbelief. Crixus nods firmly.

"A gladiator uses his instinct to stay alive, but nothing ignites the crowd, and ones own will to live like anger, or even fear. I've been told I have a horrid temper." Naevia tilts her head in slight agreement, but doesn't interrupt. "Auctus was hardly ever not mad, same with Barca. You recall Dagon? He was similar. Spartacus himself uses the Arena to fight out the rage he feels for losing his wife, and Varro's is more towards himself and fear of what will happen to his wife and child should he fall. Rhaskos and Hamilcar are decent but their anger is saved for the sands!" Naevia makes a noise of agreement watching Crixus pace. 

"So, what will happen to him?" He stops and looks at her. "Will he die?" Crixus's eyes widen and he slowly looks at the ground.

"The possibility of death looms over us all...however I fear he will meet his end quickly without his brother's aid." Naevia hums in thought.

"Is the thought of losing another fellow gladiator so soon after Gneaus what troubles you?" Crixus places his hands on his hips thinking.

"No...it is not. But the thought of him dying...saddens me. Which is ridiculous I don't think I've ever broken words with him." Naevia beams at him and reaches her hands out. Crixus takes them immediately. 

"Crixus. He reminds you of yourself." Crixus makes a face. 

"I'm not sure that's true." He mutters. Naevia just smiles up at him until he smiles back. "But perhaps." 

"Naevia?" They hear Lucretia calling. Quickly she kisses him and rushes off. Crixus shakes his head and makes his way to the baths at last. 

"Pay attention you fuck." Agron hisses to his brother. Duro looks up from where Crixus had left bright red. Everyone was waiting for him to take the spot in front of Doctore that Agron was just kneeling at. He smiles apologetically before doing as he was told. Doctore gives him a patient look. It wasn't his fault. Duro extends his arm his eyebrows furrowed together. He just couldn't seem to focus on anything when the Gaul was around. Blandly he recites the oath, echoing the words he was supposed to without much thought. And then suddenly the burning hot pain of the brand. His hand clenches into a fist in the dirt. Duro lets out a yelp of pain before his teeth clench. More to hide the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, does he duck his head. Agron had not made a fucking noise. He was no better than a woman. Scowling to the ground he waits, some how taking comfort in the hand Doctore had on his wrist to keep his arm in place. The stench was worse as the pain. And just when Duro thought he couldn't take anymore the iron was being pulled away. Duro noticed some of his skin went with it. Doctore looks at the brand and the tool with a small frown and a glance at him but says nothing. Agron laughs and hauls him to his feet. The other gladiators were congratulating him and shaking his good arm while his brother wrapped his wound. 

"We did it brother!" Duro chimes smiling up at him. Agron scoffs. 

"Yes. But you did well. I'm proud of you." Duro feels pride swell inside of him at the praise. The blond man that was friends with Spartacus pats him on the back. Varro he thinks the man is named.

"Well done. Now the real work begins." Agron and Duro look at each other with slight concern before joining everyone else in the evening meal. Duro looks around and frowns a little. Crixus didn't come back. He had hoped the Gaul had just stepped aside to take a piss. 

"Duro." His head snaps up at Agron's warning tone of voice, a mask of innocence painted on his face. 

"Yes brother?" He asks not blinking. Agron makes a face, accompanied by a deep sigh.

"Do not think I have not noticed your interests." Duro scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"Pfft. I know not of what you speak." Agron leans against a post folding his arms. 

"The Gaul?" He asks with as much sarcasm as he could. Duro looks offended. 

"Crixus? That's ridiculous. He's not even my type. Really Agron, you worry over nothing. There are plenty of men here and most are far better looking than that ass." Agron nods a little, moving is tongue from one cheek to the other. A sign that Duro was cornered and didn't even know it.

"I did not say which Gaul. Rhaskos and a few of the others are from Gaulia. And so was Segovax. Yet none of them came to your mind when I mentioned Gaul." Duro opens and closes his mouth for a moment before shaking his head. 

"He is the most known, of course I assumed you meant him." Agron smirks a little.

"So tell me then, who is it that you find 'far better looking than that ass' because I too have seen him in the baths and would not mind a chance with him." Duro scowls stepping forward. Agron does a small side to side dance grinning broadly. "Unless you were hoping to gain his attentions of course." 

"But you do not wish for me to try for them." Duro pointed out. Agron rolls his eyes.

"I do not wish you dead you simple fuck. And if you get involved with him you will be moved to distraction instead of training, fucking instead of sleeping and therefore weakened." Agron grabs the back of his neck and puts their foreheads together. "And such a result would see you fall in the Arena. Something I can not allow." Duro sighs his shoulders sagging.

"I will not seek him out brother. Worry not." Agron nods and smiles at him before turning to get some food. Duro glances down the halls to see Crixus moving towards the bath. He smiles standing up straight. "But should he seek me out I will not discourage." Duro calls to his brother smugly. Agron rolls his eyes and gets him a bowl too. 

Crixus leaves the baths just as the others were entering. Spartacus was usually one of the last ones in. If he made it out now he would not have to encounter him. He smiles and briefly greets some of the others. Rhaskos asked if he was faring well. Crixus told him to eat shit, and stop acting like a woman. He was fine. Everyone laughed and at last the doorway was free for him to pass. Sighing he steps through and turns the corner quickly Too quickly it would seem as he runs into someone with a loud smack.

"Ah fuck!" Crixus merely stumbled backwards a little. His obstacle however managed to find his ass on the floor. Crixus looks down in slight surprise. Duro was grumbling looking down at his arm. Crixus sighs looking up at Agron. Duro's brother makes a face of contempt staring down at his brother. Agron tsks before gripping Duro by his left arm pulling him to his feet. 

"Are you fucking serious?" Agron asks with a clip in his voice. Duro glares at his brother.

"It was not intentional!" He looks at Crixus with a sheepish smile. "Apologies. I was not paying attention." Crixus tilts his head trying to figure out how he felt about this. Unlike anyone else he wasn't...mad that Duro ran into him. He can't say he's happy to see the fucker either though. It wasn't like with the rest of the men. Not a kinship, and it wasn't that he didn't care for the other men some he just didn't know the names of or cared to. If they died they died and it was fine. If Duro died he would be sad. If Spartacus- Crixus shakes his head.

"No need. Tend to that," Crixus says clapping Duro on the shoulder, "and welcome to the brotherhood." He gives Duro a small smile and was amazed at the wide eyed open one he received in turn. He blinks a few times before taking Agron's extended hand. "And you too." Agron nods and suppresses his own smile before pushing Duro into the baths. Crixus shakes his head a little before heading towards his cell.

"Crixus." Or not. Grimacing he turns to Spartacus. Not missing the fact that Varro was off to the side. Presumably to keep them from fighting. "I would have words." Crixus folds his arms leaning against the walls.

"Then have them and be done with it. I have no time for you." Spartacus tilts his head. 

"All I wished was to express some gratitude." Crixus raises an eyebrow. Spartacus sighs deeply glancing over his shoulder. Varro scowls and motions for the Thracian to turn around. Crixus was trying to figure out what was happening. "It's been brought to my attention that you're...avoiding me." Crixus scoffs looking away.

"Unsuccessfully it would seem." Spartacus makes a small noise glancing back at Varro again. 

"I've been told that I may have reacted...ungratefully." Crixus looks at him from the corner of his eye. "You saved my life...and I did not thank you for it." Crixus shrugs. Hesitantly Spartacus reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder. Crixus looks down at it in disbelief before looking at Spartacus the same way. "Thank you." Spartacus walks away making a face at Varro who gives him a shit eating grin. Spartacus enters the baths but Varro saunters over. 

"I too have not given my gratitude." Crixus snorts.

"I did not save your life." Varro laughs.

"True. But I do not know what I would do without him. He is a treasured friend and ally." Crixus shrugs staring at the ground. He only turns his gaze upwards when Varro steps closer. "Let me repay you?" It was an offer. One his cock begins stiffening at the thought of. Crixus smirks. 

"You do not have anything I want." He taunts. Varro leans down ghosting his lips over Crixus's. 

"Don't I?" He plants open mouthed kisses down Crixus' jaw, mouthing at his neck. Crixus lets out a shaky breath as he closes his eyes. "I fear you are mistaken. There is much I have to offer." Crixus tilts his head to give Varro better access. 

"Does your Thracian bitch approve of this?" Varro chuckles darkly. 

"Would that he did," Varro lick the shell of Crixus' ear, "if only as a means to have you faster in my bed." Crixus couldn't help the smirk he gives. True. If Spartacus didn't agree with this then it would only make Crixus want to do it more. 

"Your bed? You are mistaken." Varro pulls back eyebrows raised in a silent question. Crixus takes his wrists. "It is my bed that we shall spur to." Varro laughs loudly letting Crixus lead him away. Crixus smiles at him from over his shoulder, behind him he could see Agron talking with Spartacus their backs turned from the doorway. And Duro...looking hurt and alone. He forces himself to push it from his mind.

Chapter Text

"Why do they do this?" One of the recruits asks. Agron, Varro thinks his name is. Varro purses his lips looking on as the new Gaul had his horse cock removed. The screams were almost unbearable. 

"He is being punished. I do not know the reason." Varro informs with a shrug. Rhaskos snorts.

"That is surprising." Varro and Agron turn to him, with raised eyebrows.

"Oh really?" Varro asks with a smirk. "And why is that?" Rhaskos grins at him.

"Because this fuck tried to kill Spartacus." Varro's smile vanishes.

"What?" Agron looks between the two gladiators obviously unsure of where this was going. Instead of questioning it he slowly makes his way closer to Duro, further behind Varro, but close enough to hear the explanation.

"Oh yes. Came upon him in the baths. If it wasn't for Crixus passing by and rescuing the useless fuck then we would be absent a Champion." Varro slowly turns to see Spartacus and Crixus leaving the medicus. The two were glaring at each other but the red marks on Spartacus's neck were clear as day, even with him not facing the blond. Slowly he turns back around to watch the punishment unfold. Crixus saved him. Spartacus almost died. Crixus saved him. Spartacus almost died. Crixus saved him. Spartacus almost died. CrixussavedhimSpartacusalmostdied. The knowledge echoed in his head making his blood run cold. 

Varro was shaking in rage as they drove the nails into Segovax's wrists. His screams were suddenly like music to his ears. Spartacus was now standing off to the side with Crixus lingering in the background. Like a vulture waiting for his chance to feast. He clenches his hands into fists glancing over at them. Crixus saved Spartacus. Something about honoring the brotherhood as Rhaskos explains to the East of the Rhine brother's. Varro thought it was a stupid reason but regardless, saving Spartacus's life meant that he was eternally grateful. To fucking Crixus. The man held Spartacus's interest far more than Crixus's held his own. Yet now he was going to have to come up with a way to show his gratitude in a way that befitted this situation. But first;

Doctore gives them the signal that they could disperse and in three steps Varro was on Spartacus. He wraps his bicep around the Thracian's neck and drags him to Spartacus's cell. Scowling and glaring at anyone who says something or even laughs. He even shoves Donar out of his way. Spartacus stumbles a little but Varro doesn't let him find his footing. Wrenching the wooden door open he tosses Spartacus inside, sending him sprawling against the wall. Varro pauses his hand on the door, Crixus was watching him with a raised eyebrow. His mouth thins, but he nods a thanks to the Gaul and slams the door shut. 

"Varro?" Spartacus gasps holding his throat. Varro steps forward grabbing the sides of his arms.

"Do not speak!" He growls shaking the Champion. Spartacus swallows nervously eyes wild. "I told you that I should stay by your side." Varro shoves him away when he starts shouting. "I told you that your LIFE was in danger as Champion!!" Spartacus hunches his shoulders looking bashful. "A gods damned RECRUIT almost killed you?! You?! You are the great and mighty SPARTACUS! SLAYER OF THEOKELES AND BRINGER OF FUCKING RAIN!!!"

"Varro please," Spartacus whispers fidgeting as if unsure what to do with his hands. 

"DO NOT FUCKING SPEAK!" He shouts picking up an empty cup and tossing it against the wall. It shattered instantly. "Crixus had to save you!"

"I did not ask him to!" Spartacus tries to defend himself. Varro shoves him against the wall, one arm holding him down across his chest as he gripped his shoulder, the opposite hand covered Spartacus's mouth.

"I said; do. NOT. Speak." His voice was almost a whisper. Spartacus's eyes searched his confused and worried, and...scared. Varro takes a deep breath. "What if he wasn't there?" He asks tears swelling. Spartacus's eyes widen at them. "If Crixus was not passing by." Varro swallows a lump of emotion. Varro moves his hand off of his mouth and traces it down to his throat where the rope imprint was still visible. "Oh." Varro breathes out his finger tips following the line gently.

"V-Varro?" Spartacus gains his attention timidly. Varro looks up at him, hand coming up to cup his face. 

"I could have lost you." His voice cracks some, the noise getting Spartacus to inhale sharply. 

"The gods alone would have to rip me from you my dear friend." Spartacus's arms wrap around Varro's waist pulling him in. Varro shifts to embrace him tightly. He buries his face into the crook of Spartacus's neck shaking again. This time, rage was not his reason. 

"Do, not bathe alone again. Understood?" Spartacus chuckles wetly.

"Lesson learned." Varro smiles.

"Good." He kisses the side of Spartacus's neck tightening his grip on him. Spartacus hums adjusting to be closer. Varro glances back at him before kissing his skin again. The Thracian arches against him with a satisfied sigh.

"Tell me this wasn't all some half cocked scheme to get me in your bed again." As he speaks Varro pulls back walking himself backwards until his calves hit the bed. Spartacus makes a face.

"If it were, I would have the rolls reversed. Crixus being the one trying to kill you and I saving your miserable life." Varro laughs a little sitting down helping Spartacus sit in his lap.

"Oh really now? I think your mind clouded after days events." He informs one hand gripping Spartacus by the thigh, the other cupping the back of his neck. Spartacus looks down at him with a face.

"How so? It seems reasonable enough to -." Varro pulls him down silencing him with a kiss. Spartacus moans slightly, opening his mouth for Varro's tongue to intrude. They tangle themselves in each other for a moment before Varro breaks them apart for some air. 

"You've got it wrong." Spartacus blinks at him, dazed. "Crixus would be trying to kill you not me. And I would have to save the day." Spartacus blinks again before frowning, and nodding, 

"True. Maybe I would have to save Crixus from you?" Varro raises both his eyebrows. "Well you are rather jealous of anything." Spartacus teases. Varro sticks his tongue out at him. They both laugh at that for a second. 

"You're insane." Varro points out. Spartacus shrugs covering the hand on his thigh with his own.

"I've been called that before." Varro stares up at him, noticing the way his eyes turn a deeper shade of blue when his mood shifts. "I have been called many things." Spartacus starts pulling Varro's hand, "Dirty, hard, rough," Varro's cock twitches when Spartacus leads his hand to his ass. "impatient." He hisses the word against Varro's lips. Varro growls gripping the Champion's ass tightly falling back onto the bed. 

"My cock is yours Champion." Spartacus looks at him surprised. Varro grins. "How shall you mount it?" Spartacus grinds his hips against Varro's humming in thought. 

"Depends." Varro tilts his head back, eyes falling closed with a groan.

"On what?" Spartacus shifts so he was able to tug Varro's subligaria down to his knees. Varro holds his hips while Spartacus lifts up and shimmies the cloth the rest of the way to his ankles. Varro kicks it off frustrated. 

"What you can handle of course." Varro smacks his ass with a huff. Spartacus laughs removing his own clothing. 

"Put your mouth where your boast is Champion and we shall see what worth they both hold." Varro challenges settling his hands behind his head. Spartacus grins wickedly at him before he swings his leg around. Varro was about to ask what he was doing but was suddenly dealing with a face full of cock, ass and balls. "The fuck?" Spartacus chuckles.

"Try this with your wife when you are able. She will greatly appreciate it." Varro smacks his ass smiling, and especially liking the yelp he got for his effort. 

"Do not tell me how to lay with my wife." Spartacus shrugs wrapping his fingers around Varro's hardening shaft. 

"Just a suggestion. In my days before marriage I used to do this quit often. It was favored among the women." Varro laughs at his honesty shifting so he could have better access.

"I see. You used to be a whore then?" Spartacus laughs just before he teasingly traces his tongue down a vein on Varro's cock. Varro groans fingers digging into the globes of Spartacus's ass.

"Used to be." Spartacus answers his breath hot on Varro's sensitive flesh. Varro traces a finger over Spartacus's hole. He likes the way it makes him shiver. Spartacus in kind, turns his head sideways to mouth at the length of his cock. Gasping Varro using his tongue to follow the same course his finger had. Spartacus mutters something Varro couldn't hear. 

"Get to work Champion. This is your apology to me." Spartacus stops short. Mouth open and hovering.

"Apology?" Varro grins as he mouths one of the testicles hanging close to his face. Spartacus whines his knees tightening against Varro's sides. 

"For scaring me half to death." Varro drags his tongue across Spartacus's entrance, loving the moan he gets, "and for not heading my warning." Varro surprises the Thracian with a quick spit. "And of course, for needing saving in the first place." 

"Valid point." He answers breathless. "I shall do my best to satisfy." Varro's laugh vibrates against him placing wet kisses anywhere he could reach. Spartacus does his best to focus on his task. After all this was his idea. But he had no clue, not the vaguest idea that Varro was this talented with his mouth. The tricks he did with his tongue! Spartacus never had issues with sucking a cock before. Even in this position. But his Roman friend had him forgetting to breathe, had him jerking and choking by a few flicks of his tongue, and a couple of strokes to his own cock. Spartacus moans around his full mouth, fully aware he was drooling obnoxiously. 

"Come on my dear Champion. Get my cock nice and soaked." Spartacus keens at the burn when Varro pushes past his outer muscles. "It has been too long for you hasn't it." Spartacus starts panting pushing backwards when Varro adds a second finger. "I recall last time." Spartacus pulls off Varro's cock with a wet pop. "Spit slicked was enough, then again," Varro scissors his fingers reaching up to lick around them. Spartacus shouts, almost falling on top of him. "you were still wet and raw from the Gaul." Spartacus groans while his cock gets fisted in time with the pumping of the intruding digits. 

"Varro, please." He begs. Varro laughs softly removing his fingers and giving Spartacus's ass a slap. 

"Show me then. How well you rode him. And we shall compare, finally find out which you prefer." Spartacus scrambles to do as he was told. Varro smirks watching him, it made him leak at how much Spartacus wanted this. His heart warms when the Thracian was settling himself, gripping the base of Varro's cock to hold it in place as he lined himself up. He could feel him shaking. "Eager little thing aren't you?" He teases. 

"More than." Varro grunts in surprise when Spartacus impales himself on Varro's cock. No hesitation. "Jupiter's cock!" He cries out. 

"Comparing me to the God will not make this end sooner." Varro's breathing was heavy and his words betrayed this. Spartacus smiles, eyes closed face tilted to the ceiling. 

"I would not wish it so." Varro rubs Spartacus's thighs soothingly. Shakily Spartacus lifts himself up and whimpers as he sinks back down. Varro slowly licks his lips watching him. "Fuck the gods Varro. I had almost forgotten, hn-ng, how large you were." Varro yanks Spartacus down with a twist. Spartacus shouts his cock twitching. 

"Then let me remind you. And have you limping for the next week." Spartacus nods once lamely, Varro's cock was nestled against his bundle of nerves sending little shocks through him. Varro shifts so his feet were planted firmly on the bed, his knees supporting his lover's weight as much as his hips were. 

"FUCK! Spartacus screams when Varro's hips start snapping, setting a hard pace. Spartacus leans back his arms wrapping under Varro's knees to hold his thighs. The noises they made were practically disgusting. Spartacus's lips held nothing but blasphemy. Varro tilts his head watching the way his cock disappeared into Spartacus's asshole greedily. Spartacus attempts to fist his cock, but Varro snatches his wrist away, adjusting so he had both of Spartacus's in one hand behind his back. 

"Not this time. You wish to cum Champion?" Spartacus whimpers, nodding dumbly. Varro grins adding more force to his thrusts enjoying the screams it tears from his partner's lips more than he should. "Work for it." 

"Please Varro, please. I'm sorry. I won't ignore your advice ever again. I will forever be at your side, please." Varro laughs.

"That'll do." He answers rolling so Spartacus was pinned underneath him. He releases the Thracian's hands and hums when they claw at him back. The bed rocked and hit the wall loudly, adding to their intensity. Varro groans gently biting Spartacus's neck, his thrusts were becoming inconsistent, losing his rhythm. Spartacus keens arching his back not caring that he seems needy. Without warning Varro grips his cock pumping him quickly. Spartacus shouts as he's thrown over the edge, his vision momentarily going white. Varro curses under his breath crying out softly as he spills into Spartacus, his hips jarring to a stop. 

The two moan, softly as they carefully relax on the bed. It creaks a little making Varro chuckle. Spartacus hums loosely wrapping his leg around Varro's calf, rubbing in an up and down motion. Satisfied. Content. Safe. Varro lazily kisses his way up to Spartacus's lips, savoring the taste. In kind Spartacus shifts letting the spent cock slide out of him. Almost shyly he pulls back and smiles up at his lover. The blond quirks an eyebrow at the change. 

"Am I forgiven?" Spartacus asks. Varro huffs amused. 

"Obviously." A sigh of relief. "Have I ever been able to stay mad at you for long?" Spartacus beams holding him close. 

"No, and I thank the gods for that." Varro rolls his eyes.

"I might find cause to stay upset should you ever kill me in the Arena." He shakes his head kissing Spartacus's cheek affectionately.  "We will have to plan something special as a thank you to Crixus." Spartacus shifts getting Varro's attention. "What?"

"Why would we thank him?" Varro pulls back so he was sitting on his knees.

"Did you not?" Spartacus scrunches his face in confusion.

"For what?" Varro's eyes widen staring down at him.

"You are unbelievable!" Spartacus frowns when Varro stands and begins dressing. "The man saved your life!" Spartacus snorts.

"He saved a fellow gladiator. The man gives no shit for me, he's said so himself on multiple occasions!" Varro scoffs.

"You are a fool."

"And you have lost mind if you think I will express gratitude I do not feel, to a man who does not deserve it!" Varro makes a mocking noise.

"Give me three days and we will see your mind begin to change." Varro threatens pointing a finger at him. Spartacus sits on the edge of the bed looking dumbfounded. 

"And now you leave?" Varro laughs a little bending to place a kiss on his lips, both hands cupping Spartacus's face. He likes the way Spartacus holds onto his wrist, silently begging him not to go. 

"This is your personal cell, Bringer of Rain. Without permission from Dominus or Domina I am not allowed to sleep here with you. But trust that when I am absent you physically, I am never without you mentally." Spartacus smiles dazed. 

"I am forever in your thoughts?" Varro rolls his eyes. 

"I thought you had learned that while you were in the pits." Spartacus grimaces thinking of them. Varro squeezes his hand before taking his leave. "I shall see you in the morrow, Champion." Spartacus smiles watching him go. He doesn't agree. Varro knows Spartacus doesn't think they should thank Crixus, but there was no doubt in his own mind that the Gaul should be unappreciated. Sighing he looks around the halls for a bit, slightly aggravated. Finally he turns a corner to see Ashur leaning against a wall fiddling with his book. 

"Ah, Varro. Did you have another letter for your wife?" Varro flushes in slight shame, and mostly guilt. He had forgotten about Aurelia. 

"No. Not...yet." He was still furious with her. But...Spartacus's words held meaning. She lived. "I request a purchase." Ashur raises an eyebrow closing the book with one hand. All sass. 

"And Ashur shall provide." The Syrian smiles and opens his arms wide. "What do you seek?"

"I need this in three days, do you understand?" Varro informs him getting close enough to whisper. Ashur looks around with a click of his tongue. 

"Speak your hearts desires friend. And see it done."

Chapter Text

"You're sure you will be alright?" Lucretia asks tossing part of her sash over his arm. Gaia laughs softly taking her friends hands into hers. 

"I am positive. At most I will take a bath. Go and enjoy yourselves at market. The two of you seldom get any alone time to just enjoy each other's company." Quintus smiles at her. His father being back was still an issue. And the man was out and about doing gods knows what. Making deals with probably anyone in sight. To put them further into debt. To keep them more firmly rooted to the spot as a damned Lanista. Old fuck. 

"Gratitude. If you wish for one of the men to be brought up for your ah," He chuckles rubbing his face, "viewing pleasure, you may do so." Gaia and Lucretia share looks causing the women to giggle. 

"Then the gratitude is mine." 

Gaia waves them off at the door, slightly disappointed that Quintus decided to take Barca with them. He would have been nice to admire up close. She smiles flipping her hair. However there were better, and closer. Laughing to herself Gaia sways her way through the villa. Maybe she would think about marrying Solonius. Being a Lanista's wife suited her friend so well. Plus they were in charge of such dangerous people. And not to mention gorgeous. Gaia rolls her eyes remembering the last time she saw some of his men. It seemed Quintus was blessed to find and purchase all the attractive gladiators. Smirking she wraps an arm around a nearby guard and whispers something in his ear. The man nods and moves to purpose. 

"Do you need assistance ma'am?" One of the slave girls asks. Gaia smiles taking her hand. She recognizes her as the one eager to lose her virginity. 

"Not yet. Draw a hot bath and then stand in shouting distance." 

"You summoned me?" Gaia turns at the voice with a smile. The water was warm and came up to her hips, but there wasn't enough petals to have her modest. Just the way she wanted it. 

"Crixus." She beams he had sounded so surprised. So...unsure. The Gaul smiles shyly before making his face passive. "Join me?" It wasn't exactly a question or an offer. The man seemed hesitant as he discards his subligaria and steps into the water AS he does this Gaia hums in appreciation. the Gaul was truly of a size. He looks down at the water surprised. "Something the matter?" She asks a laugh not far from her voice. He shakes his head with a small smile. 

"No, apologies. The water the men use is simply not this warm." Gaia moves forward, gently cascading some water over his chest. She watches it eyes sparkling in delight. 

"It is a wonder, is it not? To have such riches, but to be denied them?" Crixus frowns a little looking her up and down. She notices the blush hot on his cheek and the way his gaze keeps darting to her chest and away just as quickly. 

"Are you denied anything?" He questions out loud shifting from side to side. Gaia scoffs. 

"In the grand scheme of things no I am not." Gaia traces a hand up his arm liking the way he shivers. "However; hearts true desires are forever out of reach." Crixus looks at her confused, unsure on where this was going. "Such things are a heavy burden to bare. Which is why the sultry pleasures of life offer the truest distractions." His eyes widen as a clarity unravels within him. 

"Distractions. Are used only to avoid true issue. One such as yourself does not strike me to be one to hide truest nature." He supplies taking one step back feeling the heat rise in his face. Gaia tilts her head. 

"What do you know of me, Crixus?" He swallows hard glancing around, as if for assistance. 

"I have heard the slave girls whispering of you. They admire you." Gaia blinks a little surprised. "I have seen you with Domina and Dominus. Your attitude and aura is that of a goddess. Not one to be disobeyed. Someone even the gods should fear." At this she laughs loudly before she sits on the little stone step they have. 

"You blaspheme! And flatter beyond inflation." Crixus shifts again looking down so his hair falls in his face. Gaia traces the top of her breast dying to know what that scruff felt like between her thighs. "Yet shy away from more acceptable activities." Crixus makes a small noise but doesn't look up.

"Apologies if I have insulted you." Gaia shakes her head watching him. Here she was thinking that Lucretia was becoming so much more than one of those awful "proper" Roman women. Yet two female house slaves and one of the gladiator's stood before her as a virgin. There were never going to be any children if there was to be no fucking. 

"Do you not find me pleasing?" She questions. True if he favored cock to cunt then this would be a fruitless endeavor anyways. His eyes widen as he looks up.

"Please do not think such. You are very pleasing to look at and I am certain you would be to the touch." Gaia chuckles a little.

"But you do not wish to?" Crixus shifts again.

"I fear I would make a blundering fool of myself." Gaia nods and motions for him to sit next to her. He does after a moments pause. 

"Then let us start with something simple." She hands him the cloth. "Wash me." He stares at the rag and then looks at her. Gaia loved how big his eyes were. "Explore my body by cleaning it. And I shall instruct you on things you need to know, when you will need to please a woman." Crixus nods slowly still unsure why this was happening. 

The two were silent for a while. Crixus starting with her neck, and shoulders. He was thorough. Not wishing to mess anything up. It warmed her to have someone touch her with such innocent tenderness. Gaia sighs contently as he works his way down her arms and even gets in between her fingers. As he was cleaning her finger nails it dawned on her while this may be the first time he's bathed a woman, it was not the first time he has bathed another human being. She knows that he was once owned by Tullius. So, perhaps not so virginal after all?

"Something wrong?" He asks noticing the way she was studying him as he worked. She smiles reaching out and brushing his hair out of his face. 

"I was trying to figure out what Tullius had you tasked with. Being built as you are." Crixus blushes dark red, turning away looking shamed. "Did he fuck you?" She asks genuinely curious. Crixus sighs pulling and pushing her so her back was to him. Carefully he moves her hair out of his way and begins washing her back.

"No." He states unhappily. "He did not." Gaia opens her mouth to ask another question but he beats her to it. "Nor did he have me fuck him." He sounded almost impatient. So Gaia relaxed and waited. Not an easy thing to do. 

When the silence became to painful she couldn't help but speak. She did keep herself from turning around though. A feat she praises herself for. 

"So, what did he do? Simply have you bath him every night?" Crixus snorts a little shaking his head. 

"If only that were the truth." He sighs turning her forward and working on her stomach, completely ignoring her breasts. Rude. "He would have me service the slave girls." Gaia's eyes widen. "But only orally." I never knew the reason why." Gaia searches his face, committing it to memory. She carefully takes the rag out of his hand even as he was raising it to finish his task. 

"Gratitude. For your assistance and your honesty. You may go now." Crixus's shoulders sag a little but he nods and does as he was told. She waits until he was gone before calling for a guard.

"You summoned me?" Gaia beams at the strong sure voice. The voice of a man who knows what he is doing. Someone who wasn't haunted by their past actions and Dominus.  

"Gannicus!" She coos excitedly. 

Chapter Text

He sighs heavily leaving Batiatus with a shake of his head. His Dominus was always overly ambitious. But sending Spartacus to the pits was something he simply out right disagreed with. Oenomaus nods the guard who lets him through the gate glancing at the men as he passes through. Before rounding the corner he hears some voices. He knows Spartacus has just been put to cell. Perhaps Varro was asking about his victories. Only sure curiosity slows him down enough to peer around the wall. He was surprised to see Hamilcar and Varro standing and glaring at one another. Obviously the blond wins the stare down. He noticed the way Spartacus was all but collapsed against the wall. It wasn't a surprise to him. The Thracian must be exhausted. Oenomaus wasn't close enough to hear exactly what Varro was saying but he was close enough to see when Varro noticed Spartacus fall asleep. And he was definitely close enough to see the blond reach over and ghost a kiss to the Thracian's lips before settling back glaring over at the other Gladiator's who haven't given them a second glance since Hamilcar. Opting sleep versus a fight. Thinking deeply Oenomaus heads to his own cell. There was much to do in the morning. 

Oenomaus instructs the men to stand in a circle of sorts. He pairs them up, and has them watch each other fight until he says otherwise. Rhaskos goes with Donar as he has always had issues fighting those taller than him. After a while he puts Varro with Crixus to allow the man to blow off some steam. He smirks at the surprise on their Champion's face at the ferocity of his opponent. Barca joins them after prepping Spartacus for the pits and dropping him off to the side. Varro doesn't last much longer after that. Oenomaus sighs, at last understanding what distracts the otherwise skilled fighter. Crixus scoffs at the Roman but they clasp hands in respect. 

"Gnaeus," The fuck would be grateful to use a sword. Can't have him forgetting how to use one after all. "Hamilcar." The two step into the circle/lineup he has nodding to each other. "Begin." He barks at them. It didn't take long for the tan gladiator to find his face in the sand. Oenomaus' mouth thins. 

"Study the flaws of your opponent." He steps forward. "Strike, with your mind as well as your sword. Fail to use your wits in the Arena," He glances at Gnaeus before looking back down at Hamilcar pointedly. "and risk tumbling after Spartacus, into the pits." The Thracian looks up at his name, and not for the first time does the Doctore feel a small amount of pity for the man. Barca and Crixus nudge each other laughing along with some of the others. He notices Varro's hand clench into fists. "The man is no base humor to be laughed at. He is a tale of caution." Spartacus glances at him before looking away. "Ponder on that, while you fill your bellies. Eat!" He instructs walking away. It was a few moments later after Pietros takes some food and water to Spartacus that he calls for Varro. it was important that Crixus and Barca be distracted. 

"Yes Doctore?" He asks once they were out of sight of the others. He sighs and folds his arms. 

"You have stayed away from Spartacus this morning." Varro nods his shoulders sagging a little.

"I have stuck to training." Oenomaus nods looking him up and down. 

"He has become dear to you?" Varro blushes a little at the question. So he wasn't used to liking men. Much like another blond he used to know. 

"A dear friend yes." Was the answer he was given. Yet Varro was looking at the ground. Oenomaus raises an eyebrow. Gaia was a dear friend to Lucretia. And he knows exactly how dear of friends Barca and Pietros were to Crixus. They think they could hide something like that from him. Smiling softly he places a comforting hand on Varro's shoulders.

"Friends are important here. One could lose mind otherwise." Varro looks up, and the poor man looked almost hopeful. "Spartacus proves difficult to kill, even for the pits. Perhaps lifting his spirits, or showing your support will aid in that endeavor." Varro frowns a little stepping back. Oenomaus lets his hand fall back to his side.

"I do not understand Doctore? I was under the impression you did not care for Spartacus." Oenomaus chuckles clasping his hands behind his back.

"You mistake intent. It is my job to secure the lives of the gladiators. While he does not stand one currently, he could again. And you are one now." Varro nods a little, still confused. "I have noticed the man causes some...distraction in you. Born of good will and concern I am sure." The blush was once again staining his cheeks as he nods again a bit more firmly. 

"I have not had opportunity to find common ground or hold civil conversation with any of the other men." He admits with a quick lick of his lips. Oenomaus smiles knowingly. Nor does he want to.

"Understandable. You stand as Roman and hold no kinship with the rest of these men. Spartacus knows freedom as you do, I understand." The gladiator looks shocked but stays silent. "Do what you can for your friend. But do what you can for yourself too. If you are not focused on your opponent in the Arena, you could fall. And where would that leave your wife or Spartacus?" Varro pales slightly. "And Varro?" A worried look, "Rhaskos is kinder than he lets on. Play some dice with him once in a while. Or share drink while Spartacus is in the pits. Donar as well."

"Yes Doctore." Oenomaus nods curtly before walking off. He makes it to his cell and lights some of the candles. Sighing he sinks to his knees and sends a prayer to Melitta. After a moment of silence he blows out the candles and sinks back onto his ankles.

"Gannicus, I could use your assistance in this....wherever you are. Send wisdom." He chuckles a little, "And some of that luck you seem to piss and shit."

Chapter Text

Gaia smiles seductively looking the Celt up and down. He was really well built. And he wasn't a virgin like Crixus. Maybe she could help Lucretia and Quintus use that to their advantage later. She hums at him, picking up one of the pink rose petals she had in the bath. He watches her trying to hide a smirk of his own while she traces the petal in between her breasts, around the curve of one and across her collar bone. 

"Can you take a guess as to why I asked for you?" Gaia arches her back a little, letting the petal fall back into the water in favor of using both hands to mess with her hair. Gannicus scoffs slightly a smile at last breaking across his face. 

"You mistake me for either a virgin or a fool." With a flourish he removes his clothing letting his growing erection spring free proudly. "And I am neither of those things." He informs her, stepping into the water. Gaia gives him a slightly shocked open mouthed smile before standing to meet him in the middle. 

"And there is no objections? To being used in such a," She pauses for dramatic effect tracing circles across his chest, "primal manner?" Gannicus reaches down and firmly grips her rear pulling her flush against him. 

"Objections or not, how could any man deny himself such a treat, when presented in such a manner?" Gaia giggles wrapping her arms around his neck playing with some of his hair. 

"Well spoken. But I would know your thoughts." Gannicus squeezes his hand fulls in thought studying her face. He knows she wasn't a normal Roman woman. But to insult his Domina's friend would end in punishment. Champion or not. But, she wanted to know his thoughts. And he was anything if not honest.

"I am a man. When a willing cunt, especially one as beautiful as you, wants me I have never denied myself. I have no care about being used for a woman's base desires. In fact, I encourage it from time to time." He chuckles moving to kiss down her neck, grinding against her slightly. Gaia sighs, almost as in relief. 

"Then what is it you wait for?" Gannicus pauses, pulling back to give her a quizzically amused look. 

"You are indeed a unique woman." He informs her. Gaia doesn't have the chance to reply as he picks her up moving to sit on the stone step and covering her mouth with his in one fluid motion. She moans reaching in between them. Her gasps fades into a laugh as she has to use both hands to grip his cock. Gannicus jerks his hips upwards into the contact with a small groan. Gaia shifts quickly lining herself up, teasing herself with his cock head. Gannicus was panting slightly looking at her amazed. Her eagerness was new and welcoming. Not like when he has to convince a whore that he's not like the other men they've had. That he's good at this and that he wants them to enjoy it too. He shivers when she swipes a finger over his slit. Gaia lets her eyes fall closed as she licks her finger tip, lazily making circles with her tongue in time with her hips. 

Gannicus was straining in her grip. Her wrist twisting and pumping deliciously. Gaia giggles a little when he smacks her ass. His teeth grind together as he keeps his mind from reeling. To keep himself distracted  Gannicus mouths at  the closest nipple rolling it between  his teeth, giving a gentle suck when she arches, the hand in her mouth moving to grip the back of his head holding him in place. Gannicus could feel a small measure of self control slipping. Gaia was teasing him and it wasn't something he was used to. But he wasn't some inexperienced recruit either. Gannicus's eyes fly open when the image of Crixus appeared in his head. He had to choke back a small noise in the back of his throat at the sudden throb his cock gives. Gannicus's heart starts pounding in fear. Swallowing hard he stands up holding Gaia in place opting to mouth at her neck. She squeals wrapping her limbs around him at the sudden change. He was panting, suddenly it was urgent for him to be buried inside of her. Female. Woman. Cunt. 

"Desperate are we?" She asks, unaware of the change that has happened to him. Gannicus chuckles to hide his worry.

"You have been teasing for too long." Gaia shouts when he enters her with one hard thrust. Words fail as he sets a hard pace. Her back bows while her finger nails scrape at his scalp. He pulls back to gaze at her. Gannicus refuses to close his eyes, letting them roam across her and more importantly watch the point where his cock disappeared inside her rapidly. His arms and shoulders started to ache at having to hold her up, having her match his thrusts, but he didn't care. So long as he kept focus. He liked tits and cunt, not cock and balls! He grunts in slight frustration when he thinks of Crixus again. Something was wrong with him. The more he thought about the stupid Gaul and his eager to please face, the faster he thrusts. Gannicus's vision was blurring and it was difficult to not imagine a certain ass in place of a most willing cunt. 

Gaia uses one hand to grab one of her breasts shuddering as the aching heat in her lower belly draws her tight. She could tell he was getting close by the way his hips started snapping out of pattern. She whimpers, worried that she might not finish, when he surprises her again practically yanking her off of him. Gaia shivers with a smile when he turns her around, entering her from behind. Normally a man Gaia was with did this when he wanted to fuck her ass, but Gannicus seems to have done this to have better access to her cunt with both hand and cock. She cried out in delight at the added friction of his calloused fingers, furiously pleasuring her clit. Without much warning her whole body convulses, as her orgasm physically rocks her body. 

"Ohohooooh!!" Gaia screams one hand reaching behind her to claw at Gannicus's neck, the other gripping his like it was her only tether to the earth. Gannicus slams into her a couple more times before shuddering to a stop. 

"Aw, fuuck." He moans sinking into the water. The two of them sit still, panting. Gaia was the first to recover. She hums and smiles lazily, using his hand to make circles against her. Gannicus blinks, slowly pulling out, almost wincing at the sensitivity. "I did not please you?" He asks uncertain. The Celt has always prided himself on making sure his lovers were satisfied before he was. Gaia giggles turning around and planting a hard kiss to his lips. 

"Hmm, you did indeed. Worry not. My sexual appetite is just fit to rival Jupiter's himself." Gannicus smiles a little relieved. 

"Then I shall aid in the endeavor." Gaia tilts her head, wondering what he meant. She didn't have to wait long. Gannicus lifts her out of the water and has her seated on the side. Her eyes widen a little when he falls to his knees, his large hands spreading her thighs. Gaia bucks a little as his mouth closes over her. He might be a God of the Arena but she has never met anybody as skilled in this as him. In moments she was shouting, her voice echoing off the walls. Gaia throws her head back, with her eyes closed she could easily picture Crixus instead. He had said he was experienced in this. She wonders if he would be as good as the Celt. She keens and whimpers embarrassingly but she couldn't stop herself. Gannicus's own noises were perverse and they quickly sent her over the edge again. He pulls back grinning up at her looking oh so proud of himself. She laughs shakily and pets his hair.

"That, was truly magnificent." The slave girl pears around the corner.

"Apologies Domina and Dominus return." Gaia sighs, for the first time in her life upset by the news that Lucretia was going to be near soon. She nods and motions for the girl to leave.

"I do hope I will get the chance for a repeat performance." Gannicus chuckles stepping out of the bath and dressing.

"I'm inclined to agree." He nods at her and follows a guard back down and out of sight. Gaia shakes her head and makes herself presentable. She meets the two in the halls with a bright smile.

"Welcome home! I do hope the two of you enjoyed yourselves." Quintus laughs softly smiling at the two women as they embrace and kiss cheeks. 

"Well enough. I'm guessing you found something to keep yourself entertained?" Gaia laughs loudly. 

"I spent almost the entire time in the bath." Lucretia's eyebrows raise and there was a small disbelieving smile.

"Is that all?" The two women burst out laughing. Quintus rolls his eyes and shakes his head motioning for them to move to the balcony. 

"Come. Let is see what Doctore has the men into today." 

Chapter Text

"Do you know that man?" Segovax asks him, causing pause. Confused Agron straightens his back and glances over his shoulder to where the Gaul had nodded. 

"What man?" There was at least twenty seated over at the benches. The recruits have yet to finish their training and as such were not welcomed to fill their bellies yet. 

"The tall blond in the back." Segovax informs with a scoff. Agron glances at his little brother and they share a face.

"No? Should I?" Agron asks. Duro shrugs.

"What is he called?" The younger asks, before Segovax could answer Doctore cracks his whip and has them start hauling beams of wood. The four recruits groan but do as instructed. He feels slightly embarrassed to be doing this in front of everyone but there was nothing to it. If his brother was going to live then the two of them needed to get that damned brand.

"Donar!" Rhaskos snaps his fingers in front of his tall friends face. Blinking Donar looks down at the bald gladiator and smiles apologetically. 

"Apologies. Was it my roll?" The rest of the dice players jeer at him while Rhaskos hands him the die. 

"Ever since the recruits were lined up you've been distracted." Donar scoffs.

"Fuck your words. If I'm distracted it is because you are slow with your roll." He tosses the die and there were cheers as he loses. Rhaskos rolls his eyes and pats his back.

"Sure thing you shit." Rhaskos looks up and calls out, "Varro! The dice call your name!" Donar glances at the Roman and the way he angrily leaves Spartacus' side. Perhaps he and Rhaskos have been a bad influence on their friendship.

He keeps his head down while Crixus throws a fit over the recruits being allowed to eat. He glanced up when Spartacus' reminds them that Crixus is no longer Champion. But he didn't care either way if he was being honest. His eyes slide over to the tall East of the Rhine brother. 

"Fucking Gauls." Donar chuckles at that. Rhaskos raises an eyebrow at him but he ignores him.

"He keeps looking at you brother." Duro comments as they finish their food. Agron glances up in time to see the blond giant turning away. Again. He scowls in the man's direction before setting his food down.

"Pay the fuck no mind. Once we get the mark he and I will have words." Duro looks up at his brother and laughs softly. Agron turns his glare down to him. "You find something fucking amusing?" Duro grins stupidly at him. 

"He likes you." Agron smacks him upside the head. 

"Focus on training." He notices the way Duro's eyes find Crixus. "Hey!" He grabs his brother by the back of his head. Duro makes a noise of annoyance when Agron presses their foreheads together. "Focus. And live." Duro rolls his eyes but nods.

Agron listens to Rhaskos explaining Segovax's fate in mild horror. Duro glances up worriedly. Doctore cracks his whip signaling their cue to disperse . Agron wraps and arm around Duro shoulders protectively while Spartacus gets dragged to his cell by his blond friend. With a noise of discontent he glances over his shoulder at his own yellow haired issue. 

"What is the fuckers name again?" Agron asks out loud. Duro looks first to his brother then follows his gaze. 

"Donar. I've told you a dozen times at least." Agron smacks him upside the headed facing forward again headed towards the baths. Their test was to wait until tomorrow now thanks to this whole debacle.

"I give no shit for the man. So I keep forgetting." He informs shoving his brother through the doorway. Duro whips around pointing an accusing finger.

"But you keep asking!" Agron scoffs. 

"Mind your tone brother. And remain focused." Crixus walks in behind them with some of the rest of the men. The brothers fall silent opting to clean themselves in silence. Agron smirks noticing Duro turn pink when Crixus strips. He shakes his head looking towards the Gaul. It was true, the man was of a form. Agron lets his eyes trail down and fall on his ass. Truly one of the best he's seen. Agron was sure if given the chance he would enjoy making it bounce against his cock. He looks at his brother again. Although he doesn't think he would even with the chance. 

"Agron!" He grins stepping forward. Loving the fact that once again he goes first. Show his brother how it's done. "You will face Hamilcar." Batiatus orders. He made easy work of climbing up onto the wood work they had laid out. If they were any closer to the balcony Agron figures he could just easily reach up and haul himself onto it. He would have to store that information away later in case it was useful. They were handed their swords and shield's with a bunch of cheering. Rhaskos clapped loudly. 

"Come on Agron!" He hears Duro call out encouragingly. He smirks waiting for the tanner man to go first. Hamilcar's height difference to him was laughable. He finds it a mild shame that the gladiator wasn't his type. Normally he loves darker skin. It didn't take long for him to start blocking the attacks. Their swords clashed loudly, from the corner of his eye he could see even Crixus was paying attention. Which means; Agron shoves Hamilcar away from him, dancing around so he could see Duro without showing his back or flank. Yep. Fucking idiot was all but ogling the former Champion. He tsks his tongue before dancing out of the way of a good swing. Hamilcar rolls out of reach, and a loud jeer catches his ear. Agron glances to the side to see Donar, arms folded and smirking. Agron feels his face grow hot when their eyes meet briefly. 

"Fucking shit!" He screams when a burning pain erupts in his arm. He takes a step back looking down at his arm in disgust. Hamilcar grins. Agron's vision blurs red. As if from a distance he could hear Duro laughing. But it was more like a memory. He hears someone give out a battle screech, it almost sounded like his own. His arms flew in rapid succession, blocking a sword, knocking it and the shield of his opponent to the ground. Chest exposed Agron gives a satisfying kick to the middle of it. The sound echoed and cleared his head as he watches in mild horror as Hamilcar hits the sand hard. Grimacing he jumps down and offers his hand. A small cut like this didn't need the onslaught he gave. His temper had always needed work. Agron was a little surprised when Hamilcar accepts his hand and allows himself to be hauled to his feet. He takes Doctore's silent order and stands off to the side. He places a hand on Duro's shoulder squeezing tightly for reassurance. If they were ever to escape, to be free once again. His eyes slide to Spartacus. They were going to need to make friends. The Thracian catches his eye and Agron smirks a little before turning away. 

"Duro." Agron grins proudly when his brother stepped forward. He is confident that Duro could knock down just about anyone of the Gladiators. "Facing Rhaskos." Agron nods approvingly while his brother climbs up the rigging. The two dance around each other, extra carefully. Their swords clang a few times, but nothing major. Agron smiles softly, thinking about what a good job Duro was doing. Of course the thought was barely through his mind before the moron gets tripped.

"Fucking idiot!" He grumbles. He was aware of Spartacus moving closer, but his eyes were lazer focused on his brother. 

"Calm yourself. It would do nothing but get the two of you killed if you stepped in." Spartacus says softly. Agron scowls not even blinking anymore as he watches Duro roll out of the way and managed to catch Rhaskos off guard. But Rhaskos wasn't as slow as Hamilcar. The two clashed swords. 

"I'm going to strangle him." Agron growls clenching his fists. Varro laughs cheerfully making his way over as well.

"Which one?" He teases. Agron glances over his shoulder, unsure why this attention was directed towards him. He wasn't even sure if it was welcomed. He continues paying attention to the fight. 

"I have not decided." In all honesty the indecision was what kept him rooted to the spot. Through the wood he noticed Donar staring at him instead of watching the match. Duro was faster than Rhaskos due to his slimmer frame, the only thing that saved his life. Agron swallows hard. He managed to get behind Rhaskos aiming his sword directly to the back of his bald head.

"Duro!" Doctore shouts his hand tightening on the whip. Agron straightens his shoulders a little, silently begging his brother to wait. Now was not the time. Duro however smiles brightly lowering his weapon. A few chuckles was the signal he needed, Rhaskos stands and turns around rolling his eyes and extending his hand. Awed the idiot takes Rhaskos' hand practically shaking in delight. He hops down and Agron beams in pride. The two share a hug before Agron muses Duro's hair. 

"You need to be more careful." He says clasping a hand on the back of his neck pressing their foreheads together. Duro snorts.

"Says you. I made it out without a scratch." Agron laughs sticking his tongue out. Duro makes a face smacking Agron on the chest to shove him away. 

Donar watches the two smack each other for a moment before Batiatus gains everyone's attention. Remarking on how they fought well. That they shall receive the mark and join the "honored" brotherhood. Donar rolls his eyes, tuning the Roman out. It was a speech he's heard at least three different times. A wave of pity rises in his chest when Agron kneels in front of Doctore, reciting the oath. He grimaces when the iron lands on Agron's arm. Agron clenches his jaw and straightens his shoulders but not a sound escapes him. The brand hissed while in contact with his skin. But it was pulled away soon enough. Agron sighs standing up, receiving some claps to the shoulders.  Donar smiles when Agron had to get his brother's attention. It would have been easier to be attracted to the younger brother. It did not miss his notice that Agron eyes the Champion a dozen times a day. The issue was that he also didn't miss how Agron's eyes always end up drifting back to him. 

Just then Agron laughs at his brother hauling him to his feet and Donar has to stifle a moan. Did the fucker have to laugh with his tongue out like that? He had a pretty mouth and Donar could think of plenty of things to do with it. Sighing he steps forward to congratulate the two of them when he hears Varro and Spartacus warn the brothers that the real work begins. He was close enough to touch, but Agron and Duro share a confused look before going to get food. Not sparing him a second glance. Shaking his head he simple gets his own bowl of food and sits off in the corner with Rhaskos and Hamilcar, listening with one ear. 

Agron bites the inside of his cheek when Donar passes him. The man was close enough to touch. Yet says nothing. It wasn't every day he found someone taller than him, and his cock was stirring in mild interest. If he wasn't careful he would have distractions. Much like he kept warning Duro about. Growling to himself he turns to once again remind his brother that now they were Gladiators and Gladiators didn't need any such distractions, and if he needed to fuck a hole he could buy a whore. Agron blinks hard in disbelief when he turns and sees Duro staring down the corridor Crixus had left from a while ago. His brother looked lost and lonely. Vulnerable and weak. 

"Duro." His head snaps up at Agron's warning tone of voice, a mask of innocence painted on his face. Little shit.

"Yes brother?" He asks not blinking. Agron makes a face, accompanied by a deep sigh. Predictable, little shit at that. He's always done this. Even when they were children.

"Do not think I have not noticed your interests." Duro scoffs and rolls his eyes. Agron blinks hard at that. 

"Pfft. I know not of what you speak." Agron leans against a post folding his arms. 

"The Gaul?" He asks with as much sarcasm as he could. Duro looks offended. A good little actor. 

"Crixus? That's ridiculous. He's not even my type. Really Agron, you worry over nothing. There are plenty of men here and most are far better looking than that ass." Yeah right. Agron nods a little, moving is tongue from one cheek to the other. A sign that Duro was cornered and didn't even know it.

"I did not say which Gaul. Rhaskos and a few of the others are from Gaulia. And so was Segovax. Yet none of them came to your mind when I mentioned Gaul." Duro opens and closes his mouth for a moment before shaking his head. This should be good. 

"He is the most known, of course I assumed you meant him." Agron smirks a little. Trap set, and time to close it.

"So tell me then, who is it that you find 'far better looking than that ass' because I too have seen him in the baths and would not mind a chance with him." Duro scowls stepping forward. Agron does a small side to side dance grinning broadly. "Unless you were hoping to gain his attentions of course." Got him. His brother was always easy to taunt. 

"But you do not wish for me to try for them." Duro pointed out. Agron rolls his eyes. No shit. 

"I do not wish you dead you simple fuck. And if you get involved with him you will be moved to distraction instead of training, fucking instead of sleeping and therefore weakened." Agron grabs the back of his neck and puts their foreheads together. "And such a result would see you fall in the Arena. Something I can not allow." Duro sighs his shoulders sagging.

"I will not seek him out brother. Worry not." Agron nods and smiles at him before turning to get some food. Agron glances up noticing Donar watching him from the corner of his eye. Bastard was staring to get on his nerves. "But should he seek me out I will not discourage." Duro calls to his brother smugly. Agron rolls his eyes and gets him a bowl too. Fucking idiot. 

Agron laughs as they headed to the baths, while Duro whined about his arm hurting. His little brother always bitched about wounds twice as much. Gained him attention that he treasured. Even when Agron knew it to be false pain, he still couldn't help doting on Duro. His brother was his world. Shaking his head he turns to corner after Duro, just to hear a loud slap of skin on skin. Duro stumbles and falls on his ass with a,

"Ah fuck!" Agron makes a face looking down at Duro. Something else his brother was good at. "Accidental" seduction. He's seen it a hundred times. There was something about Duro that men seemed to be drawn to. Not that he could blame them. His little brother was a fucking delight. But the men he chose. Agron looks at Crixus. He tsks before dragging Duro to his feet. 

"Are you fucking serious?" There was a clip in his voice when he asks this. 

"It was not intentional!" Duro gives Crixus a sheepish smile, "Apologies. I was not paying attention." Agron makes a face and sighs. Bull shit. For a moment he thought Crixus was going to start throwing punches, instead he shakes his head and claps Duro on the shoulder.

"No need. Tend to that. And welcome to the brotherhood." Crixus gives Duro a small smile and Agron rolls his eyes sighing deeply at the star struck one Duro gives Crixus. It was wild and innocent enough to give the Gaul pause. Agron saves him from any further mind meddling by extending his hand. Crixus takes it with a hard shake. "And you too." Agron suppresses his own smile as he shoves Duro through the walk way into the baths. 

The two move off to the side, staying close to the exit while cleaning themselves. He was more than aware of Donar in the far back corner. It took all of his will power not to sneak a peak. Mostly because his neck burns with the knowledge that the man was watching him. The man's gaze was like a fire of late. It almost scared him. Agron was about to give up and break words with the man when Spartacus walks in. He bumps into Duro a little. The German brother's were close enough to hear a small whimper. Duro jumps looking panicked. Agron frowns standing in front of the Champion.

"Are you alright?" Spartacus's face turns a deep red as he looks down. 

"I'll be fine. Nothing to worry about." Agron tilts his head trying to figure him out. 

"Not to cause concern but...you're Spartacus. Bringer of Rain. Slayer of Theokeles, the Shadow of Death. Champion of Capua....and," Agron lowers his voice noticing over Spartacus's shoulder that Crixus and Varro were practically grinding against each other on the wall, "and uh," He turns so that both their backs were facing the doorway, grimacing when he realizes Duro had followed his gaze, "you whimpered." He whispers to Spartacus. The Thracian scrunches up his nose.

"You are mistaken." Duro makes a face looking at him. 

"And you are defensive. If something ails you-" Spartacus steps away.

"Nothing does. Now, if you excuse me I..." His voice trails off when he turns around noticing for the first time that Varro wasn't there. His hands ball into fists. "That shit." He growls. Before they could say a word Spartacus stomps in the same direction the other two gladiators had left in. Agron shakes his head. 

"Fucking Gauls." Duro nods in a pout. "Don't worry brother. You can do better." Duro nods again a little firmer. 

"How do my chances look with Donar?" He asks looking up at Agron. Agron's eyes widen a little before he smacks Duro upside the head. 

"Shut up." They laugh, and only stop when they notice someone laughing with them. To their right was the Syrian. Ashur.

"I would stay clear of the German my friends." Agron raises an eyebrow glancing over at the blond. "He rarely takes a whore, and always a woman. I have never seen him show interest in a man." Duro tilts his head.

"You know everyone's preferences?" Agron kicks him a little, trying to get him to shut up. Syrian's were not to be trusted. Ashur chuckles a little.

"Oh, Ashur knows everything that goes on in this Ludus. For example," He sits down heavily with a sigh, grinning up at them. "If you follow Spartacus, down the hall to the left the cell on the corner belongs to Crixus." Agron raises an eyebrow. "The Champion is more than likely," Ashur tilts his head back and forth for a second, "aaah, joining in on some of the fun the Undefeated Gaul and Varro are having with a certain," He smiles ruefully, "toy." The brothers look at each other confused. "It is quite the sight to see, I fully recommend it. Iiiif you think you can do it without getting caught." A challenge then! The brothers grin before rushing out the door. Agron glances behind him to see Donar standing up. The cock on that man! He feels his cheeks grow warm and hustles faster. He needed to find a reason to stay away from him.

Donar watches the German brothers talk to Ashur for a moment before running out of the baths. He sighs standing up to finish cleaning himself. It was clear to him at least that Duro was interested in Crixus. Something his fellow Gladiator needed in his opinion. Duro would be the perfect little bitch for Crixus. For anyone he decided to present his ass to, probably. He shakes his head pouring water over himself thinking about Agron. The elder would be a challenge. Fighting for dominance more than likely. And oh, how satisfying it will be when he submits. Donar smiles lazily wrapping the towel around himself as he leaves the baths. It wouldn't take long to train Agron to be more willing. A couple of good fucks here and there. On his way back to his cell he notices Doctore. An idea begins to form in his mind. 

"Doctore!" He calls out stepping faster. Oenomaus turns looking mildly surprised. 

"Donar. Is everything alright?" He asks clasping his hands behind his back. Donar grins broadly. 

"Yes. Forgive me, if this is too bold." Doctore nods a motion to proceed. "But, I had a suggestion for when Crixus returns to the sands in a fortnight." Oenomaus raises an eyebrow.

"Go on?" Donar grins. 

"I think it would benefit the two of them if he was paired with Duro for a while." Oenomaus's eyebrows shoot up.

"Duro? He has just this very night revived the mark. He won't even have had a match in the Arena when Crixus returns to training." Donar nods again,

"Exactly. Crixus has been away from the Arena a while and will need to build back up some momentum. And Duro is going to need a true Champion's guidance. Just like Gannicus guided Crixus." Doctore blinks in shock. That was very insightful. He nods curtly.

"I will think on it." Donar smiles before running off to his cell. If he could get Agron alone, then maybe he could start to convince him that they would be good together. At the very least they could have some fun. 

Chapter Text

Days. Three. Whole. Days. Spartacus was relentless, impatiently trying to get Varro to tell him what he had in store. On the first day he kept cornering him. But it quickly became apparent that no matter how threatening Spartacus was: his friend was not intimidated. Varro laughed at his face when shoved against a wall, smirked while remaining silent and even kissed him to prove his point! It was infuriating. And Varro found it absolutely adorable.

On the second day, Spartacus was refusing to talk to him. While also teasing him to near madness. Spartacus openly stared at the elder German brother with heated gaze anytime Varro tried to talk to him. At one point Crixus made a small appearance and was treated warmly by pretty much the whole brotherhood before he returned to the medicus. When everyone's back was turned he pantomimed sucking Crixus's cock. That earned him a slap against the head. Spartacus constantly bent over when he was sure Varro was looking. He licked his lips and sucked on his fingers during meals loudly and obnoxiously. Ignoring the incredulous stares the rest of the gladiators and some of the guards gave him. Someone, (Doctore) mentioned to Batiatus that Spartacus was acting strange and he spent the rest of the afternoon in the medicus checking for a fever or infected wound. For a moment Varro was worried about Crixus and Spartacus having any sort of alone time but from what he was told, (Thank you Rhaskos) Crixus saw him enter and promptly left without a word. Opting to stay in his cell. Varro groaned at that knowing Spartacus now had time to think and to plot. And that Crixus was stewing. 

The third day, Varro was checking on his purchase with Ashur. Being assured it would be in his hands before training started tomorrow. And that the rest of the gladiators knew where to steer clear of and when tonight. Varro smiles when Spartacus leaves his cell, blinking into the morning sun. The smile isn't returned, he noticed amused. Spartacus crosses the sands with a scowl grabbing Varro's wrist and dragging him down the hall. The rest of the brotherhood laughs watching them, he noticed some of them clapping. Varro wonders if Spartacus was aware of what the rest thought of them and their relationship. Spartacus pulls him into the empty baths. Letting go to strip. Varro's eyes widen watching him with interest.

"Something I can help you with Champion?" Spartacus glares at him, yanking him down as he sinks onto a bench. Varro hums when their lips collide. Spartacus cups his face with both hands wrapping his legs around Varro's waist rocking up against him. Varro breaks away panting heavily, as he reaches in between them to remove his subligaria. Spartacus moans feeling the hot thickening cock slap a little against the back of his thigh. With a small grunt he rolls them so Varro was on his back. The Roman grins up at him stroking the Thracian's own aching length. Spartacus cries out at the contact but instead of thrusting his hips into Varro's grip he smacks the hand away and wiggles his way down swallowing Varro to the base in one breath. Varro keens, twisting his hips upwards as he was assaulted by Spartacus's tongue and mouth. 

Hollowed cheeks suck him, the back of Spartacus's throat working furiously as he gags himself on Varro's cock. He was slurping perversely at the excess drool this caused. The vibrations jolting up Varro's spine, he arches his back mouth open in a wordless shout. It had been too long, and the sudden onslaught was overwhelming. His balls were tightening up to his body. Heat was pooling and swelling. Every muscle he had was drawn tight like a twine: 

And then Spartacus was gone. Gasping and collapsing back onto the bench Varro looks around to see the Thracian sitting opposite of him, smirking proudly, albeit catching his breath. 

"Tell me." Varro's mouth drops sitting up. 

"You're joking? Hours. Mere hours is all you have left and this is what you decide you're doing?" He growls disbelieving. He could see from here that Spartacus's cock was leaking and red with need. 

"Yes. Because I'm dying to know." He answers looking victorious. Varro scoffs reaching over and pulling Spartacus to him by his hips.

"You are a fool." Varro informs him with a gentle smile. Spartacus beams down at him, moving so his knees were braced on the bench either side of Varro's own hips. 

"Perhaps." Spartacus lazily wraps his arms around Varro's shoulders one hand lazily tangling into the blond curls. "But does that not make you the bigger?" Varro snorts shaking his head. He trails kisses along Spartacus's collar bone eliciting a broken whimper. 

"I'm at your mercy that is the truth." He states his breathing uneven. Varro chuckles tracing a finger down Spartacus's spine. He teases one of Spartacus's nipples with his mouth preening at the noises he makes. 

"Mercy is not what would call this." Spartacus grinds against him, the two groaning in sync. Varro's cock gives a hard throb that splits a smile across the Thracian's face. It made his heart soar to be wanted this badly. Varro drums the tips of his fingers against the Champion's entrance watching with shaky breath at the way Spartacus arches, eyes closing.

"No. And of course we were taught no missio." Spartacus's eyes fly open at his words. He looks down at him in surprise. Varro gives him a shit eating grin before picking him up, planting a hard kiss on his lips and practically dropping him onto the bench. Spartacus snarls when Varro pulls back and dresses. "I will deal with you tonight, Bringer of Rain." Varro laughs as he leaves. 

"Spartacus is of a mood." Crixus comments leaning against a beam. Doctore nods his hands clasped behind his back. The glance over to where the Thracian was angrily strapping on his manicae grumbling to himself. 

"Varro has been avoiding his company since the other night."  Crixus raises an eyebrow, turning to look across the way to where Varro was getting some water, hungrily watching Spartacus work. 

"For what purpose?" Doctore shrugs. Spartacus's scream has them turning to look. He leaps from the chest that held the wooden swords and was now attacking the pulvinus in a rage. Crixus looks over to Varro who was grinning from ear to ear. Crixus scoffs. "Let us hope they make up soon." 

It wasn't until after evening meal did they meet again. Varro smiles brightly draping an arm across his shoulders leading him to the baths. Spartacus frowns noticing that there was nobody else was there with them. Confused he turns while Varro strips. He chuckles a little at the confusion but instead of offering an explanation he steps into the water motioning for Spartacus to do the same. Varro beams at the Thracian's hesitation but patiently waits for him to join. Of course he does, what else was he going to do. However, Spartacus blinks dumbfounded when Varro picks up a cloth and a strigil and starts washing the smaller man. 

"Varro, what point does this have?" Varro chuckles at his question, being gentle but firm. It was a strange sensation to have someone else bathe him. 

"Besides the fact that I wish to? Hush now and trust in my plans." 

"Hmmm...." Was his reply. It took a few moments to be as clean as Varro wished for him to be. He had even squatted down to get down even to Spartacus's ankles. 

"Turn around my Champion." Spartacus flushes at the term, doing as instructed. Varro usually calls him any one of his new titles in jest or a tease. This one was endearing. His heart clenches wondering how on Earth his friend could think he isn't the love Sura had told him about? "Very good. Now," Varro runs his hands up and down the sides of Spartacus's thighs his voice growing raspy, "bend over."

Eyes wide, Spartacus bends down a little, bracing his hands on the side of the stone basin. Varro hums his hand going to his lower back, forcing him just a little more angled. Two strong calloused hands grip the globes of his ass. Kneading and squeezing, pulling them apart to expose him better. 

"Varro?" He asks when nothing happens and nothing is said.

"Hm?" Spartacus glances over his shoulder. Varro wasn't looking up at his face. Rather staring intently at Spartacus's hole. It was strangely intimate. 

"Wh-what are you doing?" He surprises himself by having to swallow down his nervousness. Varro's eyes flicker to him before smiling warmly. 

"Admiring." The flat of Varro's tongue drags across him, if it wasn't for the hands still holding him Spartacus would have leapt out of the water at the sudden contact. "What you so willingly present for me." His initial yelp of surprise, echos into a low moan as Varro continues to lavish him. His knuckles turn white against the stone, his head was bent, panting heavily he could feel his legs start to shake when Varro pushes a finger past the outer muscles. He could feel his cock leaking, eager for any sort of friction as a second was added. "So eager." Spartacus whines pushing backwards. If all the Roman had in store was for privacy then he was going to make his friend suffer. As nice as it was, being a secret this long was unnecessary. 

"Varro." There was a slight warning tone in his voice as he pushes backwards. The blond chuckles standing up removing the digits much to Spartacus' dismay, his hands caress Spartacus's sides, and back. Rubbing circles on his ass a soft look on his face as he watches Spartacus struggle to keep hold of himself. 

"Calm yourself, you will get what is deserved." Spartacus shivers when the head of Varro's cock nestles between his cheeks. Spartacus cries out softly when he was breached. The harsh intake of breath from Varro sends warmth spreading through him and he couldn't help but smile. "Are you enjoying yourself, my dearest friend?" Varro's voice was soft and kind. His thrusts gentle and sweet. Spartacus hums in delight, enjoying the feel of Varro's hand on his shoulder. 

"Three days is much too long to wait." He tosses the comment over his shoulder, face tilted towards the ceiling. Varro chuckles, on hand moving up, his fingers gentle wrapping around Spartacus's throat. 

"Agreed. However, there is much to do." Spartacus's eyes slowly open, the grip on his neck tightening ever so slightly, "to convince you." Spartacus gives a small laugh, more out of confusion than anything.

"Of what?" Instead of answering Varro suddenly releases his throat and roughly grabs the short brown hair, his hips snapping at a bruising pace. Spartacus shouts, the noise echoing off the walls around them. The water sloshes as their skin slaps. Varro smirks at the way Spartacus's ass bounces with each quick thrust. He pauses long enough to turn Spartacus around lifting him up and shoving him against the wall, legs wrapped firmly around his waist. Varro revels in the whimper of want and need Spartacus makes in the short amount of time they were parted. 

Spartacus tried to catch his breath, but there wasn't a chance. Varro's fingers dug into the flesh of his thighs, hard enough to bruise. His mouth covered Spartacus's neck and it was all he could do not to beg for more. He could feel Varro's teeth grazing lightly against his skin. His cock twitches in agitation of being ignored. He tries to fist himself but Varro snatches his wrists together pinning them against his sides. Spartacus's head bangs against the stone as he throws it back with a groan of frustration. Varro beams and mouths at his neck slowing his hips to a stop. 

"What's wrong Spartacus?" He shivers at the way Varro said the name, "You're so close. I can feel the way your greedy hole is tightening," Spartacus pants at the words. They were hot, dirty and true. He arches his back twisting and writhing, anything to get Varro to move. 

"Please," He gasps when is attempts prove futile. "Please Varro." Varro grins. 

"And Varro answers." He whispers in Spartacus's ear. Spartacus clings to him, a scream being torn from his lips as Varro resumes his torment. His mind was swirling, his vision was blurred, nothing else mattered except the way he could feel every muscle in Varro's body tightening up. 

But with a small curse, Varro slams into him once more, stilling his movements as he spills his seed. Spartacus stares at him in shock. Varro was usually so attentive to his lovers needs. Varro sighs deeply, looking all the satisfied Spartacus itched to feel. His skin felt as if it was on fire, his blood was pounding in his ears. Varro smiles down at the leaking cock nestled against his stomach. 

"Uhm.."

"Do not fret my Champion. I am not through with you yet." Varro comments walking them over to the edge. Spartacus lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Varro sits on the edge of the tub, juggling to hold Spartacus in one hand while reaching into his clothes with the other. "Now just hold still aand-"

Spartacus jerks upwards with a scream. Varro's cock has been replaced by something foreign and solid. And very cold. 

"What the fuck?" He asks loudly attempting to stand and remove the intruding object. His muscles contract around it impulsively when he moves causing him to freeze. Varro gives a slow, rueful smirk. 

"I told you, I have to convince you." Spartacus scrunches up his face in confusion. "If you wish for this to be removed, then you must thank Crixus for saving your life." Varro informs him one hand soothingly petting Spartacus's thigh, the other twisting whatever the hell it was Spartacus found himself filled with. He moans at the sensation, and the sudden realization it wasn't long enough to hit that deepest spot within him that Varro had barely teased earlier. Eyes a little glazed he thrusts into the air a choking noise slipping out when it shifted.

"I will do no such thing. The man does not deserve it." Spartacus's breathing was ragged. Varro chuckles evilly. 

"As expected of you to say." Varro gives him a swift kiss before pulling the two of them out of the water and toweling him dry. Spartacus stands rooted to the spot watching him. There was no way Varro would actually  leave him like this? "Now that toy, stays until you change your mind." Spartacus hisses from sensitivity as Varro dresses him.

"You're joking." He says hopefully. Varro beams at him.

"No. We will see how you fare in the morning." 

"The recruites have their test tomorrow." Spartacus complains his cock pressing against his subligaria painfully. Every turn of his hips had this new toy sending sparks through him. 

"Yes they do. A long time coming. Honestly you'd think it would have been done sooner." Varro grins smugly patting Spartacus on his shoulders. Spartacus winces at the new sensation. His eyes widen realizing he's going to have to walk, to sit, to try to sleep, to train. He groans when Varro nips his neck. "Enjoy your pride Bringer of Rain." Spartacus's mouth drops in shock and horror as Varro walks away. 

"Fuckin' cunt." He mumbles taking his first shaky step. A few deep breathes and he thinks he can manage it. So long as he didn't bump into anything.

Chapter Text

Crixus grins as his head falls back against his bed. The thunk makes Varro chuckle as he busy himself with mouthing his way down Crixus's chest. He teases at the Gaul's nipples liking the way it makes his legs fall open. The two hum grinding against each other for a moment. Crixus muses himself by playing with Varro's curls. They were lazy and languid with their movements. Varro removes Crixus's towel kissing around his hips, sucking on the boniest part he could find being extra careful not to leave a bruise. Crixus hisses and sighs at the sensation eyes falling closed enjoying himself. He's missed physical contact. He wishes avoiding Spartacus didn't come with avoiding Varro either. Maybe that's why he was interested in Duro?

"Your mind wonders." Varro whispers in his ear, licking the shell. Crixus shivers with a smile. "Is my gratitude boring you?" Crixus chuckles shaking his head.

"No. I am enjoying myself. Probably far more than I should." Varro beams wriggling out of his subligaria. 

"Trust when I say you deserve to."

"He deserves a lot of things." Both Varro and Crixus jump and the voice from the door way. Varro whirls around ready for a fight while Crixus rolls off the bed doing the same.

"Spartacus!" Varro gasps in relief and a little bit of annoyance. Crixus shakes his head scowling.

"You fucking cunt." He sighs. Varro puts his hands on his hips. 

"You startled us." Crixus snorts but was ignored. 

"And the two of you are lucky it is only me." He snaps. Varro quirks an eyebrow eyes flickering behind Spartacus as if someone was going to round the corner any second.

"Fair point. I suppose we were a bit hastey." Varro grins mischievously, "Perhaps you'd like me to give you my gratitude the same I give Crixus his?" Spartacus folds his arms in an obvious pout.

"You are very much aware of what I want from you right now." Crixus's eyebrows raise in surprise at the hostility. It hasn't escaped anyone's notice that the Thracian has been in a sour mood for a few days. Varro chuckles.

"I do believe he is going to have to wait his turn." The other two look at him. "Or was that all your gratitude had to offer?" He taunts Varro folding his arms. Varro slowly smiles looking between the two of them. Both cross armed and on the brink of a tantrum. 

"I think we can arrange something." His eyes slide to Spartacus with a wink. It was returned with a smirk, "The three of us have proven resourceful in the past." Spartacus and Varro start stalking over to Crixus. 

"And Crixus was so gracious to show us a wonderful way to get what we want." Crixus rolls his eyes at them with a shake of his head. 

"Shut the door you simple fucks." He turns to walk to the bed smacking Spartacus on the ass as he does. 

The broken shout gives him pause. 

Crixus slowly turns to Spartacus who had grabbed hold of Varro for support. The Thracian was panting and shaking. Crixus tilts his head. 

"Remove. It." Spartacus growls his hands turning claw like as they wrap around Varro's throat. 

"The fuck have you done to him?" Crixus as incrediulously. Varro plants a gentle kiss to Spartacus's temple. 

"Once he strips and offers ass I will show you." Varro carefully shoves Spartacus into Crixus moving to shut the door. Crixus catches the Thracian growing concerned at the whimper and the shivering. 

"Please." He gasps out. Crixus leads him to the bed while Spartacus frantically removes his subligaria. 

"Don't help him Crixus." Varro demands snatching the Gaul's hand away from Spartacus. Crixus wished to ask all sorts of questions. However he didn't wish to seem as if a dewy eyed virgin either. Spartacus groans when he was finally free. His erection bobbing and leaking with need. It looked borderline painful. "Roll over," Varro instructs softly falling to his knees at the end of the bed. Spartacus whines his movements slow. Crixus' eyes widen when Varro grips his hips and angles the Thracian's ass high in the air. 

"A plug." He States blankly looking at what was supposed to be Spartacus's hole. Barca told him about these things. Even whispered to him about longing to give him one. But the idea terrified him. Walking around, training? Besides thanks to Lucretia it wasn't exactly an option. Varro grins up at him proudly.

"He's been doing so well with it." Crixus looks down at him.

"Why?" Varro makes a face and shrugs.

"Had to convince him you needed to be shown gratitude for saving his ungrateful life." Crixus looks back at Spartacus in shock. He was a little in awe that the Roman was able to do this. Tame the Thracian. The man was even silent on the bed albiet still shaking. 

"So if I were to do this," Crixus gently takes hold of the base pulling back ever so slightly. Spartacus keens his back arching. Crixus licks his lips. Varro nods encouragingly. 

"Fuck the Gods!" Spartacus screams when the toy was roughly shoved back insid him fully. Varro sticks his tongue in between his teeth with a grin.

"I ask a moment of you Crixus." Varro says shifting to sit on the bed next to Spartacus. The Champion scowls at him clenching his jaw and his fists. Crixus turns and twists the plug eyes hooding at the way Spartacus writhes. 

"Talk plainly, or see opportunity missed." He warns. Varro shrugs. 

"Just trying to figure out which you would prefer." Crixus tears his eyes away from Spartacus to blink at Varro.

"I do believe I said plainly." Varro laughs reaching over to cup the nearest globe of Spartacus's ass.

"Which ass, you fuck. His," he leans in closing his mouth over Crixus' nipple, Crixus' breath hitches, "or mine." Spartacus moans having managed to sneak his hand down and squeeze the base of his cock, releaving a small measure of the pressure that has tormented him the last day and a half. 

"Well now that won't do." Crixus murmurs reaching down to pull his hand away. Spartacus whines trying to jerk his hand back. The position he was in favored the Gaul and he lost the small struggle. Varro leans back stroking his re-hardening cock smirking. 

"Then again. We could always-" 

"No." Crixus cuts him off curtly. If he never let Barca then he wasn't going to let this blond fuck. His cock gave a twitch the image of a certain grinning Celt swimming into mind. He shakes his head with a chuckle. "It did not end in your favor last time if you recall." Varro grimaces remembering the night of Illythia and her friends visit. 

"Last time?" Spartacus asks twisting to look back at them. Crixus beams for some reason touched by the fact that Varro didn't tell him.

"You can learn later." Varro turns his attention back to them with a grin. 

"Better idea." Before either of them knew it Varro was wrestling Crixus onto his back taking his place on the bed next to Spartacus. The Thracian looks at him startled. "I'll take it out if you help hold him down." 

Crixus' eyes widen as his heart pounds against his ribs. This couldn't be happening. Did he put his trust in the wrong people? Varro was a Roman after all. Spartacus himself scrambled to do as he was asked, wincing at the movement. 

"Nngh." Crixus frowns looking at the Thracian. It was odd not to feel betrayed by the man. The desperation to rid himself of the current toy lodged in his ass probably was the cause. He struggles with the two of them, Varro spreading his legs while Spartacus held his arms above his head. 

"I'll fucking kill you." Crixus growls unable to kick them off. His back arches in his attempt. Varro bites his thigh earning a jolt. "Fucking. Cunt!" Crixus was tempted to shout for help. His pride rejects the idea instantly. 

"Calm down you fool." Varro laughs reaching over to his chest digging around until he finds the cloth pouch. "This is just to ensure you don't pull the same stunt as last time." Spartacus makes a face. 

"What the fuck?" Crixus and Varro ignore him. Varro busies himself with preparing the marble smirking at something Crixus was unaware of. 

"Now hold still." Varro instructs gripping the back of Crixus' thighs lifting them. Spartacus curses under his breath when Crixus bucks in shock when Varro starts lapping, at his entrance. Crixus was struggling against his restraint. His vision was crossed with the way Varro was eating him out. His nails dig into Spartacus's forearms, he bites down on his lip to keep himself from screaming. 

"Varro." Spartacus snaps his hips jerking. The Blond grins up at him with a wink. 

"I'm aware." He scoffs. Pulling back he situates himself in between Crixus' legs angling the marble cock against his entrance. Spartacus groans watching intently. Varro smirks crooking a finger at him. There was a small mental debate on how to keep Crixus down and still angle himself where Varro wants him. 

"Hurry up you cunt." Crixus whines trying to get closer to Varro. 

"That's better." Varro praises once Spartacus made his way over. 

"FUCK!" Spartacus screams when Varro ungracefully pulls the plug out. There was an awful squelching noise as his muscles rejected the motion. Crixus groans when Varro suddenly slips two fingers inside of him. 

"Easy there you two. We might be finished before we get started." He teases, his digits scissoring and curling barely brushing against Crixus' prostate purposefully. Spartacus pants heavily his abused hole pulsing. 

"Fuck you." He whispers resting his head on Crixus' shoulder. Varro smacks him hard across his ass humming at the shout. 

"Later. Right now is the Gaul's turn." Spartacus shoots him a death glare. "Do as instructed and I will see you to completion." Varro promises. Spartacus blinks but nods slowly. 

Chapter Text

"Why do we have to see it?" Duro snaps. His mood had soured after they left the baths. Agron hisses at him to be quiet, slowing down so their footsteps weren't heard. He understands his brothers sudden reluctance to go spy on their fellow gladiators. Especially with the burns still so fresh. He glances at Duro's arm with a small frown. It seemed to have scarred more than his own. Curse his brothers sensitive flesh. 

"Quit belly aching. You sound like a damned woman." Agron whispers peering around the corner. Duro mocks him silently with a roll of his eyes. He stops when Agron scowls at him. "Besides. It might help your pursuit of the Undefeated Gaul." He says nonchalantly in hopes of raising his brothers spirits. 

"I had thought you wished I didn't pursue." It was a statement not a question. Agron sighs turning to him. 

"No. I do not. However if he is close to the Champion then we might be able to befriend him. And if we ever attempt escape then the two of them on our side will be a good plan." He explains patiently. Duro brightens with a loopy grin.

"And Varro shall be helpful in that endeavor as well!" Agron snorts moving to stand just outside Crixus' cell.

"The man yet stands Roman. Spartacus and Crixus are more than likely topping the cunt." He says confidently. 

 The two freeze when Varro approaches the door. He smirks at them cracking it holding a finger up to his lips with a 'shh'. He winks and walks back to Spartacus and Crixus. Agron's eyes widen to see the Champion in such a submissive state. He couldn't quite hear what Varro says but he sees when he snatches Crixus' hand away from the Thracian's clothes, eyes widening when his leaking cock bobs free. He and Duro suck in a harsh breath, for different reasons. Agron swallows hard his own cock thickening at the sight before him.

"What the fuck?" Duro whispers. Agron covers his mouth without looking at him, eyes glued to the trio. He almost groans when Varro forcefully shifts Spartacus around presenting ass for viewing. Duro makes a choking noise while Agron bites his lip.

He's seen them in shops. Heard of them being used but he's never actually seen one in action. 

"A plug." Crixus' voice carries. Duro makes a small noise behind his brother's hand. 

"He's been doing so well with it." It was difficult to make out what Varro said but the brother's take a cautious step closer. Crixus looks down at him.

"Why?" Varro makes a face and shrugs. Spartacus glances backwards, a small glare present on his features; until he spots the two. Agron stiffens, making eye contact. Duro looks at his brother in distress, especially when the hand over his mouth tightens. 

"Had to convince him you needed to be shown gratitude for saving his ungrateful life." Agron scowls. If Crixus was truly about the brotherhood, then he didn't need any gratitude. 

Duro nods in agreement. Spartacus was lucky Crixus was there to save him. Should have shown how thankful he was days ago. 

Both brothers miss what was said before Crixus gently takes hold of the base pulling back ever so slightly. Spartacus keens his back arching. Agron bites his knuckle eyes glued. Duro's eyes rake over Crixus's body moaning at the sight of the Gaul's hardening cock. 

"Fuck the Gods!" Spartacus screams when the toy was roughly shoved back inside him fully. Duro twitches his hand instinctively groping himself through his cloth. He didn't favor the Thracian, definitely not the way Agron did, but he couldn't deny the erotic way Varro and Crixus made the man look. 

"I ask a moment of you Crixus." Varro says shifting to sit on the bed next to Spartacus. The Champion scowls at him clenching his jaw and his fists. Crixus turns and twists the plug eyes hooding at the way Spartacus writhes. Agron releases his brother's mouth his hand slipping into his subligarium. Duro glances at him, but noticed how Agron was fully distracted. He lets out a shaky breath following suit. 

"Talk plainly, or see opportunity missed." He warns. Varro shrugs. Agron shifts, checking the hall to make sure they were still the only two there. 

"Just trying to figure out which you would prefer." Agron's eyes snap back to Varro.

"I do believe I said plainly." Varro laughs reaching over to cup the nearest globe of Spartacus's ass. Agron squeezes the base of his cock to alleviate some of the pressure. He hears Duro beside him make a small whimper. 

"Which ass, you fuck. His," he leans in closing his mouth over Crixus' nipple, "or mine." Spartacus moans Agron strains his neck a little trying to see what Spartacus was doing with his hand. His own cock throbs in his, to see the Thracian desperate enough to try and relieve himself. Crixus murmurs something, reaching down to pull him away. Spartacus whines trying to jerk his hand back. The position he was in favored the Gaul and he lost the small struggle. Varro leans back stroking his re-hardening cock smirking. 

"Then again. We could always-" 

"No." Crixus cuts him off curtly. Duro leans against the doorway his knees going weak. He was a pile of mush whenever Crixus took control like that. Agron rolls his eyes, fisting himself while Spartacus wiggles. "It did not end in your favor last time if you recall." Varro grimaces. Agron and Duro pause glancing at each other. Did...did Varro and Crixus? Did Varro fuck Crixus?!

"Last time?" Spartacus asks twisting to look back at them. As out of the loop as the brother's. Crixus beams for some reason. Duro huffs. 

"You can learn later." Varro turns his attention back to his partners with a grin. 

"Better idea." Before any of them knew it Varro was wrestling Crixus onto his back taking his place on the bed next to Spartacus. The Thracian looks at him startled. "I'll take it out if you help hold him down." 

Crixus' eyes widen as Spartacus scrambled to do as he was asked, wincing at the movement. Agron bites his lip having a new angle to see Spartacus. If he sat up on his knees the Thracian's cock would be in the Gaul's face.

"Roman shit. We should stop him." Duro whispers harshly. Agron looks at him in a panic and shakes his head no with a firm look. Then they would have to come up with a reason as to why they weren't in the baths. Why they didn't just keep walking when Varro cracked the door. Crixus struggles with the two of them, Varro spreading his legs while Spartacus held his arms above his head. 

"I'll fucking kill you." Crixus growls unable to kick them off. His back arches in his attempt. Duro couldn't help but thrust gently into his hand, the way the Gaul looked was awfully inviting. Varro bites his thigh earning a jolt. "Fucking. Cunt!" Duro fantasies about him calling out for help, and being the one to save him. Oh how he would be rewarded, if only the Gaul wasn't so prideful.

"Calm down you fool." Varro laughs reaching over to a chest digging around until he finds the cloth pouch. "This is just to ensure you don't pull the same stunt as last time." Spartacus makes a face. 

"What the fuck?" Spartacus and Agron mutter at the same time. Crixus and Varro ignore him. Varro busies himself with preparing what the brother's make out to be-

"Jupiter's cock!" Duro chokes. Agron covers his mouth again, his cockhead leaking at the sight. Varro glances over to the door directly at Duro and Agron. Agron feels his face grow hot with embarrassment. They were caught. Yet: the Roman smirks smugly turning back around.

"Now hold still." Varro instructs gripping the back of Crixus' thighs lifting them. Spartacus curses under his breath when Crixus bucks in shock when Varro starts lapping, at his entrance. Crixus was struggling against his restraint. Duro's hand starts working his shaft almost drooling at the sight before him. Crixus's nails dig into Spartacus's forearms, he bites down on his lip to keep himself from screaming. Duro curses stepping off to the side pushing Agron to do the same. Spartacus saw them.

"Varro." Spartacus snaps his hips jerking. The Blond grins up at him with a wink. 

"I'm aware." He scoffs. Pulling back he situates himself in between Crixus' legs angling the marble cock against his entrance. Spartacus groans watching intently. Varro smirks crooking a finger at him. There was a pause when Spartacus tries to do as he was told and still keep Crixus down. Agron shifts to get a better view his wrist twisting realizing Spartacus could just lean down a little more and-

"Hurry up you cunt." Crixus whines trying to get closer to Varro. Agron scowls. The Gaul didn't deserve this. Cunt was always speaking bad of Spartacus acting as if he was better than everyone.

"That's better." Varro praises once Spartacus made his way over. 

"FUCK!" Spartacus screams when Varro ungracefully pulls the plug out. There was an awful squelching noise as his muscles rejected the motion. Crixus groans when Varro suddenly slips two fingers inside of him. 

"Easy there you two. We might be finished before we get started." He teases hand working furiously while Spartacus pants heavily. Agron wishes they were at a different position. He could only imagine Spartacus's puckered hole pulsing with the need to be filled again.

"Fuck you." Spartacus whispers resting his head on Crixus' shoulder. Varro smacks him hard across his ass, humming at the shout. 

"Later. Right now is the Gaul's turn." Spartacus shoots him a death glare. "Do as instructed and I will see you to completion." Varro promises. Spartacus blinks but nods slowly. 

"What the fuck?" Duro mutters watching Varro whisper instructions they couldn't hear. Agron's gasps when he understands what Varro was going to have Spartacus do. Duro on the other hand watched in amazement as Spartacus twisted himself around keeping his hips elevated in order to keep his cock and balls out of Crixus's face. 

"You intend to do this? While taking me with the marble?" Crixus asks in disbelief. Varro laughs with a shake of his head. 

"I intend to do a lot. I hope you don't mind but I had snuck this in here the other day." Crixus tilts his head watching Varro reach into his trunk and pull out a large bag. 

"What the fuck is that?" Duro asks slowing his hand in interest. 

"What the fuck is that?" Crixus asks. While Varro digs. Spartacus shakes a little, Agron seeming to be the only one who notices. 

"Spartacus." Varro states pulling out something the brother's couldn't see. Without warning Spartacus swallows Crixus' cock while Varro slides the marble inside his awaiting hole. Crixus' back arches bow like, as a strangled shout escaped him. Varro grins looking at Spartacus addressing Crixus, "Keep quite or we will be discovered." Agron and Duro flinch when Varro looks over his shoulder at them. 

"Remove the Thracian and slow your ha-and!" Crixus snaps back while Varro twists and pulls, being relentless with his movements. Duro moans softly imagining himself in Spartacus's place. He could only imagine how the Gaul tastes. 

Agron groans, more than anything wishing to could be Crixus, if only for this moment. He thrusts into his fist, the ache in his cock unbearable. Neither of them can recall a time where they was more aroused. 

"Agron," Duro whispers worriedly. Agron makes a pained noise leaning against the wall instead of answering. "I don't think I can last." Agron doesn't even look up at Duro.

"Then don't you cunt." He growls quietly. Varro glances at them again, as if making sure they were still watching. Agron sucks in a harsh breath when Spartacus looks up making eye contact with the elder brother. Spartacus hollows out his cheeks obscenely never looking away. Crixus moans loudly shifting Agron's attention.

"You have to be quieter." Varro laughs lifting the Gaul a little to grab one of his ass cheeks. Spartacus gags a little at the movement shooting the blond a glare. Varro hums squeezing and kneading the flesh in hand. 

"You-agh- you're not making it e-easy!" Crixus' hips buck up into Spartacus's mouth head falling back with a thunk. Duro bites his hand feeling his balls tightening. It had been too long since he had been with anyone and the sight before him was more sexual and erotic than anything he has ever witnessed. Varro bites his lip as he grins. 

"Then I suggest you fill mouth." All four of them freeze, Varro laughs slowing down the marble's thrust. Spartacus moves to pull off Crixus's cock but Varro pushes him back down. Crixus' eyes blaze with challenge. 

Agron's eyes widen when ever so slowly, Crixus reaches up gripping the base of Spartacus's cock, and just as slow slipping it inside of his mouth. Spartacus's eyes squeeze shut as he moans low. Crixus does the same and quickly the two find themselves distracted. Varro leans back once more playing with the bag in his lap. Out if the corner of his eye Agron notices his brother resume pleasuring himself, but he was more interested in the leather straps Varro was securing around himself and the blue silky looking sash. Unlike Duro he was more than willing to draw this out. 

 "Shh, it'll be alright." Varro reassure's as he pulls the marble out. Crixus' eyes fly open and he releases Spartacus's cock with a wet pop noise. Spartacus's makes a noise of displeasure as Varro pulls him up so he could access the base of the Gaul's cock.

"And what the fuck is that for?" Crixus demands his voice gravely. The sound has Duro whining. 

"To allow me time to finish."Varro explains sounding calmer than any of them thought he should. Agron raises an eyebrow as the Roman secure's the blue silky thing around Crixus's cock and even looping around his balls slightly. Crixus tilts his head. Spartacus pulls off rolling and shifting so he was sitting next to Crixus instead of on his face. 

"Varro...what does that do?" Duro notice a look of relief on Crixus's face. The Gaul didn't know what it was either. He blinks looking at his brother for answers. Agron's brow was furrowed in concentration. He didn't know. Sighing is slight frustration Duro turns back to the others. 

"Keeps him from finishing." Varro says shifting the leather around his waist. 

"It what?" Crixus sputters. Varro doesn't explain further before he was pulling the Gaul up and around. It took a moment but Varro manuvers so he was sitting on the bed fully with the wall supporting his back with Crixus in his lap facing away from him ankles hanging off the edge. Spartacus makes a noise and Varro chuckles. 

"What's on his cock?" Duro whispers not able to take his eyes off. Agron shakes his head. It looked like an ivory covering. Crixus looks behind him with a frown, down at it.

"And that is what?" He asks. Varro laughs. 

"Technically it is called a strap on?" Spartacus tentatively crawls on the bed, the wood creaks with their weight. 

"I thought that was for women?" Spartacus questions. Agron and Duro share befuddled looks while Crixus blinks. 

"Normally. It took a bit to find it." Varro thrusts into Crixus without warning. Spartacus, startled, moves to cover Crixus's mouth with his own. It muffled the scream but not enough the Duro didn't shudder his orgasm hitting him suddenly. Agron curses releasing his cock to help Duro lean heavily on the opposite wall. 

"Keep watch." He mutters lowering his subligaria to ease his erection out. Duro nods lamely, wiping his soiled hand on the wall. Agron positions himself better at the crack in the door pumping his cock in time with Varro's quick thrusts. 

Spartacus climbs on to the former Champion panting against his lips. Varro wraps both arms around Crixus's chest helping steady him while Spartacus aligns the Gaul's cock with his entrance. Varro slows enough to let Spartacus sink down, impaling himself at the angle he was dying for. Crixus catches his hips and slams the Thracian down desperately. The two cry out when Varro resumes his pace. Every thrust of the Roman's hips forcing Crixus to mimic the action with his own. Spartacus's fingers rake through Crixus's hair gripping as tightly as he could without doing damage. 

Agron keens watching the way Spartacus's ass parted for the Gaul's thick cock. The blue silk an enticing addition. Varro groans before patting Crixus's hip. The other two attempt to voice their complaints but Varro pushes them off. 

"Spartacus is going to spill into your mouth, or not at all." Varro states. Crixus makes a face.

"So much for gratitude." He grumbles letting Varro shift them so he was facing the wall. The door to his left. Agron silently prays a thank you to any and all gods for Varro's existence. Varro laughs while Spartacus was splayed almost entirely off the bed with Varro stands behind Crixus. Agron likes the way the ivory curves, his hips jump at the thought of how it would feel. 

"Ah, well it made sense to add in your punishment." He admits making Agron pause. Spartacus was pulling insistently at Crixus's hair not allowing the Gaul to do so. 

"Punish-mhr" he scowls up at the leaner man mouth suddenly filled with cock. 

"What am I punishing you for?" Varro asks using both hands to slap the globes of his ass, rolling and pulling at them almost distractedly. Agron lets out a shaky sigh, noticing the way Spartacus leaned back looking blissful. "Well, let's just say: I don't like being ignored." Varro's voice held an actual ring of hurt in it. Crixus moans around his full mouth when Varro slaps his ass. The echo made Duro lift his head. 

"Oh fuck, he's spanking him." Agron states the obvious, unnecessarily for his brother. 

Crixus gasps, rocking forward as Varro's hand comes down again and again. Agron grits his teeth to stay quiet. Heat was pooling and it was all he could do to not speed up his hand and be done with it. He wished to see how this ended.

"Fuck the gods." Spartacus pants thrusting into Crixus's mouth with earnest. Varro hits harder watching the way the ass rippled from the force. He was thankful Lucretia was busy today and not going to ask for the Gaul. Otherwise she might have questions as to why his cheeks were covered in red handprints. 

"Are you close, Bringer of Rain?" Varro sounded breathless, still Agron wondered about the mocking tone but Spartacus digs his nails into the back of Crixus' skull practically sobbing. "Come for me then." Spartacus's whole body spasms then, both Crixus and Varro stretching to cover his mouth from his scream. Varro yelps when Spartacus bites him. Crixus makes an amused sound.  

Spartacus collapses against the bed shaking from head to toe. Agron curses having reached the edge himself. He wasn't sure if Varro and Crixus would do it for him alone. Crixus pulls himself up a little his Adam's apple working as he swallows. Agron stares at him. Lazer focused on his neck. Finding a man who doesn't spit? Fuck the gods he was close. Varro moans watching the two of them, bending down pressing light kisses on the curve of Crixus' buttocks his thrusts soft and steady. 

"I will not last much longer." Varro murmurs against the muscled cheek. Crixus starts pushing backwards 

"Thankfully." Varro chuckles at Crixus' retort reclining letting the ivory cock remain just inside. Crixus' ass bounces as he attempts to have Varro's strap filling him. 

"Are you not enjoying yourself?" Crixus groans pulling away before rolling over and yanking Varro down on top of him. 

"You enjoy yourself overly much. Fuck me with that contraption like you mean it." Agron shivers when Crixus places a hard kiss to the blond. "And take this fucking thing off me." He demands. Agron hears Duro whimper but he ignores it. Varro smiles into another kiss before he shrugs and pulls the silk off with a flourish. Crixus wraps his legs around Varro's hips. Agron could feel himself flush when he realizes Spartacus watching him. 

The Thracian raises a curious eyebrow, but says nothing. His eyes burn into Agron's skin slowly looking him up and down. Jaw clenching, Agron stands up straight, deciding to test the waters a little. Putting himself on display as he works himself. Spartacus smirks licking his lips. Agron grips the top of the door, carefully. Spartacus's eyes shine with mischief leaning towards Crixus. Agron's brain stops working watching Spartacus lap at the Gaul's weeping head eyes never leaving Agron's. 

Crixus twists upwards at the contact. Varro curses looking between the three of them. Spartacus closes his mouth over the crown, hollowing out his cheeks. Agron curses under his breath. His hips stuttered in his hand, and he has to turn towards the hall to keep from spilling anything into Crixus's cell. Spartacus hums in approval and looked rather smug as he pulls off. Crixus makes a distressed noise but Varro shifts his hips. Spartacus covers his mouth as he screams.

Varro's hips stuttered to a fault accompanied by a low moan. Spartacus leans back smiling at the slow relax from the other two. Varro sighs with a smile. Agron's eyes widen and he turns to start dragging Duro down the hall fixing his clothes. Duro fusses but Agron covers his mouth. 

"Silence. Crixus almost saw us." Duro flushes knowing that if the Gaul caught them then they would be killed. Brand be damned. 

Varro chuckles glancing at the now empty doorway. He shivers a little pulling out of Crixus. Spartacus and Crixus look at each other and suddenly the three of them were a pile of laughing bodies. Crixus reaches over wrapping an arm around Spartacus's waist pulling him close. Varro tosses the strap on off to the side, wincing with sensitivity as he takes it off.

"This doesn't change the fact that you're my rival." Crixus informs all but petting Spartacus's hair. Varro smirks getting a wet cloth and cleaning them. The Champion hums content snuggling close. 

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Varro nods kissing both of their heads. 

"Come. He and I still need a bath, and you need to find food. We missed you at dinner." Crixus raises an eyebrow.

"From dominant ass to mother hen." Spartacus buries his face in Crixus' neck over come with a fit of giggles. 

"We'd best do as he says. You've seen what he does when he isn't happy." Varro finishes dressing and places his hands on hips. 

"Wait till you see what I do when you keep me waiting." Crixus and Spartacus laugh but do as they're told. 

"Until next time then, you simple fucks." Crixus shakes his head wondering how on Earth his life could get any stranger.

Varro and Spartacus make it down the hall grinning from ear to ear. 

"When do you plan on telling him about the Rhine brother's?" The Champion asks coming into view of the baths. Varro laughs loudly and leans in. 

"After I'm dead." The two of them laugh causing everyone else to look at them in speculation. 

Chapter Text

"Oh fuck the gods Crixus!" Bara gasps reaching behind him to grab the Gaul's hair. Pietros whines having lost Barca's mouth from his cock. Crixus' grip tightens on Barca's thighs becoming more insistent on his task. Barca bucks his hips thrusting into the air for any kind of friction. Pietros strokes himself now more amazed instead of left out. 

"I've never seen him so strung out." The slave whispers watching his lover in awe. Crixus hums causing Barca to yank at his hair. He was ignored. Instead Crixus reaches beside him and after a moment of searching hands Pietros their marble toy. Grinning at their silent scheme the boy scrambles off the crates of birds and manuvers out of the Beast's reach. Barca hardly notices this fact. 

"Crixus." He warns. His attempt to sound threatening thwarted by the inflation of his voice. When Pietros releases a muffled moan Barca's eyes fly open. 

Pietros was on the far side of the bed, propped up on a stool with that damned marble halfway in his mouth. Barca's cock throbs. His eyes were glued to the way Pietros gags himself around the white shaft. Drool glistening off the sides he could see. Crixus does a strange technique with his tongue that has him pitching forward with a shout. Pietros pulls the dildo out with a slurp.

"Is something wrong my mighty Beast?" He teases liking the way Barca reaches out for him. 

"Pie-ah-tros." He pants looking down at Crixus's hands holding him in place. "Get over here." He growls. An imitation of an instruction from earlier that same day. Pietros grins wickedly before shaking his head no. Curls flouncing about his face. Barca groans, dying to run his hands through them. His grip tightens on Crixus' roots trying hard to ignore the jolts of lightening the man was sending through him. 

"Not yet." Pietros coos spreading his legs. Barca's mouth waters when Pietros licks his fingers. A line of spit trailing from his tongue to the tips. 

"Crixus." Barca snaps unable to tear his gaze from the trail Peitros was making. Crixus ignores him keeping himself busy. Barca jerks his hips again when Pietros slips two fingers inside himself with seemingly no resistance. 

Oh but he knows. Barca knows just how unbelievably tight his young lover is. How hot and wet he felt. Like his hole was made for his cock. Barca growls when Pietros makes a soft noise, thrusting his digits. He could tell Pietros was scissoring them, spreading them but denying himself the pleasure he seeks. Barca releases the back of Crixus' head bracing himself on the bed. 

"Fuuck." Pietros sighs switching to the marble. Barca groans gripping the edge of the bed. To his surprise his legs were actually shaking a little. Crixus slaps his hand away when he tries to stroke himself. 

"Fucking Gaul." He curses moving to reach for Pietros again. In response Pietros starts pumping the marble at a steady pace. One which Barca knows isn't as fast as the slave wants it. Barca growls bent over as much as he could. His cock pressed against his stomach and bed, liquid smearing against his skin. "Pietros. Let me help you." Barca tries coaxing. Carrot versus stick. 

Pietros smiles arching into his downward thrust. Barca groans watching the dainty wrist twist and turn pulling and pushing. Crixus flicks his tongue gaining Barca's attention again. Barca moans his head falling onto the bed with a thunk. 

"Careful Crixus." Pietros cautions breathing heavily. Crixus makes a noise showing he was listening. "Or do you wish to prove boast?" Barca cries out at something Crixus was doing with his mouth. Pietros raises an eyebrow. "Fair enough." He says with a laugh.

"Wh-oh gods- what boast?" Barca snaps scowling up at the slave. Pietros chuckles beaming down at him. 

"I wished to surprise you and be in Crixus' position tonight." Barca's eyes widen at that. "So I asked him if he ever, to gain some advice." Barca makes a strained noise, wishing to listen to the explanation instead of the heat building in his loins. "And he told me he could finish you without you being touched." Barca grits his teeth wishing he could disagree. 

"I should have suspected you two cunts we're up to something." Crixus smacks a cheek the resulting clap echoed slightly. Pietros licks his lips slowing his movements. 

"Yes you should have. And now I wish to watch it happen." Barca moans, praying to the gods for forgiveness. Whatever he did to anger Pietros and deserve this punishment. Crixus starts doing things with his mouth that had Barca seeing stars. The Beast groans his hips stuttered against his will. Pietros bites his lip using his foot to push on Barca's shoulder. Lifting his torso just enough so he could see the twitching cock. 

"You're gonna pay for this." Barca says through clenched teeth. Pietros laughs, a throaty sound that enflames the gladiator. 

"I'm counting on it." The wood makes a cracking sound under his hands as Barca cries out. His orgasm rocking his body, shooting white spurts across the sheets. Pietros whimpers far from his own completion. Crixus moves back with an exaggerated gasp. Barca flips him off falling onto the bed avoiding the wet spot. Crixus smirks down at him grabbing the towel they had set aside for this and cleaning up. 

"Worry not, delicate one, you and I shall find completion together." He states casually. Barca looks up enough to glare. 

"Give me a moments pause and I can find my lover his completion without assistance." Crixus and Pietros laugh happily. 

"We know you can my love." Pietros soothes, breath hitching as he removes the marble. "But we are much too impatient." Crixus nods moving to stand close enough for Pietros to slide down and wrap his legs around the Gaul's waist. 

"Besides," Crixus slips a hand between them adjusting his cock to press against Pietros's awaiting entrance, "we know you like to watch." Pietros runs his hands through Crixus's hair his whole body bowing as Crixus thrusts into him. Barca props himself up on his elbows. Again he couldn't find a good enough argument. 

For a moment the only sound in the shared cell was slapping skin, moaning followed by grunts and whimpers. Crixus jumps, an inch off the ground getting a shout from Pietros when Barca slaps him across the ass. His thrusts turn shallow, teasing Pietros while Barca slides off the bed falling to his knees behind his lovers. Pietros curls around Crixus peering over his shoulder to gaze down at the Beast of Carthage. Barca gives him a soft smile, before using both hands to grab and knead at the globes before him. Crixus's hips jerk roughly. Pietros buries his face into the crook of his neck letting his feet fall onto Barca's shoulders. Barca chuckles. He's always liked how Pietros tries to stay in contact with him while having Crixus. 

"Please." The slave whimpers. The way the Champion held his ass, keeping him from taking control. "This is not enough, please." Barca and Crixus grin, prepared for the change in attitude. 

"He's almost there little man." Barca says trailing kisses across the top of Crixus's ass, fondling the underside. Crixus hums in thought standing still, he was patient enough to lift Pietros and slowly sink him back down onto his cock. Pietros makes an impatient noise. 

"Almost." Crixus murmurs flexing when Barca licks up his crack. Pietros's head snaps back glaring at the two of them. The gladiators could practically hear the switch. 

"Is this all the Undefeated Gaul has to offer? I had thought with the way you fought your way to the top that you were able to fuck better than this? I have seen how hard you ride a marble cock! Is that the issue here Champion? Do I need to paint myself white lay on the bed and have you atop my cock? I might actually cum that way!" Barca laughs loudly running his hands up and down Pietros's calves.

"There it is." Crixus sighs. Barca hoists himself back onto the bed watching with growing interest. 

Crixus slams Pietros against the wall for added support, ramming into the willing slave as if his life depended on it. Barca's cock twitches at the sight, Pietros screaming louder than he should. Luckily nobody thinks anything of the slave's noises this late at night. All peacefully unaware of the Champion's assistance. Crixus curses mouthing at the boy's neck. Barca clears his throat. They discovered long ago that Barca doesn't like anyone else's marks on his lover. Pietros smiles at the growl from the Gaul. But he continues on, not sucking or biting a bruise into the tender, eager flesh. Shaking his head in amusement Barca quickly, but thoroughly cleans off the dildo setting it back into its oil basin. He keeps it there as he shoves and pulls till the pair are aligned with a series of crates. Crixus glances at the Beast of Carthage but stays silent. Barca yanks Pietros down his back thudding on the top of one. Everyone ignores the squawk of annoyance from the pigeon inside. Crixus frowns when Barca taps his hip. A code of exit. Yet even if he disagrees he does. Pietros attempts to sit up and voice his displeasure, but Barca shoves him back down. Instead he grips both of their leaking cocks into one fist. A combined groan hides his chuckle. 

"I told you, there will be punishment." Barca places a feather light kiss to Pietros lips before taking the marble in hand. Pietros spreads his legs hopefully but Barca shakes his head. Crixus bites back a shout when the toy was suddenly shoved halfway inside of him. Pietros whimpers while Crixus pushes backwards aching for more. A laugh was the answer he receives. "Not just the delicate one." Crixus looks at him insulted. "That's right. You too little man." Crixus and Pietros start defending themselves at the same time, voices overlapping each other.

"-you enjoyed it!" "-not even my idea-" "-wanted something new-" "-know how demanding he gets-" "-insistent!" Barca laughs, giving their cocks a squeeze to silence them.

"Whatever your intentions, purpose, my enjoyment, or whomever's insistence," Barca starts pumping, both the marble and their cocks and he leans in swirling his tongue around their heads, "the two of you conspired against me." Pietros curses his head falling back, hands in his own hair. Of course this was Barca's jealousy. "And that, can not be ignored." Crixus takes his turn to whimper, torn between thrusting into the fist around him, or forcing the marble just the slightest bit further in. With every push of it, the stone head just barely brushed against that sensitive bundle of nerves of his. Crixus swears he was going mad from the torment. 

"Please." Crixus gasps out when Pietros bucks his hips. Their cocks out of sync with each other as they thrust almost mindlessly. Barca moves and licks the shell of the Gaul's ear.

"Please what?" Barca breathes against his skin. Pietros tosses his head from side to side.

"More, please Barca I cannot stand it any longer!" The slave sobs reaching out to his lover. Barca beams bending down and giving him a passionate kiss. 

"Only for you my heart." He whispers against his lips. Pietros sighs in relief. Crixus shudders a broken sob escaping him while Barca twists the marble fully inside him. With one arm he was lifted, carried over to the bed crooking his finger at the Gaul. Crixus makes a choked noise not sure what to do. Barca had left the cock in his ass. How was he supposed to- "walk." The Beast instructs looking smug. Swallowing hard, he takes a shaky step forward. A moan slips through and he has to stop. Pietros looks up at him while situating himself over Barca's re-hardened cock. 

"Barca, how is he-" 

"Hush, delicate one." Barca snips with a smirk. Pietros huffs looking between the gladiators. 

Two. Minutes. Six steps, took the Gaul, two minutes. Barca, stroking Pietros's cock the entire time, keeping him directly on the edge. Crixus all but collapses next to them, panting heavily. Pietros wiggles trying to impale himself on Barca.  

 "Fuck." Slight wheeze, "You." Crixus manages his hands clenched into fists. Barca grins reaching over.

"You wish." Crixus snorts. Letting the taller man pull him up so he was kneeling in front of Pietros. The slave glares behind him at Barca and reaches up to plant a hot heavy kiss on Crixus. The Gaul moans spreading his legs to support himself as he thrusts down. The balls of their toy acting as a base. Barca muses allowing their small bit of pleasure before an arm snakes out gathering Crixus in it and pulling him flush against Pietros. 

"Fuck!" "Shit!" They gasp into each other's mouth. Barca smacks the closest ass cheek of the Champion's his other hand squeezing between them and once more fisting their cocks together. Crixus tilts his head back eyes falling closed eager for release. Pietros takes advantage of Barca having no way to stop him and slams himself down onto the awaiting length. 

"Careful now Pietros." Barca speaks into his ear. Crixus moans softly bouncing a little. "If you finish before Crixus then he won't." Crixus' eyes fly open.

"The fuck I won't." He snarls, riding the marble in earnest. Barca grins trailing soft bites down Pietros' neck. Pietros tilts his head giving his lover more access.

"And if the Gaul finishes before you," Pietros nervously looks at Crixus, "you will not." Crixus growls throwing one hand out to support himself against the wall, the other clapping against Pietros's ass cheek doing his damnedest to find a matching rhythm. Barca hums content to lazily stroke them together as they work themselves and each other into a frenzy. 

It was a little more than sloppy. Oil slicking them, every so often a squelching sound will fill the air, nobody quite sure whether from Barca's cock ramming into Pietros or Crixus' ass slapping onto the marble. Crixus ruts against Pietros's erection into Barca's hand muttering obscenities, fueled by the swift demands of Pietros. Both Crixus and Pietros reach out for each other, snatching the others hair. Crixus pulls him in for a kiss, keening at the strain on his short roots. Pietros whimpers his cock pulsing against the Gaul's. Barca smiles at the mewling sounds.

"He's close." The sing song nothing less than mockery. Crixus shifts his hips and little his thrusts becoming erratic. "So are you." Barca praises feeling his own balls tightening. It had only happened once before, the three of them coming at the same time. He was eager to have it happen again. 

But it seems, it wasn't for today. Pietros shouts loudly thrusting up as his chest is streaked in white. Barca sighs shaking his head, going to move his hand when Crixus' snatches his wrist. Barca raises an eyebrow noticing the Gaul's eyes shut tight, thrusts jerking and stuttering as he spills over Barca's fingers with a groan of relief. Shrugging, Barca releases Crixus and places both hands on Pietros waist. Without saying anything he starts a brutal pace, tearing a scream from the boy. Oh how he enjoys the way Crixus watches in such open abandon. It didn't take too much longer until Barca thrusts hard twice more, grunting as he stops, filling Pietros with his seed. Crixus helps ease Pietros off and sets him to the side before slowly pulling himself off the marble, shivering at the wet sound it made. Shakily he goes to stand but Barca pulls him back down. 

"I'm fine." He protests. Barca smiles kissing his forehead. 

"I know little man, I know. But you've been distracted these past few days. Tell me what vexes your tiny mind while I tend to us." Pietros creeps his arms out wrapping one around Crixus's waist holding him close. Crixus fumes for a moment debating on if he should say why or just fight. Sighing he lays down. 

"You know of Lucretia's body slave?" Pietros sits up like a dog looking for food. Barca smiles, wringing out a wet cloth.

"Naevia." Crixus sighs deeply. 

"Don't tell me you've set sights towards her." Pietros cautions. Crixus makes a face.

"I am no fool. Lucretia would never part with my cock." Pietros and Barca share a look. Arrogant man. Stupid man. They both sigh.

"True. So why does mind stray from that information?" Crixus shifts a little.

"To be honest I am unsure. Vexed as you said. She is beautiful. That much is certain." Barca grimaces while Pietros smiles. "Kind, and gentle. Passionate-"

"Have you ever spoken to her?" Pietros asks in disbelief. He and Naevia gossip all the time. If she's been talking to Crixus and not telling him, then he was insulted. Crixus blinks at the ceiling.

"No. I have not. Perhaps I shall tomorrow." Barca rolls his eyes, cleaning them off. 

"Perhaps you should focus on the recruits. The test is coming up within the week. How about after that hmm?" He suggests hoping to buy time to knock some sense into the man. Crixus nods. Then he sits up suddenly.

"Do you think she would mind?" Pietros glances at Barca.

"Mind what Crixus?" 

"My bedding the two of you." He asks as if that was obvious. Barca's eyes widen. Pietros's mouth falls open. There was a few moments filled with 'uuh's' and 'aaahhh's' and one or two 'um's'. "What? It is a reasonable question. If I start to pursue her and she does not wish me to sleep with other people while doing so-"

"Domina." Pietros whispers. 

"Yes, besides Lucretia," Crixus amends, "then what shall I do?" Barca and Pietros look at each other and have some sort of silent conversation by just staring hard for a minute.

"To be honest, I think you should follow your heart in all things." Pietros admits taking the cloth from Barca and cleaning his cock with a wince from the sensitivity. 

"And in my opinion I think you should talk to her about it first." Crixus nods slowly looking at the ground. Barca and Pietros continue to exchange glances, having a silent debate with the other while Crixus contemplates things. 

"Hmm-mmh." They turn to him. "If that is the case...would you overly mind if the three of us..." His voice trails off. Barca notices the wetness of his eyes, and heard the tightening of his throat. Pietros beams taking one of Crixus's large hands into both of his small ones.

"Of course we don't mind. Besides with the new recruits the three of us would be far too busy anyways." Barca chuckles darkly,

"Especially that Thracian shit you couldn't take your eyes off of." He teases. Crixus snorts while Pietros grins.

"What Spartacus? That rabbit will be dead before the Vulcanalia." Pietros hums. "What?" 

"Name the other recruits." Barca challenges while Crixus sits up and starts dressing. Crixus frowns. 

"What do the other recruits look like?" Pietros adds with a giggle. Crixus looks between them. Before laughing. 

"Fair enough the rabbit caught my eye. But only because he survived his execution." Pietros leans back looking smug.

"What was it he said when first laid eyes?" Barca suppresses a laugh.

"I believe it was 'Well lick my hole.' wasn't it?" Crixus flushes bright red. 

"You are both cunts." He says without malice before leaving for his own cell. Barca and Pietros laugh shifting themselves around until they were cuddling in bed.

"He's going to get himself killed if he goes after Naevia." Pietros sighs. Barca nods petting his hair. 

"And heartbroken if he tries the Thracian." Barca states. Pietros slowly breaks out into a slow smile. 

"Maybe we should give Spartacus a try." Barca flicks his ear.

"My cock is enough to keep you satisfied." Pietros laughs burying his face into Barca's neck.

"Indeed."

Chapter Text

"Get out of my way you Syrian shit." Barca snaps shoving Ashur to the side as he leaves the medicus. Ashur huffs tossing his hands into the air. Gannicus, Oenomaus come back with Batiatus practically carrying a stabbed Barca and he isn't allowed to help?! He helped kill Tullius fucking men and this was his reward. Contempt. Shaking his head Ashur goes to see if there was any left over food. Rounding the corner he sees a guard leading Crixus away. Ashur taps his fingers against a table. It was probably nothing. Needed his help with stone hauling. Or, perhaps that particular guard liked taking advantage of the gladiators. His heart thuds against his ribs at the thought of Crixus bent over, his pretty little hole begging for Ashur's cock. Any cock. Or better yet, Crixus, bending Ashur over a table until the Syrian was begging for cock in ass. 

Without blinking Ashur follows the two of them. 

Talk about disappointing. It was just some young house slave shaving and cutting the Gaul's hair. Ashur frowns. His friend looks wonderful with his long hair and all that scruff would feel like absolute bliss on his skin. Ashur makes a face and dodges as the girl scurries off. He noticed how red her face was. Virgin. Ashur shakes his head and goes to his cell. It had been a long and rather disappointing day. Gannicus was still here, which means it would be harder to convince Barca that Ashur was ready to make amends and put differences aside. Be friends. Especially now that Auctus was gone. And the same for Crixus. The Gaul has become less and less friendly in the past week. And Ashur just knows it's because Crixus has a crush on the blond Gladiator. Ashur snorts digging out an herb from his stuff and headed to the baths. Sure Gannicus was nice to look at and all the whores and house slaves that he's fucked absolutely praise his ability, but Ashur just couldn't get it up for the Celt. A sigh draws his attention as Ashur was walking through the doorway. He was surprised to see someone there. He didn't recognize them but they were well built from what he could see. 

The man shakes his head and stands up. 

"Whoa, uh apologies." Crixus looks up at Ashur who was stunned in the doorway. He had no idea that under all that scruff and hair was...wow "I, er, I almost did not recognize you brother. The new look," Ashur motions to Crixus's face but rubbing his own smiling brightly, "it suits you." Ashur could already feel his cock stirring. The Gaul's shoulders slump a little. Strange reaction to a compliment. Ashur frowns stepping forward. "I meant no offense." Crixus shakes his head.

"None was given. It's simply...strange and new." He admits with a shrug looking down at the water. Ashur pats his shoulder. Lord it was hard as stone. Ashur stops a moan by talking.

"I am sure in time you will become accustomed to it." Crixus nods wading to the edge to step out. But Ashur slides into his way. "Forgive me, but something else seems to be troubling you friend." Anything to keep the man's company just a moment longer. Crixus grimaces. Ashur wasn't entirely sure why Crixus has suddenly stopped being friendly. Maybe some resentment that Ashur received the mark first? Or just the way he achieved it. He finds it unfair to be treated so poorly. He was only doing what Dominus requested of him, and was rewarded for doing so! But he stays silent hoping that maybe if he keeps trying to be friends with the Gaul that neither of them have to feel so alone. 

"A secret." He finally mutters, after a moment of debate. Ashur nods not a single one of the other gladiators have asked what Ashur and Dagon did to get their brand. He doesn't think he wants to know what they think he did for it,

"The secrets in this house are many and heavy. I understand. The consequences of shouldering them weigh on you as they do others." Crixus blinks looking up at Ashur. Ashur wonders if Crixus was made to murder anyone yet. Or just sleep with someone? Could be why Gannicus has been acting weird. Ashur tries his best not to picture Crixus getting pounded in front of a bunch of Romans by Gannicus. Ugh.

"Indeed they do. It is...difficult to find solace." Crixus states looking worried. Ashur tilts his head a little with a nod maybe Crixus just needed a little assistance. 

"There, ah," Ashur looking Crixus up and down quickly before glancing behind towards the doorway, "There is something I can do to help." Crixus leans backwards a little. 

"I have no interest in you Syrian," Ashur rolls his eyes.

"No," He laughs, "Crixus, no." He says more firmly no need to have the Gaul run away before anything began. "I have this." He says pulling out his personal herb from the towel he was carrying. 

"The fuck is that?" Crixus asks slightly disturbed. 

"It helps to calm and relax you. I myself use it when I find myself troubled and, ah unencumbered." Ashur explains with a waggle of his eyebrows that he hopes Crixus understands. 

"Relax huh?" He questions picking up the grass like substance to study it. Oh good he does.

"I am more than willing to share it with you my friend." Ashur offers shedding his towel and stepping into the bath. Crixus shrugs handing it back.

"How does it work?" Ashur's grin was predatory as he sank low into the water. Thank the gods for this opportunity.

"Trust me, and everything will be fine."

Ashur sighs to himself feeling his mind, stress and worries float away. He blesses the day he discovered this wonderful drug. Cheaper than opium and works just as well. True he wasn't getting exactly what he was hoping for at the moment but sitting next to a wet Crixus was the start of a few of his fantasies. His cock twitches as if a reminder. Licking his lips he wraps his hands around himself. Pumping and fisting himself slowly and quietly so as not to alert Crixus. His head falls backwards imagining all the things the two of them could do here. Oh wait, Crixus spoke. 

"Hmm? A title?" Ashur asks blinking at him, his voice breathy trying to focus. Crixus nods firmly, a loopy grin plastored on his face. Ashur admits that he may have taken too much of the drug. He doesn't exactly recall what Crixus said or his own reply. Something about frightening his opponents. He does recall reaching and stroking the side of Crixus' newly shaven face.

"Your skin is so soft." He states looking surprised. The Gaul shrugs turning so Ashur could reach better. The rest was a blur of pure lust and bliss. It was hot, it was wet and Ashur couldn't get enough. 

He was still in the clouds when Crixus was removing himself from the water. Ashur smiles realizing he himself couldn't stand right that moment.

"Gratitude. The name is good, and...I feel more centered." Crixus says nervously. Ashur laughs lightly,

"Centered? Ah, well if any time you need to be re-balanced;" Ashur opens his arms, palms up, with a smirk, "Ashur will provide service." Crixus smiles quickly before leaving the bath grabbing his towel as he does. 

"Ashur?" He gains the Syrian's attention, the smaller man looks at him with a smile, "Speak of this and see cock parted from body." He states. Ashur shrugs still grinning.

"Of course." Crixus nods and all but runs out. Ashur sighs sinking down eyes falling shut.

"Ever the whore." Ashur's eyes fly open his heart stopping at the sound of his native tongue. 

Dagan leans against the doorway, using a knife to clean out from under his finger nails. Pointless and useless since they were in a bath! Ashur swallows hard glancing around. The torches were slightly lower meaning he had fallen asleep. 

"Dagan! Uh, nice to see you my friend." He says noticing the larger man using his frame to block the exit. The one and only exit. Ashur suddenly feels overly exposed being the only one between the two of them to be naked. 

"Friend? Oh I think not." 

The two Syrians look over at Ashur's discarded towel at the same time, glancing between it and each other. Ashur dives for it first but Dagan was too fast. Instead of snatching the cloth out of his reach Dagan tackles Ashur the two of them splashing into the water. Ashur gasps swallowing water, feeling it fill his nose. His arms flail trying to pull himself out but Dagan had his arms wrapped around his waist. He was at the larger man's mercy. Just as Ashur's lungs started to burn they surfaced. 

 "Da-gah- Dagan! Wa-wait a minute now! F-friend we can work this out!" Dagan laughs shoving him against the side of the tub. Ashur grits his teeth ignoring the edge digging into his skin. His heart was pounding against his ribs.

"Oh we are." Dagan snarls pushing on the top of Ashur's head to keep him down. Ashur grunts in pain feeling some blood forming under his eye. When Dagan kicked his knees apart he tries to struggle. The wet stone made it difficult for his fingers to grip anything. His eyes widen when he feels pressure against his entrance. 

"W-wait a second now-" Ashur cuts himself off with a shout as Dagan forces himself inside the smaller Syrian. Tears sprung to his eyes and he could feel a familiar sense of helplessness sinking into his stomach. Dagan snarls leaning down, his breath hot in Ashur's ear,

"Who had you?" Ashur swallows hard shaking from head to toe.

"I-I do not know what you mean." He bites his lip. This had the potential to end very badly. Dagan curses at him in their native tongue.

"Do not think me fool." Ashur rolls his eyes. True Dagan's Latin has gotten better but he still messed some things up. He chuckles nervously.

"Never would I think you a fool friend. We are past things like this are we no-ah-t?" He asks while Dagan starts ramming Ashur's ass with as much force as he could muster. Ashur scream's the sound echoing off the walls. 

"Giving I to Roman shit. Laughing behind." 

"N-no -ah!" Ashur wiggles trying to get away, he could feel Dagan's cock pulsing. A sure sign his release was fast approaching. 

"Do no lie! Now tell, who had you?" Dagan snarls a hand moving to Ashur's hip, he could feel it bruising already. He was sure his knees were scrapped, his ribs were being pressed against the tub making him worried it would break. "Roman?" Ashur whimpers Dagan's weight crushing him. "No? Fellow Gladiator." Ashur clenches his fists. Dagan pulls back suddenly the water sloshing around.

"No! Please, it was not! I-it was a guard! Desperate and lonely he was!" Dagan barks out a laugh, getting out. 

"Liar. Was it little Gaul?" Ashur feels himself pale. "Crixus." Dagan sneers. Ashur shakes his head with a whispered;

"No." Dagan back hands him sending him splashing back into the bath. 

"Tomorrow. After games?" Dagan says when Ashur surfaces sputtering and coughing, "Crixus. Dead." Ashur stares at him in horror fear twisting his stomach. 

"No." He says stumbling out, Dagan scoffs turning to leave, "NO!" Ashur shouts at the top of his lungs. Dagan pauses, slowly turning to him. "I-I won't let you." Dagan tilts his head and crosses his arms.

"You?" He laughs, "You stop Dagan?" Ashur swallows again but nods firmly. Dagan's laugh makes Ashur flinch. "You think can kill me?" Ashur straightens his shoulders a tear falling, 

"I'll do what I must. To save him." Dagan nods with a smirk. 

"Good luck." Ashur collapses sitting on a nearby bench as Dagan leaves laughing loudly. 

Chapter Text

Gaia was fuming as she stormed down the steps. That old fart Titus really thinks so little of her, just because she enjoys the finer pleasures life! Backwards old goat. She'll show him. With a huff she motions for the guard to open the gate to the ludus. He was hesitant but did as instructed. If she was being forced from this house, then by the gods she was going to do it with a bang, and a final fuck you to the elder Batiatus. She sends a prayer out that Lucretia would never find out. She couldn't bear it if her dear friend thought her some sort of defiled whore. 

Naturally she started her search in the common area where the men ate. But there was nobody there. So she went wandering the halls. It was like a damned maze. A twist and a turn here. She wonders how the gladiators never get lost. Sure she could have made everything easier by just opening a cell door. And there were plenty to choose from. Especially the ones that weren't so private. But she was determined. After a few more minutes she felt like giving up, but just as she rounded a corner she spotted him! The newest gladiator of the House of Batiatus! The only one if this batch of slaves that Quintus chose. 

"Gannicus!" She calls out getting his attention. The look of absolute shock was priceless and she beams at it. He looks to his left then his right before pointing at himself. She laughs sauntering over, noting the way he glances at her figure. 

"Uh," He knows she isn't "Domina" but has zero idea how to address her. He shrugs, deciding to figure that out later, "How can I help you?" He asks with a smile. Gaia giggles leaning against a beam. 

"Do you have a moment?" Gannicus raises an eyebrow. She looks him up and down openly before reaching out to drape herself on his shoulder. "I just need to know if I can borrow you for a little bit. In private." The Celt looks over his shoulder bringing Gaia's attention to the Doctore. He was talking to Oenomaus but scowling at the blond gladiator. He gives a little wave before turning back to Gaia.

"Absolutely." He answers nodding with a big grin. Gaia laughs looping her arm through his and leading him off. She gets him through the gate and under a curtain of linen before she lets go of him, leaning back against the wall, her chest pushed outwards. Gannicus doesn't even blink. He has a fair idea where this could be going, but he wanted to take Oenomaus's advice and not think with his cock all the time. Just because he finds her attractive doesn't mean she was going to out right say she wanted him to fuck her. She was a Roman lady after all. 

"So, before I ask anything of you," He raises an eyebrow his smile fading. "And I know this is going to sound strange but feel free to say no." Gannicus straightens his shoulders his fists clenching at his sides. He looked a little mad, "But I want you to fuck me." Gannicus's face goes blank as he stares at her,

"What?" He chokes out. Gaia laughs flipping her hair back,

"Of course if you're into something else that's fine. But it is just that I am getting married to my third husband in a week." Gannicus stays closed mouth. Gaia breathes out a laugh deciding against a long winded explanation. "Then again," Gaia pushes herself off the wall wrapping an arm around his neck trailing her hand down his chest to toy at his waist line. "If you're too nervous...." Gaia lets her implication trail off. Gannicus scoffs slightly a smile at last breaking across his face. 

"You mistake me for either a virgin or a fool." With a flourish he removes his clothing letting his growing erection spring free proudly. "And I am neither of those things." He informs her, pressing her backwards so she had to sit upon the ledge, spreading her legs for him to stand between them. Gaia gasps with a happy sigh. 

"Well," She looks down at his cock with a smirk, "thank the gods for small favors." Gannicus chuckles with a soft "Oh?" before sliding his hands up the back of her thighs kneading at the soft flesh. Gaia hums letting her head fall back as he starts kissing down her neck, he wasn't clean shaven and his scruff had her moistening. Gannicus trails his tongue across the top of her breast one hand finding its way to her folds. Gaia bites her lip unable to hide her smile spreading her legs further trying to silently urge him closer. She could feel the heat coming off his cock. She didn't come down here expecting much but damn is she glad she chose him. 

Gannicus smirks fondly at the way she arches when he delves his index finger into her welcoming cunt. His friend was not going to believe this. Once again the gods he doesn't believe in bless him with a gift he didn't deserve. He has to admit for the life of a gladiator he had it pretty good. Case in point; obviously she was a woman of passion. It must have been a while since her last male partner, she was tighter than he imagined a woman with two dead husbands would be. If she wasn't Roman he might have an issue with her being engaged again, but as it stood he found himself adding a second and even a third finger, curling and stretching her, liking the way she mewls and grabs at his wrist, twisting it when she wanted, forcing his pace. Gannicus has already bedded plenty of women in his young life, and he could honestly say this Roman was the most daring woman he has taken to bed yet. She was clearly eager, and it didn't take long for impatience to over take her enjoyment of his preparation.

Soon she was grabbing at his shoulders, tugging insistently at his growing hair. Gannicus growls softly when her finger nails drag across his back. Gaia shivers as he rolls his shoulders lifting her off the stone a little. The strength of the Celt surprised her, but nothing could distract from Gannicus thrusting his cock into her forgoing the risk of getting caught. Gannicus sucks in a breath, realizing she was tighter than he had expected. Gaia clings to him doing what she could to keep herself quiet. Her mouth as a result was everywhere. Sucking a bruise at his neck, pulling a strangled shout from him by torturing his nipple, covering his lips with her own. It was hot, it was dirty, it was everything Gaia ever wanted. Her eyes fly open when her heart squeezes. Well...not everything. Determined she lifts her hips pushing and turning him until he was sitting and her knees were on either side of him. 

"Holy fucking gods." He whispers watching her in slight awe. Gaia laughs tilting his head up by the chin.

"You've had girls in the past, let me show you how a woman fucks." Gannicus's eyes widen as she places an open palm on the wall behind him. His grip on her thighs tightens as she starts riding his cock. Bouncing up and down with a roll of her hips. The Celt moans a hand moving to cup her breast leaning down so he could suck at the rosy tip. Gaia hisses at the contact speeding up her movements as a familiar heats starts building. The sound of skin slapping skin echos lightly around them. A hand tangles itself in his hair holding his head tightly. Panting Gaia shifts a little so she could more easily slam down onto his cock. She cries out louder than she meant to when her orgasm starts to convulse through her.

Gannicus whines a little grabbing her by the ass angling himself deeper, bucking at a wild pace. The muscles holding him were pulsing causing his cock to throb with want. Gaia had stopped her movements, momentarily placated by her release, but Gannicus wasn't done with her yet. Gaia's eyes widen when he picks her up and lies her down on the stone shelf tossing both of her legs over his shoulders using her hips as an anchor to rut against her. Gannicus watches where his cock disappears inside her at a rapid pace, the wet noise urging him on just as much as her murmuring. It didn't take long to feel her building up to a second orgasm, but his own was approaching faster. Cursing he reaches in between them urgently thumbing her clit, fast circles that have her spasming a silent scream on her lips. Gannicus nods encouragingly refusing to stop his movements. Gaia tosses her head back and forth whimpering, ankles locked behind his head, her hands clawing at his forearms. A broken sob escapes her as her whole body quakes around him. Gannicus grunts thrusting into her a few more times before his cock was twitching, hot cum filling this random Roman lover of his.

"Fuuck." He moans shakily. Gaia sighs letting her feet drop. The two look at each other and share a quiet laugh. "Did I please you?" He asks catching his breath and pulling back with a shudder. Gaia bites her lip giggling. 

"Mhh, absolutely." She licks her lips slowly, "Oh, if only I wasn't for Rome in the morrow." Gannicus frowns looking at her. 

"Perhaps, if you ever come back for a visit..." He stops understanding the likely hood of her returning were just as slim as the chances of him being alive by this time next year. Such was the life of a gladiator. Gaia studies his face for a second before smiling brightly. 

"Should you survive we will most definitely have a repeat performance." Gannicus smiles softly. She reaches up planting a kiss on his lips before standing and straightening her hair and dress. Gannicus watches her leave and sighs. He hopes her husband was at least good in bed. That woman deserves it. Shaking his head Gannicus starts laughing to himself. What the fuck was his life? Smiling he strides off to the baths hoping to find Oenomaus and tell him this story. 

Chapter Text

His skin was burning. Never before had he wanted to break his personal vow so badly. The way Spartacus dug his nails into his scalp, pulling his hair stoked a fire in him like nothing before. And every smack of Varro's palm against his bare cheeks sent a jolt down his spine. He was unbearably close. 

"Crixus, you are summoned." The Gaul's eye fly open staring at the wall opposite him. He sits up quickly, scowling dangerously at the guard. He was going to kill him. And Batiatus. Where the fuck did that asshole think he was going this fucking early in the morning anyways? Fucking cunt.

However, he does what he is told. Crixus reassures himself that while delayed he was at least going to be able to finish before the days training. Shaking his head Crixus follows the guard to the gate. He smiles when he sees Naevia. She looked sleepy. His heart melts at how cute and beautiful she was. A twitch of the cock reminds him how tight she felt wrapped around him. Shaking his head he greets her and she smiles in return. 

"Apologies for the early mo-m-morning." She yawns. Crixus beams reaching out to run a hand down her arm. Any touch was a comfort. 

"A chance to wake up to your face is a gift from the gods." Naevia blushes turning away as they start up the steps. Crixus almost winces at the movement. He was sore from the day before and it was jarring. He and Barca were once able to go on through the night and he managed to slay three different opponents in the arena the next day without any discomfort. Chuckling he shakes his head wanting to know if Spartacus was just as if not more sore as he was. 

"You flatter, but Dominus is in market making preparations for tonight." A slight amount of dread fills him.

"Tonight? Is Batiatus hosting a party?" He hates those things. It is one thing to be admired in the arena by fans, admired by fellow gladiators, and lovers, and of course his heart...but those parties remind him too much of his time as a slave in Tullius' house. Naevia yawns again shaking her head.

"No, a Roman woman, is to sleep with Spartacus." Crixus almost slips. 

"What?" The image of the Thracian's mouth around his cock swims to mind and a wave of possessiveness threatens to swallow him whole. Naevia nods turning the corner. 

"Strange I know. But Licina insisted." Crixus could feel his mouth thin.

"I see." Naevia stops walking, motioning him forward showing no indication that something was wrong. 

"Domina awaits. And so does my bed." Crixus flinches guilty and kisses her cheek quickly. Poor thing must be exhausted. 

"Rest. I shall see you when you wake." Naevia smiles dreamily and wonders off. Sighing Crixus steps into the room. 

He was surprised to see Lucretia spread wide on the chase lounge already fingering her wet cunt. In the past she's talked about it. And Naevia has confessed that Lucretia sometimes has her do it, much to the slave's embarrassment, but in all his years he's never actually seen a woman pleasure herself. It was more arousing than he thought it would be. 

Crixus blinks away the image of Varro reclined on the Gaul's bed stroking himself. The memory of Spartacus desperately trying to find any sort of relief and the surge of power Crixus felt when he denied the Thracian that small joy. 

Lucretia moans gaining his attention again. If she hasn't said anything then it was one of those times where she wished to pretend. Shaking his head Crixus steps up dropping to his knees. She makes a confused noise but he ignores her. True he hasn't done this to her yet but it was something he knows she was going to enjoy. Despite the aching of his neglected cock, he was willing to do his duty first. At this point he was used to it.

The feel of her nails tugging at his hair was an echo of Spartacus's. Crixus moans as he works his tongue across her slit, toying with her clit. For balance he wraps his arms under her thighs his hands coming up to knead the soft ass cheeks. As far as women went she tasted better than most, but his taste buds were crying. He recalls all too well how addictive Spartacus tasted. Hot and sticky running down the back of his throat. Lucretia was bucking her hips holding him in place. Crixus breathes through the nose buried up to her dark curls. Her musk while not unpleasant only made him miss the hot stench of the aftermath from yesterday. 

"Enough. I need your cock inside me now!" Lucretia orders sounding more feeble than she probably meant to. Crixus sends a quick thank you to the gods as he pulls himself up. 

The two groan in relief as he slides into her easily. She was wet and welcoming, hot and ready. But the pleasure of her eager cunt was a pale shadow to the crazed state of mind Spartacus's hole gave him. Crixus growls starting to become irritated with himself. Lucretia shouts, and laughs as he starts a hard steady pace. It was ridiculous really. He's sure he has had more erotic and more exotic experiences than last night. Yet it haunted his dreams and his current mind. Even as he was buried deep in Lucretia his body ached for the touch of that damned Thracian, and his pet Roman. 

Lucretia runs her hands down his back, clawing at him, being careful enough not to leave lasting marks. Least Doctore or Batiatus ask questions. Crixus grinds his teeth to keep from whimpering. Everything was too soft. Her skin, her gasps, all of it. Crixus lifts her legs high panting with exertion. Hating himself Crixus closes his eyes. Flashes of the night before run through his mind. The feel of that ivory strap-on, how roughly Varro handled him with it. The way Spartacus sounded as he neared completion. Or the devilish trick he played with his tongue to trigger Crixus' release. Cursing Crixus slams into Lucretia only a handful more times before stilling, the two of them shivering as his seed filled her. 

Lucretia smacks at his wrists with a grimace on her face. Crixus sighs and pulls out. They stay silent as he dresses. Something not out of place in the early mornings or late nights. Lucretia smiles possessively before pulling him back. Confused he watches her lean down to his hip. 

"Fuck!" He hisses when she bites his skin. Crixus fights his instinct to grab her by the back of the head, opting to clench his fists instead. Shivering he watches her work for just a moment. When she sits up there was a nice round dark bruise staring back at him. 

"There." Crixus blinks at it before looking up at her confused. Lucretia beams. "You are mine." Crixus nods wondering if this has anything to do with the Licinia woman coming for Spartacus today. Lucretia dismisses him with a wave of her hand headed to the baths. Crixus shakes his head fixing his subligaria to hide the mark. 

"Naevia." He whispers shaking the girl a little. She wakes with a start looking around.

"Domina? Diona?" Crixus frowns. Naevia must have been dreaming of her friend again. 

"No love. Just me." She blinks a few times before smiling. Crixus sits back on his heels watching her stretch. 

"Domina is in the baths?" She asks rubbing an eye. Crixus nods.

"She has not sent for you yet. I suggest bringing wine as an excuse for the delay." Naevia tilts her head. 

"Delay?" Crixus crosses his legs and rocks a little not looking her in the eye. Naevia slowly nods. "Tell me of it."

It took fifteen minutes for him to spit it out. He wasn't sure why he was embarrassed to tell her. Perhaps he should have asked Varro and Spartacus if they were alright with her knowing. Chalking it up to that they managed to get the story out. He didn't miss the blush on her cheeks as he stuttered the truth. 

"Crixus, this...thing between you, Varro and Spartacus is new. It is alright to be focused on it for a little bit." Crixus shakes his head at her soft voice and sound logic.

"I should be focused on you and you alone. You are the only one who holds my heart." Naevia laughs kindly reaching out and pulling him into a hug. Surprised Crixus wraps an arm around her, marveling at how small she was compared to him. She holds him for a moment before pulling back. 

"Crixus. We have discussed this. You are a man and need release far more than I do. More importantly you are a gladiator. The Undefeated Gaul. I do not need you finding your death just because all the blood is in your cock and not your brain." Crixus chuckles shaking his head. 

"And I have told you, that you deserve release as much as I do." Gently he runs a hand up her thigh his heart soaring at the way she bites her lip with a soft hum. 

"Naevia!" Lucretia's voice echos down the hall. Naevia scowls and Crixus curses. 

"Come on. I'll walk you down. Wine is an excellent excuse." They share a smile before walking off. 

Chapter Text

Cold blue eyes watched the man approach. The cloth around his hips barely covered the heavy cock swaying in between his thighs. Tullius would never in a million years admit to wanting this man. He will just have to break him first. The same way he broke Varinius. He smiles keeping himself seated in the baths. His slave doesn't make eye contact keeping brown eyes focused on the ground, his shaggy dark hair covering most of his face. But Tullius could care less about any of that. This man was built like a god. He wasn't overly tall, but his legs were long and every muscle was toned to perfection. 

"You summoned me Dominus?" The slave whispers, his voice was hoarse and sounded raw. 

"Yes." He drawls, "Your name is: Crixus is it not?" His slave nods eyes flickering around. "I heard you were severely injured a week ago. As your Dominus I am doing my duty to check on you." Crixus raises his head looking confused. 

"I-in the bath?" He asks sounding far younger than Tullius would have pegged him for. Perhaps because he was nervous. Tullius feels his cock stirring. 

"I thought you could use one. And I need a new helper." Crixus frowns a little. Tullius laughs softly, "My old one quit." Neither of them mention that slaves can't quit. 

"Yes, Dominus. What would you have me do?" Crixus asks shifting from foot to foot. Tullius laughs again. 

"Undress and bathe me of course." Crixus stares at him in disbelief. "Unless you would like to quit as well?' Crixus shakes his head undressing, his fingers were fumbling as his skin flushed red. He doesn't think he will ever be comfortable being naked in front of another man. 

Crixus climbs into the bath hisses at its contact. Tullius chuckles with a nod. The water was cold, but considering the summer heat and the usually dryness of Capua Crixus supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Romans were soft and weak. Pitiful things. Crixus makes his away to stand next to Tullius not exactly sure what to do now. 

"Have you ever bathed anyone besides yourself?" Tullius asks motioning for him to sit down. Crixus slowly sits shivering when the water reaches his chest. 

"No, Dominus." Tullius looks him up and down laughing a little.

"It seems you've hardly ever bathed yourself!" Crixus blushes looking down. He points to his head bringing attention to the newly forming scars.

"The injury has not made it easy. Medicus says I'm a fast healer when I'm not exerting myself." Tullius nods. A plan forming. 

"Very well. Here." He had Crixus a wet rag. "Use this to wash me and later when I am dry you can return here and wash yourself." Crixus stares at him in amazement. Carefully he nods.

"Gratitude, Dominus." 

It was a slow process. Tullius having to huff and instruct on where exactly he needed to wash. Reminds him to get in between his fingers and under his finger nails. It was far more amusing than he thought it would be to have Crixus clean his cock and balls. The way the man's eyes widen when it hardened under the touch. Tullius reassured him that was just a physical reaction. It settled him enough to continue. Crixus was silent the entire time. 

Less than an hour later Tullius was climbing out, a separate slave waiting with a warm dry towel. Crixus remains where he was not daring to move. Tullius grins darkly. He liked that Crixus was already accustomed to awaiting for orders. 

"Clean yourself and then meet me in my Chambers." Crixus bows his head and mumbles an agreement. 

Crixus hurries though washing himself, being careful with the stitches across his forehead and the back of it. They were starting to itch. Medicus says that means they're healing, but he doesn't like it. Shaking his head Crixus steps out of the bath. He frowns looking around. His subligaria was gone and a small towel was in its place. Sighing he wraps it around himself peering out of the bath area. A tiny little slave pops up. Crixus frowns, this child couldn't be any older than five summers. Dark of hair and skin, brown eyes looking wiser than they had a right to be with how old the boy was. He remembers being that age and a slave. The terror, hunger, and uncertainty, wishing someone would just give him an assurance that they meant no harm. He looks around before squatting down. 

"I will not hurt you." He states firmly. The kid raises an eyebrow. Shrugs and motions for Crixus to follow him. Sighing in acceptance Crixus follows. He keeps his gaze to the floor. He hates Romans sometimes, and he certainly hates Roman law. 

The two of them turn the corner, the boy holding a curtain open for him. Crixus nods his thanks stepping in. The room was large. A bed covered most of the floor with two chase lounge chairs on either side. He was a little confused to see a naked woman. The collar around her throat signaling her status as a slave. Crixus, who's never been in the same room as a naked woman, let alone seen one this close up before coughs loudly, hoping that maybe she didn't know he was there and would cover up. Instead she looks at him, and moves to one of the chase chairs opening her legs wide. Crixus's eyes widen, he was frozen in the spot and didn't know what to do. 

"Worry not," Crixus turns with a start to see Tullius reclined in the corner, "I know you can not exert yourself. All you must do is bring her to climax." The girl flushes red tilting her face up to stare at the ceiling. Crixus stiffens looking between Tullius and the girl. He had to be joking. 

Evidently not. 

Tullius waves a hand motioning for more wine. The boy from before appears out of no where again handing him a cup. Nobody said anything and Crixus noted an air of impatience from his Dominus. Swallowing hard Crixus steps forward sinking onto his knees between her thighs. The girl was completely hair free, which didn't help him. Crixus had no idea where to begin. Or what to do. He looks down at his hands and decides against it. He wasn't that thorough. Crixus looks over his shoulder and gets an encouraging nod and a bored wave of a hand. Biting his lip Crixus turns back feeling less than thrilled. Shakily he reaches up and holds the back of her thighs apart. Her skin was soft to the touch which surprised him. The slight rising of his cock did too. Crixus sighs again looking up at her, trying not to be distracted by the way she looks. 

"What's your name?" He asks. The girl blinks looking confused before raising her head enough to look at him. It took her a moment to realize he was serious. 

"C-Canthara." She all but whispers. Crixus nods.

"Canthara, if I hurt you let me know." His words were meant to ease her worries, but it seems all he did was increase them, if the wild eyed look he gets means anything. But she nods and goes back to staring at the ceiling. Crixus stares at the...well no need to beat around a shaved bush, the cunt in front of him with a blank mind. "Fuck it." He mutters. 

Tullius gasps watching Crixus lean forward. The longer this went on the more obvious it was that the man had never done anything like this. He liked the fact that Crixus was nervous. It made everything that much more hotter. The shocked noise the whore made when he began went straight to his cock. Tullius hums, pleased that the Gaul seemed to be a natural at this. He slips his hand into his tunic happy to watch a beautiful woman come undone. 

Crixus was worried he was doing something wrong. Canthara was making all sorts of noises and he wasn't sure if they were of pleasure or pain. Not that he would know. Her thighs flexed under his grip and her hips lifted up. He takes that as a good sign as he sucks on her slightly swollen nub. Canthara shouts curling up grabbing onto his hair. Crixus grunts in discomfort, her nails scrapping against a stitch. To his surprise she murmurs an apology moving her hand to his shoulder. Crixus drags his tongue along her slit glancing up at her whimper. She nodded biting her lip. Crixus mentally shrugs continuing to lap at her folds. He found it fascinating that the more he did the more, well he didn't know what it was, but it was wet and more kept appearing. From behind him he could hear Tullius moan. 

"Look at how juicy you make her cunt." Crixus wasn't an expert on this, or fruit, or meat that wasn't overly cooked but juice wouldn't be what he called this. Then again he didn't have a better word for the wetness. He hums in response, which did something she liked, since she jerked upwards. Canthara was shivering and tossing her head from side to side. Her nails were digging into his skin but he wasn't told to stop by her or Dominus, so Crixus tested his tongue on the nub he was sucking on earlier. 

This was apparently a good idea.

Canthara shouts loudly, arching herself. Crixus grunts suddenly having his nose against her skin. He wasn't sure what he expected women to smell like, let alone taste but this wasn't it. However it wasn't bad so he kept to his charge. The faster he brought her to completion the faster they could all move on. Crixus remains focused on the spot ignoring the protest of his tongue. She was out right screaming for a minute. Unabashedly thrusting against his face, Crixus found it easier to just suck on the damned thing. He felt her tensing, could hear Tullius in the back ground, the tell tale noise of jerking himself accompanying the groans and cursing. And then all at once, she was convulsing around him, hell even her cunt was pulsing. Crixus was surprised, but being held against her he could pull back to see it. 

As she was coming down, her panting was subsiding into a soft sigh. Her hands left him, and he carefully set her legs down. Canthara bites her lip trying not to smile before she takes a deep breath, face blank and gets herself off the case. Crixus blinks watching her in slight awe as she dresses as if nothing happened. As if his face wasn't covered in her cunt juice. Crixus pauses looking off to the side. The word fit better than he thought it would. Nodding he slowly stands looking at Tullius. The Dominus was chuckling as the slave boy cleaned his hand and thighs.  

"Is there anything else you require of me?" Canthara asks standing off to the side. Tullius waves her off. She nods walking away. Crixus shifts, licking his lips. 

"Tiberius go help him clean up." The boy nods rushing over with a fresh cloth. Crixus offers to take it from him but he was given a dirty look and stood in silence as the boy stood on a chair and wiped his face clean. 

"Are you satisfied Dominus?" He asks after it was done. Tullius grins wickedly at him.

"More than. During your recovery I think we should make something like this a nightly thing." Crixus blushes beat red but nods. What else could he do. "Until then retire to your bed. He nods again and follows the boy to the slaves quarters. 

"Gratitude for you cleaning me." He says, once again trying to be nice. Tiberius rolls his eyes turning to him, looking haughtier than a child his age should. 

"Enjoy your position. I aspire for it." Crixus stares at him in shock before the boy walks off quickly. Crixus sighs heavily shaking his head laying down on a clear space of floor. He had to do something, and apparently he needed to do it fast. 

Chapter Text

This was stupid. Spartacus stares at the opposite wall doing what he could to keep his face blank. Stuff like this was asked of a champion. Pfft. Romans were ridiculous. If it wasn't for the thought of Crixus doing stuff like this he would probably refused. As is, anything Crixus could do, Spartacus could certainly do better. And what a wonderful way to prove it. He was going to treat this Roman woman so good that she won't even remember the Gaul's name. He stiffens a little when Mira steps into his sight. Spartacus takes a deep breath, not quite able to meet her gaze. Somehow she made him feel guilty for not sleeping with her. As if he chose the Roman over Mira. But it simply wasn't like that. 

"Good luck. Champion." She whispers to him after placing a mask over his face. Spartacus opens and closes his palms, he was going to have to find a time to talk to her. Mira was a good person and deserved an explanation. Better than the cold shoulder one he gave. Spartacus scowls behind the mask looking out over the villa as the curtain was pulled open. It was difficult to see. But he could clearly make out the woman across the way. He was surprised when his cock stirs to life. The past year and a half the only interest he has had in the bedroom was for men. Two in particular. There was a pang of guilt thinking about a certain delicate one. But he ignores it. Has to. The blonde, Licinia he remembers being told her name, stands up and walks towards him. It was seductive and he couldn't deny the fact that she was beautiful. Probably the most exotic woman he has ever been with. Something his cock is happy to explore.

Boldly she crawls across the bed to be in front of him. He could see the glimmer of a challenge in her blue eyes as she trailed a hand up his chest. A little voice in the back of his head was trying to warn him of something. But Spartacus had no time to pay it any mind, he wished to get this over with. And to not compare that challenging look to the one of a certain Gaul. Roughly he pulls her against him, his skin tingling at the sensation if the paint. Touching skin, but not. Her little gasp of breath told him more than words ever could. Her husband was the only man she has ever been with. And judging by the way she trembles when he flips her onto her back in the next second, the man wasn't nearly as well endowed as Spartacus. Or at least, not so confident. Her reaction had him recalling the way Varro quivered their first time with Crixus. Spartacus bites the inside of his cheek. It wouldn't do well to fuck this up, especially when his only explanation would be that he was distracted by thoughts of the men and how he'd rather be sleeping with them. He gently reaches in between them, tracing his index finger down her slit. He was delighted to find her already wet and eager. Behind the mask he smirks as he lines his cock up with her cunt. Spartacus remembers the night he met her. Making him wonder just how long she has been wanting this. He watches, slightly amazed at the way she arches into him as he fills her. Spartacus grips the sheets tightly, moaning low with her. Either her husband was smaller than he thought or the two of them have been apart for a time. The woman was tight, her cunt as hot as it was wet. Sometimes being around Varro and Crixus so much, it was hard to recall the fact that he enjoys cunt too and that he was famed for it before meeting Sura. Keeping in mind that this was the first time for her in a while, Spartacus starts off slowly. Carefully. Her gasps, and mewling sounds reminded him of how much he enjoyed the tenderness of women. The curves that were so malleable under his touch. He cups at her breast, wondering why on earth they would paint over her nipples. His own were understandable. Then again his mouth was covered so he supposes it doesn't matter. The blonde reaches up wrapping an arm around his shoulders holding tightly. 

Spartacus almost laughs when their masks clink together. A mockery of a kiss. She was panting, and he could already feel her starting to convulse around his cock. A smug sense of pride fuels him as he pulls up having her legs around his waist while he kneels on the bed. The two of them trace each other for a moment, his hips rolling languidly, working her through her orgasm. Hold habits die hard. Spartacus eases her onto her back again, reaching underneath her to grab at her ass. Even as he took his time, he makes sure to add more force than before. Without words, he was coaxing. Encouraging her every time she thrusts back with a pull, and a quick jerk. If he was remembering correctly, and Spartacus is sure he is, then she was most definitely a woman of passion. And her passion was exactly what he was looking for. The way she pulled his hair sent a thrill down his spine, as if confirming his own thoughts. He ignores the ghost sensation of Crixus' nails scrapping against his scalp. The Thracian focuses on th present reminding himself that Varro and said Gaul were down stairs probably impatiently waiting for him. Spartacus smiles at the thought, and the sigh she breathes out when the arch of his back, and the tilting of her hips drives him deeper into her willing cunt. She was responding well, matching his movements, starting to set the pace even as she pulled at the blankets and silk around them. Spartacus rolls, letting her top him for a moment. Bringing her to the edge. She lets out a muffled little shout pressing their chests together, her mask chinking against his. He was starting to let his impatience get the better of him. Spartacus rolls again, more out of instinct than anything. With every moan and whimper, this Roman woman was quickly becoming the best cunt he's ever had. Which feels like a betrayal to- Spartacus shakes his head, suddenly standing up holding her against him. Her ankles dug into his lower back, obviously surprised but pleased with this new position. Her hands couldn't seem to decide whether or not to tangle themselves in his hair or just claw at his skin. In turn, Spartacus had to continue to remind himself not to choke her, but to keep her steady by cradling the back of her neck. A small voice in the back of his mind hinted that he could find someone down below who enjoyed being throttled. Spartacus grits his teeth. What was wrong with him?

True it had been some time since he had a woman like this. And his legs were actually shaking a little. Spartacus tells himself it was a combination of the exertion of holding her up instead of the fighting the urge to just throwing her onto the bed and pound into her like every fiber of his being was screaming at him to do. Instead, he falls back letting her ride him again, focusing on trying to make her scream. She surprised him by becoming impatient and rolling back pulling and tugging at him to do so. Spartacus groans rutting into her, his cock leaking at the way her cunt pulses around him. Muffled shouts and moans were response to this. He notices one hand gripping the edge of the bed tightly, the other clutching him to her.  Their masks clink together, but neither of them pull away. He almost wants the damned things off. Spartacus bites his lip suddenly wishing he had agreed to sleeping with Mira. Or at the very least, topped Varro once or twice this week. If he didn't do this right then she was going to complain and Lucretia was going to have him punished. Champion or not, the red haired devil-bitch never liked him. Spartacus keens moving to wrap both arms around her as his hips ground down into hers. The Roman gives a frustrated yell before shoving him. Panicked he lets her shove him onto his back pulling her with him, just in case she wasn't finished with him. 

Damn was he right. 

The blonde shifts and lifts herself keeping them connected. Spartacus trails his hands down to her hips while she supports herself on his chest. Keeping their eyes locked she guides his hands to her breast. Spartacus was more than happy to ablidge. As she rotates her hips, she keeps hold of him almost distractedly. He bites back a moan when she arches her back a little. Her head tilts watching him. Testing his luck Spartacus rolls one of her pink tips between his fingers. Her hips were bouncing a little, the intensity between them building. He could honestly say he's never felt this way before. She gasps loudly shoving his hands down, he must have pinched too hard. He stares up at her momentarily concerned. Her cunt pulses around him in answer. 

It was an absolute scramble. The two of them couldn't move fast enough, suddenly in complete sync with what they both wanted next. He almost laughs watching her shove a curtain out of her face as he positions himself behind her. 

Now it was a fact that he loves his wife. But Spartacus couldn't deny that seeing this Roman woman from this angle was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his life. It made his heart ache that he couldn't pause long enough to admire. 

The two of them moan low when he slides back inside her welcoming cunt. Impatiently she starts pushing back against him. Spartacus was panting as his hips started slapping against her ass. Watching it bounce had him leaking. He was afraid he might bruise her hips the way he held her to him. She was loud, encouraging, and as desperate as he was to finish. His head was spinning. Distantly he could hear someone coming this way. His balls tightened up to his body, she was convulsing around him wildly. There were alarms exploding in his head. Yet how could he care? Just a few more strokes and he would come undone. 

The curtain was suddenly pulled back causing both Spartacus and the Roman to jerk and freeze. His cock was pulsing as he filled her. The worst orgasm he has ever had. Heart pounding he releases her as Lucretia stares. Spartacus has a bad feeling about the other masked woman standing next to Batiatus's wife. 

"Oh! Apologies Licinia. We appear to have arrived before Illythia's finished with Spartacus." His heart stops at her words. The woman he's been with whirls around at the same time he looks down at her. Stunned, he looks between Lucretia and his bed partner. Starting to panic he reaches up and snatches her mask off. 

Illythia's shocked face stares back at him. 

His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth when she yanks his mask off. 

Glaber's wife. Glaber's wife! The amount of betrayal towards his own wife! How could he do this to her?

"NO!" He screams lunging forward wrapping both hands around her throat, strangling her as he shoves her back onto her back. Even with his seed seeping out of her. Gagging, Illythia grips his wrist shoving at his chest, barely trying to push him off of her. Blood was pounding in his ears as a rage clawed to erupt itself out of his chest. He barely heard Lucretia call for the guards. Only noticed them as they dragged Spartacus away, and smacking him upside the head.

As soon as they did he could feel a stone drop in his stomach. He had tried to kill her. A woman who's only crime is being married to the sack of shit that ruined Spartacus's life and sold Sura into slavery ultimately ending in her death. But that was her husband. Not her. A noble Roman woman. 

There was going to be severe consequences for this. 

Spartacus sits in the tub watching the water turn gold as he cleans himself off. It's been almost an hour. Maybe they were waiting for Glaber? No. Illythia wouldn't want her husband to know what happened. But...Batiatus surely knows. Was he going to crucify him? Spartacus does his best not to shake in fear. He remembers Segovax. More than anything he wishes he knew where Varro and Crixus were. The guards at the door refused to go get them. Informed him that he was to stay here alone until Batiatus came to talk to him. 

The waiting set his teeth on edge. Truthfully waiting was worse than anything he could think of. At least the comforting thought was that he was going to be reunited with his beloved wife. 

When Batiatus finally walks in, Spartacus pushes the thought out of his head. Somehow he just knows that Batiatus wasn't going to kill him. How could he forget that Crixus wasn't one-hundred percent yet? That his precious Thracian was too valuable to simply kill. They sigh when they look at each other. Shaking his head Spartacus starts scrubbing the paint off of him. He was glad that once it was off, it could be as if the event never happened. 

"Apologies." Confused, Spartacus looks up at Batiatus. What Master apologized to his slaves? "It was an unfortunate mistake, coupling you with Glaber's wife. Know that it was not my intent, nor of my knowledge." Spartacus looks him up and down, trying to figure out why Batiatus cares if Spartacus blames him or not. 

"It is I who owes apology." He states matter-of-factually. He sees Batiatus' unasked question. "For a moment my hands were not my own, but those of a man who no longer exists." He notices Batiatus sort of roll his eyes and sneer a little. As if the reminder of who Spartacus used to be, of the deal they made was something he'd rather not think about. 

"Let us not speak of this night again." Spartacus lowers his eyes, but Batiatus calls his attention, "Spartacus. Your loyalty, it honors this Ludus." Words that would probably bring Crixus great joy, makes Spartacus sick to his stomach. A feeling he must ignore. Batiatus doesn't wait for him to answer, he simply walks away. 

Spartacus stays in the bath for a while. He could feel the world opening up under his feet. The night flashes through his mind over, and over again. His cock twitches, eager to relive the event. But his heart, mind and soul are eating themselves alive. Spartacus shakily starts scrubbing himself clean. He thinks he's going to throw up. Glaber's wife. He laid with Glaber's wife. Not just laid with her but....Spartacus swallows hard feeling tears form in the back of his eyes. He doesn't want to be alone right now. But Crixus and Varro weren't expecting him back for another few hours. They were probably asleep. He couldn't bother them. Biting his lip Spartacus sinks into the water. He hated this. This feeling. This place. The Romans. Well...besides Varro, obviously.....he hates this house....

Chapter Text

It was a bit of a shock to him when Oenomaus instructed Barca to work with the recruit again. Usually Gannicus paired with his lover. Auctus agrees fully that his Barca needed a man to fight with. When Dominus scolded the Beast of Carthage for back talking it was all the Grecian could do to not throw his spear. The old fuck hasn't been here in almost a year and thinks he could just waltz back in like he never left? Auctus shakes his head. Maybe he was a tad bitter about being left with the man's incompetent son but that was neither here nor there. Nobody should talk to Barca like that. He smiles at the sound of wood smacking against flesh. Auctus turns from the pulvinous with a grin.

"The Gaul winces from spear," A grin to the crowd, "as he would from my cock!" Laughter follows the statement. 

"Is my long hard weapon to much for you little man?" Barca teases, the end of his spear across the under side of Crixus' ass. Auctus sucks in a breath watching the flesh jiggle.

He's obviously taken note of Crixus. The Gaul was of a form and seemed hell bent to do anything for the Celt's attention. It was adorable. Reminded him of a pup. Naturally he's taken to teasing Barca with this knowledge. Being the jealous man he was Auctus delighted in causing it. Lead to some of the best sex of their lives.

It was later when Auctus leans against a beam watching as again and again Barca knocks the little bastard down onto the ground. Even knowing he was woefully unmatched, Crixus kept getting back up. It was actually admirable. Auctus lets his eyes and mind wonder as the two of them spar. Off to the side he notices Gannicus showing no mercy on one of the lesser men. It was no secret that he was pouting. His preference was to spar with Auctus or Barca. Oenomaus on occasion. Once Auctus asked him about it, and the blond had laughed explaining that he simply wished for a challenge. One of the reasons he was so fiercely loyal to his dark friend was because he was the only man Gannicus has met so far that he doubts he would defeat. Auctus raises an eyebrow noticing that, while Gannicus is swinging his swords about looking impatient, his eyes were glued to the Gaul. Auctus smirks.

Barca, apparently has had enough and hits Crixus in the jaw with his shield hard enough to draw blood sending the Gaul spiraling out onto the edge of the cliff. Auctus tilts his head noticing when Crixus dodges a blow to the back of the head Barca hesitates. As if hoping Crixus notices the opening he has. The two get back to a standing position. Auctus doesn't miss the way Barca uses his spear to partially guide Crixus farther away from the cliff. Eagerly Auctus looks over to Gannicus who was scowling. Interesting. It didn't take much longer for Crixus to end up on his back. 

Barca kneels down quickly, a hand brushing the hair out of the Gaul's face before running across his chest and resting briefly on his shoulder. Checking him for a wound while feeling him up. Auctus blinks with a forced smile. And the bastard had the gal to be jealous over Auctus. 

"You are better matched against wooden men." Barca roughly grabs Crixus' cock through his subligaria, drawing a cry of pain. Something during the entire day's training hasn't been able to do. "Work the palus, Gaul." Auctus licks his lips walking over to his lover while Crixus stumbles his way over to the pulvinous as Barca instructed. 

"A little hands on training with the Gaul hmm?" He comments liking the slight pink of Barca's cheeks. 

"The little cunt's skull was too thick. I had to go for something more malleable." Barca snips at him. Auctus laughs glancing up noticing Oenomaus encouraging Gannicus to go talk to Crixus. Seems he wasn't the only one who noticed the Celt's interest in the man. He hopes Oenomaus recognized Crixus' attraction to the Champion. 

"Sure. No need to pretend with me." Auctus shrugs patting his shoulder. Their eyes meet and as always, the look in Barca's eyes take his breath away. The man was truly beautiful. For a little while the two of them dance around each other. A smack here and their with their spears. It was fun and refreshing. 

"Barca!" The two turn at Gannicus's voice. "If you have done with your man's cock," a swagger and spreading of arms, "I would have proper contest." Auctus laughs good naturedly looking past Gannicus to see Crixus meekly hitting the wooden man. 

"The gods blessings Barca with another little man to fuck." Crixus looks up just in time to see Auctus jerk his sword in place of his cock. The blush staining his cheeks was adorable. 

The rest of the days training was long and gruesome. Crixus was instructed to haul a log around while Gannicus leapt between Auctus and Barca. The man must have been of a mood because he was extra forceful with the blows. It was a relief when Oenomaus told the gladiators to eat and rest. Auctus felt a slight sympathy for the Gaul. Shaking his head he walks away. Before the two of them ate, Auctus asked Barca to accompany him to check in on the birds. He waits till they were out of ear shot of the others,

"Crixus begins to show promise." He remarks not looking at his lover. Doesn't mean he can't hear the scoff.

"Upon his back?" Auctus grins to himself. Barca always fell for his traps.

"The man always rises. A trait to be admired." Barca laughs disbelievingly, 

"Oh so you have eyes for the Gaul now?" Auctus looks up at him a broad smile upon his face,

"And if I did?" Barca's face turns to complete seriousness. 

"I would fucking kill you." Auctus takes a few steps a head of him, before suddenly whipping around throwing a punch. Used to this tactic, Barca easily doges his smile returning. Proud that he managed this, he leaves himself open for a slap. Something Auctus takes advantage of. Barca laughs faking him out over a jab. Auctus ducks under an actual hit grabbing Barca from under the arm, and the side shoving him against the wall. Teasingly he reaches up and bites Barca on the ear, getting more hair than skin in his mouth for the effort. The two growl, playfully just before Barca launches them backwards. Auctus was slammed against the opposing wall with a grunt. The two grapple at each other spinning around and around, Barca managing to shove him against the door frame before being pulled to the other side. With both of them in the door way, Auctus cups the side of Barca's face.

"Come here." He pants cock aching already. Barca grips his shoulder tightly, shifting them, in a way Auctus knows means he wasn't topping tonight. And he was completely alright with that. Rough grabbing has turned to soft caresses, and loving gazes. Auctus smiles softly before their mouths crash together in a different kind of dominance battle. It was out of the corner of his eyes that he noticed something wrong with the birds........

Auctus storms back into their cell kicking over some if the crates. Barca grimaces as he sits on the bed watching him. He hated the fact that he was unable to help his lover. They were unable to go out right kill the Syrian's. And neither of them were sure if they have gained position. Wouldn't learn until the baths. Sighing he lets Auctus smash something's about for a moment before he reaches out, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. Barca mouths down his neck enjoying the shaky sigh from the Grecian. 

"Come. I know what will cheer you up." Barca instructs hauling Auctus to his feet. Like a pouty child he follows. They make their way back out to the food benches noting that Crixus was working the pulvinous by himself. Auctus looks up at Barca confused. 

"What are you planning?" Barca chuckles darkly. 

"Wait here." Auctus frowns watching the Beast order the rest of the Gladiators out. He stays silent when Barca crosses the sands to talk to Crixus. He has no clue what was said between the two of them but suddenly Crixus straightens his shoulders and nods firmly. Barca pats the Gaul on the back and makes his way back to Auctus. 

"What have you done?" He immediately questions. Barca grins making him stay seated. Auctus huffs while Barca straddles the bench making Auctus do the same so they were both facing Crixus' back. Auctus wiggles against Barca's chest. 

"And what may I ask are you two up to?" Oenomaus' voice draws their attention. Barca waves him off. 

"Training." A scoff in reply but the retreating footsteps were a good sign. 

Auctus' eyes widen comically when Crixus takes a deep breath and strips down naked. He kicks his clothes out of his reach and continues to attack the wooden man. 

"What have you done?" Auctus breathes out, distracted by the way the setting sun seems to make Crixus's skin glow. Barca hums running a hand down Auctus' chest. 

"Shush and enjoy. Ignore me and focus on the little man." Auctus shivers when Barca's hand slips into his subligaria. "Look at the way his ass bounces with every blow." Barca kisses down his neck gripping the base of his lovers cock as he does. 

"Fuck, Barca." Auctus growls through gritted teeth. Barca grins at the spreading legs. 

"He's so eager to please. To do his best." Barca works his wrist the best he could with the clothing in his way. "Imagine what the two of us could do to someone like that." Auctus moans, loud enough for Barca to cover his mouth. Crixus pauses nervously. Not turning, but his movements are slower than before as he continues his assault on his imagined opponent. 

"Barca you cunt " Auctus whines. "This is truly cruel." Barca chuckles. 

"Why? Because you can see it? Just picture him tied up and helpless to do anything but take our cocks." Auctus sucks in a breath while Barca's thumb runs across his head. 

"Fuck the gods. Barca he- fuck we could have him begging for it. So easily." Barca licks the shell of his ear. 

"Tears of frustration, pleasure and pain streaming down his face as I choke him out. Have him desperate for your cock in ass." Auctus grips Barca's thighs hard enough that they leave bruises. "As, you now sit desperate for mine." Auctus growls pushing backwards against him. 

"Continue teasing and find your own to cell to sleep in tonight." He warns. Barca chuckles nipping at his shoulder. 

"Lift up." He instructs. Auctus bites his lip doing as he was told. Barca makes quick work of their subligaria. In his entire life Auctus doesn't think he's ever been so eager for cock.

"Do not even bother prepping me, I am past the point." Auctus snaps. Barca grins wickedly, lining himself correctly. 

"Fair enough." 

The two moan as he pushes past the outer muscles. Neither of them usually like to be taken sans preparation, but Auctus couldn't deny the relief he feels at the burn that their lovemaking usually lacks. Auctus slowly lowers himself fully careful not to make too much noise and alarm any nearby guards or worse, Crixus himself. The two of them start rocking. Gently and leisurely at first. While Crixus works the palus, he spins around at one point, not paying them any attention. The pair of them caught a whole eye full of his half hard cock in return. Auctus curses under his breath adding more force into his thrusts.

"Fuck the gods." He mutters gripping the bench tight enough to draw a small amount of blood. Barca chuckles shifting a little.

"No love, fuck me." He leans down biting Auctus' shoulder, "And imagine, how it would be, to fuck him." Auctus was panting heavily, Barca had angled himself just against his overly sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Shut up." Auctus snaps. Louder than he should have. Barca glances up, at Crixus a small bit of pride forming for the little man as he keeps his back straight and continues beating the pulvinous. The tight lipped look tells Barca that the Gaul knows exactly what was happening behind him. He wonders if the man will ever mention it. 

"Someone feels close." Barca whispers, his voice gruff with the effort to stay silent. Usually the pair of them are loud enough to have the guards complaining to Batiatus.

Auctus, seemingly past the point of words bows his head with a whimper. Barca loves the fact that he can see the Grecian man's leg shaking. It wasn't often that Barca managed to do so while topping. Smirking he reaching around to continue his previous torture on his lovers cock. Auctus brings a hand up and bites the back of it, eyes squeezed shut. The soft broken mewl was almost enough to send Barca over the edge. He growls low in his throat ignoring the scrapping noise the bench was starting to make with the force of his thrusts. Auctus shudders his hand falling from his mouth reaching back to pull on Barca's hair drawing him in for a kiss. Barca hums feeling Auctus' cock pulsing in his grip as his hand was covered in hot almost clear cum. Feebly Auctus rocks against him breaking their lips apart. Barca replaces his mouth with two fingers keening when Auctus happily started cleaning them with his tongue. With a few more hard thrusts Barca draws Auctus against him, holding him tightly. He can feel his partner grinning while being filled with Barca's seed.

"Best surprise ever." Auctus whispers kissing his forehead. Barca chuckles pulling out carefully. They grin at each other, dressing quickly.

"Go, I'll meet you in the baths. I'll go get the Gaul." Auctus gives him a quick kiss, standing up a little unsteadily. 

"Hurry up. We find out if we gain position in a little bit." Barca nods rushing over to Crixus. The recruit flinches a little when he slaps his shoulder. 

"Gratitude. I hope you enjoyed the extra training." Crixus nods, eyes ever wide and full of questions. "Come, it's time for the baths. You get to see the process on how we learn who fights in the games." Eagerly, Crixus rushes and puts away the wooden swords and follows suit. Barca rolls his eyes leading the way. Honestly. He wasn't sure what Auctus saw in the man, other than that tight ass and impressive cock. He smiles when they round the corner and he sees Auctus undressing. Barca could feel his heart swell, it's taken a while but he thinks he can finally admit that he loves the stupid Greek. Truly. 

Chapter Text

It was late. But he couldn't sleep. It could be the uncomfortable noises his brother was making beside him. Maybe it was the fact that Crixus had asked Varro to follow him and neither of them have returned in the past few hours. If he was truthful with himself it was the fact that almost as soon as training was completed, Spartacus was summoned by Lucretia and Agron hasn't seen him since. Sighing heavily he sits up and looks around. Bodies were splayed all over the place, snoring scattered around, he doesn't think he will be missed. Nodding to himself, Agron moves to the edge of the cell motioning for a guard to come over. 

"What would need to happen for you to get me into the baths tonight?" The guard raises an eyebrow. "Is it coin, cunt, or cock?" The man looks him up and down quickly before licking his lips. 

"Your mouth on my cock, and you can stay in there as long as you wish." Agron rolls his eyes. Truly Romans were so damned simple. 

"Then we have an agreement. Get me out." He mutters glancing back at Duro. "And make it quick before that one wakes." No need to pretend that he doesn't give a fuck about his brother. Everyone already figured that one out. With a nod the guard unlocks the door and Agron slips out. 

"This way." Agron rolls his eyes. No, he thought he was going to drop to his knees right here. Fucking idiot. Shaking his head, Agron follows around a couple of corners before they slip into an empty corner cell. The chains and blood on the wall were a little disconcerting, but he figures, (hopes) that this was just where people were sent to be punished. 

"And what should I call you?" He asks watching unimpressed as the Roman fumbles with his lappet. There was a glance. 

"Saville." Agron blinks but shrugs as clothing was maneuvered enough for the man's cock to be freed. Well...he's seen worse. Agron sighs shaking his head kneeling. It was a shame that most Roman's weren't circumcised. Really, was there anything worse than giving a turtle dick head? And there wasn't even enough straw on the ground to make this comfortable for a long period of time, so the German decides to make this quick. Fucking Romans. 

"Very well, Saville. Let's do this." He mutters more to himself. He misses the nervous gulp Saville takes while leaning against the wall. 

Agron supports himself with one hand on Saville's hip, using the other to coax the half mast cock to life. The fact that it didn't take a lot said more than Agron needed to know. He hides a smirk. This was going to be the start of a wonderful partnership. Teasingly, Agron slips the head in his mouth, closing his eyes to hide his revulsion. The feeling of excess skin sliding backwards towards his hand was almost more than he could bare. The louder than safe moan was encouraging though. Agron sucks gently before sliding further down. He uses the little hitches in breath from Saville as cues. Sucking here, bobbing there. At one point he got overly confident and tried sliding down to the base. After all he's fucked bigger cocks than this. His throat didn't appreciate this thought and he gagged like a damned amateur. The action had Saville bucking so he doesn't bother with caring. Agron uses a corkscrew motion adding a little more force to his sucks, the warm pre-cum not tasting as awful as he had imagined it would. He could feel Saville shaking under his touch and he couldn't help the self pride that rose in his chest. 

"F-fuck, I ah, I think I'm gonna-" Agron ignores him as Saville breaks off into a quiet shout. He didn't appreciate the way the man clings to his head. The way his hair was pulled was all wrong. Not that this was supposed to be enjoyable for him, but he can't help the thrill that shoots through him as salty hot liquid hits the back of his throat. He swallows to keep himself from gagging at the sudden assault. He waits, using gentle strokes to milk the last of Saville's orgasm as the guard comes down. Agron pulls off with a wet gasp, a trail of spit connecting his tongue with the tip. Saville makes a noise looking down. Agron fights the urge to roll his eyes. He's had enough of this. His knees hurt, and there was a strain on his shins. Clearing his throat he stands up, neither of them paying any attention to the popping sound his joints made. 

"Now I'm going to the baths." Agron tells him, tempted to pat the man's face. Saville blinks stupidly at him. His face was flushed and his lips parted as he panted. Truly he looks thoroughly ravished. Agron turns away quickly to hide his laughter. Fuck the gods. Even Agron knows he isn't that good with his mouth. 

"Viiiirgiiin." He whispers to himself as he walks through the halls. 

Agron was still grinning when he rounded the corner. He freezes when he spots Spartacus. His heart actually stops for half a minute. The man truly was a god. Gold shimmering in the water around him, the shadows flickering across his features illuminating his sharp cheek bones and the oh too tempting biceps. It took a moment to remember how to breathe. Agron swallows thickly thanking whatever he could that this was happening tonight. Duro was going to be pissed. His smile fades when he notices the look on the Champion's face. The man looks like he's been crying. His shoulders were slumped and he was just staring at the water. A haunted expression ghosting his handsome features. Agron steps forward the echo of his footsteps making Spartacus blink. 

"Spartacus?" He calls out walking to the edge of the tub. There was a soft scoff before blue eyes look up at him. Agron sucks in a harsh breath. The amount of hurt shining in them was startling. "Are you...alright?" Spartacus visibly shakes. 

"I was just..." He glances back down at the water, "cleaning." His sentence ends in a sigh. Agron shifts from foot to foot. 

"May I...join you?" Spartacus shrugs. Agron hesitates for a second before he strips and climbs in. 

"I don't know how clean you will get." The Champion mutters scrapping something off of his side. Agron makes a face realizing Spartacus was covered in gold paint. 

"Fucking Romans." He grumbles with a shake of his head. Agron isn't sure why this makes Spartacus laugh softly. But the sound makes his chest tighten. The two of them sit in silence for a little while. Agron off to the side, enjoying the hot water, and the view, while Spartacus scrubs his front down. "I, uh," Agron clears his throat when Spartacus had turned to face away from him, 

"What?" Spartacus asks over his shoulder in a clipped tone. Agron could feel his courage faltering. He sighs deeply. 

"I can get your back. I doubt you can reach, and I doubt a guard is going to help." Spartacus looks him up and down for a moment before looking towards the door way.

"I had thought that..." His voice trails off, a measure of hurt echoed in his expression. Agron tilts his head. He wonders if Spartacus knows his friend and his rival are lovers with and without him. 

"Varro stayed up late waiting for your return." He lies. Spartacus turns to him, face soft and practically begging for reassurance. He was adorable. "Last I saw him he was slumped against the wall, exhaustion over powering concern for his dear friend." He continues, noticing the tension leaving Spartacus a little. The Thracian nods a small smile gracing his lips. 

"Gratitude. For the information and the help." Spartacus speaks quietly handing the tool over. Agron gulps when Spartacus turns his back. He forces himself to steel his nerve. Using a cup that was off to the side, Agron pours some water across his shoulders. He watches the trail they make, tongue dying to do the same. Agron bites his cheek focusing on his task. And the nail marks that disturb the paint here and there. 

It was tedious to say the least. However, it wasn't without its perks. Watching the roll of Spartacus's shoulders when he goes over a sensitive area. The shift of the water as Agron rinses him off every now and again clearing some of the paint. Standing this close to the man in general. Agron bites the inside of his cheek feeling his cock twitch to life. Now was certainly not the time. Spartacus scoffs with a shake of his head. Agron pauses, his hands hovering right above the top of Spartacus' ass. Eyes glued to the way the water teases the skin. 

"Something amuses you, Champion?" He asks, quieter than he meant to. Spartacus turns around without warning, Agron gasps softly taking a step back quickly so as not to accidentally touch anything he wasn't allowed to. 

"You." Agron feels the heat flood his face, but Spartacus continues on as if Agron wasn't acting like a fucking idiot. "If you want something, you should simply ask. Instead of running circles around topic of conversation." Spartacus steps forward, Agron takes another hurried one back. Distracted his foot slips and he finds himself suddenly under the water with a loud splash. Sputtering he surfaces staring up at the Champion with a stunned look. Spartacus smirks down at him eyes twinkling. 

"I-I was simply offering assistance." He whispers vaguely aware that he's lost the strigil. Spartacus nods, squatting. 

"How much assistance?" He challenges. Agron makes a choking noise thankful that the water wasn't clear. Spartacus cups the back of Agron's neck. "I remember seeing you and your brother the other night." Spartacus informs. Agron almost moans thinking about it. The three men together had been the most exotic and enticing thing he had ever seen. 

"A-apologies. I meant no harm or offense." Which was true. Spartacus chuckles softly. 

"You are no threat to me Agron. In time perhaps. But as of now?" Agron jerks when Spartacus reaches into the water wrapping his hand around Agron's hardened cock. "Now, you're merely a curiosity." Agron licks his lips taking a shaky breath. 

"Curiosity?" Spartacus straddles him twisting his wrist as he strokes firmly. 

"Varro is closest, and only friend here. Crixus is, well Crixus. I would like to see if I could have you, as a..." He trails off taking a breath as he continues to drive away Agron's senses, "trusted ally for lack of a better term." 

"A-and you believe this will secure my loyalty?" Agron questions, blinking away the image of Donar. Spartacus leans down tracing his tongue across Agron's lower lip. 

"More of your silence. Should you brag, or boast, I shall deny your words and know that you can not be trusted." He explains quietly. Agron feels his heart hammering away against his ribs. His fingers were tingling as they found Spartacus' thighs in the water. 

"Then let me prove myself." Spartacus raises his eyebrows when Agron tightens his grip, lifting his hips. "In more ways than one." They grin at each other briefly before Spartacus guides Agron's cock to his awaiting hole. 

"Let us see if you are truly worthy of that mark." He challenges. Agron grunts with the effort it takes to shove himself down to the base. Spartacus jerks crying out. He likes to think it is just in surprise. 

"Fuck, you're larger than anticipated." Agron preens. "Hold back pride until we see if you know how to use length to advantage." Spartacus mutters. Agron chuckles gripping hips. 

"Yes, Let's."

Chapter Text

Varro gives a half hearted scowl as Spartacus is lead away. The cheeky bastard shoots him a grin and a wink over his shoulder. If he didn't know any better, he would think Spartacus was looking forward to this. Probably only so he could brag, but Varro finds it cute. Shaking his head Varro finishes bathing looking around at the others. He could of course shoot some dice with Rhaskos and Donar. And lose all the money he has earned. Money that should go to his wife. After spending a night chained to that wall he's learned his lesson. Besides, he didn't want to spend another evening listening to Rhaskos make fun of the blond German for taking an interest in the new kid. Duro? Maybe it was Agron. Varro gets the brothers confused. Not that it mattered. It didn't escape either his own or Spartacus's notice that the elder had eyes for the Champion. It was one thing to tease him and have an audience while they were with the Gaul, but joining? He wasn't sure. Then again… he sighs thinking about a fellow Gladiator that they lost today… he wishes he knew the man's name. Varro looks over the stone tub at the Germans. Maybe it was a good idea for Spartacus to have a couple of back ups.

"Varro." Smirking he turns around. Or just one.

"Crixus." The two stare at each other for a moment before Crixus gives a soft smile.

"I have something to discuss with you. Privately." He informs, not caring that Varro still held a strigil in his hand. His voice was low enough that those who would spread rumors, (Ashur across the way) could not hear. Varro grins.

"Then let us have words." Crixus rolls his eyes and walks away. Making a face, Varro follows him, fully aware that he's left his subligaria and his towel behind.

"Bold of you to assume I meant anything other than words." Crixus scolds when they reach his cell. Varro shuts the door behind him with a grin.

"You have had the chance all week to break words with me in private. But it is only when Spartacus is occupied you decide it important enough." Crixus folds his arms, raising an eyebrow at him.

Varro shrugs. "I'm a Roman, that doesn't make me an idiot."

A grin splits Crixus' face."That bares argument."

Varro laughs softly. "Bitch."

Crixus drops his towel as he steps forward, his rising cock reason enough for Varro's own to thicken. Eyes falling to a mark on his hip jar his thoughts.

"Make me yours then and prove my assumption false." He whispers running his nails up Varro's side.

"When you tell me what that is." Varro answers, his thumb rubbing circles on the bruise.

Crixus grimaces looking down at it. "Domina gave me that this morning. I think it has something to do with the woman Spartacus is currently fucking."

Varro chuckles. It was too early for the actual act to have started. He was sure the Thracian was still being prepped. Earlier he had spotted Ashur directing some slaves with a bucket of gold paint to one room and a bucket of white to another. Spartacus was about to undergo some seriously odd shit.

"Well that's not very nice. Naevia does not get to mark you. Neither do I or Spartacus." He teases. Crixus purses his lips in thought for a moment. Varro smiles reassuringly at him to let him know it was a jest. It took a lot of trust for Crixus to tell them about Naevia. He does not wish to break it with unintended insult.

"Well...I was with Naevia earlier today." Varro nods. He's been meaning to mention to Crixus that they couldn't keep skipping lunch for quickies. It was too dangerous and they needed to eat.

"Right. And?" Crixus clears his throat glancing down at his hip and back up. Varro blinks at him. "Did...did she?" Crixus covers the hand on his hip with a sheepish grin.

"I believe if I continue asking Lucretia to make the same mark the rest of you will be able to-" Varro doesn't wait for him to finish, falling to his knees and covering the mark with his mouth.

"Fuckthefuckinggods!" He yelps at the contact.  Looking down he was startled to see the look of bliss across Varro's handsome face. Eyes shut as he added to the bruise. Crixus bites his cheek trying to suppress a whimper. It had been a world altering realization that his skin was sensitive. As a Gladiator he has learned to ignore blows, small cuts and twisted bones, strained and pulled muscles and the ache of exhaustion. Yet when Varro, or as he learned earlier today, Naevia, ghosted their teeth across him, it made his knees go weak.

Wide eyed, he watches Varro pull away. A line of drool following obscenely. Crixus doesn't miss the way his blue eyes dart to Crixus' erection. It doesn't take a genius to know what the Roman was thinking. However Crixus knows that if Varro gets his way, the former champion will be on his ass in seconds.

In the same second Varro reached out to wrap his hand around Crixus' cock, Crixus snatched a fist full of Varro's curly hair.

The two pause looking at each other.

"That close are we?" The blonde teases with a slow grin. Crixus scowls down at him. He releases his hair to smack at Varro's hand.

"We are not limited by time nor location. To the bed with you, you cock hungry cunt." He snaps, turning and all but stomping to his bed. Varro's laugh echoes across the walls. The sound shouldn't have sent a jolt through his spine, but Crixus still had to suppress a shiver.

" I'm cock hungry? Ok. Sure. Spartacus does have a nice curve to his." What.

"The fuck did you just say?" Crixus asks whirling around. He didn't realize how close Varro had gotten and almost smacked him as a result. Varro was grinning from ear to ear.

"I did not stutter." Crixus knows the man was toying with him. Trying to get a rise from him. The issue was that it was working. An uncomfortable twisting in his stomach told him that.

"So if you crave the Thracian so badly, why follow me to begin with?" He asks, folding his arms. Crixus resigns himself to arguing but he refuses to throw a punch. There was a personal matter he wished to discuss after all.

Varro shrugs. "You’ve got a tight ass and a hot mouth." He should have swung. It would have hurt less. Not liking the idea of having deep feelings for Spartacus's Roman pet, Crixus chalks it up to his ego.

"One you can visit again in your dreams if you continue mentioning the damned rabbit." He snips. Varro must have seen the hurt on his face. His grin turns into a concerned frown and he sits down onto the bed.

"Spartacus was my first male lover." Crixus raises an eyebrow. "You being my second. I do not have much comparison between the two of you. Just that I have had Spartacus's cock in ass more frequently than yours." Crixus could feel the heat flood his cheeks.

"Are you saying you need a reminder?" Varro's grin returns and Crixus hates the fact that he feels relieved in its presence.

"It would not be unwelcome. If that is what you seek." Varro slides a hand up Crixus' thigh as he speaks.

“What I seek and what you speak of are opposites.” Crixus smirks noticing the pause from the Roman. “I did not lie when I said I wished to break words.” He liked the light blush that stained Varro’s face.  

“Oh. Then break them and see them well received.” Crixus squirms a little.

“I have a request that I have been unable to remove from thoughts…” Varro watches him patiently, blue eyes more calming than they had a right to be. Crixus swallows a little. “The other night, when you decided I needed a punishment of sorts.” An eyebrow quirk.

“Right. Did you feel it was undeserved?”  Yes.

“Not exactly… but not the point.” Varro wraps his arms around Crixus’ thighs resting his chin on the Gaul’s midsection. “I was… sort of, possibly thinking about… having it happen again.” There was a couple of heartbeats where neither spoke. Crixus found it difficult to look at Varro directly. Yet he hated that there was little to look at in his cell other than the hunk of man that clung to him in silence.

Varro stares up at him trying to process what it was that Crixus was insinuating. Does this mean that...Crixus...absolutely not. It couldn’t be possible. The Undefeated Gaul….wanted him Varro to…..He must have heard incorrectly. That had to be it. Crixus. The Almighty Crixus couldn’t possibly have enjoyed it. Mind in overdrive, Varro recalls the other night. It was so beautifully captured in his mind, how could he not? And there was no denying it. The possibility was there. It could in fact be real! Finally he blinks.

“Say again?” He had to be sure after all. Clarification was extremely important. Crixus flushes a deep red before pulling away, stalking to the other side of the cell.

“Forget it. I understand the…strangeness of the question. If I have made you uncomfortable, then I apologize.” He mumbles. Not for the first time looking smaller than his loud aggressive manner makes him out to be. Varro feels a moment of panic realizing that he could have waited too long to respond and must have made Crixus nervous or embarrassed. Second guessing himself was something Varro noticed Crixus did in the bedroom when it came to new things.   

“Apologies? None are required. I am far from uncomfortable with the request Crixus.” Varro informs calmly. There were a few moments in the past where Varro has gotten the impression that whereas people explored Crixus to see what they could pleasure him with, that there might not have been a lot of chances for the Gaul to explore what he enjoys. The way his brown eyes snap to Varro were another hint to this. Full of hope, nerves and lust. Gods save him, but those eyes would be the death of him.    

“You understand what I have asked of you, have you not?” Crixus asks. The snapping was to be expected. Varro smiles. It was nice to no longer take the anger as such. Knowing that it was Crixus being insecure and lashing out was...well...cute.

“Yes you cunt, I am aware.” Crixus glares at him for the insult. “You wish for me to throw you on to the bed and tan your hide until your ass is the color of Domina’s hair.” Crixus stares at him in slight horror. Mostly because the bastard wasn’t wrong. The thought of the very act described has been haunting his thoughts for almost a week.

“Blame falls to you.” Crixus huffs leaning against the wall. Varro raises an eyebrow relaxing back onto the bed using his elbows as support. Crixus forces his gaze away from the half erect cock that was now on display.

“And how is that?” Varro questions with a tilt of his head and a smirk. Crixus swallows hard, wishing he hadn’t shed his towel as soon as he had. He almost regrets bringing this topic to life as well.

“In all my years of servitude I have been whipped, smacked, kicked, punched, stabbed, sliced, bitten, scratched, slapped, kneed, and hit with stones.” Varro blinks making a note to question some of those later. “But never,” He slowly walks back over, standing at the edge of the bed in between Varro’s knees, “has a soul dared to do as you have.”

“Is that so? I’m honored.” Varro comments, a little afraid to interrupt him. Whatever was running through Crixus’ mind has his cock coming to full mast and he wasn’t going to delay this anymore than he already had by stupidly bringing up Spartacus.

“Be honored in my asking for it to happen again,” Crixus murmurs, “and find honor forever stripped should you continue mocking me.” Varro sits up enough to run a hand down Crixus’ chest.

“You have not actually asked me Crixus.” Crixus groans low in his throat as Varro’s tongue makes its way across his chest. “So,” a bite, gentle enough for Crixus to hiss at the contact, but not enough pressure for a mark “ask. Call to Varro and Varro shall answer your call.” He whispers against Crixus’ skin. Crixus shifts a little, surprised by how fast the both of them were out of breath.

“Varro,” His voice was gruff even to his own ears, “please.” Varro mouths at him.

“Please what?” Crixus could hear the smile in the smug bastard’s voice. He had a second to debate this. Could he ask this? Say the words that have been trying to spill from his lips for days? One of Varro’s hands finds the underside of his backside, the contact all the motivation he needed.

“Please, spank me.” He breathes out shakily.

Without hesitation, Varro lifts Crixus off the ground by the back of his thighs. Crixus barely has time to yelp in surprise before his back was colliding with his bed. He blinks at the ceiling in confusion, his heart pounding against his ribs uncontrollably. This wasn’t what he had in mind. Crixus looks down at Varro shivering slightly as the blond kisses his way past Crixus’s hips, sliding off the bed. This was...backwards? Sort of? He doesn’t claim to be an expert in spanking but he’s positive he should be facing the other direction. Varro glances at him, eyes twinkling with delight. Not exactly a good sign.

“Hush Little Man. I know what I’m doing.” Crixus sure fucking hopes so.

“Do not call me such.” He snips. That was Barca’s nickname for him after all. Varro rolls his eyes ignoring him as he dips his head down. Crixus jerks when the flat of Varro’s tongue connects with his hole. “Jupiter’s cock!” Crixus gasps. Varro stays focused on his self appointed task, although there was a distinct air of amusement surrounding the man. If he wasn’t being assaulted in such a delicious manner, Crixus would find fault with that. Currently, he was too busy writhing, legs spreading wide as his head throws itself back. He had no idea when his eyes squeezed shut. All he knows was Varro was a damned devil with his talent. If the tightening of his balls were any indication, then this wasn’t going to last much longer.

“ Fuck ! Varro if you do not cease I’m going to-” Crixus barely had the words out before his near boneless body was being forced to roll. He grunts as he moves, trying to assist to make himself a little more comfortable. But Varro’s hands were quicker at the moment. Mind not clouded by lust, he was able to maneuver Crixus how he wished.

“Worry not, dear Gaul. I shall give you what you wish,” Crixus’s eyes widen feeling Varro’s heavy body cover him, voice suddenly in his ear, “what you crave .” The sensation of his hot breath on his neck sent tremors through him. Once more, the bastard was right.

“Your arrogance is astounding.” Crixus grumbles. Varro kisses the side of his temple, a light thwack to his rear causing him to twitch.

“My arrogance? I am simply doing what is asked of me.” He all but coos. Crixus makes a face, ready to elbow him in the face if he kept this up.

Smack.

Crixus freezes, eyes snapping to the wall. His entire body seemed to hum in anticipation. He could feel Varro watching him as he takes a deep breath. He blinks.

Smack.

Crixus wriggles underneath him. This wasn’t like last time. It was still...enjoyable? Yet somehow it was wrong. Not what he was looking for. Varro grinds against him a little, the heat of his cock having Crixus hitch his breath. Half of his mind wished to forget this whole thing, demand Varro put on that damned strap-on and finish them both off. The calmer side of his brain knew that if he backed out of this now he was never going to revisit this. With anyone.

Anyone…..

“You are not to speak of this.” He mutters hands shifting to grip the edge of his bed. Varro chuckles, the sound reverberating through Varro into Crixus. It shouldn’t make his cock leak. Yet he glares down at himself all the same.

“Ever the bossy bastard.” Crixus sucks in a harsh breath as Varro digs his thumb against the mark on his hip. “I already told you, you will get what you crave. Do not be so impatient.” Crixus bites the inside of his cheek. It was like a completely different person from earlier. The grip Varro had on him, no longer carressing or comforting. Now tight, almost painful.

“Then stop fucking around.” He growls not looking back. Varro licks the shell of his ear pulling back.

“Next time we will work on your manners.” Varro informs yanking Crixus backwards. Crixus makes a decidedly unmanly sound for his efforts. “For now, you wish for this to stay away from Spartacus’ ears?” Crixus nods practically curled on himself with how Varro has positioned him.

Smack

Crixus gasps loudly. More force than before was being used. Something like relief seeps into his bones at that.

“Speak.”

“I do not wish for Spartacus to learn of this.” He answers.

SmAck.

“Good boy,” Varro’s voice barely registered over the moan that escapes Crixus’ lips. Naevia has expressed to him that there were parts of her body that were overly sensitive from lack of contact. Crixus has stupidly mistaken this knowledge as her inexperience. Now he understands a little better.

SmackSMack .

“Oh, fuck.” Crixus rocks back silently encouraging Varro for more. The flat of Varro’s calloused palm rubs across the curve of his ass.

“Now, ask nicely .” Crixus whines. Smack . Damn, soft again.

“ Please do not breath word of this to Spartacus.” Crixus pouts. SMACK . “Ah, fuck the gods.”

“Better.” Crixus nods lamely not sure if Varro was praising him or asking him a question. His thoughts were scattered. His aching cock was leaking for attention. Each barely abused cheek was starting to gather a stinging heat. A single sane thought reminds him that Spartacus could never know of this was clinging to life. Yet that seemed less and less important with every hit from Varro.

“Please.” He pants, “Please, Varro.” His brain was still catching up to what he was asking for. A guarantee that Varro was going to keep his mouth shut? Or something else?

“Hush. Worry not my Gaul. Your secret is safe with me.” Varro reassures tapping his fingertips across the underside of his cheeks. Crixus shakes his head. Hearing it out loud, no it confirmed that wasn’t what he was asking for. “No?” Smack . A groan echos against the walls.

“Please.” He whimpers. “Varro,” Varro watches him, straining himself to stand still. One wrong move and this was over. Gone. Forever. And the rest of Crixus’s attentions as well.

“Please what Crixus?” He asks, hoping to sound more confident than he felt. The way Crixus lowers his torso down raising his ass higher was a comfort to his ego.

“H-harder?” It was little more than a plea. A soft question. Simple. The proof of inexperience in matters such as this. Varro swears it was pure will power that he did not finish with that small question alone.

WHACK

“ Fuck !” Crixus shouts his fingers tightening around the edge. Varro leans so he could see the Gaul’s face. His cock twitches when he notices the smile.

“And Varro answers.”

WhackSMACK Thwaaaack

Three good hits in a row has Crixus throwing his head back. Screaming slightly. Varro pauses, checking the door to make sure the guards have yet to come question the noise. Not that he thinks anyone would. Yet he knows if anyone heard them, (Ashur), Crixus would probably hesitate in doing this again. Varro looks down and almost moans at the redness Crixus’ skin was turning. He couldn’t help himself.

SmackThwack

“You’re going to get us caught.” He teases, hardly pausing in his swings. Again and again his hand connects with Crixus’ ass, distracted by the way the ample flesh of his ass ripples and jiggles as it bounces. Varro could easily imagine his cock between his cheeks. Opening him up and having him begging for more. Not unlike he was now.

“Varro, please, Varro. Ah-fuck- harder please.” The sound was music to his ears. Urging him on, regardless of privacy, or secrecy. Varro grits his teeth, refusing to find completion by this act alone. If anything he expects Crixus to first. The thought was fuel to his fire. Doing what Crixus wished without even thinking about it. His frustrations with himself an easy target. The heat coming from his hand was nothing compared to Crixus’ skin. True to his word, Crixus’ ass was quickly going from a bright pretty red, to a concerning shade. He pauses, noticing a distinct handprint turning a little purple in some places.

“Shit.” He whispers. Crixus whines again, wiggling some more. Almost taunting Varro to continue. Varro curses under his breath. “Stop moving.” He warns, both hands massaging a cheek. Logic was trying to work its way into his brain. It was difficult to ignore the spots where he could see the evidence of his fingers. A squeeze and release. Watching the skin burn white before fading back to red.

“Varro.” The man’s ass was too abused for his voice to hold such a warning tone. Varro makes a face reaching between Crixus’ thighs. The whimper was more satisfying than it should have been.

“You seem mighty close to be sounding so demanding.” Gods was that his voice?

“And you seem mighty tired for the small amount of effort you’ve put into this.” Crixus challenges right back. Varro shifts closer, head resting on Crixus’ lower back as he fists the Gaul’s cock slowly.

“Tired no. Cautious yes. Besides. If you wish to finish with just a spanking…..” His voice trails off letting Crixus’ mind fill in the blanks.

“Fuck you.” Varro laughs softly.

“Please do.” Crixus looks at him over his shoulder, eyebrow quirked.

“So you are cock hungry.” Varro almost rolls his eyes.

“Watching you, listening to you, it has had its effect on me.” Varro admits unabashedly, rutting  against Crixus’ thigh. “However, we shall test your cock against Spartacus’ later. For now, I wish to see your red ass bouncing against me.” Crixus opens his mouth to argue but Varro doesn’t let him, “I know, with the strap-on, you love struck fool.” Crixus blinks at him.

“Love struck?” Varro makes a frustrated noise.

“Or whatever your reasons are, just fucking- Crixus, please.” He swears if his own slip of the tongue fucked this over for himself he was just going to walk off the damned cliff. He could feel Crixus watching him, but he couldn’t find the strength or motivation to lift his head.

“Waiting on you.” He speaks after a few moments. Varro looks up at him so fast his neck actually made a popping noise. Crixus looks at him in slight concern, but Varro was scrambling across the room so fast there was no time to question it. He watches in silence as Varro digs through the chest. In a way he supposes it was endearing? How much Varro wanted him. At the moment though all he was focused on was how eager he himself was for this. His ass was throbbing as if trying to compete with his heartbeat.

Eyes never leaving Varro, Crixus reaches under his bed pulling out a small bag he usually reserves for the nights he was alone. Knowing the blond was desperate, and wasn’t that an arousing thought, has him thinking Varro could be too hasty in his hurry. A proper preparation was going to be required if he was to take that wondrous monstrosity up his hole.

Varro glances up at him as he was securing the straps. They both stop in mid-motion when he does. Crixus blinks, doing what he could to keep his expression neutral. An amazing feat for someone with two fingers up their own asshole.

“Jupiter’s fucking cock.” Varro stares at him. Transfixed on the way Crixus was slowly working himself open. Crixus tries not to feel too pleased with himself watching Varro fumbling with the strap-on. The man was trying to secure himself while watching Crixus at the same time. And it wasn’t working out overly well.

“Trouble?” Crixus asks neutral expression.

“Fuck this.” Varro snarls dropping the strap on. Less than two steps and he was back behind Crixus. Crixus stiffens a little, prepared to fight if necessary. He was unprepared for another slap across his backside. His wrist was roughly snatched, removing himself from his hole.

“Varro.” The warning was true this time. Varro mutters something under his breath that Crixus couldn’t make out. It was when a familiar, cold, head was breaching him. A shaky shout of surprise leaves him. He hadn’t even seen Varro with it. Not that he wasn’t relieved or thankful, but he was simply confused.

“Move.” Varro demands with a couple more hits. One for each side. With an aggravated noise Crixus crawls further onto the bed, making room for Varro to kneel behind him. Humming, Varro reaches around him tracing a circle around Crixus’s wet head. “Never tell Spartacus of this.” The request sounded vaguely like a threat. Crixus was going to ask what he meant, but Varro twists the marble further inside of him, preventing his speech momentarily.

“What the fuck-ngh- shit.” Crixus moans arching towards him.

“Never.” He reiterates. Crixus nods rocking against the toy. If Varro would shift it down just a little…. “Good.” Crixus’ eyes fly open when Varro pulls him by the hips so he was stradling the Roman’s thighs. He feels Varro shifting behind him. He didn’t have to wait long to understand what was happening.

It took a second to realize what sensation he was presented with. Bending and twisting Varro has managed to line his cock against Crixus’. Crixus turns a little to be able to see better. Varro murmurs unintelligently positioning the base of the marble against his hip. With a quick thrust, more of a test really, Crixus discovers that the way Varro has it wedged leaves the man’s hands free. He quickly finds use for them, wrapping both around their cocks.

“Gods be fucked.” Crixus rolls his hips trying to angle the marble how he wanted it. If he was paying attention he would have noticed Varro’s attention on his ass.

“Forgive me.” Varro breathes out. Crixus barely gets to glance at him before Varro’s hips were snapping in rapid motion. Fucking into his own fists, coaxing Crixus’ to do the same. With a curse Crixus smacks away one of Varro’s hands.

“I forgive shit. Make use of self and manage the marble damn you.” Varro pants loudly not bothering to look up. Although even with the added motion of fucking Crixus with the toy his rhythm never falters. Crixus keens, delighted when Varro takes a damned hint. Moving the marble to a position that reaches deep enough inside Crixus to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves with every forced thrust. Crixus shivers matching Varro’s movements, for a moment.

It was sudden, but it was unmistakable. The desperate whining was a sign. Varro’s errating jerking of their cocks, hand slipping here and there, almost forcing Crixus’ away, hips out of rhythm. Minutes. Barely that, and Varro was stilling behind him, a broken shout tearing from his lips. Crixus’ eyes widen feeling his hand slick with hot liquid that wasn’t his own. Varro shivers against him moving hand from cock to wrap around waist. Crixus was trying to process what had happened. Yet Varro had other plans rather than let Crixus come to grips with this, he starts pounding the toy into Crixus without mercy. Crixus has to catch himself on the bed before he falls face first against the corner of it. A wet sticky slap echos in the cell. The added texture more than enough for Crixus to rut into his hand spilling his own release onto the pathetic cloth he had as a blanket.

The two of them catch their breath for a moment. Silence hung between them for a few beats.

“Varro.” Crixus licks his lips a smile forming.

“Don’t say it.” Varro snips standing up quickly moving to clean them off.

“Someone has to.” Crixus was out right grinning at this point. Varro huffs handing him a damp cloth.

“ Someone needs to be careful the next few days. Apologies but I seemed to have gone overboard with your spanking. Although not without insistence from you.” Crixus grimaces feeling the soreness start to seep in. He removes the toy carefully before rolling onto this back. He winces at the sensitivity.

“Well….I didn’t-”

“Don’t.” Varro warns. Crixus chuckles looking at him. Varro was glaring at him a finger pointed down in Crixus’ direction.

“I understand why you prefer Spartacus.” Crixus nods. Varro folds his arms. Crixus bites back some laughter. “If you only last so long without him.”

“And there it is.” Crixus barks out a laugh when Varro throws up his hands. “Believe me when I say this Crixus; that part of this whole thing was a one time thing.” Crixus tucks his hands behind his head.

“So you’re telling me next time you’re not going to finish with just, what was it,”

“Don’t.”

“ Five strokes?” Varro sighs deeply bowing his head.

“I have never….found completion so quickly. I swear to you.” Crixus nods a shit eating grin on his face.

“Mh-hm.” Varro shakes his head finishing cleaning himself and the toys off. He grimaces glancing into the strap-on. Watching Crixus stretch his own hole had been his undoing. He was lucky he managed as much as he did. “Why were you asking forgiveness?” Crixus asks with a tilt of his head. Varro glances up.

“My terrible performance. I had wished to add to your bruising by force of hips alone, but that seems as if it is going to have to wait until next time.” Crixus blinks at him. The thought had his spent cock twitch in interest. Wait…

“Bruised?” Varro laughs loudly.

“Unless Domina suddenly wishes to try a strap of her own I think you should be safe. However do your best in the baths for a day or two. Suspicions would do neither of us well for now.” Crixus nods, his grin returning.

“Spartacus has never brought you to the edge so quickly then?” Varro pauses as he packs away their supplies. He could see the joy in Crixus’ eyes with the possibility of this notion. The absolute hope. Varro couldn’t help but beam at him.

“No Crixus. Only you.” Crixus smiles proudly settling onto his bed.

“Good.” Varro chuckles with a shake of his head. They both jumped at the knock on the door. “Who the fuck?” He growls. Varro steps to the side, just in case it was someone he didn’t trust. Like….anyone but Spartacus.

“Crixus!”

“Duro?” Oh goody. “It’s late. What the fuck-”

“Please I’m sorry, I know. It’s just….I awoke and my brother was missing. I can not find him.” Varro doesn’t have to look at the idiot’s face to know he was desperate. Crixus sighs heavily.

“Alright. Let’s go. The oaf is probably in the baths.” Varro nods. He has never seen Agron, it was Agron right, fully submerge into the stone tubs. Possibly wished to be alone to do so. Donar was like that oddly enough. Varro chuckles listening to the two walk away. How hilarious would it be if they found Agron with Donar? Locked in a passionate frenzy? Still chuckling Varro slips out of Crixus’ cell intent for his own. He had not realized how late it had gotten.

Chapter Text

Gannicus grimaces at the bright sunlight as he steps from his cell. Huffing, he stumbles over to the shade, cotton-mouth eager for some water. He shakes his head trying to ignore the ache as he takes his seat. Blinking, the Celt surveys the sands taking note that there was more recruits today than yesterday. He thinks. Maybe? In all honesty he couldn’t remember any of their names, but one of them looked different. Plus he thinks there was only three previously, now there seemed to be four. Had to have been a new one.

“Doctore,” He calls out blinking at the one that has been knocked on his ass. “I would work the palus, in the shade.” Doctore nods and motions to him with a twitch of the whip. Gannicus grins his relief stepping off to sneak some much needed drink.

“Fucking recruits.” he overhears Barca complaining to Oenomaus. He smirks happening to agree. They do get smaller. Gannicus continues his attack on the wooden man, continuously glancing to the new recruit. He wonders when the fucker was brought in. Had to have been sometime yesterday while he was getting rewarded. Gannicus chuckles remembering his night.

“Apologies.” The Celt was drawn from his thoughts when he hears Oenomaus speak to Barca. He has to tear his eyes off the newbie. Luckily he does so in time to see the Beast of Carthage get his ass handed to him. Gannicus knows better than to laugh, especially when Batiatus first compliments his friend, and then unknowingly insults him. Sending that new guy, fuck what did Dominus say his name was? Consus? Something like that. Gannicus nods to himself, remembering someone had mentioned to him that Batiatus bought a slave from Tullius. Why, he has no fucking clue.

“Gratitude.” Oh? “For your instructions.” Gannicus blinks staring at the distance. He had seen the man, but had never expected the voice to be so….deep and raspy. He couldn’t repress the snort when Oenomaus barely lifts a finger to have Consus on his back again.

The rest of the day was….unusual for Gannicus. Anytime he looks up from whatever it was he was doing, it seemed his gaze would fall on Crotos. Not that he could explain why. The bastard just seemed to be in his line of sight. Tan skin already glistening with sweat. The thought has him furrowing his brow. He couldn’t tell you who else in the Brotherhood was tanned. Sighing, he settles in for dinner, making light conversation with Barca as he and his man taint the recruits food.

“Have you sparred with that Gaul yet?” Barca glances up as he mixes. Auctus smirks at him,

“Which one?” The Grecian asks for the Beast.

“Fuck if I know his name. Consus? Chronos? Castus?” Auctus and Barca laugh loudly, enough to gain Gnaeus’ attention. Gannicus motions for the nosy Gladiator to shove off.

“Crixus. You drunken idiot. His name is Crixus. And he has no brains in his skull.” Barca chuckles deciding he was finished with the food with a satisfied nod.
Gannicus makes a mocking face and a laugh.

“Whatever his name, how does he fair? It’s been a while since a recruit showed any promise.” Auctus nudges Barca but gets an eye roll for his trouble.

“He could do alright, with proper training.” Barca mutters. Gannicus nods, glancing over at him again. Crixus was helping put away the logs, unlike the other three. Idiot pup was still diligently working. The man was shorter than the stack, and had to reach up on the tips of his toes to get the last one in place. Gannicus blinks realizing his eyes had trailed down the Gaul’s legs. Shaking his head he turns back to Barca.

“Ah well, we shall see.” Gannicus smacks both of them on the shoulders before heading towards his cell. He had a fight to prepare for in the morning anyways. There was wine to drink.He bids some of the others farewell, not wanting to pay too much attention to the recruits. Poor bastards. It was tradition to eat piss porridge. He remembers those days too well. Grinning to himself, Gannicus settles on his bed, jug in hand trying to remember the words to a song one of their dearly departed brothers had taught him when he was a recruit.
“Cock, rises? Fuck, that’s not right.” Gannicus grumbles taking a few swings thinking about his previous friend. He supposes he would ask Barca in the morning. Nodding, he strips out of his subligaria. Always preferring to sleep bare assed anyways. Chuckling Gannicus lets his mind wander over the events of the day. A lot has happened. All in a matter of hours. Frowning, he continues drinking. Hoping to forget a few moments, and interactions.
Especially that new recruit. The short one with the scruffy hair, and long legs, tan skin…
Crixus.

Gannicus falls back onto his bed unable to ignore the echo of the younger man’s voice in his ears. Glaring at the ceiling he takes a few more swigs. Only half noticing his cock hardening at the thought.

A couple more swigs. Some blinking.

“The fuck?” Gannicus looks down at himself raising an eyebrow. Must be the wine. He muses with a shake of his head. The Celt sighs thinking what a burden it is, to have so few women to please and such a-

“Rages!” He shouts in delight. Ecstatic that he remembers, Gannicus tosses something around his waist, deciding to honor his fallen brethren by shouting the song to the heavens!

Of course Oenomaus has to come and ruin all of his fun. Figures.

But his friend was right, as always. There was a street fight in the morning.

He was grinning from ear to ear as he was walking through the Ludus’ halls. Gannicus could only imagine the look on his brother’s faces when he came back victorious. Oenomaus would be proud. Barca would say something about being just as good. Crixus would stare at him with that damned awe struck look.
Gannicus frowns. Why should he give a damn and a half about how that little cunt looks at him. They haven’t said a word to each other directly just yet. Shaking his head, he steps through the door, pushing the thought aside.

He didn’t think that it would be such a big deal. Not his return, no he knew that would be an amazing ordeal. What he didn’t think he would notice so much was Crixus’ gaze. Gannicus could feel those dark brown eyes burning into his skin like a flame. He forces a smile while Oenomaus talks, trying to recall if he knows the color of anyone else’s eyes.

Melitta’s were brown too.

WINE, it was more than time for wine.

“For those that bare the mark, of course.” Gannicus laughs looking over his shoulder. He meant to just toss the statement back towards those who were not yet Gladiators, but seeing Crixus already looking at him, that threw him for a loop. As did his eyes, trailing down to the curve of Crixus’ ass of their own accord. As if he didn’t have better things to look at. Like wine and women.

“One day.” He hears the Gaul encourage the others. Like a true leader, a true Champion should. Blinking, Gannicus forces himself to turn away from Crixus, so he could be engulfed by the crowd of the brotherhood, moving to share in some wine and try to ignore the prickle he gets on the back of his neck. After the first few times he stopped turning around to meet Crixus’ gaze. The last time he did, it was an instant regret. The Gaul was halfway through undressing, ready to bathe while the Gladiators drank.

Now, Gannicus has obviously seen another man’s cock. They bathe, eat, sleep and fight together. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary. He just didn’t think the image of Crixus’ would be stuck in his mind four bottles of wine later as he tries to fall asleep thinking of future victories. It was rather annoying actually.

Chapter Text

It was ridiculous. Crixus blinks stupidly down at his hip as he washes himself off from the latest coupling with Lucretia. The damned thing was small. So simple. He’s made a few of them himself. He ignores the twitch of his cock thinking of Spartacus. And the ache in his heart thinking of Pietros and Barca. He could barely pretend that his stomach doesn’t twist, a blond smile flashing across his thoughts. A mark. He’s been…. marked . Curiously he looks down at the brand. The mark of the Brotherhood. Batiatus’ claim on Crixus. Shoulders heavy, his gaze finds his hip once more.

“Fuck.” He whispers stepping out of the baths. The rest of the Gladiators were going to rise soon. And he needed to have this covered before any saw. Briefly he wonders if Spartacus or Varro were going to mind seeing it.

Not that he had a chance to ask. Oenomaus was in a mood today. He was barking orders and hardly allowed any room for banter or chatter. It was no shock to have Varro paired with Spartacus. Having Agron pair with Donar was new. Usually the elder Rhine brother worked the pallus or bounced between Spartacus and Varro while Duro tried his best with Crixus.

Yet as always, it was all too easy to send the pup smacking against the wall. The dumbass only managing to block the next hit because Crixus had to dance out of Rhaskos’ way. Thrusting his sword almost in the entirely wrong direction. Crixus barely has to move a muscle to shove Duro behind him, not bothering to glance as he smacks the idiot across the back and ass with his sword.

The shout of surprised pain gave Crixus pause.

To his chagrin the simple act reminds him of the other night. Flashes of memory scorches across his mind, skin pebbling at the thought of Varro’s palm across his own backside.

Duro tries to swipe at him again. Easily parried, shield colliding with shield, shoving him backwards. Crixus lowers himself ready to sweep the pup off his feet, but was actually avoided. The little thing was able to jump out of the way. He could practically hear Barca laughing, suggesting all sorts of things Crixus could do with Duro’s long legs. Frustrated, Crixus makes a wide swing, bringing his shield down the second his arm was out of the way catching Duro’s sword to bring his own back. Hitting the younger on the back of the arm, mouth thinning at the lack of concentration. A heavy blow sends Duro bouncing backwards. Crixus notices he was light on his feet. Something that could be used to the man’s advantage should he take it.

Crixus sighs taking a step back, setting an easy trap. One Duro falls for. Lunging forward, allowing Crixus to all but slap the sword from the pup’s hand. Moron didn’t even have his guard up, watching in mild shock and terror as his weapon leaves him.

A hard kick to the chest was a hard lesson for the little bastard. Finally having the sense to use the shield, desperately clutching it with both hands Duro tries to stand his ground. Poor thing. Crixus was pent up, having been too long from the Arena his aggression was startling even to himself. Of course he knows of a curly haired Roman who could easily handle it. Pacify Crixus’ agitation and, well…. Crixus scowls, realizing he was wanting something specific. What he wasn’t sure of. Which was simply even more frustrating. And yeah, okay maybe he used more force than he meant with that next swing, sending Duro flailing onto his back.

He could feel Doctore watching him. Waiting for signs of struggle or distress. Crixus takes a deep breath stepping backwards. Idiot pup has never seen him fight properly. He should take a small amount of pity on him. The man has served him no insult or grievance anyways.

“This isn’t the arena .” Duro pouts sounding almost worried and confused. Crixus snorts. Agron truly spoiled the little thing.

“The world is my arena, pup.” Crixus explains with a twirl of his sword. Always one for a fair fight, Crixus stabs the wood into the sand. Duro makes a sort of aggravated shout, before literally throwing his shield at Crixus!

He was a little impressed. Not going to lie. It was easily blocked, however, as shocking as the move was. Crixus glares intimidatingly at Duro, slightly insulted by the pup’s stupidity. Duro slowly stands, eyes narrowing. Being from the East of the Rhine, Crixus wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t going to back down from a challenge. Although he should. The Gaul doesn’t miss Duro glancing at his brother, who has somehow moved from sparring with Donar to Hamilcar. Something Crixus was going to ask about later. Obviously, the brothers have had a discussion about situations like this if Duro’s squared shoulders meant anything.

Duro takes a few steps forward while Crixus drops his shield. Lip curling as he throws a punch. Crixus almost snorts at the attempt. Opening his arms and stepping back just enough to catch Duro around the middle as his fist misses Crixus’ face. His heart suddenly hammers having the solid, warm body pressed against his own. Without missing a beat Crixus tosses him away as if burned by the touch.

Something his freshly healed wounds strained against. Stunned, panting slightly he looks across the way to Doctore. Their eyes meet as Crixus turns around, always careful not to have his back to his opponent. Never again.

“Send me a man .” He growls, refusing to pay attention to his stirring cock.

Crixus doesn’t have to turn around to know two pairs of blue eyes were staring him down. Each belonging to a man worthy enough to fight him. To top him. Crixus blinks, his heart lurching at the thought. The sound of approaching footsteps causes him to turn around with hardly a glance at Duro.

Being slugged in the face by Agron was unexpected.

He recovers fast, whipping around, adrenaline spiking. Fucking cunt thinks he can just interrupt his fight? Crixus makes quick work of a one-two combination hit. Taller means nothing to him. He’s all too happy to take the lumbering tree down a peg. When Agron doesn’t do much more than take a step back before jabbing Crixus in the mid-section, Crixus realizes that, alright; the bitch knew how to brawl. A fist to the jaw makes Crixus blink, raising a hand to smack Agron’s arm, snatching it in his grip, gaining the advantage. If Agron was going to stay standing after a hit, then Crixus was going to let him. Practically holding him in place, Crixus lands two hits to the face. Agron swipes his free hand blocking a third.

Furious, Crixus simply slaps the utter shit out of him. The taller curls to soften the blow to the side of his head, leaving his right side open for a better hit. Gaining momentum, Crixus throws a jab of his own to Agron’s ribs, followed by a solid punch to the nose. An uppercut finally has the Rhine bitch on his back where he belongs. Blood seeping from his face covering his mouth. To Crixus’ surprise, he doesn’t hesitate to stand up again.

“Stand down!” Oenomaus’ voice carries over the noise around them. Crixus hesitates but freezes. Almost smirking at the death glare he was receiving. “Agron!” The older Rhine brother turns his scowl to Doctore. Not a smart choice. “Duro.” Crixus glances behind him, unsure of when the pup regained his stance. He almost feels bad for the way Duro was clutching his side.

“Enough.” Crixus sighs, Oenomaus’ voice softening as he looks at the younger. Crixus frowns wondering why they were both in trouble. Truly Agron’s dumbass was the only one at fault here.

Crixus bounces on his toes, hands still balled into fists, wondering if Doctore was going to have them both spar with Crixus. A smile curls his lips thinking about it. He could easily brag to Spartacus and Varro later if that was the case.

Apparently not.

“Haf rations for the rest of the week.” Oenomaus informs calmly. “Test my patience again, and I will see you both to the mines.” Crixus huffs as Agron walks away. Watching Duro pick up his sword and shield Crixus sighs, shoulders sagging with a shake of his head doing the same. Barely two weeks have passed since the pup has earned the mark. Has yet to step foot in the arena as he mentioned before. As a recruit and a new Gladiator, Crixus remembers wishing someone would take a small amount of pity on him. To show even a sliver of kindness and gentleness.

“You did well. For an idiot.” Crixus comments passing with a small pat on the shoulder. Duro makes a shocked sound catching Crixus’ attention. They stare at each other for a moment before Agron reaches over and starts dragging his brother away with a curse in his native tongue.

Crixus smirks giving a nod to Dominus as Batiatus heads out the gate, Ashur’s punk ass in tow. With nobody to spar with he makes his way over to get some water. His heart lifts noticing the two erm….well he doesn’t wish to call them his lovers but they were lovers nonetheless, standing around the basin.

Tucking his sword under his arm, Crixus takes Varro’s place while the Roman goes to ask Ashur something. Crixus allows himself a glance at the way Varro’s ass bounces when he walks. Clearing his throat he fills a cup.

“Your man has run afoot.” Spartacus’ man. He reminds himself. Just like Auctus was Barca’s.

Or Pietros was.

Crixus ignores his thoughts, deciding to bait the Thracian instead.

“Perhaps, you’d care for a real opponent.” He suggests looking up at Spartacus. Hoping intent was not missed as he drinks some water.

“Are you so eager to return to the Medicus?” Spartacus challenges right back, copying Crixus’ movement. Crixus raises his cup to snap something back about only going back there to visit the mad dog, but a guard stepped into view.

“Crixus. You are summoned.” Fuck. Right. Lucretia. How the hell was he supposed to get back into shape with the red-headed she devil taking up all of his spare time?

Crixus finds himself smiling despite himself. Slowly, ever so slowly, his life was going back to normal. Once he becomes Champion again, Spartacus and Varro will fall into the same position as Barca and Pietros had in his life, Lucretia would be a consistent thing, and even with the added bonus of Naevia! For the first time since Spartacus’ revival from the pits was Crixus’ life going his way.

Crixus was still smiling as he made his way up into the villa. Naevia meeting him at the top of the stairs. She politely smiles at the guard as the man walks away. Crixus watches him go before quickly gathering Naevia in his arms, stealing a heated kiss. She gasps clinging to him for a moment before pushing him off.

“You have lost the small amount of sense you posses.” She scolds. Crixus grins at her, noticing that her face betrays her words.

“Apologies. I’m simply in a wondrous mood.” Naevia shakes her head, looking slightly troubled. Crixus leans down as she turns her gaze away. “What is the matter, my love?” Naevia sighs.

“Nothing really. It’s just...I’m worried about Mira.” Who? “But there is nothing to be done. Go, deal with Domina.” She gives him a quick kiss. “Do your best.” Crixus grimaces turning the corner.

Black. Lucretia was wearing….black? Crixus racks his memory trying to remember if he’s ever seen her wearing the color outside a funeral or a mourning period. Definitely never up close. He couldn’t decide if he likes it or not. Not that it really matters. His cock barely stirs in interest as she wraps her arms around his neck. He remembers when they first started to enjoy each other. His interest seemed to show no end. Spending nights staring at the ceiling in awe that someone as beautiful as Lucretia enjoyed his touch. Crixus feels a little guilty about not even thinking her as all that pretty anymore. Was he shallow? Did he fall in love with Naevia simply because she was young and beautiful? He hopes not. Doesn’t think so. He enjoys her company. Their small chats, just as much as he enjoys their stolen kisses and quick fucks when they can manage them.

Crixus buries his face into Lucretia’s neck trying to focus. Willing himself to harden as he carries her to the bed. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. That much was certain. Not that he had a choice. Maybe he himself was getting old? If he had difficulties making his cock erect? Being honest with himself, he still finds Lucretia’s figure alluring. Knows that her welcoming cunt would still bring him to completion. It was more of her personality that he was starting to dislike.

Personality seemed to be key, now that he thinks about it. Crixus registers her moans, and groans. Her demands as he thrusts into her wet slit without much thought. But it was more like muscle memory to bend her the way she enjoys. Hips jerking as his mind wanders. Gannicus was all smiles and laughter. Barca was well, Barca. Firm but meant well. Pietros was just so caring and gentle. Naevia was a bleeding heart, she loved him more than anyone has ever before.

He refuses to consider Spartacus. The Thracian was a distraction and nothing more. A small comfort in lonely nights.

Varro on the other hand.

Crixus blinks, pulling back, his face uncomfortably hot. He braces the back of her knees on his shoulders, sweating slightly in his effort to keep pace. Varro was...protective. Tender. Firm. A thrill goes up Crixus’ spine thinking of how demanding the blond could be. A dominating nature that was so open for flexibility. Crixus moans thinking of that damn strap-on. The very thought has him leaking. It was a ghost of a real fuck. He shivers all too easily imagining how Varro would treat him without it. Open palms setting skin aflame, stinging his skin with every hit. Each across his ass.

Lucretia’s shouts brought him back to his task at hand and he was stunned to realize how close he was. Cursing under his breath, Crixus angles himself better, feeling her convulsing around him. He grunts roughly milking his own release with more effort than was necessary. Just like she enjoys. She slaps at him to unbend her. He complies easily, catching his breath.

“Tarry a while.” What? Crixus blinks at her, especially when she grabs his hand keeping his arm wrapped around her. This was …. Different. He glances up noticing Naevia wasn’t anywhere in sight. Lucretia planned this?

She asks him difficult questions. He had to choose his words carefully. Hating the memory of his, well, he won’t say defeat. Near death experience? That worked better.

In being honest he may have lead her to believe that his heart was where it wasn’t. But...there was something so raw in her eyes. It’s become apparent the last few months that Lucretia was starting to see Crixus as more than her personal sex toy. Disturbing. Not that he could discourage her. That would end in his death. Or worse.

“You are mine Crixus. Mine and mine alone.” Lucretia whispers, rolling forward, holding onto his arm. Crixus lies still staring at the back of her head, heart sinking. Even if he saved up all the gold in the world; Lucretia would never let him leave. Especially with Naevia. No matter Batiatus’ opinion.

Naevia collects Crixus a little while later. She seemed stiff. Crixus wonders if she had heard any of the conversation he had with Lucretia. Usually stuff like that left the young beauty in a foul mood. He waits until they were at the stairs before he stops her.

“Naevia?” He asks gently. She takes a deep breath and turns around to look up at him. Eyes flashing.

“Strip.” She demands. Crixus almost chokes, glancing up at the guard at the gate who looks just as stunned as the Gaul.

“Wh-what? Why-” Naevia huffs grabbing at his subligaria and lowering it. “Naevia!” He gasps startled. The guard, Saville, Crixus thinks his name is. Looks unsure of what to do.

“What’s that?” She snaps taking a step back and pointing. Crixus blinks, realizing his clothes were only lowered enough to expose his hips. He glances down at the bruise before looking up at her bewildered.

“A-a hell I don’t know what they are supposed to be called. It’s a mark. You saw it the other morning when Domina made it.” Naevia nods curtly.

“Exactly.” She hisses, shoving past him trying to go back up the stairs. Saville and Crixus glance at each other before the Gual takes the steps two at a time to catch her.

“Naevia, whatever grievance I have caused-”

“Do not dare apologize without knowing why!” She almost shouts. Crixus has decided that Naevia must have lost her damn mind. Acting the way she was. “I told you last night. The gods mock us. Having you without having you. Watching you parade around with that snake’s claim on your skin. It’s torture.” Naevia explains throwing her hands around, almost jabbing him in the hip as she points to the mark. Crixus could feel his head spinning. This was getting out of control. Either she was going to cause enough of a ruckus that Lucretia was going to hear of this. OR, Naevia was going to decide that this wasn’t worth it. That she was done with Crixus. Neither of these options were acceptable.

“Then make one of your own!” Crixus blurts out like a fucking idiot. Naevia scoffs at him. Originally when he said the words he wished to stick foot in mouth and bite. But now that he’s spoken them an idea was forming.

“We both know why I cannot.” She snips. Crixus blinks at her, settling his hands on her arms.

“No, listen. Make a mark; in the same place!” Naevia tilts her head.

“Add to her mark?” Crixus makes a frustrated noise.

“No. Mark over hers!” He could see when it registers. Elated, she kisses him with enough force to send him stepping backwards. Wrapping an arm around her, Crixus pulls them against the wall. He moans, his spent cock already stirring. Having Naevia this close to him always had sense fly from mind. Crixus gasps when she pulls away, her mouth finding every inch of skin she could reach. He forces himself to stand still, afraid of scaring her out of this new task. They never really have time to explore one another. Stealing moments of spare time when they could didn’t truly allow such things. Truly, just because she has had his cock didn’t mean she was no longer a virgin. Still so innocent in many things. Crixus swallows thickly when she sinks down onto her knees.

“Crixus, I-I’m not entirely sure h-how?” Her question falls short but Crixus chuckles.

“Bite, gently, and suck.” He instructs, loving the dark pink her cheeks turn at his words. As much as he would enjoy her covering Lucretia’s mark with her own, similar instructions could also be directed towards the right a little. Crixus forces himself to focus.

She nods and carefully uses her mouth to cover the bruise. Crixus hisses at the contact of her teeth. Nervously she looks up at him, but Crixus motions for her to continue. He glances down noticing the curiosity in her eyes. His breath hitches as she gives an experimental suck. His entire skin burns suddenly. His cock springing to life without hesitation, straining against his subligaria. Crixus bites his lip, his head hitting the wall with a thunk. Instinctively his hand tangles itself in her hair, when she tried to pull back. Reassured, Naevia becomes more insistent. Crixus could feel his legs shaking, her hands steadied on his thighs. If she continued on much longer he was going to embarrass himself to death.

“N-Naevia.” He whispers. She pulls back a small gasp escaping her lips.

“Did I hurt you?” She asks, her concern heartwarming.

“No, love. I simply did not wish to make fool of myself.” Her eyes widen but she stands all the same, righting his subligaria as she does.

“Apologies. For my behavior earlier. I am not myself this week.” Crixus smiles, trying not to laugh as he cups her face.

“You are always yourself. And look,” They both glance down as he lowers the cloth to show the mark. Darker than before. “Task met. Do not fear your passion. You hold my heart, and the flame of which burns fiercely and brightly.” Naevia blushes.

“Are you saying you did not mind my outburst?” Crixus beams kissing her nose.

“In honesty, I rather enjoyed it. Perhaps we shall try it again when we have more time?” He offers, wanting to encourage her to explore any avenue of her desires. Brightening, she nods and all but flounces back down the stairs. Saville and Crixus share a look, the guard looking a little relieved that they had returned, and pitying at Crixus. The Gaul nods at him. Women. Always so damned emotional.

He rejoins the men in time for midday meal. Noticing how they crowd around him. He smiles, and laughs with them. Eyes always returning to Varro and Spartacus. The only ones who have yet to engage in conversation with him. He knows that Varro was continuously looking towards the gate. Waiting for Ashur’s return. Probably paid the Syrian fuck to go check on his wife and child. Understandable. And so damned noble. Thoughtful and kind. Love sick.

Crixus shakes his head unable to stop grinning. Alright yes, he enjoyed the Roman’s company. Unlike so many others in the Brotherhood who would simply prefer it if the blond got himself killed. Romans weren’t exactly favored as gladiators. Crixus just couldn’t help it. Even with his skin tingling at the thought of what Naevia has done, his mind finds its way back to the other night.

Himself, Varro and Spartacus, all tangled together. The sound of his ass getting slapped. Crixus almost chokes on his spoon when his cock throbs at the memory. Was it possible? The simple motion was pleasurable but….did he truly enjoy it that much?

Crixus falls silent, letting the others around him talk and joke. Vaguely he spots the Rhine brothers in the back. The pup looking at him full of hope and wonder. The back of his neck prickles and his eyes slide back over to Varro.

The bastard winks at him.

Crixus scowls turning back to his meal. It was as if the man knew Crixus was thinking of him. Of his hands- Crixus drops his spoon and makes his way back to the sands to start attacking the pulvinus.

He was Crixus , the Undefeated Gaul. Soon to be once-again Champion of Capua. He did not enjoy being spanked! The very thought turns stomach.

And hardens cock.

Doctore was observant enough to not pair Crixus with anyone. Leaving him to attack the wooden man with fever. Crixus was thankful. He didn’t wish to focus on a real opponent. Rather to try and clear his mind. Not that this was working. Being by himself with just his thoughts, had him picturing all sorts of ways that Varro could have him. Bent over a bench, a bed, the baths. He knows what a punch and a slap to the back feels like when his skin was wet, he wonders if there would be an added sting to the blows should Varro punish him in the water. Furious with himself for not being able to rid himself of the thought Crixus ends up breaking his sword.

“Crixus.” He glares up at the pup. “Urm- I was just...gratitude. For instruction, earlier.” Crixus blinks, watching Duro scurry off back to Rhaskos and Hamilcar. Curious he glances around noticing that Agron was nowhere to be seen. Not that he cares. Huffing, he storms to the medicus for the ointment he would need to clean his wounds. Having this much sand and sweat in them, probably wasn’t a good thing. Mostly healed or not.

It wasn’t until after evening meal, in the baths did he see Agron again. Deciding to ignore both Germans, Crixus turns away from them, hoping that Spartacus and Varro would be too preoccupied with each other to question the bruise. Donar looks at it with a raised eyebrow but Crixus simply motions for him to suck cock. The taller man smirks but as usual says nothing.

“Fucking Gaul.” He hears Duro mutter. Donar and Crixus glance at each other,

“Turn your thoughts.” Agron is heard cautioning his brother. Crixus smirks at the blond who rolls his eyes and walks away. Apparently, Agron was so focused in his anger that he didn’t recognize the awe and longing in his brother’s voice. “I’ll have at him soon enough.” Or perhaps he did? Crixus ignores them, he has his wounds to clean after all.

He sinks down onto the bench, placing his feet into the water. His back wasn’t too happy with this motion, having exerted himself overly much today. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Duro saunter out. A lot more confident than he was a few weeks ago. Crixus realizes he was watching the pup’s ass and curses himself. Opting to continue cleaning the sand off of him. He almost forgot how tedious this was.

“You lie!” Crixus jolts, startled at the sudden shout. If he didn’t see Varro lift Ashur up and shove him against the wall he would not have believed the voice came from him.

“Varro!” Spartacus calls rushing forward. Crixus knows the Thracian wasn’t going to intervene, as Ashur explains himself.

The word blood sent Varro into a rage.

Crixus stares in shock watching the Roman, it was like a different person. Blinded by his anger he allows Ashur a few good hits, and even has them tumbling into the bath with a loud splash. Some of the other Gladiators with no hope for fortunes scramble to aide. Those who never favored Varro hold him down for Ashur to gain a few good hits before a few who despised the Syrian wrestles him away.

“Guards!” Oenomaus’ voice carries. Crixus was unsurprised to have Doctore separate the two. Varro, acting like a wild animal as he was dragged off. Crixus looks over to Spartacus who looked worried sick. Shaking his head, Crixus stands wrapping a towel around himself he makes his way over to the Thracian.

“Your man has run afoot.” He comments, once more.

“He has good reason.” Crixus snorts.

“Go comfort and calm him. I wish to discuss something with you in my cell afterwards.” Spartacus glances at Crixus before nodding and headed off after Varro. Crixus watches him go, feeling his stomach twisting into knots. It was never easy to talk with Spartacus. Never easy to voice thoughts, desires, fears. Fuck he doesn’t think he truly ever has! What the fuck was he thinking?

Crixus paces his cell for what feels like hours. But he knows by the flickering of the torches flames it has barely been a few minutes. Nervous. He, Crixus, the Undefeated Gaul, was nervous? He frowns at the ground turning on his heel. Absolutely ridiculous. It was just Spartacus. Crixus was gnawing on his lip when the door to his cell creaks open.

“Crixus?” He almost flinches. This was his idea and yet here he was. Taking a deep breath Crixus looks up at Spartacus.

“Spartacus. Gratitude for your appearance.” The Thracian raises an eyebrow, stepping inside. Crixus glances behind him, moving to shut the door himself.

“What’s this about?” Crixus shifts a little not able to look Spartacus in the eye.

How was he going to phrase this? He should have thought this through. It wasn’t even that important was it? Did he really need to know if that was a one time reaction? Crixus could feel his stomach twisting in knots. This was just Spartacus but….Crixus looks him up and down. It was; Spartacus. The man’s mood and mind shifted frequently. Did he trust the mad dog with this enough to tell him? He was brave enough wasn’t he? He could do this. Right?

“Crixus?” Their eyes finally meet and Crixus could feel what little bravado he built up just fall from his chest. He sighs heavily.

“I saw one of the house slaves leaving your cell the other night.” Spartacus raises an eyebrow. It wasn’t a lie. Crixus and Naevia had both seen the woman. Mira he thinks her name is. The thing was, he just...didn’t care. Lucretia still sleeps with Batiatus, Barca and Pietros consistently slept with each other. He gave no shits of Spartacus having a female lover. Especially one that resembled the Thracian woman as much as the slave did.

“She was sent because I am to lie with a Roman woman. Domina ,” the disdain wasn’t missed, “believes me incapable of holding back seed until the bitch is satisfied because I have been many months without a woman.” Crixus couldn’t help the ugly snort that escapes him. Spartacus grins.

“Well, we all know how lonesome it can get here.” Spartacus chuckles.

“Of course, everyone here just avoids me.”

“Doesn’t wish to be alone with you.”

“Not a soul can stand me.”

“It’s only because you’re so hideous.” The two of them burst into laughter, unable to continue with their own sarcastic thoughts. Crixus reaches forward wrapping an arm around Spartacus’ shoulders.

“All these strong able bodied gladiators surrounding me all day long, there’s just nothing to do.”

“Now if only there was a way for you to find some sort of relief surrounded by men as able as the Brotherhood.” He teases. Spartacus rolls his eyes nudging Crixus in the ribs.

“Imagine, if a man could get another man off the way a woman could.” Crixus’ grin quickly turns lecherous.

“Oh, I’m imagining it alright.” Spartacus tilts his head studying the Gaul’s face. There was a pause of silence before a smile slowly breaks across his face.

“And what exactly did you have in mind?”

Crixus felt a little bad. Here he was using the wall as support, Spartacus on his knees in front of him, while Varro was chained in the other room, worried to death about his wife and child. Once the man was out the two of them would have to soothe the Roman’s worries. Do anything to remind Varro that everything will work itself out, and that even if the worst is true, then they were still there for him.

“Fuck!” Crixus gasps when he hits the back of Spartacus’ throat. He glances down and makes a face at the smug look those blue eyes give him. “You’re a cunt.” Crixus snips down at him, no real heat to his words. Spartacus pulls back, tongue lapping as he does, never breaking eye contact.

“I’ve been told.” Crixus shakes his head a smile tugging at his lips. “What I have not been told is what that is.” Spartacus remarks with a poke to Crixus’ hip. Crixus grimaces a little. He should have mentioned that before this. Not that it was his fault when Spartacus starts kissing him like he was starving for it, a natural reaction was for thoughts to fly away and senses to be lost.

“As far as Lucretia knows it’s the mark she made on me this morning.” Spartacus raises an eyebrow. Looking like such a patient lover down on his knees like that. Crixus blinks a few times reminding himself to focus.

“As far as she knows?” Crixus shrugs.

“I may or may not have had Naevia cover it with her own.” He confesses, scratching the side of his face. Spartacus glances at it and back up.

“And is this a um,” Crixus feels his heart skip a beat when Spartacus licks his lips, “a Naevia only thing?”  They stare at each other for a moment.

“Is that something you’d like, Thracian?” Spartacus tilts his head again.

“I want to hear you say it, Crixus.” Crixus gulps, his heart thudding against his ribs. Never one to back down from a challenge, especially one Spartacus tosses at him.  

“Bite me, you bitch.”

As if he needed a reminder of Spartacus’ strength, the Thracian reaches behind Crixus putting the back of his thighs on the smaller man’s shoulders. Crixus blinks down at him, rather impressed. Not that he was going to tell Spartacus.

“If you insist.” Crixus shouts in surprise as Spartacus’ teeth sink into his already bruised hip. Briefly he wonders if it was necessary for both of the bastard’s hands to be groping Crixus’ ass. He doesn’t disway the notion let alone the motion, he simply questions it for a moment. Spartacus gives a quick squeeze as he works. Sucking carefully with a satisfied hum. Crixus bites his lip refusing to whimper. His cock was leaking, begging for some more attention. Instinctively he locks his ankles behind Spartacus’s head, arching his back while his hands tangle into the Thracian’s short hair. Nails scraping across his scalp, itching for someone to do the same to his own.

“S-Spartacus! Don’t be a dick.” Spartacus chuckles pulling back, teeth flashing up at Crixus.

“Eager are we?” He mocks, spreading Crixus’ cheeks enough for a finger to tap against his hole. Crixus whines flexing his entire lower half, holding Spartacus against him. Spartacus rubs small circles where he was, like he knows he was teasing him.

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you eager.” Crixus snaps at him. Spartacus laughs, helping lower Crixus back onto the ground.

“You going to teach me a lesson Crixus?” Spartacus takes the slap upside his head good naturedly.

“A much needed one it seems. Move you fucking rabbit.” Spartacus rolls his eyes.

“Yes, I know. I’m just so disrespectful.” Crixus stumbles when Spartacus grabs his arm, dragging him to the edge of the bed. “I get it. Now, for once shut up and let me handle you.” He whispers, gathering Crixus into his arms. Crixus blinks at him.

“You’re still a mouthy shit.” Spartacus winks crashing their mouths together, effectively stealing Crixus’ breath. With a moan, he allows himself to sink into Spartacus, parting his lips giving access for the Thracian’s tongue to tangle with his own. It was like a weight lifting off his shoulders to let Spartacus take charge. The amount of trust he held to have Spartacus lead him down onto his back, was startling.

“Fuck the gods, you drive me crazy.” Spartacus breathes out, grinding down against Crixus. Crixus shivers, writhing in time with Spartacus’ hips.

“Hurry up you shit. We haven’t got all night.” Crixus snarls, trying to ignore the panic rising in his chest. Trusted the Thracian? Sure the man was a good fuck, but he was still Crixus’ rival. The last time he trusted someone in the Brotherhood, well only the gods know what really happened to Barca. And the way Spartacus reacts? Went straight to Crixus’ cock.

“Fuck you have no idea what you do to me.” Crixus could feel a tremor of foreboding. The problem is, his idiot self loves hearing how wrecked Spartacus sounds so he doesn’t shut him up.

“Fuck.” He moans, Spartacus guiding him down onto the bed, all tender touches and hot kisses.

“The way you dominate Duro, when you challenge me at every turn. You’re so frustratingly gorgeous. So violent, and yet,” Spartacus wraps his skilled fingers around Crixus’ cock, drawing a whimper out, “such a good little submissive.” Crixus frowns slightly. A what? He doesn’t get a chance to dwell on it, Spartacus apparently a changed man, one who listens to directions, has made quick work coaxing precum from his cock.

“S-Spartacus,” He whines again.

“Hush precious Gaul.” Crixus feels a thrill run up his spine. “I’ll take care of you, worry not.” It had been a long day, and such promising words were almost his undoing. Crixus claws at Spartacus’ back, hips jerking in the Thracian’s grip.

“A-ah, ngh, Sp-Spart-ah-cus, damn you.” Spartacus murmurs something under his breath that Crixus couldn’t make out. “The fuck did you say?” He growls. Spartacus slides his way between Crixus’ thighs mouthing the side of his cock.

“Shush darling, I have you.” Crixus’ eyes open his hands falling away from the Thracian’s hair, where they found themselves,

“Wh-what?” Spartacus doesn’t elaborate, swallowing as much of Crixus’ cock as he could. “ Fuck !” He yelps gripping the edge of the bed tightly. He wasn’t lying. Spartacus had him. Nastily, dirtily. So damned wet. Crixus tosses his head back, mind reeling. The occasional slurping was fucking obscene. And it was driving Crixus over the edge. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying not to imagine Spartacus whispering in his ear, bending him over and just taking him here and there. The temptation was real, the urge to wrap his legs around Spartacus’ waist matching him thrust for thrust, guiding him to the right angle, listening to the Thracian just come apart. How he would just convulse in Crixus’ arms, feel Spartacus fill him so completely.

“Ah, Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck, Spartacus !” Crixus grabs Spartacus’ hair, hitting the back of his throat a few times, fueled by his own fantasies and the gagging noises the action of assaulting Spartacus’ mouth. Spartacus grips his thighs tightly, hollowing out his cheeks sucking on Crixus like his life depended on it. Crixus curses under his breath stuttering to a stop, muttering Spartacus’ name over and over again. Slowly Spartacus pulls up licking any excess he feels he’s missed.

“Damn Crixus. I almost forgot how good you tasted.” Crixus raises his head off the bed wide eyed staring at him. What kind of fucking-

“You’re on another level of crazy.” Spartacus makes a face. “Don’t tell me you actually enjoy the taste of-” Spartacus laughs gently slapping Crixus on the leg crawling his way up.

“Yes you ass. I do.” Crixus shakes his head.

“Psychopath.” Spartacus hums mouthing at Crixus’ neck.

“Perhaps. But one in desperate need of a hand, or a mouth. Even a cock.” It wasn’t a question. Crixus rolls his eyes.

“I’m only helping you because you brought me to completion and your man is still in time-out.” Spartacus laughs softly.

“I’ll remember that for next time.” Spartacus grabs a hold of Crixus’ wrist, guiding the Gaul’s hand down between his thighs. “Until then, make yourself useful.” Crixus sighs, exaggeratedly annoyed.

“If I must, to get you back to your own cell.” Spartacus barks a laugh reaching under him to grip Crixus’ ass.

“You could always-”

“No.” Crixus snips almost snatching Spartacus’ cock into his grip. Spartacus moans, resting his head on Crixus’ shoulder. Crixus bites his lip, leaning his head back a little to watch the Thracian. It was mesmerizing to see the way his pleasure was rolling over him. The way his eyebrows knit together, his jaw slack, lips red, glistening with spit from where he was biting it.

“You don’t have to sound so defensive.” Spartacus whispers, sliding a finger against his hole again. Crixus hisses when he was breached. “I know how much you enjoy that toy, I saw how well you took the strap. How pretty you looked falling apart from the inside out.” Crixus writhes, working his wrist as well as he could at this angle. Twisting and jerking at a pace he’s found that Spartacus enjoys. He found himself panting, thrusting down on Spartacus’ hand, silently encouraging more.

“Not as pretty as you, you cunt.” Spartacus buries his face into Crixus’ neck rutting into Crixus’ grip.

“Oh, but I had your cock. A very real, very hard, very flesh cock. Not a toy. I could show you how much better it can be. Just picture it Crixus.” He whispers harshly, his breath ghosting under his ear. Crixus keens as Spartacus adds a second digit. “I would stretch you, have you begging for it. Watch this delicious ass just bouncing off my cock.” Crixus shivers, rolling his hips in time with Spartacus’, swiping his thumb across the wet cockhead. “You already say my name so nicely. The beautiful way you arch when you finish. I can’t help but want you. Have you clenched down around me, pulling my own release from me. I could pull your hair to make sure you know what’s happening. The same way you want me to right now.” Spartacus teases. Crixus gives a warning squeeze. He’ll admit he enjoys listening, but it was starting to sound too much like Spartacus trying to convince him.

“Don’t pretend to know me.” Spartacus curls his fingers, moving the hand he had been using to support himself with to run his hand through Crixus’ hair.

“I don’t pretend.” Crixus jolts, Spartacus’ fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves with a twist. “I know you, and I know your body Crixus. I know how to make you scream.” Crixus leans into Spartacus’ grip. “And I can’t wait to do so.”

Frantically, the two work each other, almost in sync. Every so often one or the other bucking or jerking out of rhythm. Crixus grits his teeth determined not to give Spartacus what he wants. Like everything between them, it has turned into a battle. Fighting for a victory that would have both of them satisfied. Crixus spreads his legs lifting himself a little, pleased at the access Spartacus gains from this act. Spartacus was shaking, trying to prove that he was able to best Crixus.

“The rabbit shakes in my grip.” Spartacus curses under his breath. Crixus smirks, relishing in the way Spartacus gives him a glare, knowing it means the bastard was close to the edge.

“You’re a fucking tease.” Spartacus never plays fair. Does whatever he thinks will work to win. Crixus bites his lip when Spartacus tightens his grip. Crixus sucks in a harsh breath.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Crixus snips.

“Now, you know I can’t resist temptation.” Spartacus roughly yanks Crixus’ hair, forcing his head back, exposing his neck. “One day I will show you what I can do to you. Until then, why not enjoy what I can do right now.” Spartacus licks up the side of his neck scissoring his fingers, watching the way Crixus writhes.

Crixus could feel his self control slipping away. Favoring to use one hand on Spartacus’ cock and one on his own. Without any lubrication he knows he wasn’t going to get anything more from the Thracian, but having Spartacus finish and leave him in this state was just unacceptable. Something he doesn’t think would happen, but then again everything with Spartacus was a damn gamble. Mad dog was simply full of surprises.

If Crixus was a lesser Gladiator, or a moron, he would have been caught off guard by the sudden change of direction. The way Spartacus tries to rearrange their position was stopped short by Crixus’ instinct of fight or flight. They blink at each other for a moment before Spartacus gives him a reassuring smile. Without words, Crixus was convinced that whatever was planned was going to be something he enjoyed. Taking a breath, he gives a curt nod, wondering when the two of them had started being able to communicate without words.  

Almost instantly he regrets his consent.

Crixus grunts when he was all but tossed off the bed. The only reason the Gaul’ ass didn’t hit the stones was because of the death grip Spartacus held onto his short bristly hair. Pain erupts from his roots momentarily blinding him, tears springing into brown eyes, beyond his control. Crixus could feel his face flush with the not so subtle jerk of his hips. Cock absolutely in favor of this new form of torture.

“Treat the Roman woman this way and see an end to your life.” Crixus comments blankly. He’s not sure how he managed that with a straight face but damn it if he isn’t proud of that fact. Spartacus chuckles a little.

“Roman women do not enjoy sucking cock. Unlike a certain Undefeated Gaul I know.” Crixus’ eyes widen slightly at the accusation. A defense is on the tip of his tongue, even with eyes flickering towards Spartacus’ leaking erection.

“Says who?” Just stab him right now. That was the best he could come up with? If he ever says something that stupid again, Crixus was just going to walk right off the cliff.

“My experience.” Spartacus whispers, cupping the side of Crixus’ face keeping a hand tangled in his hair. “Now I know the stone can’t be comfortable for your knees. Be a good boy and make this fast. For your own sake.” Spartacus’ voice was an octave deeper than normal. Raspy like he’s swallowed a few swords. Crixus looks up at him, startled to see how wide Spartacus’ eyes were blown.  

“A please wouldn’t hurt.” Crixus huffs. Spartacus growls roughly, squeezing Crixus’ jaw until it opened wide.

“Neither would doing what you’re told.” Crixus could feel his bruised hip ache with its abuse, a reminder of what a dangerous game this could be. Eyes narrowed slightly, his tongue snakes out, flicking at the wet slit. Spartacus’ breath hitches. “Please.” His resolve instantly crumbling with just a simple act. Crixus could feel a small surge of control. Something he wasn’t exactly used to having in this position.

With a shrug, Crixus leans forward doing what he could to take Spartacus’ cock as far back into his mouth as he could manage. Spartacus shivers above him, releasing his hold on Crixus’ stroking his jaw comfortingly instead, murmuring reassurances and endearments. Crixus was fully prepared to make quick work of the Thracian. Pleasuring someone orally being something he was well equipped to do. Instead he gags on a shout; Spartacus wrenches Crixus’ hair, directing his skull like Crixus was a common whore. Carelessly hitting the back of his throat, ignoring the gurgled protests, and irate grunts.

Crixus could feel his face grow hot, a vein popping in his forehead. He feels as if he could drown in the excess drool. Hands supported on Spartacus’ thighs, he attempts to pull back, if only to breathe. Spartacus simply chases his mouth. Sounding more and more frantic with each sloppy thrust. He wishes the worst part could be the humiliation of being taken in such a basic way. A convenient hole and nothing more. Unfortunately, it seems the gods were punishing him. The thing that made all this horrible was the way his eyes fluttered closed. Spartacus pulling on his hair causing a muffled curse to fade into a broken moan. Cock at full attention with no permission to do so. Faintly he could taste the clear beaded liquid that practically weeps from Spartacus’ cock and Crixus’ stomach flips, eager for more.

Perhaps he wouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was if Spartacus would shut the fuck up. Accompanying his moans and whimpers was just a waterfall of praises. All focused on Crixus.

“Such a good job. Ah- ah . Ah fuck Crixus you’re so wonderful at that. So- ngh- so damned pretty. Perfect for me. Fuck, fuck .” It was maddening. To learn that he was starved for more. Insistently, Crixus bobs his head trying to match Spartacus’ brutal pace. Desperate for friction Crixus was thrusting into the air, silently begging Spartacus to keep talking. He doesn’t think he would last any longer between the positive affirmations and the hair pulling. Being manhandled the way he was, was a surprising twist that has every nerve in his body on edge. In the absolute best way.

“Jupiter’s cock, just think about how good you could be for me bent over. Just let me take over, spread those tan plump cheeks, and stretch that pretty hole of yours with my cock. Nya-ha, already so damn talented with your mouth. I could make you feel good too, you know I could. Fill you up just the way you crave it. The real thing is so much better than any cold marble Crixus-” Crixus’ nails dig into Spartacus’ thighs, a shiver running down his spine.

“Oh you thought I forgot, no love, I haven’t. Crixus .” Crixus jerks, gagging more than he meant to at that. Spartacus’ honeyed voice washing over him like an aphrodisiac. “Crixus, I would shout your name to the heavens! The gods shall know you by the time I’m through. Your tight heat sending me over the edge. Fuck Crixus!” Spartacus’ voice fades into a breathy chant of his name. Driving Crixus up the wall. He runs his tongue along the underside of Spartacus’ cock, jaw starting to strain with the effort to keep his teeth at a safe distance. Crixus mentally curses glancing up at the Thracian.

A wave of guilt passes through him quickly as he realizes there hasn’t been a prettier sight in his life than Spartacus splayed in reckless abandoned on his bed, pinning and whining for release. He prays forgiveness to Naevia for this. At the time he doesn’t question not even briefly thinking of a blond Celt. His momentary guilt bypassed for the thrill of watching Spartacus falling apart between his lips. Crixus groans, sliding a hand down, fisting his cockhead, hissing at the slight over stimulation.

“ Fuckfuckfuckfuck Crixus! Crixus I-I-ah -ah !” Spartacus bucks, the hand in his hair twisting. Crixus moans watching Spartacus bite his own arm, a muffled scream heard through the flesh. He works furiously to swallow the load. Hot, salty and slightly bitter Crixus feels his balls tightening up to his body, milking Spartacus for everything that he has. Damn he was so close it hurt. “ Crixus !” Spartacu shouts loudly, louder than safe, his back bowing, planting his feet flat and forcing every last inch of himself down Crixus’ throat. Crixus ruts into his own hand spilling over his fingers, coughing and gagging at the rough motion as he does.

Shakily, Spartacus pulls back, releasing his hold on Crixus’ head, one leg just falling off the side of the bed, dangling uselessly while he flops backwards onto the bed. Crixus uses his clean thumb to wipe the edges of his mouth, before he reaches over to his chest and uses an old rag to clean off his other hand.

“Feel better?” Crixus questions, his voice a little gruffier than normal. Spartacus hums, tossing an arm over his eyes. Crixus rolls his eyes at the small smile on the Thracian’s face.

“Do you?” The shit head teases. Crixus snorts.

“If I didn’t, you’d know it.” Spartacus peaks an eye at him, a mischievous glint setting Crixus’ nerves on edge.

“Sounds like a challenge.” He judges. Crixus sucks his teeth for a second.

“Perhaps not. We have a busy day on the morrow. Varro is going to need us both at full strength.” Crixus reminds him. Deflecting because of course he feels better. When was the last time he came twice in the same hour with the same partner? “Go to your cell you fuck. I shall see you in the morning.” Spartacus stretches lazily before nodding.

“Sure.” Crixus blinks staring at him.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Crixus huffs not finding the fuckers grin amusing.

“Your own cell?” Spartacus winks, patting the two inches of bed space next to him. Rolling his eyes Crixus strides over to the door and swings it open. “Out you ass. Regardless of favors or enjoyments shared you are still my rival and I will still regain my title from you.” Crixus points out. Spartacus pouts but slinks forward, snatching his towel off the floor as he does.

“You’re such a tight ass.” Spartacus whines, giving Crixus a light slap to his ass as he passes. Crixus jumps a little. Thankfully Spartacus didn’t see it. He watches the Thracian go down the hall before falling onto his bed. Now more confused than ever on what to do about this….was it a problem? He wouldn’t know until he tested it out. Why would he trust Spartacus as much as he realized he does earlier just to pussy out at the last minute. Crixus sighs, rolling over onto his side, mind wondering. And it always comes back to the same image. A curly blond Roman, bending Crixus over and just tearing up his ass. Black and blue hand prints littered across his skin.

With a moan, Crixus buries his face into the sad excuse he has for a pillow.

“Fucking Romans and Fucking Thracian's are going to be the death of me.”

Chapter Text

“This mark carries great honor. And even greater responsibility……...We are forever bound to each other. ” Lucretia’s words haunt her, echoing in her head as she hides in the corner, waiting for Domina and the Gaul to finish with each other. Greater responsibility indeed. Naevia hopes she becomes adept in lies quickly. Otherwise she wasn’t sure how she was ever going to look Batiatus in the eye. Not that she should be doing so, but that wasn’t the point. Sighing, she peeks around the doorway to see if it was safe. 

She squeaks, turning away quickly. 

No, no it was not. 

Naevia could feel her face growing hot simply thinking about what she had briefly noticed. The Gaul had Lucretia on her back, legs wrapped firmly around his waist as he- well Naevia doesn’t want to finish the thought. It was bad enough that they had started making noise. She shifts uncomfortably at the sound of skin on skin. It was...well, it was fucking gross. Shaking her head, Naevia fiddles with her dress embarrassed by the slight wetness between her thighs. She was a virgin but she wasn’t dead. By the gods does she miss Diona. It was ridiculous. 

“Off. I need to bathe your sweat off of me.” Lucretia’s voice was heard. 

Naevia sighs, rushing to make sure the water wasn’t too hot for Domina. Luckily one of the newer slaves, Mira if memory serves, was already on it. Relieved, she rushes back in time for Lucretia to emerge.

“Never speak of this to your Dominus. Understood?” Lucretia asks, for what seems like the hundredth time. 

“Yes Domina.” Naevia answers all the same. 

“Now, take a blade and a towel and go make the Gaul as much of a man as you can.” Confused, Naevia blinks as Lucretia walks away. She-she wants Naevia, Naevia to shave Crixus? Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she heads towards the stairs. She feels like she’s moving without thought. 

Before she knows it she’s at the gate to the Ludus staring at a guard. The man looks confused at her presence and Naevia feels like a fish out of water. Unsure on what to do or what to say. It had been less than three days since she became Lucretia’s personal body slave. Did she already hold the power to move about wherever she wishes so long as Domina says so? Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, Naevia addresses the man.

“D-Domina requires Crixus to be shaved and his hair cut.” The guard nods unlocking the door and motioning her inside. Eyes wide, she follows nervously.  

He was quiet. Demure. More like a house slave than a gladiator. Certainly he didn’t have an air of confidence surrounding him like Gannicus or Barca. Naevia frowns as she works. His hair was disgusting. A mix of sweat and sand. She was determined to rid him and herself of it. So yes maybe she cut it a little shorter than Domina probably thought, but it sort of suited him. Certainly brought out his eyes. Wide and...vacant. The man was obviously in deep thought. Naevia almost flinches as she starts on his beard. Well of course the man was in deep fucking thought! He was to fight in the opening games tomorrow! Not only was it a truly historical event; but there was always the high probability that the Gaul would die tomorrow. It was strange how she barely knew him and yet the thought of him dying saddens her. Being brutally killed for the entertainment of Romans? It was depressing. Maybe she should say something? Offer some comfort? 

A blush threatens to creep its way up her neck as she thinks of what women normally did to offer comfort to men. Ways Diona was forced to “comfort” guests. Not happening. For multiple reasons. Besides he doesn’t even know her name. A fact she was sure of. Shaking her head slightly, she wipes his face and neck with a concerned frown. But if she let him die without her saying anything, she knows it would become a regret. Fidgeting slightly, she mumbles,

“Good luck in the opening games tomorrow.” He blinks, looking up at her as if just realizing she was there. Naevia gathers up her shaving tools, rushing off. If Lucretia still thinks Crixus looks like an animal then there was no hope for the Gaul. The brief glance Naevia took of her work, gave her more of an idea of why Gaia thought he had potential. Why Lucretia was making all sorts of noise. The man was handsome . Naevia blushes all the way back up to Domina. 

“Does he look more like a man?” Was the first question she asks. Still soaking in her bath. Mira sitting on the edge using a sponge to wash her. 

“Yes, Domina.” Naevia responds moving to sit on her other side, helping Mira. 

“Excellent. We must remember to bring it up to my husband, that as Gladiators, they need to look more like Gods of the Arena. Not just animals. Lesser Ludus’ have mortals fight. Not our House.” Naevia gives Lucretia a small smile when the older woman gives her a glance. 

“Of course, Domina.” 

“Lucretia?” Batiatus’ voice carries through the villa. Naevia motions for Mira to run and grab some wine. This was the beginning of a long and embarrassing new position. In the future Naevia hopes that one day she will be able to even think about Lucretia and Crixus being….together, without her face turning red.

Chapter Text

Albinus smiles down at his only daughter encouragingly. He understands her nervousness. The past few weeks all anyone has been talking about is how the wealthiest man in Rome was coming to their house for a visit and bringing his cousin. A female cousin who was just about the same age as Ilithyia! He's found her a friend, and more importantly he has found a way to gain the favor of Marcus Crassus. Something much needed if he was going to get out of the debt he found his way in. Lesson learned. Never bet against the young Gaius Julius Caesar. 

"Excuse me, sir. Marcus Crassus and his company arrive." Beaming he nods and waves the little girl off. 

"Now, then. Ilithyia; you remember what I have told you? About being on your best behavior. And keeping your head down while around Marcus." His daughter nods not quite looking him in the eye. He understands she is disappointed and if Crassus wasn't already married he would have tried to convince her to seduce the man. "And you recall what I have asked of you to do with his cousin." She almost slips and rolls her eyes. 

"Yes, Daddy. Become her best friend in the whole world. I know. You worry overly much. Truly, I am a marvel and the girl will adore me. Just as the rest of the noble ladies do." Ilithyia announces, kissing his cheek and flouncing off. Albinus sighs heavily with a shake of his head. 

"If Licinia feels about you the way the rest of them do then we are doomed." He follows his daughter into the foyer, and puts on his brightest smile. As a politician, it was almost second nature to kiss ass. And he was well versed in the task. 

The four of them take a few moments for the pleasantries. Introducing Marcus to Ilithyia, Albinus meeting Licinia, and of course the girls exchanging hellos, and how do you dos. It was all so boring. Ilithyia, was momentarily intrigued by the elder Crassus. Her taste having always ran towards the elder and the powerful. However, when she shook Licinia's hand, there was just...something in the girl's sapphire eyes that made her breath hitch. A hunger that Ilithyia has only scratched the surface of in men. Or herself. It made her thighs slick, and Ilithyia found herself forgetting to blink as they continued polite chatter. 

"Apologies, the girls probably don't wish to hear our business discussions." Marcus' voice suddenly cuts through the fog of Ilithyia's memorization. 

"Oh, you are correct. Ladies, please do excuse us. We will be in my office. Ilithyia will you please make sure that Licinia is well attended?" Ilithyia blinks, turning from her father back to Licinia. A slow, wide smile spreads across her face as her heart skips at least three beats. 

"Attending her will be my personal pleasure." She emphasizes. Licinia's smile was briefly predatory before she laughs. 

"How wonderful of you. Come, I would just adore a tour of your humble abode." Ilithyia falters for a second, trying to think what about her lavish lifestyle was "humble." But she shrugs, figuring that Licinia was just being modest. She catches up to the other blonde looping their arms together.

"Absolutely. There are more than one specific locations I would just love to show you."    

Ilithyia couldn't recall a more surreal, or pleasant time being held in her own home. Time seemed meaningless when she was with Licinia. Her smile felt like it made the world around her stop. Ilithyia wasn't exactly a romantic but there was no doubt in her mind that by the time Licinia was done touring her house that Ilithyia was wrapped around her little finger. The girl was simply fantastic. Laughing at Ilithyia's jokes, tittering over the very things Ilithyia adores about some scenery or whichever. Agreeing with her that the tapestry on the second floor was ghastly and needed to be set on fire. 

"What's down there?" Licinia asks as they pass a dark hallway. Ilithyia blinks turning to look where her guest was pointing. 

"Hmm? Oh, the servants use that to sneak about unseen when we have parties. No need for anybody to step on each other. Especially when the poor things are just trying to do their jobs." Licinia laughs loudly at the explanation. A shiver runs down Ilithyia's spine. It was the same sound as before...but different. 

"The "poor things"? Aha, my you are just a simple little thing aren't you?" Ilithyia blinks tilting her head, 

"I-wha-"

"Nothing more than a bleeding heart, I take it." Licinia giggles swaying her way closer to the passage. 

"Um, I'm afraid I don't quite understa-"

"But of course that's one of the things that makes you so utterly adorable." Ilithyia perks up. Licinia thinks she's adorable?

"Well, it cost nothing to be a decent person." She states folding her hands behind her back. Head lowered with a soft smile. 

"When you have little money to spend I suppose that's true." Licinia calls over her shoulder. Ilithyia bristles hesitating before following her. 

"Nobody is as wealthy as your cousin that much is of course not discredited. However my father and I are not some low level family with nothing but a name." Ilithyia defends having to turn sideways to wiggle through. The narrow hall widened a few steps later. A circular room with different hallways leading off in all sorts of directions. 

Knowing what this was and being in it were two different things. The two blonde ladies spin in a circle their eyes wide and mouths open. The place was, well; spectacular. Walls were carved smooth, small holes filtered in light, and symbols were above each arch way. They made no sense to either of the girls, but it must have been the location to where the halls lead. 

"How old is your family name again?" Licinia questions when they come to a stop face to face. 

"My father's name comes from at least three different nobles. One of which predates the empire. But I did not think this house has been in our family for that long." Ilithyia answers staring at the ceiling. There was carvings in it, but she couldn't tell what they were. 

"This place is rather private, isn't it?" Licinia points out looking around. Ilithyia raises an eyebrow finally focusing on Licinia again. Something shifted in the air, and Ilithyia could feel her pulse quicken. 

"It would appear so." Ilithyia agrees, trying to hide her smile. Licinia grins, taking a step forward, crowding Ilithyia's space. 

"I wonder how many times the slaves took advantage of this place." Ilithyia unconsciously licks her lips hand twitching. 

"A-advantage? How?" A blush creeps up her cheeks the way Licinia runs her hands down Ilithyia's shoulders suddenly. 

"Your father keeps you sheltered, doesn't he?" Licinia breathes, leaning in and ghosting a kiss on her neck. Ilithyia shivers reaching out to grip Licinia by the waist. 

"He tries." Ilithyia has no idea how she managed to sound so steady, especially when her legs felt so weak. 

"I do hope you don't allow him to do so." Licina speaks as she walks them backwards, until Ilithyia's back hits the wall. "Because you are much too passionate for a life so dull and simple as sheltered."

"P-passionate?" She asks while Licinia's hands trail up and down Ilithyia's sides, hips, stomach, thighs. She suddenly felt like her skin was on fire. Something carnal deep within her clawing its way out through Licinia's touch. Everything was hot, and between her legs was a little damp. Something Ilithyia was deeply confused about. Even in her nervousness she was fully aware she did not piss herself. Perhaps her flow started prematurely.

All her thoughts were tangling together, being drowned out by the insistent need to Licinia too keep touching her. A fairly sad whimper escapes her lips when Licinia shifts her grip using Ilithyia's dress to trace a finger down her slit. Her heart was going to explode the rate it was beating. Air seemed to be unable to process through her lungs and Ilithyia swears her knees were about to give out and send her hurtling to the ground like a pathetic child. 

"And wet." Licinia preens pulling her finger back and sliding it underneath her own nose. Ilithyia blinks watching her inhale. "Delicious. Maybe next time my visit will be longer and I'll get to taste your little whore cunt, won't I?" Licinia prattles on, sounding delighted. 

"Whore?" Ilithyia echos a frown replacing her shocked expression. Licinia gives her a quick smile, quirking her eyebrows before turning on her heal and waltzing down the hallway. "I-wha-Licinia!" Ilithyia calls out following. 

The two all but burst out into the main way, coming across Marcus and her father. The two looked a little rosy in the cheeks, but otherwise satisfied. Meaning their business had come to an end. Or so Ilithyia has gathered from Albinus' other transactions. She plasters on a polite smile, a sinking feeling in her stomach as Licinia gives a brilliant grin. Her heart still misses a few beats when she does it though. Blue eyes almost glowing in outright delight. Ilithyia clenches her teeth keeping the bile in her throat. It's not like she can accuse Licinia of calling Ilithyia a whore in front of the men. Marcus would be insulted as would Ilithyia's father and she would have to explain why she thinks Licinia said such an awful thing about her. No. She was going to have to wait until next time. 

"Do come again soon." Ilithyia pleads taking both of Licinia's hands in her own, proper kisses to both cheeks as a departing gesture. Licinia beams.

"Oh," A soft giggle leaning in, eyes locked, "I plan to." Ilithyia opens her mouth to respond, but Licinia laughs, locking arms with Marcus and walking out of the door without a care in the world. 

"I trust you enjoyed Licinia's company?" Albinus asks. Ilithyia folds her hands in front of herself with a curt nod. 

"Yes father. It was a most...interesting time."  

Chapter Text

"Crixus. You are summoned." Crixus makes a face looking down at his wounds. There was no way Lucretia expected him to be able to please her like this. It's been days since he was allowed out of bed. His heart constricts realizing Pietros has been dead for less than a week. He blinks back tears as he follows the guard up the stairs. Mere days since finding the marble in his cell. Crixus was so lost in thought he doesn't even insult Ashur as he passes. 

Wait.

The guard huffs when Crixus stops suddenly. Looking over his shoulder Crixus tries to recall if there was a time since the opening of the new arena that Batiatus went anywhere without the Syrian. He cannot find a memory of it. Meaning it wasn't Lucretia who summoned him! Fear momentarily over comes his grief. Was Batiatus tired of waiting? Was he going to decide to not let Crixus be a gladiator anymore? Was he being sold to the mines? To a different master? Or worse? Was he going to be like Ashur?! Following Batiatus around waiting on him hand and foot like a common fucking house slave? Sitting on the side lines watching Spartacus and the like fight and die gloriously, with honor while he wasted away. Forgotten by history. 

Blood drains from his face, making his stomach turn over and having him sway on his feet. This couldn't be happening. Crixus prays to every god to not let this be. The guard gives him a nudge urging him forward. It felt suddenly as if he was marching towards his death. Breathing shallow he rounds the corner, a cold sweat breaking across his skin as Batiatus comes into view. 

"Ah, Crixus." A not so subtle nod to the guard to leave them be. It was worse than Crixus thought. "Apologies, I know you need your rest."

"I am well enough to resume training Dominus." Crixus blurts out ignoring the pain in his still bandaged side. Batiatus chuckles.

"Eager, is not the same as healed Crixus. Head the medicus. I simply have a personal matter to discuss with you." Oh. Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh, Batiatus knows about Lucretia and Crixus. He's going to die. This was it. The end of Crixus. Batiatus was either going to kill him personally or have him thrown off the cliff. Does he deny sleeping with her? Does he explain that he was forced? Out right admit it? What does he do? Begging was out of the question but the urge to plead Batiatus to kill Lucretia instead of him was rather tempting. 

"Personal?" He questions doing what he could to remain calm. And standing. 

"Hmm," Batiatus takes a swig of wine. "Barca." Barca? "You and Pietros were the closest to him. Gods rest to the boy." Crixus swallows a lump in his throat, feeling more alone than he has since being bought from Tullius. 

"They are both missed dearly." He admits shoulders sagging more tears swimming across his vision. Batiatus makes an awkward noise but they remain silent for a moment. 

"Yes, well...Barca had intended for Pietros to join him after a while. And had expected the boy to bring their things." He did? That didn't sound like Barca. 

"You have spoken to him? Since his departure?" Crixus asks surprised. If Barca was writing why did he not send letter to Pietros? Or to Crixus? His heart falls thinking that maybe the two were using Crixus separately. Pietros for protection and Barca as distraction. Batiatus sways a little not looking directly at Crixus. 

"I have. I sent word about Pietros' death. He requested all of their things to be sorted. Mentioned that perhaps you would find something of use of their things and to discard the rest. He does not wish for memories of a love that will never join him." That sounded more like Barca. Maybe Batiatus was telling the truth. Crixus blinks at him.

"So, I am to clean out their cell?" That's why he was here? Batiatus nods again. 

"If you would be so kind. You knew them best." Crixus lowers his head with a solemn nod. 

"Although I fear I did not know them at all." He whispers. Batiatus makes a confused face but clears his throat. 

"Ah-huh. At any rate. I should allow you to get to your task. The sooner it is completed the sooner you can rest." Crixus nods again noticing the guard returning. Waiting patiently to escort Crixus back to the Ludus. Crixus turns and follows without another word. He briefly smiles at Naevia as they pass each other in the hall. She looked confused and concerned but he couldn't bring himself to stop and explain at the moment. Once returned to the other side of the gate he was free to go unencumbered.

Blindly he weaves his way through the men. Nodding here and there. Brushing off a hand or two. He ignores his name being called. Earns a glare from the elder Rhine brother recruit for giving the younger a small shove out of his way. The day itself was hot, but Crixus doesn't remember a time he was ever so cold. Numb from the inside out as he makes his way down the familiar hallway. How many times has he come this way with a smile on his face? How many nights has he snuck back to his own cell after finding completion with his lovers? How many nights did he stay later than safe to cuddle up between them? The days that had passed and the three of them laughing on their way to breakfast? Barca teasing Crixus about missing Gannicus, Crixus whispering tales of Auctus to Pietros when Barca was asleep or out with Batiatus. A few short years held so many dear memories that Crixus hadn't realized would some day be just that. Memories. 

His face was already stained with the tears he could no longer hold back by the time he was standing in front of the door. It was too quiet. Pietros having set the birds free before he had freed himself. The silence was crushing around him and Crixus was unsure on how he was going to be able to do this.  In theory he could always get someone else to do so. Claim that it was beyond his station. Or perhaps simply ask one of the more friendly of the brotherhood to accompany him. But that felt too much like exposing himself. A long kept secret that needed to stay that way. Bowing his head, Crixus slowly opens the door horribly reminded of talking to Barca after Auctus' death. 

Feathers were everywhere. The crates, all emptied and scattered. The bed over turned and cloth that was meant to be blankets were thrown carelessly. The rope which he was told Pietros used to hang himself was thankfully removed. A deed born of desperation... because of Gneaus. Whatever he had told Spartacus, he was glad the bastard was dead. Only upset that he was unable to kill the cunt himself. A broken sob escapes him as he wonders for what feels like the hundredth time why Pietros did not come visit him. Why he did not seek comfort and protection? What he wouldn't give to hold that delicate frame just one more time. To feel him relax under touch and bring reassurance through loving gaze. 

Crixus sinks down onto the ground his grief over whelming him. 

He doesn't know how long he allowed himself to cry. Longer than was safe, probably if the setting sun was any indication. He just couldn't find it in him to care. Taking a shaky breath, Crixus stands and lights the candles. It was obvious that they hadn't been in a few days. Since before Pietros' death, Crixus would guess. With a sniff he begins his work. The bed was set against the spare wall, and one by one Crixus carted the grates out. Setting them out on the training sands glaring at anyone who tried to question him. It didn't take long for the others to leave him alone. Oenomaus giving him a sympathetic look. Having known Barca longer than Crixus the Gaul briefly wonders why it was not Doctore cleaning out the cell. Then again, as a Doctore, Oenomaus wasn't allowed to "be close" to any of the Gladiators. So that made sense. 

Crixus scowls realizing Batiatus more than likely had Pietros' body quickly burned in the night or thrown off the cliff. Slaves didn't get proper funerals. Spartacus' wife only given one because of his station. He recalls Oenomaus' wife having one when she passed. Fury rolls over his sadness as he carries the last crate. Spartacus and Varro look up as Crixus storms close to them. But he ignore them.

"Crixus?" Spartacus calls, confused when Crixus snatches a torch off the wall. Crixus doesn't bother even looking at them. With a cry of despair Crixus chucks the flame as hard as he could at the stack of wood cages. Grimacing and panting at the effort. He was momentarily surprised when Rhaskos and Donar stood next to him, pulling out their swords and giving off a salute. He shouldn't have been. The two were close to Barca in a way. And Pietros was kind to most everyone. One by one, each of the men came out onto the sand. Some gathering swords, practice and steel, others simply clasping their hands. Even Oenomaus steps out, looking towards the now blazing fire with a sense of regret. Crixus could feel his shoulders slump as he takes a deep breath. It was a rather heavy silence. 

He doesn't wait until the bonfire turned to ash before disappearing back into the halls. There was more to their cell than just bird cages after all. 

It was more...tedious of a task than anticipated. Crixus wonders if it was due to being numb again. His grief having strung him out the past few hours. Face still stained from his earlier crying session. As a gladiator he often faces death and never fears a glorious one. However, Crixus wonders if he has ever felt as welcoming for the cold clammy hands of the reaper as he does now. Loneliness was an awful thing. He muses as he sweeps. Having asked Naevia to acquire him some cleaning supplies was a low point in his career. One he hopes never to be repeated. She had tried to question him but accepted Crixus' plea of explaining later. 

Shaking his head Crixus sighs again turning so he could move the bed back to its proper location. It was odd to be sentimental over a piece of wood. Yet touching the frame felt wrong as he pulls it towards him. Crixus pauses hearing stone shift. Grimacing he stands on his toes to peak over the top of the bed to look at the wall. 

"Fuck." He grumbles noticing a brick near the ceiling was loose. Did he throw the bed against the wall? Did Pietros throw a crate? How long has it been like this? Making a face, Crixus sets the bed to the side, but close enough so he could use it as a stool of sorts. Maybe if he just pushes it back further it would be alright. It's not like the next person to occupy this cell was going to have anything to bang against the wall after all. Crixus checks the edges before giving the face of the stone a shove. A couple of chinking sounds and the block lifting a little was all he achieved for his effort. Glaring now, he tries both hands. 

And almost dies in the attempt. Gasping at the sudden pain in his side from having to catch his suddenly thrown off balance Crixus leans against the wall for a moment. He takes a couple of breathes directing his scowl back at the loose rock. Why wont the stupid thing go back? Crixus chews his lip as his breathing goes back to normal. Brain over brawn he supposes. Rolling his eyes Crixus wiggles to stone forward grunting at the effort to set it on the ground. It was heavier than it looked and his wounds screamed at him for the over exertion. He was panting by the time he stood up straight again. Looking into the hole in the wall with a bit of resentment. 

Although that was quickly changed to confusion. 

In the space was a little wooden box Crixus has never seen before. With a frown he carefully removes it trying to figure out why Barca would hide something from him and Pietros. He knows Pietros didn't know about this because the boy is- was...the boy was terrible at keeping a secret. Crixus sighs once more settling down onto the bed to dig through the box. Perhaps this was Auctus'? Which would explain why it was left when Barca did? Crixus hums in thought flicking the lid open. 

Paper. 

A large stack of-oh no wait, they were letters. Nodding Crixus pulls the stack out opting to start from the bottom. This had to be Auctus' then. He's never seen Barca receive a letter from anybody. He idly wonders who these were from as he begins to read them.

Chapter Text

It's been three days since the Rhine brother earned their marks. Three days since Donar has spoken a word to either of them. And yet he can't seem to tear his eyes off Agron. There was something about the man that caught his attention. It was rather frustrating. True, Crixus was yet back to the sands. They still had a little over a week before that happened. So as of right this moment, the brothers were usually paired together. Doctore clearly believes that Agron had the most potential out of the two of, since he would occasionally get paired off with Spartacus, or Hamilcar, or even Rhaskos while, Donar and some of the other lesser men that Donar forgets the names of get paired with Duro. And Donar for one believes that Duro was getting better each day. Still not quite on par with his brother but getting there. It was only when Crixus crawls out of the medicus, almost literally, when he starts fucking up.

Today for instance. The sun was almost high in the sky and Crixus had yet to emerge. Duro was dodging every swipe that Donar sent his way. Ducked under every attemp to use his shield. All morning Donar had been unable to land a single hit on the younger. It was really impressive. He hopes Agron was proud of his younget brother because Donar was for once. Even with doing his best to keep his eyes on his sparring partner instead of the angry monster that has been haunting his dreams since first stepping through the fucking gate. 

Donar shakes his head to keep his focus. Side stepping Duro's current attempt and doing what he can to keep them away from the ledge. He's noticed that neither of the Rhine brother's seem to be even the least bit weary or the cliff. An admirable trait that Barca himself would have pointed out. Perhaps Donar could help Duro get closer to Crixus with this information? If he was not so worried that the man would send Duro to his death by accident. Letting the "pup" as he was not so affectionately called stare dewy eyed as he did. Donar grimaces looking towards the Medicus as he thinks.

"Don't get distracted." Donar snips, for once seeing the "Undefeated" Gaul before Duro does. The younger huffs insulted by Donar's instructions. 

"I am not distracted so easily." Duro snaps back taking a swipe with his sword. Leaving his left flank open. Donar sighs internally dodging the wooden blade with ease and cracking a hit at the exposed flesh. Duro yelps stumbling around. Donar's mouth thins watching him regain his balance. Shaking his head Donar glances around at the fellow gladiators. Crixus in the shadows glaring, Spartacus and Varro judging the rest of them by the water barrel, Oenomaus instructing Ashur on something. Agron on the other hand.

Donar almost groans out loud noticing the elder Rhine beating at the palus all by himself. Righteous fury dictating every swing, every blow. Sun beating down on tan skin showing off the sweat of his labors. Muscles drawn tight when he pulls back his arm ready to destroy the wooden man with sheer force alone. It simply wasn't fair for the man to look that damn desirable while looking that fucking angry.

Thunk

Donar stumbles forward shock echoing through his body before the pain erupts from the back of his head. His ears were ringing a little so it was difficult to differentiate if he had lost some hearing or if those around him had stopped to stare. 

"The fuck-" Donar whispers to himself the palm of his hand covering the base of his skull.

"Speak for fucking self about falling to distractions. " Duro's boyish delight cuts through Donar's stunned mind. He turns around eyes widening while Duro smirks smugly. 

"Careful boy. I do not fear your brothers wrath as some of the others do." Donar warns taking a step forward. 

"Was it brother's sword that caused your stumble?" Duro pouts squaring his shoulders. Donar's mouth thins his grip tightening on his own wooden weapon.

Doctore cracks his whip indicating mid-day meal. Donar glances back at him before facing Duro again. 

"Something to never be repeated." He promises before straightening up with a friendly smile. 

"Duro." Agron's voice floats over shoulder causing Duro to flinch. "Donar." The less friendly greeting was met with a shining grin.

"You should be proud of your brother today Agron." Donar praises patting Duro on the shoulder. The younger buckles a little under the amount of force used. "He fought well today and even managed a hard blow." Agron briefly smiles at Duro before frowning up at Donar. 

"Indeed. Did you not hear Doctore instructing you to the medicus?" Agron asks leaning to look at the base of Donar's cranium. Donar blinks surprised to be getting any of Agron's attention. 

"No. It was just one quick hit I was unaware-" Donar looks down at the hand he had used earlier and was shocked to see it covered in blood. "Ah. Well. That makes sense." He nods with the increasing sense of dizziness. Donar looks up blinking at the sudden brightness around him noticing the amount of people encircling him.  

"I'm fucked." Duro whispers watching the blond sway. Donar smiles down at Agron who instinctively slapped a hand on Donar's lower back to steady him. 

"Medicus it is then." He agrees cheerfully allowing Agron to lead him off. Donar barely registered that Duro was glared into staying put or that the others were waved away. He wonders if seeing blots of color was a good sign or not. But the ringing in his ears had lessened so that had to be a positive thing.

"The fuck hit you? A fucking helmet?" Medicus demands making Donar sit down. Agron seems to be struggling on if he should beam or cringe. Donar grunts in response.

"Lucky hit. Long over due." Agron supplies instead. Medicus motions for Agron to stand in front. 

"Hold him steady." Medicus instructs. Donar, who is used to being the helper, follows instruction without hesitation. Grabbing Agron by the hips to keep him in place between his knees. 

Agron pauses looking down at him. It has to be blood loss to make the man so bold. Clearing his throat he takes the sides of Donar's head in his hand bending his neck down so the man was staring at the ground. He almost winces at the amount of blood staining the blond hair. It took medicus a few tries to get rid of enough to find the actual wound.

It was a rather nasty gash once it was discovered. Agron frowns deeply watching the medicus wash it and sew it up. Duro's wooden sword did that. And before he had see the blood Agron was really excited about his brother landing such a solid blow. Even with his own anger issue Agron thinks this was a little over board. Glancing out the door he notices Crixus glance in before disappearing from sight. Agron narrows his eyes wondering if maybe Duro had used extra force not out of spite or anger but as a way to prove himself to somebody. Hurting Donar in such a malicious manner wasn't something his younger brother normally did. Let alone attack from behind. No this was definitely the Gaul's fault.

"A full days rest. What a bunch of bullshit." Donar growls as he storms to the benches. Agron chuckles behind him. 

"Should not have fallen to distraction." Donar whirls around wild eyed. Was...was that flirting? 

"And what," he steps closer enjoying not having to bend down or even crane his neck too low to look Agron dead in the eye, "would I have to be distracted by I wonder?" Donar challenges. He could be mistaken. It could be a trick of the light but he thinks Agron's cheeks turned pink.

"Whatever the fuck you and Duro were chatting about like a couple of women." Agron retorts defensively. Donar licks his lips tilting his head.

"You were watching? Should you have not kept mind to task on defeating your wooden opponent?" Donar questions wondering how he got lucky enough to have Agron to himself.

"Agron!" Duro calls from the end of the corridor. Donar makes a face looking at the wall. No luck. He has no luck whatsoever. 

"Coming brother!" Agron hollers back scootching around Donar and rushing off looking rather relieved. Donar sighs shaking his head. He's a patient man. This is just a matter of playing the waiting game. He just needs some better bait.

Chapter Text

He does dream. What man doesn't? He dreams of being reunited with Aurelia of course. And yes he dreams of a life with Spartacus too. But lately he's been more haunted than anything.

The image of a certain Gaul. Writhing underneath him. Ample flesh rippling with each slap of Varro's palm. Begging for more from the Roman. Watching the tan skin turn a beautiful pink.

Torture. Varro decides waking up with a jolt, face pressed against the stone wall men scattered about different levels of snores and sleep filling the silence. He was being tortured. Groaning Varro draws his knees to his chest gripping his hair by the roots. Why? Oh probably because he was a horrible awful husband. Gambled their family into debt and then suddenly have an obsession with cock!

First Spartacus now Crixus. Between the two of them Varro wasn't sure who drove him more crazy. He's always been more drawn to the shy type. Just look at his tiny timid little wife! She was so cute and unsure about so many things. Like Crixus.

But when she was mad? Aurelia turned into this wild animal. Screaming and throwing things in reach and just in general doing her best to use her small frame to attack with as much fury as she possessed. Like Spartacus.

Huffing Varro shakes his head uncurling himself, opting to glance down the hallway towards Crixus' cell. Still pouting a little. But acting better towards Varro and even a tad more friendly with Spartacus. It was enormous progress that the two of them stopped trying to kill each other before trying to dominate the other. Something about the other just set the two of them off. Varro smiles fondly thinking about how working together the three of them work well.

A catalyst. That's what Varro was. In a way he was alright with that. But what were they to do when Varro pays off his debts. He's not TECHNICALLY a slave. This was just a job that paid faster and better than any he had. Eventually in some way shape or form Varro was going to leave. Spartacus has nothing outside these walls and wouldn't know the first thing to do with his freedom since there was nothing for him back in Thrace either. So he would likely never leave. Crixus already told them that so long as Naevia stayed he would. And with Lucretia treating Crixus as a personal toy there was no way he was going to be able to leave alive. Which was frustrating.

Varro licks his lips picturing how responsive Crixus was and how much he could be should Varro ever punish him again. A good spanking was always something Varro enjoyed giving. And watching Crixus receive one was rather intoxicating. Some how or another he was going to have to bring it up to the man. Wrestle him down give a couple of a good thwacks in to remind Crixus how much the Gaul enjoyed it. Show him how quickly it makes Varro leak.

He chuckles to himself with a shake of his head. It wouldn't do him well to get lost in thought here. With no form of relief. Varro adjusts his subligaria looking around again.

Somehow his eyes land on the Rhine brothers. Splayed out next to each other. Duro's head resting on Agron's shoulder. He grins thinking about how fast Crixus would kill him and Spartacus for allowing those two fucks to see what they did. The fact that they haven't said anything was a good sign. Maybe he could convince Crixus to try them out as well? Or Spartacus? A replacement was needed. The problem he could foresee is the way Crixus and Duro watch each other when they think no one can see them. And the way Agron can't keep his eyes off Spartacus' ass. It was a problem because there was no way Duro would top Crixus. Nothing wrong with the Gaul having a bottom but in a lot of ways that's what Spartacus and Naevia were for. And Agron, Varro chews his lip in thought, Agron would more than likely make a good top. However Varro isn't blind. He sees the way Donar follows him. Either with his gaze or not. And the curious fascination Agron has with the taller. No. It was going to be difficult to find someone who would be able to treat Crixus the way he needs.

Varro sucks his teeth attempting not to drool the mental image of bending Crixus over and turning his ass the shade of blood, burned into his brain.

Spartacus was to sleep with the Roman woman tomorrow night. Varro wonders if he was going to be able to get Crixus alone for a little while. The past few days he's been focused on Naevia which he understands. He's been trying to get a hold of Aurelia. Knowing she was safe thanks to Spartacus and the house slave eased his fears and concerns. But with the knowledge came this damn near addiction to Crixus' ass. So plump and bouncy Varro wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into a cheek or two.

He grumbles shifting again willing his cock to stop hardening. There was nothing to do with these thoughts until much later. And so much activity to fill the passage of time. He's taught Spartacus how to be patient. And now he must practice some himself. Crixus would be swayed in his direction. Look how quickly he had the Gaul agree to the strap on? Another month or two and he would have Crixus on his cock with no barrier. And that was worth waiting for. Besides, there's no reason he couldn't find an excuse to spank Crixus before then.

Varro was halfway back to his cell grinning ear to ear thinking about what just transpired. Crixus coming to HIM asking to be spanked. Varro couldn't have planned it better. True he made an absolute fool of himself when it came to fucking the man but the soft look on Crixus' face was worth it. Maybe he will try having Crixus explore Varro's body next time? Have Crixus try new things that Crixus wishes to try. See what the smaller man enjoys not just what people enjoy doing to him. A guard gives him an odd look, probably for the goofy grin on his face. Varro honestly couldn't remember a time in his life that he was so at peace. Spartacus and Crixus were doing odd things to him. In some ways more so than the other. Spartacus has definitely opened his eyes to sleeping with men. And Crixus has awakened some sort of beast in him. He doesn't think he's ever been so rough with a lover before. And Varro wasn't even all that remorseful about it. In fact, he was eager to see if Crixus would be that way with him. Humming in thought Varro imagines all the ways he could teach Crixus and learn about him. Have Crixus touch Varro anyway he wanted. Or direct Varro into how Crixus wants to be touched. It was endearing the way Crixus came to him for the spanking. Even with his attitude having him seem closer to Spartacus than the blonde. 

He hopes Crixus would be able to get some sleep tonight. Varro certainly got into the spanking. Going a little overboard. The bruising would be an issue should he show his ass to the rest of them. And certainly if Lucretia suddenly decided to try a strap on of her own. Varro licks his lips thinking of how loud Crixus could be. Gruff voice echoing off the stone walls demanding and begging for more. Varro decides he should purchase a paddle of sorts for next time. Easier to blame the bruises on training. Because oh-ho yes there was definitely going to be a next time.

The shouting and splashing down the hall was a concern. Varro chews his cheek staring at the cell. Crixus and Duro had gone to the baths to look for Agron. Maybe Crixus and the elder started brawling? Cursing Varro turns on his heel and hustles off. Both those men have awful tempers so he wouldn't put it past them. Agron pissed that Duro was wondering the halls with Crixus and Crixus saying something smart as a result. Grimacing not all that surprised he rounds the corner seeing two people rolling out of the baths grappling at each other.

It only took a moment to realize who was wrestling with Crixus.

"Spartacus?!"

Chapter Text

"A message? You do not sleep with me but rather ask me to act as common messenger" Mira asks raising an eyebrow. He could not be serious. He'd rather have her scour the Capua country side looking for a woman and child that is neither his nor his concern, than to sleep with her. What kind of a man was this Thracian. She saw his wife. Not up close, but she saw him. Naevia, and some of the other house slaves had commented on how much Mira resembled her. How they could be related. If Mira hadn't known where she was taken from before being sold to the House of Batiatus she might have questioned it herself, the resemblance was that shocking after all.

"More of a search and report. I do not need to sleep with you to lie with the Roman cunt. She shall be well satisfied. But; you are allowed to leave these walls from time to time are you not?" Spartacus asks looking haughty. Mira narrows her eyes in the moonlight. He must have spent more time with Barca than she had seen. Nothing else could have put such a ridiculous thought into that thick skull of his. Was he so simple minded that he believes slaves could come and go as they pleased? Has Spartacus learned nothing in his almost two years of being a gladiator? Was he blind or just mentally impaired? Clearly his bluer than blue eyes worked, so he must just be an idiot. 

"When asked by my Dominus or Domina. Which you are neither, if you recall." She hisses through clenched teeth. Her blood was still boiling at his refusal of her simply because she was ordered. He has no qualms about sleeping with the Roman woman as he was ordered but sure judge MIRA for sleeping with the Thracian. What an ass. Hypocritical ass at that! She saw him leaving Batiatus the day he was informed that he was to bed Licinia. Strutting about like a fucking peacock. Preening with the knowledge that he was desired. If Mira had any sense she would just slap him into next week. Were such a thing possible at least. 

He scoffs lightly.

"I've noticed. But I shall pay you for services." No not like a whore at all. Just without the benefit of sleeping with him. "My winnings usually go to Varro and his wife or extra medicine for the men." Mira resists the urge to roll her eyes. Oh goodie he was a nice soft hearted man. Honestly how was this gentle person the Champion of Capua let alone the house of Batiatus? She had been told by Naevia that Crixus once called him the Kind and Gentle one. It seems boast had bared some fruit. The man was as soft and squishy as a pair of tits.

The fool. 

"Oh and that makes all the difference does it? Do I look so common a whore that dangling your coin purse at me will have me bending to your will?" She snips turning her nose up at him and his relaxed position on his wooden bed. Even in the dim light she could see his eyes widen and lips part slightly. Has nobody but the Gaul spoken to him in such a manner? What a pity. No wonder the man had an over inflated sense of importance. His ego deserved to be knocked down a peg or two. Shame she only had the rest of the night to continue snipping at him. Mira hopes she could get a few good insults thrown his way. Spartacus certainly didn't seem to mind tossing them at her, whether he knew he was doing it or not. 

"I had meant no offense. Simply a reward." He mutters sitting up on an elbow. With his eyebrows knitted together in confusion she almost gave in. Like a tiny little wild rabbit, trying to find a way out of a hunters trap. Or a tired cat, roaming the streets of Capua trying to steal some fallen meat. The adorable bastard. How dare he be cute after insulting her in such a way?

"Yet it is still taken. You do me the barest of favors by keeping me in your cell tonight why should I do anything for you in return?" Mira challenges. Spartacus smirks looking her up and down quickly. His mood shifting and changing faster than the wind blows. The Thracian would make for a terrifying master should he ever decide to save his coins and buy his freedom and starts buying his own slaves in return. Mira prays that he falls in the arena before he ever lays claim to another human being. The day certainly couldn't come fast enough in her own opinion. 

"You had asked if there was something I would have from you." He reminds her that self satisfied look back on his handsome features. Mira purses her lips. How had she forgotten such a simple detail? Her anger was starting to cloud her judgement. Which would not end well. It was how she ended up being in this fucking house, and if she let it, it certainly would lead to Mira's death. Tossed off the cliff, either by the man stretched out before her, or either of the short tempered Romans she was forced to serve hand and foot. 

"I never said I'd do it though did I you stupid man?" She counters back. "It was a question, mere curiosity to how the mind of the Noble Spartacus works." Mira turns away from him tucking her knees closer to her chest. No need to pretend that she forgot. Spartacus obviously did not need to know that fact. And Mira wasn't about to blurt it out to him anyways. Let him think she knew what she had said. What does she care what Spartacus thinks of her? Mira was a lowly house slave presented to him as willing cunt for his personal use. 

"Very true." Spartacus laughs softly settling back down. "Yet, I think you upset simply because I spoke truth instead of what you wished to hear." He remarks closing his eyes, corners of his mouth up turned. Mira whips her head around scowling at him. The implications of his sentence rang in her head. Mira could feel her brain start to swim, a dizzying rage clawing its way to the surface. What was it about this man that caused her to lose mind in such a way? All her years she has done a halfway decent job of keeping her anger in check. A few bouts here and there when it came to abusive Guards that sent her back to the sellers block, but since Mira came here there has been no incidents. Why did Spartacus make her react this way?

"You believe I want you?" She asks in slight disgust. Mostly over the audacity of this man. Spartacus shrugs still not looking up at her. Just like the self assured cunt he seemed to be. Mira hates him, she decides.

"I think all women wish to be desired. Especially by attractive men." Spartacus smiles at the stunned silence. Maybe he was teasing her. But he was not blind. It did not escape his notice how similar Mira looked like his beloved Sura. How cruel would it be to the poor woman to sleep with her simply because of such reasons? Besides he hasn't sat down and talked about it with Varro and Crixus yet. Should he take a lover without their knowledge they would be rather put out. Crixus even commented on seeing Mira leave yesterday. Spartacus out right grins remembering the events of only a few hours ago. His skin still burns with the memory of having the Gaul on his knees in front of him. 

POP 

The echo of a slap was nothing to the heavy silence that follows. Tension so thick it was almost tangible. 

Spartacus blinks at the wall, head having turned with the force of the hit. His cheek burned slightly and he knows the skin must be red. Ever so slowly he sits up and turns to face the obviously crazy slave woman. Mira had stood, either before or after her assault he was unsure, but had left the blanket on the floor pooled around her ankles. Brown eyes blazing a bright amber. Outrageously the look of rage on her face has Spartacus' cock twitch to attention. He decides to ignore it. 

"The absolute cock  you. Believing you know me. You never even looked in my direction before yesterday, and I hardly find you appealing." Mira tells him barely opening her thinned lips. Spartacus stands, easily towering over her, face clam, heart pounding.

"And yet here you are." He points out. And he had told himself he would never raise his hand to a woman. Yet here he was ready to break her nose, while her only offense was a simple slap. Crixus has done worse to him, and Spartacus was sucking his cock not two hours ago. Where was the sense in that? Was he the crazy one and Mira the sanity he, clearly, desperatly needed? Varro's smiling face swims to mind and Spartacus swallows thickly. 

"By order of my Dominus. Other wise I would never even consider being in the same room as you let alone breathing the same air!" Mira almost shouts, shoulders straightening. Spartacus takes another step closer, the space between them almost disappearing in his small cell. For a long moment the two simply glared at each other, neither ready to back down. When it became clear to Spartacus that she wasn't going to look away he roughly grabs the back of her neck and crashes their mouths together without hesitation. Mira sucks in a harsh breath at the sudden change in the man. A back hand, a shove, hell even being thrown across the room by her hair was what she expected for her slight. Having his tongue force its way past her lips certainly was not. Gods save her but he tasted like freedom. 

With a muffled cry Mira shoves at his chest sending herself spiraling backwards, smacking into the wall. Spartacus blinks stupidly at her, having only stumbled back a few steps. Breathing labored, Mira looks him up and down as if he's lost his mind. 

"And what, was that about?" Spartacus asks slightly breathless. He felt shaken, kissing her was like being possessed. Like a ghost of Sura's touch. A whisper of hope fanning a fire that could not be allowed to burn. 

"A choice." Mira's voice sounded uneven. As if she had never spoken such words before. "You chose not to lie with me but still keep me here in order to save my life, and in turn I shall look for Aurelia and her son." She clears her throat straightening herself a little. Spartacus nods slowly trying to wrap his head around what just happened. His hear aches, wishing he could run to Varro. Tell him the good news. But he was just going to have to be patient. A lesson, ironically taught to him by the curly headed Roman. 

"And? What shall you choose to do now?" He questions noticing the way her throat works at his words. As slaves they don't exactly get to make decisions. This had to be a first for her. Mira squats down and grabs the blanket off the ground, once again wrapping it around her shoulders, this time more as a cloak. 

"I choose to sleep. You might not need me for anything more than a personal carrier pigeon," Spartacus flinches at the harsh words, "but I will have my normal daily activities to do tomorrow. I have a lot of chores to do. It won't do me any favors to be tired from lack of sleep." Mira huffs settling down near the door, no longer paying the Thracian any sort of mind. Spartacus opens and closes his mouth a few times, highly torn. On the one hand, sure. Absolutely. Makes sense. He has no qualms about her sleeping on the floor. It was where he was content to leave her less than an hour ago. He's done his part. Gave her a blanket. Probably nicer than where she normally sleeps. 

"Where do you sleep?" He finds himself blurting out like a moron instead of just going to bed himself. It wasn't like he didn't have a long day tomorrow. Training plus bedding Licinia? He's going to be more than spent by the time he makes it back to his cell. To her credit, Mira sighs heavily and doesn't open her eyes when she answers. 

"With the rest of the slaves in the villa. A bed of hay and sometimes curled up against a friend or two." Spartacus immediately pictures Naevia and-

"Were you friends with Pietros?" What was wrong with him? Why would he bring up the poor slave boy? Especially after how he died! Mira sighs again.

"Did I know a slave that worked here? Hmm, let me think." Spartacus grimaces at the prolong silence. 

"Mira?" He whispers. 

"Of course I knew him! Everyone knew him! He was the sweetest, nicest, most kind hearted person I have ever met!" She shouts at him turning at last, eyebrows seemingly permanently furrowed. "I heard tale that without Barca he fell victim to Gneaus. He had not been seen in the villa for almost a week before we were informed of his passing. The day we learned of you kicking Gneaus off the cliff." Her voice grew louder with each sentence and Spartacus feared they might be discovered. Briefly wondered if the guards were ordered to leave them be tonight.

"I had good reason to end his miserable life." Spartacus defends sitting down at last. Mira sneers at him.

"And had you acted sooner perhaps Pietros would still be with us." She hisses. Spartacus feels his gut twist with guilt. She was right of course. Something he had thought to himself a hundred times, and had even expressed concern to Varro. They had come to the conclusion to try and keep their heads low and out of the pits, or the hole, or the mines. 

"You are not wrong in this. But it is...complicated." He finishes lamely. Mira nods with a hum closing her eyes once more.

"I'm so sure he understands completely. If Varro's wife has any sense she shall stay far away from you and your kind." Spartacus scoffs. 

"My kind? I am sure Aurelia has no cause to run to Thrace when loving husband works-"

"So hard to pay off debt he found himself in! While his wife suffers and gets not but harsh words from her "loving husbandi", you mistake words Spartacus, I meant Gladiators. If Pietros is any indication the only thing you lot bring is death and suffering." Mira throws the blanket at him as she all but shrieks. Spartacus scrambles backwards fearing another slap or at least attempt. The woman looked possessed. 

"Mira-"

"I already gave word that I shall aid you but do not think my opinion of you has changed. You heartless, cruel, bastard. Enjoy your Roman woman's cunt, as it seems to be your preference." She almost literally spits at him before turning on her heel and storming out. The guard that was waiting a few feet away looked startled to see her and barely made it to the gate before she had. 

"By the Gods. Dark haired and dark eyed slaves will surely be the death of me." Spartacus shakes his head trying not to let his guilt consume him once more. He had a task to do tomorrow and couldn't wait to rub it in Crixus' face. And give the good news to Varro that his wife and child shall be located soon enough. 

Chapter Text

“I’m telling you it’s fine .” Gaia coos, wrapping an arm around the fragile arm. It was nice to have free range of the villa for once. And she was going to take all the advantages that she could think of. Besides it took days to convince her friend that they should have a day to themselves. That they would have the rest of their lives to enjoy one another's company. That just because Gaia was an old maid without a husband did not mean the same thing for Lucretia. "This is a special surprise, planned just for you! We want you to enjoy it! And yourself. You are a dear friend of ours after all." And the current prospect for a husband if Gaia could plot this correctly. And keep the man's focus on her as a sexual creature, rather than just a desperate hag. 

“You’re sure Batiatus won’t mind? From what I’ve come to understand he enjoys showing people these kinds of things.” Varus questions, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Gaia laughs with a wave of her hand. Men were really such worrisome creatures. Delicate things. Stupid bastards. Honestly, Gaia was sure if they did not need men to reproduce that the world would be better off without them. Certainly, every luxury that exists was created for the enjoyment of women. And simply taken over by men and their logic that they were in some foolish way better than the fairer sex. Women were even called the fairer sex. If that did not claim that females were above men then she wasn't sure how else to explain it. 

“I assure you. He and Lucretia will be at the market for a while. Slaves are coming in today and he’s going to look to see if any are at his level of expectations.” Gaia beams with a gesture towards some of the house slaves. She’s sure that Quintus would understand her reasoning. This would be a wonderful way to earn Varus’ favor. He would approve she was sure. Even if her reasoning for getting them out of their own house was underhanded and nothing more than a bold faced lie. 

And if Lucretia was hurt by Gaia suggesting overly much that husband and wife go together for some much needed alone time, well...her friend will get over it. Once Gaia shows her the fruits of her labor, Lucretia will forgive her and everything will be right with the world again. It had to be. As much as she loves Lucretia and as much as Quintus was starting to grow on her, Gaia needed her own home. Her own slaves, and to feel in control of her own life again. Not dependent on these people. Certainly not sitting here watching the love of her life pamper to the pathetic little man she called husband. It was starting to make Gaia sick anytime she saw the two of them together. A bad thing if she wished to remain in their favor. 

“Well, you do know them better than I do.” He mumbles following her to the couches to wait for her entertainment. 

“Trust me. This is going to be such a wonderful treat.” Gaia hands him a cup of wine with a seductive smile. “There is so much more to this house than you could imagine.” 

“Is that so?” He sips his cup, eyes drinking in the sight before him. Gaia beams as she undresses herself. “Well, so far I am enjoying myself.” She giggles, lifting her arms before spinning happily. 

“Indeed. Delectable delights, should always be savored.” He nods with another sip. 

“Agreed. I do believe Cossutius was far too liberal and quick with his delights.” Gaia grins, looking over her shoulder. 

“Then you are going to just love this next bit.” The curtains draw back and the slaves gently push someone into their space.

“The gaul !” Varus applauds with boyish delight. 

Crixus glances around nervously. Being told he was summoned was one thing. Being stopped in the hallway by Gannicus to be warned that he must do as he was told or be killed was something else entirely. It was a little unnerving. The last time he was summoned by Lucretia’s friend, he was made to bathe her. It was weird to be expecting to see her naked. Not nearly as weird to not be surprised to see that she was indeed, nude. 

Crixus squirms, trying to figure out if that was why he was made to bathe before being brought up. He remembers Rhaskos bragging about being told to fuck a slave. Gannicus had reminded him that they were all slaves. Rhaskos said he wasn’t picky. Maybe that was all that was going to happen. Although Crixus wasn’t the smartest, he wasn’t exactly stupid. With Gaia and Crixus being the naked ones, the pieces were starting to fall into place. 

And it didn’t look like it was going to end in his favor.

The way the Roman man was looking at him did nothing to quench his nerves. Honestly it reminded him of how Tullius used to look at him. Crixus could feel his heart clench, noting the couches, and the veiled privacy surrounding them. He recalls answering honestly to Gaia. Her earnest questions had given him the smallest amount of hope that some Romans were at least sort of good. 

Good at exploiting information, apparently.  

“Crixus! So good of you to join us.” Gaia practically sings. Crixus gives her a small smile, it wasn’t difficult to piece together what was happening here. 

“Domina.” He mutters with a soft sigh. “Did you wish for me to kneel on the floor?” Varus tilts his head listening to Crixus, “Or would you prefer to have me on the bed?” Gaia guffaws a little, looking over her shoulder at her fellow Roman.

“I know you said Tullius had trained you, but dear me.” Gaia chuckles, almost sadly as she steps forward. Crixus flinches when she cups his face. It was odd having her stare directly into his eyes. Normally Romans hated it. “I never considered how well.” There was a distinct measure of regret in her voice, a soft smile gracing her features. For a moment Crixus did not see a woman whose only goal in life was to gain personal pleasure. But a human being with a heart, looking as lonely as he felt. 

“Sorry, Tullius?” Varus chimes in. Gaia grins broadly before turning around, all but bouncing to sit next to him, plucking his drink from hand.

“Yes, Crixus was purchased from him some time ago. Quintus turned him into such a remarkable gladiator. But , I am just a little nosy-”

“A little?” Varus laughs, adjusting himself. Crixus bites his lip bowing his head to hide his smile. “I don’t think you have the patience to be ‘ a little ’ anything.” Gaia gives a soft laugh, downing his drink and then sliding off the bench. 

“Right. Well, then. We shouldn’t keep poor Crixus any longer than we must.” Crixus notices the clip in her voice as she climbs onto the opposite couch. He wonders if she still wants this, or is just using it as a distraction for her anger. He surprises himself by feeling a small wave of pity for the woman. As a guest in the House of Batiatus that meant she didn’t have any real power over anything. Including her own life. In a way, Crixus supposed, that meant she was just as much a slave as he was. 

“Proceed then.” Varus offers happily, pouring a different glass of wine. The one Gaia had stolen clutched tightly in her hand. Crixus nods, shuffling over. 

“Domina.” He sighs, sinking down to his knees. Crixus feels his lips thin, once again being presented a waiting cunt. Face first. 

Resigned to his fate, Crixus wraps his hands around her thighs, consistently amazed at the softness of women. His own hands were never exactly smooth, but since being bought by Batiatus, his palms had never been rougher. Making the contrast more apparent than before. She wasn’t a house slave or a whore therefore she was far from bare. Not exactly an issue, just an odd fact. 

Crixus licks his lips before deciding to dive literally head first into his task. Knowing that the faster she finds completion, the faster he gets to go back to training, he wastes no time lapping at her wet folds. Giving her clit rapid fire attention that has her quickly screaming. Thighs clamping around his head, hands clawing at his scalp. He never knew a woman to be so responsive. Even a trained whore who was paid to put on a show. 

“Talented is he?” Varus’ smarmy voice sounded muffled to Crixus, but he still felt a little insulted. Gaia moans as Crixus shifts a little. Her curly hairs were tickling his nose. He wonders if his beard feels similar to her. 

“ Oh fuck the Gods , I have never met his equal.” Crixus glances up at her breathless praise as he continues to work his tongue around her cunt. He’s barely done anything. Sad. Yet, also encouraging. 

“I feel a little insulted at that.” Varus comments with a chuckle. Crixus almost flinches, feeling something touch his knee. Took a moment to realize it was Gaia’s cup. He hopes it wasn’t broken. Last thing he needs is to get broken shards stuck in his skin and cause an infection. 

“Ooomph, do not feel so. We were together a long time ago. We were rushed. Crixus has had just as many years for practice.” She explains kneading his skull instead of trying to detach his hair. 

“Ah. Yes, your nosy fun facts.” Crixus carefully does a quick bite and suck combo that he knows drives most women wild. His pride enjoys the yelp and buck it causes her to do. Crixus wasn’t aware he enjoyed having the full attention of his, well partner is a strong word but still, full attention was necessary. 

“Hmmm, yes. Tullis had the Gaul perform for him on many occasions.” Crixus worms a hand next to his face, adding a few fingers to his technique. It was a smug satisfaction to have her start squirming. 

“Oh? So, why not have him do a show like Gannicus had?” Varus suggests. Crixus almost pauses at that. Interesting . Crixus shakes his head a little, thrusting his tongue in and out of Gaia, thumbing her nub like his life depended on it. Varus seems to wait patiently until Gaia was done screaming and all but thrusting into Crixus’ face. 

“Di-oh fuck-different, rea-ssooo-ns.” Gaia pants with a soft whimper. Crixus flicks and laps almost tentatively. He knows she had an orgasm. In his experience he knows how to give one and he knows what a woman's cunt does when it happens. So why the fuck is she still grinding against his face? 

"Well, such as?" Varus asks, his voice much closer than before. Gaia moans low, one hand detangling itself from Crixus' hair. He doesn't bother trying to find out what she does with it. Just carefully focuses on his task. And breathing. Both an increasingly difficult thing to do. 

"You've already seen a show of that caliber. No need for a repeat performance." If it involved Gannicus, then Crixus disagrees with that statement. He jabs unceremoniously for a moment. His jaw was beginning to feel a little sore. It has been a few months since he's had to do something like this after all. 

"True. But why else?" Crixus stiffens, realizing that Varus was now sitting next to Gaia while Crixus works. It usually didn't end well for him when the men sat too close. In his past experienced, Crixus would get groped. Nothing too terrible, but having an audience was bad enough. He didn't like it when other men touched him the way they would a woman.

Crixus groans wondering if he would mind a certain Celt touching him in any way shape or form. Tries to imagine the way Gannicus could pin Crixus to a bed the same way he had Crixus against the wall the other night. How his hot breath would feel against his skin. Or if Gannicus would enjoy Crixus' mouth just as much as Gaia did. Speaking of. 

Due to his distraction, he was less than prepared for Gaia to start convulsing for a second time. 

"Mhrph" He curses with a twist of his head, trying to steal a breath of air. It wasn't that she smelled or tasted bad, hell out of everyone he's done this to, she was by far the most pleasant, it was just that he was human and needed oxygen. However, it was good to know that she must be close to winding down, with two orgasms. Not that his luck seems to be holding out. Gaia was languidly running her hand through his hair, one foot practically caressing the back of Crixus’ shoulder. 

“Mmm, well, he’s rather innocent for a man so talented with his mouth.” Crixus continues his task, trying to hide his annoyance. If this show was for Varus’ benefit then the man needed to hurry up and enjoy himself. Otherwise he needed to shut the fuck up. 

“Innocent? I can’t imagine such a word being associated with a man that can make you scream.” Varus sounded impressed, and well, if he was going to keep saying things like that then Crixus supposes the man could take his time. Gaia lets out a breathy laugh shifting above him. Crixus glances, a little surprised to see her sitting up on her elbows watching him. He avoids her gaze, unsure on why she would want to look at him, especially right at this moment. Normally women avoided looking at him. Not that he could blame them. Crixus resists the urge to sigh, as he continues lapping and practically fucking Gaia with his tongue. 

“Yes, I learned an interesting tidbit about this darling Gaul.” She keens with a quick thrust. Crixus tries to recall if he ever had a woman as well, wet, as Gaia. Or coherent, when his face was between their thighs. It was a little unsettling. “Crixus here is rather untouched .” Crixus prays Jupiter would just strike him down where he kneels. 

“ ‘Untouched’ you say? How delightful.” Crixus didn’t have to look up to know Varus was beaming at him. In a panic he works on Gaia, using his best tricks and moves already feeling her begin to tighten around him again. Even panting, she sounded more as if she was laughing. And the added humming from Varus set his teeth on edge. Out of all the Romans he has met, Varus might be the least creepy. But the bastard was still weird. He swears never in his life will he enjoy doing anything sexual with a Roman. They were just way too over the top with this kind of thing. Crixus was convinced that he was a man with simple needs and wants. 

Glory and honor. For his everyday life. A bed and maybe eventually a wife to have one child with. And that wife would be a normal woman. Who enjoys sex in very plain ways. No need for toys or extra partners. Certainly no desire for him to do this to her. Or vice versa. The thought of forcing a woman to suck his cock was just panic inducing. 

Crixus forces the image of Gannicus out of him mind. Determined not to be caught off guard again. Even if he recalls yesterday in the baths where Gannicus had passed in front of him, devoid of any kind of covering. 

“Aha, yes. Ngya, yes! Oh fuck the gods.” Gaia rocks forward, curling around Crixus’ head. Crixus grunts in surprise and the effort to keep breathing. 

“I dare say, you have gotten more talented.” Varus comments sounding breathless. Gaia carefully pushes Crixus away, giving him enough space to see what Varus meant. 

Apparently, Gaia had been entertaining Varus with more than just a show. It made more sense now. Why she had switched to be just one handed for the rest of Crixus’ time on his knees. Knowing better than to wipe his face immediately after, he simply stands up and sets himself to the side. Waiting to be sent away as Gaia giddily watches Varus put himself back to rights. Crixus doesn’t think too much about why she was licking her fingers. 

“You’ve always been so sweet, Varus.” She purrs. Varus chuckles reaching down and giving her a kiss on her cheek. 

“And you have always provided such wonderful entertainment.” Gaia giggles looking at Crixus.  “The pleasure is all mine.”

Chapter Text

Avoiding people was something he was used to doing. And a thing he was used to people wanting him to do. In all of his years he has starting priding himself at his ability to slip by unnoticed. To enter a crowd and leave without a single person being aware. To weave in and out of full hallways without so much as a glance. Keeping his distance from those who would do him harm. In his youth he remembers the harsh words of people wishing he would just vanish. How more than one person in his village, family, or fellow slaves would casually wish for his death. Having knowledge that nobody would mourn his passing was something he had carried with him almost his entire life. It became one of the many reasons he was so fond of Dagan. The man was always aware of where Ashur was. The one man who made disappearing a difficult thing to do. The only man who made it clear that Ashur was wanted, and belonged. It was touching. 

At first. 

Now here he was, slinking his way down through the labyrinth that was the ludus doing everything in his power to avoid his fellow Syrian. After what had happened in the baths, should a soul cared and learned they might feel pity for Ashur. Being used to people not caring, he ignored the thought. Instead he focused on trying to find a place to hide and lick his wounds. Almost literally. There was a bruise on his abdomen he was going to have to cover. A small cut above his eyebrow from where he was smacked into the stone. Of course his abused anus. The pain was almost unbearable. Had he not spent a good nine months to grow accustom to the rough handling of his partner he might have stayed curled in the fetal position. Gritting his teeth as he limps along Ashur hopes he can recover in time for the games. Dagan never made idle threats. If the man wanted Crixus' life, then he was going to fight tooth and nail to get it. Something Ashur couldn't let happen. 

"You are sure he will be fine?" A familiar voice has Ashur's head snapping up. Heart pounding he ducks into the nearest cell, huddling himself into the shadows.

"We left him on his side. He is used to this." Oenomaus' frame comes into view as he and Barca walk past. Not giving a second glance. Ashur lets out a breath, noting the bandage on the Beast's side. Meaning Crixus has one less friend in the arena tomorrow. He remains where he was letting their footsteps fade, while his mind continues to race. Something was going to have to be done about Dagan. There was nothing else to it. But could it be Ashur? 

His stomach twists at the thought. He and Dagan were together for almost two months before the Roman's captured them. They spent a year going from port to port, being the constant in each other's life until finally settling here. The noble and storied House of Batiatus. In the dark lonely moments it was Dagan providing comfort. Yet in the heat of it all, it was also Dagan punishing and forcing, causing discomfort and pain at the worst time. Dagan making Ashur feel seen. And Dagan making Ashur want to disappear. They had history. Crixus should mean nothing to him. The man was friendly for a fortnight. Has been nothing but cold and distant since. Ashur closes his eyes with a heavy sigh trying to gather his thoughts. 

"Fuck." Ashur jolts at the whisper. Looking around frantically for the source. A low moan draws his attention to the cell next to him. Barely seen through the adjacent stone wall. A hole towards the back allowed the Syrian to peak in.

"Gannicus?" He mutters to himself confused. Shifting himself he presses his good hip against the wall. From what he could see the Celt was sprawled across a wooden bed, his subligaria around his ankles.

Intrigued Ashur tries to get a better look. When the stone to his right shifts and causes him to fall backwards. Cursing under his breath Ashur clatters down a slop his bruised rib screaming in protest. The world around him momentarily spinning as the breath is knocked out of him. With a groan Ashur takes a moment to gather himself. Head now pounding, he takes it slow bringing himself back to a standing position. 

The slope was mild, but it was enough to cause his tumble. Shaking his head Ashur glances around realizing he was at the start of a three way tunnel. Leaning he notices that it looked as if going to the left leads further into the ludus. From the way the light came in it was possible that it connected to every cell in that direction. Curious, Ashur takes a few steps glancing up. With a gasp he realizes he was correct. A perfect eye hole at the floor line gave him the perfect view of Gannicus. In all his naked glory, fist firmly coaxing his cock towards his release. 

Normally the blond did nothing for Ashur. But there was no denying the man's attractiveness from this angle. The way Gannicus was murmuring under his breath was far too enticing to ignore,

"Oh fuck, Crixus." 

Ashur's eyes widen as his mouth form a perfect 'o'. Watching the way Gannicus desperatly thrusts into his own grip, toes curled around the edge of the wooden frame, a sight he never thought he would see, let alone would be stirring his cock. His mind however started reeling. Gannicus, the Champion of Capua. He could have any woman he so desired. Or any of the men. His purse was currently empty, but Batiatus never refused the blond a whore should he ask for one. And yet, since the night Ashur and Dagan became Gladiators, Gannicus has been distant, and rather angry with his fellow Brothers. And not just the Syrians. It was a stunning spectacle to watch him fight viscously with Auctus. The way he helped Batiatus and Oenomaus kill Tullius, Ashur knows a man possessed by love when he sees one.

Just clearly not the one he had once believed. 

Grinning Ashur watches Gannicus jerk in time with his orgasm. Moving down the halls with a little less pain in his beaten and bruised body. Sure he was a little aroused by the Celt's performance just then. However he had Crixus, and then Dagan had forced himself on Ashur just hours ago. Unlike his fellow gladiators, his base desires have never been fuel for his ambitions or goals. He is a man and shall take his pleasure when he can, but there was more to life than fucking. Mainly: keeping Crixus alive. Now that he knows that Gannicus is in love with the Gaul, he knows it will be easier to do so. Maybe he won't have to kill Dagan. Something he still wasn't so sure he could do. 

In the meantime, he still had the rest of the night before the games. And he knows Batiatus wished for those who would be fighting in the opening of the new arena to be well fed and rest throughout the day tomorrow. Which means Ashur has a few hours to wonder this new found passage. A thing that seems to run, not just through the ludus, but up and through the House of Batiatus itself. He wonders if his master knows of these tunnels. Perhaps explored them as a child? Surely, Ashur could not be the only living being to be aware of this. Peaking up into a slit in the floor Ashur makes a face finding Gneaus fondling one of the newer slaves. Rather brutally he might add. Shaking his head Ashur climbs the narrow stairways curious on what else he might find.  

Turns out: quite a lot. 

There was a small balcony-esc portion that happens about half way down the cliff. A wall that swung open into Batiatus' office chamber. Thankfully was empty. A bolted door that took some effort to pry open, revealing the slaves sleeping quarters. A beam that when shifted to the side would show the main villa. Lucretia was standing in the pool practically naked beckoning someone he couldn't see. Of course it couldn't be anyone but her husband so Ashur had replaced the wood and moved on. Nearby there was a peep hole that could show Batiatus' sleeping chamber. The new body slave to Domina was setting the bed and making a face to a muffled sound out of sight. He even finds, high up above the ludus a small room that would be the perfect sanctuary from his fellow Syrian. There seemed to be stairs leading down to the main house, which he would have to explore later. 

Finally after twisting and turning the confined walk ways, using the gaps to note whose cell he is near Ashur makes his way to what he believes to be the baths. The walls were damp and the floor was slick, adding to his suspicions. Tapping around he finds a loose stone. Smiling at his own cleverness, Ashur fiddles with it before figuring out how to use it to open the wall. Pride would probably be his downfall some day he is sure, but Ashur couldn't help himself. He was so damn proud at learning these new secretes. And being correct on where he was. Thankfully it was late enough that nobody was present. The room was as empty as Ashur had left it previously. The shift a rock draws his attention and he turns around in time to see the wall sink back into place. 

"How interesting." Ashur muses to himself, checking the hallway to be sure it was also clear of life. He trails his hand across the wall he had just come through, frowning at the lack of findings. What use was there of a secret door into the baths but not one out of it? 

Huffing he sits down underneath one of the torches. The secrets of the House of Batiatus simply grew. Was this room always designed to have two entrances but one exit? Was this building built to be a ludus? Scratching his beard he stares at the flames above him, lost in thought. 

Slowly he raises an eyebrow at the sconce. Perhaps it was the lighting. But it seemed to him that this one was made of a different metal than the others. There were not many in this room, making it easy for Ashur to glance around to double check his thinking. And while the other four seemed to be made out of iron and steel. This particular one, Ashur could almost believe to be made out of gold. And the only to bare the mark of Batiatus. Ashur notices that it too was on the right, he glances down at his arm, moving to hold the two marks side by side. 

"Fuck the gods." He whispers in delight. Licking his lips, Ashur lifts the torch from its place hearing the chink of stone moving and pushing against metal. The sconce raising about a foot higher than it was as the wall slides itself open once more. "How very interesting indeed." 

Chapter Text

"We must celebrate!" Ilithyia squeals reaching to hug Lucretia. Drawing her close. Relishing in the way their curves seem to mold together. Their body heat momentarily mingling together in their embrace. Feeling the heat pool, and her cunt begin to moisten, Ilithyia pulls away just as quickly as she had started, then snatching up her skirt to rush away hoping to lose the red stain in her cheeks before Lucretia catches up.

"See to the wine!" Ilithyia hears the older women order happily. As if there was nothing better she would love to do than celebrate with the richer, younger, girl, causing Ilithyia to pause at the corner and wait, just out of sight.

"Has a man ever had such a wife?" She hears Batiatus whisper adoringly. Her heart gives a soft squeeze of guilt and loneliness thinking of her own husband so far away, doing what he could to fix his standing with the senate....and her father. Ilithyia momentarily furrows her brows no longer feeling a shadow of guilt.

"She but loves her husband and would see him elevated!." Lucretia responds, as if Ilithyia wasn't just feet away, waiting impatiently. Huffing she takes an offered glass of wine and downs it listening to the two share a soft kiss. Disgusting. Foolish. 

"Do you expect me to plot our celebration?" Ilithyia teases as Lucretia finds herself at her side once more. Blushing slightly the Lanista's wife laughs lightly a dangerous sparkle in her eyes that always intrigues and quickens Ilithyia's blood. 

"Of course not. I'm more surprised that you hadn't already started! I'm sure you know exactly how it is you wish to savor your purchase, and expected you to have the slaves already put to task." She explains linking their arms together taking a cup of wine from her body slave. Ilithyia gives her a wicked grin.

"You would have me order your slaves about?" She questions as they walk further into the villa.

"But of course! You are most honored guest and dearest friend. Treat my slaves as you would your own!" Lucretia informs, with a wave of her arm. Ilithyia giggles obnoxiously leading the way.

"Very well; Thelessa! Can you help them organize a massage for the two of us? I'm sure Lucretia's never had them do so before and they're not going to have any thought as how they should even start!" She coos grabbing her own slave by the arm with a friendly squeeze. The girl smiles lightly with a nod before turning to Naevia with a sheepish look. 

"A gladiator of my own, mined from the same lands as Crixus." Ilithyia muses happily playing with her nails as the none existing knots were kneaded from her calves. "The envy of my friends shall spread like locusts, their hearts devoured." She was so excited just thinking about it she couldn't even stay laying down. Not caring about if anyone saw her near naked breasts. 

"Who would you torture so? No one of my acquaintances I hope." Lucretia ponders not even hiding her delight at Ilithyia's happiness. The younger beams at the very thought. After all Lucretia was much older than she was. And of lower standing.

"Doubtful. Caecila, Aemila," she pauses both for dramatic affect and also to realize she didn't actually have very many friends, "Licinia." She finishes playfully looking at Lucretia her cunt actually throbbing at the dumbfounded look that falls across her face.

"Licinia, Cousin to Marcus Crassus?" She confirms her voice and entire octave lower both eyebrows raised. Ilithyia grins wickedly enjoying the expression and also the view of the woman's chest. It certainly looked plumper than her own and she's been dying to find out herself ever since they met.

"The wealthiest man in Rome, according to him at least." Ilithyia hums remembering the first time she met the pair of them. He was rather obnoxious in her mind that is, "Licinia, in particular enjoys the games. More so the beasts who do battle in them." Her grin was devious just thinking about Licinia's face.

"You must make invitation for private introduction to your man Segovax. Here at the villa." Lucretia breathes out as if she's been waiting for this moment her entire life. Inwardly Ilithyia grimaces. As much as she enjoys Lucretia's company she didn't think the other girls would, and vice versa. They were a bunch of bitches and Lucretia's low social standing and lack of abundant wealth would make for far too easy targets. No she'd rather not put the woman through that. She's been too kind to Iliythia.

"These are proper Roman women. They only mingle with families of equal standing." She explained trying to sound bored rather than worried. 

"Perhaps it’s for the best." Lucretia sighs fiddling with her necklace. "Seeing your man in the flesh would only inflame their envy." The obvious manipulation was so cute but said with just the barest hint of venom that when Ilithyia looks over at her with a half smile that was returned she couldn't help herself. A knowing grin spreading across both their faces.

"I will arrange it." She giggles feeling a little giddy. Licinia didn't have a gladiator after all! "And I shall help you with your hair. We must make you look suitable for such elevated company."

"Oh. Well if we are to change my hair," Lucretia murmurs sliding off her chaise the lace robe falling gracefully to the ground, "then perhaps we should mess it up first." 

Ilithyia could feel her heart beating against her ribs fast enough to break them. She was shivering as her eyes drank in Lucretia's voluptuous curves. The anticipation had her thighs slick while Lucretia motions for the slaves the leave. 

"And how would you like us to do that?" Ilithyia whispers shifting so she was on her side gazing up in wonder. Lucretia smirks pulling at the pitiful sash holding Ilithyia's own robe closed hiding nothing, eyes nearly black with desire. 

"By showing gratitude, to my dear friend." Ilithyia moans softly as Lucretia leans down carefully pressing their lips together as she climbs on top of her. 

Softly, swiftly and firmly the two were exploring each other. Ilithyia was panting quickly and fuck it was embarrassing considering Lucretia hadn't even reached her cunt. For her part Iliythia couldn't keep her hands off of Lucretia's tits. Heavier than her own but just as responsive. The way she arches when the rose tip was pinched and pulled has her grinding down. 

In all honesty they weren't actually doing much. Lucretia's thigh pressed tightly against Ilithyia sending sparks of pleasure through her with every shift against her clit. While Lucretia rode her own thigh deepening their kiss, tongue invading Ilithyia's mouth almost lazily. Yet the knowledge that there wasn't a frenzy or an explosion of passion did little to settle Ilithyia's nerves. Didn't quell the heat and tension building in her faster than it ever has with her husband. Didn't stop the waves that crashed through her like the earth quacking with the gods wrath.

And Lucretia certainly didn't stop either. 

"F-fuck Lucretia I, hmph, I already" she whimpers pitifully pushing against Lucretia trying to sit up. Lucretia mouths her way down nipping here and there with an amused sound. 

"Your husband has much to learn." She mutters sucking a nipple between her teeth. Ilithyia twitches against her feeling the steady thrum of pleasure going through Lucretia on her thigh. 

"What-what do you me-ah!" Ilithyia yelps when without warning Lucretia buries her face in Ilithyia's golden curls. 

Ilithyia is sure that her husband has never pleasured her in such a way! Lucretia's mouth working wickedly all but fucking her with a devilishly skilled tongue. Noises she never thought she could make were slipping out of Ilithyia's lips. Her body thrashing as another orgasm wracks its way through her.

Ilithyia was stunned as Lucretia kisses her way back up. She's never cum again so quickly. Even with Licinia in their youth! Shame and awe pulsed through her in time with her cunt while Lucretia took a nipple into her mouth seeming to enjoy the hiss from Ilithyia. 

"My dear friend, I've longed for this day since the moment I laid eyes on you." She murmurs her breath like a caress across Ilithyia's skin. The younger shivers legs falling wide to accommodate the more experienced woman. 

"I-" Ilithyia tries to explain not that she's sure she could but Lucretia shushes her before melding their mouths together once more. Ilithyia sucks in a harsh breath tasting herself for the first time. Amazed at how different it tastes from her husband. Wondering why she's never experienced this before. 

"You taste like the heavens." Lucretia purrs hands finding Ilithyia's ass kneading the pliant flesh. 

Ilithyia squeaks as Lucretia flips their positions having Ilithyia straddling her cunt. A shock making her twitch as they grind together. Lucretia's low moan cutting through the fog of surprise leaving a gasp in its wake. Guided by Lucretia and the way she rolls her hips Ilithyia shakily begins to match her movements. 

"O-oh my-" Ilithyia whimpers feeling another orgasm threatening to devour her. Even as she feels Lucretia jerks to her own a throaty chuckle accompanying the sensations. 

"Cum with me Ilithyia, delve into the pleasures of women with me." She coaxes thrusting roughly nails digging into the soft skin of Ilithyia's ass cheeks. Ilithyia feels a scream ripping itself from her chest as an overstimulated orgasm tears her apart. Actual tears running down her face as Lucretia chants "yes" quietly staring at her predatorally hips arching almost guiding her back down to earth. 

"Fuck the gods." Ilithyia whispers shakily falling forward. Lucretia chuckles knowingly. 

"I do believe you and I require a bath prior to your friends visit?" She coos deviously. Ilithyia blushes darkly having forgotten all about that. 

"Y-yes we should shouldn't we?" Lucretia frowns at the sudden shyness and the way Ilithyia seems to begin to panic.

"Ilithyia?" She tries reaching for her.

"We must make sure everything is presentable, especially us. Licinia can be quite the bitch." Her muttering was almost inaudible as she scurries off a dazed fearful look on her face. One Lucretia was determined to figure out. 

Chapter Text

Agron groans as Spartacus rolls his hips. The gold paint laden bath water sloshing against the sides. He couldn't seem to decide where to keep his hands, shifting them from grabbing the Thracian's ass to clawing at his back, and even pulling his hair. Spartacus didn't seem to mind as he continued moaning and cursing and he continued riding Agron's cock. This was more than he could have dreamed of.

Spartacus mutters something under his breath at the long fingers wrapping themselves around his cock. Agron was certainly more skilled than he expected. He didn't think he would enjoy it this much. Especially after the frenzy that seemed to be his sex life with Varro and Crixus. This was rather gentle and almost torturous. Yet rather intoxicating. The slow build up of his orgasm sending sparks of pleasure down to his finger tips. 

"Fuck, Spartacu- DURO!" Agron suddenly screams startling Spartacus enough to yelp as they unceremoniously separate from each other. Damn it he never wished to be caught!

"What the fuck?!" A gruff voice replaces the high pitched punched out gasp coming from the younger Rhine brother. Shit.

"Crixus?!" Spartacus shrieks trying his best to get out of the bath, although he keeps loosing his footing and falling.  Truly one of the most embarrassing moments of his life so of fucking course Crixus was here. 

"And I repeat myself: what the fuck?" Crixus asks clenching his fists looking between the two flustered gladiators. 

"None of your fucking business you shit!" Agron quips scrambling out of the tub having a lot more bravado than a six foot something man with a deep red blush creeping down his neck  should have. 

"I wasn't talking to you, you fucking lumbering cunt." Crixus states settling on glaring holes into Spartacus. 

"Brother please leave it." Duro begs diving past Crixus to shove at Agron's chest. Spartacus shakes his head reaching out to the Gaul.

"Crixus I can explain." He tries,

"Do not fucking touch me." Crixus hisses smacking his hand away. 

"As if you have any fucking reason to be pissed." Agron scoffs pushing his brother off of him. 

"You do not fucking matter!" Crixus snarls shooting him a warning look. 

"Crixus please this is my fault." Spartacus begs stepping in between the two of them. 

"Of that I am certain." Crixus rolls his eyes moving to turn around. 

"Typical. Big words, threatening faces and then turning tail to run." Agron snorts crossing his arms. 

"Wait Crixus no-" Spartacus shouts trying to catch the Gaul as he launches himself at the older Rhine brother. 

"Motherfucker!" Crixus screams his shoulder catching Agron around the middle. Duro tries to get between them but was elbowed in the chest for his efforts. 

Spartacus picks Duro off the ground watching exasperated. He knows better than to intervene this early on in the fight. He also knows that while furious the two weren't actually mad at each other. Agron it seems was just angry in general when it came to Crixus. While Crixus was jealous and hurt something Spartacus hadn't intended. Sighing he shakes his head at his own stupidity. He should have just cleaned quickly and sought Varro out. Should have never attempted this thing with Agron without consulting his two current lovers first. 

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Duro asks worriedly watching them roll around shouting at each other. Spartacus rolls his eyes. 

"They haven't actually thrown a punch since losing their balance. No they're fine." He informs stepping forward to follow them towards the door of the baths. 

"Brother please." Duro whines helplessly. Agron and Crixus crapple for a few more moments doing nothing more than straining their arms before both grunting in self defeat. Nodding Spartacus stoops down and assists the pair into standing. Despite Crixus' flailing attempt to dissuade him.

"Finally some sense to your thick skulls." Crixus scowls at the sass in Spartacus' voice. 

"Do not fucking speak you whore. I have no patience -"

"That's the fucking truth." Spartacus laughs hand on hip. Crixus steps into his space their foreheads touching. The look in his eye a familiar one. One of rage and the intent to injure. Whatever was said Spartacus swears not to fall for it.

"The truth of it is that you and your wife are the same. Only good for cock; and death." He whispers even as tears fill his eyes. 

It was simply not a night for Spartacus' control over his temper. Angrily shouting Spartacus throws his whole body at Crixus. Half blinded by rage unable to comprehend the words from the brothers beside them as his fist connects with Crixus' ribs. His anger fueled by the knee to his stomach. The stone colliding with his back knocking the air out of his lungs as they roll out of the entrance to the bath. 

"Spartacus!" The startled yell snapping the two of them out of their haze. 

"Oh fuck." Spartacus whispers sure the expression of shock and concern on Crixus' face simply mirrored his own. This was not going to end well.

"Care to fucking explain yourselves?" Varro growls pulling the two of them up by their hair. The murderous look on his face freezing Agron and Duro in place.

"Ow-fuck Varro please just-"

"Shit you fucking cunt that fucking hurts!"

"And the fuck are you two standing around for?" He barks blue eyes blazing at the Rhine's. Duro all but squeaks grabbing Agron by the arm.

"Pardon us. We were just going." He explains yanking his still naked brother as hard as he could. Agron glancing between the other three before begrudgingly following the younger. Varro waits until they have rounded the corner out of sight before letting his lovers go. 

"Well? The fuck is this all about?" Varro waits tapping his foot. His eyes narrow at the grumbling explanations while they rubbed their scalps. "Apologies I can't fucking hear you!" He snaps taking note of Spartacus' guilt hunch of shoulders. 

"Crixus insulted Sura." He mumbles earning a betrayed look from the Gaul who was receiving a disbelieving stare from Varro. 

"After the pup and I caught you fucking that tree!" The venom in his voice not missed as he points down the hall. Varro shakes his head holding his hands up. 

"What- alright wait a fucking moment." He takes a deep breath pinching the bridge of his nose before glancing around. "To Crixus' cell. Now." He commands shoving both of their shoulders. 

"You are not my Dominus. You cannot just tell me to- bitch!" Crixus' argument cut off quickly as Varro snatches his ear glancing over his shoulder threateningly. Spartacus nods eyes wide with fear motioning for Varro to lead. 

Besides Crixus' bitching and complaining the short walk to his cell was a quiet one. Spartacus feeling sick to his stomach wondering what on earth was the matter with him!? Sleeping with Agron? 

"Explain. Now." Varro's tone of voice leaving no room for debate. Crixus rubs his ear bitterly. "I had thought you were with that Roman woman?" Varro questions. 

"I erm well I did." Spartacus starts looking rather miserable. "And I was cleaning the paint off." Varro and Crixus for the first time notice the gold that was patched across Spartacus' lower half. 

"Why are Roman's so fucking weird?" Crixus ponders looking to Varro for explanation. Insulted Varro curls his lip. 

"Rich, Romans." He defends. "Which is beside the point. What happened after?" 

"Um...A-Agron came in and offered assistance with the removal." Crixus folds his arms leaning against the wall. The two of them practically cornering Spartacus in the cell. 

"And what, you slipped and fell on his cock?" The hurt in his voice more than obvious. 

"No I was just...not in the right state of mind after what happened." Varro notices the slightly haunted look that passes over his face. He had a bad feeling about whatever it was that happened between him and the Roman woman upstairs. 

"So as per usual, you tried to chase away your pain and confusion using sex. And it was just our unfortunate timing about not being with you?" Varro thinks out loud. 

"What the fuck do you mean 'per usual'?" Crixus sputters looking horrified. Varro grins looking at Spartacus. 

"Perhaps in the morning the three of us should have a conversation about all of Spartacus' past and current lovers." He offers. Spartacus blanches at the thought but Crixus nods firmly. "For now, explain why the two of you were fighting." He waves his hand between the two of them a lot calmer that he was moments ago. 

"Crixus and Agron had fought a little." Spartacus informs with a self-justifying point across the room. Crixus gawks at him. 

"You were fucking the man and lay blame on me?"

"You attacked first!" 

Varro throws his hands in the air with a loud groan.

"Fuck the gods the two of you will be the death of me!" He declares clapping his hands over his eyes. His fellow gladiators remain silent as he sighs dragging his palms across his face. "I give no shit why Crixus was or wasn't fighting Agron. I asked why the two of you were wrestling around like a couple of fucking recruites!" Crixus actually flinches at the description while Spartacus grimaces. 

"I um...might have insinuated that the two of them held no sense in their brains..." Spartacus admits rubbing the back of his neck. 

"And...as a response I could have mentioned that Spartacus and his wife were nothing but dead whores." Crixus mumbles shoulders sagging. Varro looks between the two of them at a loss. 

"Petty words set the two of you to madness?" He blurts out eyebrows rising. The two of them held the humility to blush. "After everything the three of us have been through? Honestly!"

"I already feel foolish for actions of late, there holds no reason to make me feel worse." Spartacus pouts. Crixus huffs sitting on his bed. 

"Debatable yet seems it's not up to me." He whines. Varro massages his temples looking rather stressed. 

"The two of you must find a way to move past such hatred. Misplaced, misguided and truthfully just useless. I've had enough. The two of you shall plan an apology. To each other," he points a finger at each of them as they both open their mouths to argue "and to me! I expect that one to be done together! Now to bed!" He wrenches the door open as if making his decision final. Hesitantly Spartacus skirts past him with a glance at Crixus. Varro gives the Gaul another nod before shutting the cell door behind him headed towards his own bed for the second time that night. 

Chapter Text

"How's the head?" Donar blinks a few times down at Rhaskos before turning around. He must have been hit harder than he thought. It couldn't be possible that the voice belonged to who he thought it was. 

"Agron. What brings you to our fair corner?" Donar muses fiddling with the dice in his hand. There was a fair amount of gladiators around. A horrible spot to try and seduce the elder Rhine brother. Despite opportunity finally fucking presented.

"Your head injury I feel partially responsible -" Agron tries to explain earning a chorus of obnoxious laughter to erupt around him. Donar stands quickly dropping the dice and stepping over Hamilcar. 

"Because it was your brother who caused it? Forget it." Donar offers grabbing Agron by the back of the neck and walking towards the halls. Having watched the new gladiator for weeks Donar is well aware of how quickly he would have fallen into a fight back there. No, best to ignore the wild looks from Spartacus, his pet Roman and even a curious look from Crixus as he shoves past. The doe eyed brother of his was no where to be seen and Donar wasn't even going to fucking question it. Much to busy with keeping Agron out of ear shot and away from distractions.

"But you were left out of the arena this week because of it." Agron argues eyes glued to their feet. Donar chuckles his fingers tapping against Agron's skin. The fact that he felt guilty was cute, especially since it was unnecessary.

"Should you continue to do nothing but fix and apologize for your brother's mistakes neither you nor him will ever grow. As men or gladiators." Donar shoves him down a narrow mostly unused hallway after he was sure no one was following them. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Agron squawks shoulders hunching to fit into the tight space. Donar smirks trapping him against the wall. 

"The time is long past for the two of us to have an," he looks Agron up and down slowly, "intimate conversation." He whispers licking the shell of Agron's ear. The fact that he shivers instead of shoving Donar away was more telling than the way his green eyes dilated. 

"A-about what?" Agron clears his throat keeping his palms flat against the wall. Donar smirks fiddling with Agron's hair. 

"About when and where I'm going to have you on my cock." Agron's mouth falls open too stunned to respond. Donar nods thoughtfully sliding a thigh between his legs. "I grow tired of the dance between us. Stolen glances and fleeting moments of privacy." Agron squirms a little, even through his subligaria Donar can feel his cock thickening against his leg. 

"What exactly do you expect us to do about it then?" He challenges lifting his hips in a half assed attempt at grinding. Almost as if he was still unsure of if they should. Donar rolls his eyes. 

"Tonight is the end of the month. That crippled fuck Ashur will be coming around handing out the coin we have earned the past few weeks." Agron raises an eyebrow. He wasn't entirely sure how it worked but it was nice to get a mild understanding. 

"The same crippled fuck who informed me that you had no interest in men. That you rarely took a whore and it was always a woman." Donar mouths at his collar bone enjoying the way Agron has to swallow a moan. 

"I do not trust the Syrian shit. So he does not know me. I enjoy both men and women. Men are preferred but women whores are cheaper." He offers as an explanation lips moving from one side to the other of Agron's neck. 

"So then what should we do?" Agron wonders a hand bravely grabbing Donar's bicep. Donar glances at it loving the strength he could feel. Yet loving the soft sound of want that escapes Agron when Donar flexes. 

"You're going to ask for a private cell for the night with your winnings. He's going to argue with you but you're going to insist." Donar informs rolling his hips unable to resist the small amount of relief this gives to his aching cock. 

"We can do that?" Agron gasps eyes falling closed as he arches into Donar's touch. 

"Mmh hmm. There's always one empty cell, tiny and deep in the bowels of the Ludus just for this purpose. It's cold without a lover or a whore and not many have the patience to save up for both." Agron nods only half paying attention one of Donar's hands having moved from the wall to trace down Agron's side. Tracing every curve he finds. 

"And how will you find yourself there?" Agron frowns trying to think of all the ways this could go wrong. He wishes he had done the same prior to the other night with Spartacus. In hindsight he's lucky it was Crixus that had found them and not a guard. Being out past hours was dangerous. He's heard of the consequences of doing such things. 

"Worry not, Ashur is not to be trusted with secrets; but he is useful when plied with coin. He does not get paid for his duties above as he was bought to be a gladiator before his injuries." Agron jolts looking at Donar in surprise. 

"That fuck was to be a gladiator?!" He exclaims, loud enough for Donar to slap a hand over his mouth. 

"Shut the fuck up." He grits out through his teeth. The two of them stay silent for a moment before Donar lowers his hand with a nod. "Yes, he was. Now would you prefer to prattle on about Ashur or would you rather hear the rest of my plan on fucking you until you forget how to hold a fucking sword?" Agron blushes but jerks his head in agreement. 

"Quicken words, Duro shall be looking for me by now. He had only requested a few words with Doctore." One mystery that Donar could care less about solved. 

"Fuck your brother. I give no shits towards him." Agron gives him a murderous look before melting into a cheeky grin.

"I thought you were trying to fuck me?" He teases sticking his tongue between his teeth. Donar groans. 

"There is no try. Tonight, I'm going to have you begging for my cock. And if you suck it good enough I plan on fucking you until dawn." Donar promises pressing his forehead to Agron's. 

"Fuck the gods is it sun down yet?" He hopes feeling his knees shake. Donar smiles cupping Agron's face. 

"Midday meal has just ended. There is still half a days training and the baths before Ashur will start making his rounds. I am a low level Gladiator and you are new, we will be last to be visited." Agron makes a sound of frustration as Donar eases back. "Tonight." He reassures before slipping out of the hall and out of sight. 

Agron curses smacking the wall a few times. What the fuck was the matter with him?! Had he not learned his lesson?! Did he no longer care for his brother's well being?! Should he and Donar be discovered.....

Donar would be the one in danger. Frowning Agron begins walking towards the sands. 

With the plan in place Agron would have secured a cell for the entire night for himself. Approved and purchased by Ashur. With that fucking book of his it would be recorded. Agron would be exactly where he was supposed to be. Confused and still partially aroused Agron nearly jumps when Duro grabs his arm. 

"Where the fuck did you go?!" He demands. Sighing Agron shoves him off. 

"I am allowed a moment of fucking peace without you brother." He snaps trying to ignore Spartacus' and Varro's heated stares. The crack of the whip draws all their attention.

"Gladiators, attend!" Oenamous barks signaling the end of midday meal and the second part of their training. 

Chapter Text

As with every morning Varro joins Spartacus at the edge of the cliff for their morning relief. He could tell that his champion didn't sleep well. Something he could hardly blame the man for. After the events of last night. He wants to know the details, he just doesn't want to cause him anymore pain. Sighing he nudges his shoulder. 

"Was he any good?" Varro asks attempting to smile. Spartacus grimaces looking rather miserable. A small part of Varro is glad for it, the rest of him wants to drag Spartacus away and make everything okay. To assure him that it didn't matter and that the Thracian could do whatever he wanted so long as he was happy and safe.

"I should have talked to you about it first." He mumbles tucking himself back into his subligaria. Varro rolls his eyes doing the same. Whatever jealousy he feels about it was no reason to make Spartacus upset. He had no right to tell the man who to fuck or not. They had Crixus and more often than not Varro had found himself and the Gaul locked in passionate embrace without the Thracian. So why shouldn't Spartacus have a personal toy of his own?

"That is not what I asked." He wishes there was something he could do to make the pools of blue that were looking at him regain their sparkle. To remove that cloud of doubt and sorrow. "Are you my wife?" He scoffs turning towards morning meal. Confused Spartacus follows. 

"Aurelia holds title as such. As she has and always will." He confirms grabbing a bowl. Varro nods clapping his shoulder. A firm reminder that he needed to focus on his own business and stop tormenting himself and Spartacus with emotional turmoil that will do nothing but lead them both to ruin.

"Then why does foolish notion of breaking words with me before finding a cock in your ass take root in your wild mind?" Varro doesn't bother keeping his voice down. Whatever the other gladiators think of his friendship with Spartacus wasn't his concern. He has stood by this man's side and between him and hostile brethren from the beginning they all knew his feelings. His champion blushes all the same leaning in trying to whisper. 

"You are cherished friend and favored companion." Spartacus informs a note of ferocity in his voice. Varro laughs around his food as they take their usual seats. Spartacus notices Crixus glaring at them from the food line. His hair was still mused on one side proof of his late rising. 

"I seem to fall out of favor quite a bit then don't I?" Varro teases dimples deep and eyes bright with Spartacus' indignation. He loves it when Spartacus leaves an opening. Both with his words and his swords. It happens so infrequently after all.

"You know my meaning! Varro there are none here besides you that I care for! Without Sura you are sole-" Varro smacks him upside the head shoveling more food into his mouth. There was a time and place for this argument and breakfast was most certainly not it. Varro feels his heart break at even the thought of Spartacus pouring his soul to him. No need to crush the man on an empty stomach.

"Still tongue. You speak nonsense and I am far too tired to deal with it this morning. Wait until after mid day meal before spouting bullshit." Varro says with a roll of his eyes. Spartacus opens his mouth to argue;

"Have we yet learned reason behind your foolishness last night?" Crixus' gruff voice turns his attention. Both pair of blue eyes upon him he joins them at their table ignoring the shocked look from Ashur in the corner. Everyone in the brotherhood knew of his respect for Varro and the rocky friendship/rivalship he held with Spartacus. Sitting with the two of them wasn't so shocking to anyone else. Except perhaps the Rhine brothers in the back. Agron's green eyes watching nervously and Duro all but gawking.

"A good morning to you too Crixus." Varro greets him grinning from ear to ear. "And no we have not gotten that far yet. I'm still trying to learn if the, what did you call him? 'Lumbering tree' held any talent with his cock." Crixus raises an eyebrow at the shade of red Spartacus turns and the sheer amusement on Varro's face as he does. The two of them reminded him so much of Barca and Pietros in this moment it hurt. Part of him wishes he could just forget what happened and move on, but now that the question was in the air Crixus wasn't going to be able to rest until he knew the truth.

"Well? Answer fucking question so we can move on to more pressing ones." Crixus barks at him his impatience ever present. Spartacus munches on his meal for a moment before sighing. With Crixus' intense as always glare holding him hostage he knows there was nothing for it.

"He was better than anticipated but not as good as either of you." Spartacus admits looking rather unhappy about this fact. Varro guffaws a little. The sound making Spartacus' heart skip a beat. How could the Roman doubt Spartacus' feelings for him? If only he could make the man understand that he stands equal to Sura herself. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up even at the thought. 

"By 'better than anticipated' are you telling us you expected him to be bad at it?" Crixus smirks at him causing Spartacus to hunch his shoulders. The two of them were so mean! If he tries hard enough he's sure he could hear his wife laughing too.

"His manner was of a nervous mare! Looking more like frightened animal than experienced lover how the fuck was I supposed to know?" He grumbles into his spoon. Crixus laughs out right while Varro attempts to stifle his own. 

"The man is East of the Rhine you whelp!" Crixus informs as if that explains everything. Spartacus makes a mocking face at him. "You have heard stories of Gaul's siring many children yes?" He asks a little prideful if anything. Spartacus rolls his eyes but nods. He is not a fan of being spoken to as if a child, but if this was the worst of his punishment from the two of them then he'd take it. He'd take anything to undo his mistake.

"Well East of the Rhine, women and men are both known to have sexual appetites to rival Jupiter himself." Varro tells him with a glance at the brothers. Spartacus looks dumbfounded. 

"I have never heard such a thing." Crixus nods as if understanding how Spartacus could go his entire life not hearing of this stereotype. 

"The rumors are that they make the best whores as hardly any of them make it to adulthood without having bedded dozens if not hundreds." He continues as Varro doubles over and Spartacus' mouth drops. It was a little unbelievable. Especially with what he knows of the two. 

"Gladiators!" Oenamous' whip crack and morning greeting draws their attention. "Attend!" Crixus sighs standing giving Spartacus a hard look.

"This is not over rabbit. The three of us still need to discuss your actions from last night." The tone in his voice leaving no room for debate. Varro rolls his eyes as Crixus storms away to gather practice swords. He could tell from the look on Spartacus' face that he was ready to spill all. Jaw locked and eyes blazing. Ready to do whatever it took. And if he continued acting and looking like that Varro was never going to last through the day.

"He's not wrong but it's not the end of the world. He sleeps with Naevia and Lucretia. Neither of us are stopping him from fucking anyone else." The blond informs with a shake of his curls. Spartacus smiles softly as they suit up. His heart swells at the way his friend defends his actions. Even if he didn't agree with them. 

"He is hurt. I believe Barca him and Pietros were exclusive and he believed us their replacements." Varro makes a face at this while picking up his swords. "If that is his wish I do not mind. He simply needs to say so." He adds sternly with a pointed look. Varro scoffs. Here they go again.

"Remove look from face before I take your whole head off." He warns as they begin not even bothering to wait for Doctore to direct them to a sparring partner. They earn a disapproving scowl for it but nothing more. He would have paired them together anyhow. Him matching Rhaskos with Crixus was an odd choice in their opinion but, eh, they were not Doctore.

"I simply wish to express heart. To show you-"

"That you are the world's greatest fool. Believe me I know it. Keep your words damn it. I shall not have them." Varro snips dodging a swipe of Spartacus' swords. He could feel his heart begin to pound at even the thought of what Spartacus was attempting to say. It was something he couldn't let be spoken out loud. Varro wasn't sure what he would do if it was. Something dark and selfish tells him Aurelia would suffer from his actions though. He's caused the fragile woman enough pain. And if he lets Spartacus entertain what he thinks he feels then that was going to hurt the man too. Something Varro doesn't believe he could handle. 

"One day soon, I am going to corner you in my cell and not let you leave until you understand -argh cunt!" He shouts when Varro lands a blow to the back of his thighs where he knows Spartacus is sensitive. Giggling to himself Varro dances a little while Spartacus gives him a shake of his head in defeat.

"I told you. Keep your fucking words. Your mind needs to be focused on current task. Doctore might make you pair with your body slave if I am able to beat you too easily." He teases. Spartacus scoffs rolling out of the way of a new assault. 

"Agron is hardly my anything. Let alone body slave. And fuck you for even entertaining the idea that I would ever see another human being as such." Varro shouts when Spartacus lands a blow to his lower back his grin nearly blinding the Thracian. Who couldn't help but return it. 

"Oh apologies Bringer of Rain. I forgot you are but lowly shit scraper and have no privileges being the fucking Champion of Capua." Spartacus skids around him able to to point both sword tips to his throat in the cloud of sand. "Fu-ha-ck." Varro laughs shoulders sagging. 

"I earn what I have. You could easily be the champion if you pulled head from ass and watch your flank." Spartacus instructs moving to set his chin on one of Varro's shoulders. He loves the way Varro rolls his eyes shifting from foot to foot. 

"You are simply scrawny and able to fit between legs like a fucking woman. Hard to land a hit on a bouncing rabbit." He teases before snatching Spartacus into a head lock.

"Ow, you fuck!" The two of them laugh while Spartacus attempts to free himself. Their legs tangling together sending them crashing onto the sand. Varro's shield colliding with their ribs a loud crack drawing Oenamous' attention. 

"Varro! Spartacus!" The two of them stop moving sheepishly grinning up at him. Still locked together. 

"Yes Doctore?" Spartacus asks sounding completely serious even with the slight choking hindering his speech. Varro chuckles despite Spartacus' nails digging into his arm. Oenemaus looks between the two of them for a moment and for a split second smiles at them before shaking his head with a sigh. 

"Release each other and grab some water. Afterwards Varro pair with Crixus and Spartacus work the pulvinous." He instructs before walking off and barking at others. Varro laughs as he helps Spartacus to stand. 

"See, I told you to behave." Spartacus rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. 

"I shall never doubt you again." He beams as Varro scoops a cup of water for the pair of them. "Thank you." 

"Crixus does deserve an explanation. I myself wouldn't mind hearing it although I don't need one. I know how you are when distressed." Spartacus blinks at him looking mildly offended. 

"Distressed? Who says I was distressed? Besides you do not know me!" He states clearly ruffled. Varro grins easily imagining Spartacus as the rabbit Crixus claims him to be all puffed out and irritated. 

"Fuck off. I've been around you long enough. Seen your mad schemes in action. I've assisted in your first time with Crixus." Spartacus sighs not meeting his eyes. Varro stares at him lips thinning before chuckling darkly. 

"Crixus is the only one able to deny or confirm." He mumbles noticing the man walking towards them Rhaskos left to figure out how to get off his ass on his own. Hamilcar and Donar laughing at him as he does. Spartacus glances between the two of them before he scampers off to do as Doctore instructed. 

"Your man has run a foot." Crixus notes taking over Spartacus' cup. Varro snorts. 

"He but seizes opportunity to tuck tail and run from witnessing uncomfortable conversation." Crixus sips his drink frowning at the fury on Varro's face. Whatever the two of them were talking about earlier seems to have his hackles raised. 

"Broaching what subject?" He wonders as Varro sends his own cup splashing back into the basin. He can't think of a time where Varro's anger was directed towards him.

"I will not allow your curiosity to grant him victory in his cowardice. Finish quenching thirst and we shall complete this conversation along with the fucking Slayer of Theokoles." Crixus throws his cup down snatching his sword and shield. He did not nearly die for Spartacus' bitch to mock him and pretend the Thracian had no help!

"The cunt did not stand against the man alone!" He snarls barley waiting for Varro to face him before sending a barrage his way. Cursing under his breath Varro blocks as best as he could. He's sick of the both of them. Crixus and Spartacus. Too emotional and too damned good at fighting for their own good. 

"When the sun sets the three of us shall have words." Varro promises looking rather feral himself. Crixus nods as their shields collide. Whatever was going on with the blond had Crixus growing concerned. Between the man's wife and Spartacus he worries that perhaps he's made a poor choice. Maybe Crixus and his issues were too much for his strong shoulders. A thought he was going to have to mention when the three of them had their private moment. 

Chapter Text

The entire house waited with baited breath as Spartacus prepared his wife's body for the pyre. He could feel his heart breaking just thinking about the man's loss and how in a way it was similar to his own. If Crixus was awake he was sure the man would be standing adjacent to Varro. If he was a gladiator Pietros would have offered to do so himself. Yet at the end of the day he was a lowly house slave. Worth less than five denarii at a slavers block but freedom was much too costly. 

Not a word was spoken as Spartacus rounds the corner. Even as a champion it was still kind of Batiatus to allow this to happen. And include the rest of the house. He and Lucretia also wearing black to be included in Spartacus' mourning. Pietros wonders if his plan was going to be able to work. To be possible. His skin prickles and even before his quick glance he knew it was Gnaeus. The man had been waiting patiently for Barca 's death; and now he's gotten better. Pietros abandoned. Taking a breath he skitters off while the Thracian woman still burned. He could not avoid the net wielder forever, but perhaps long enough to achieve his goal. Sighing his feet lead him to Barca's cell. The cooing of the pigeons making him realize something. They're not his. To continue taking care of them he was going to have to ask permission. Doctore was going to be in charge of that. After asking around he learns that Oenamous was in the medicus to check on Crixus' condition. Miserably he sits and waits for a few moments. Watching the stars and wishing beyond hope that he was anywhere but here. That he was with Crixus and Barca, warm and safe. His eyes fall realizing that he was probably never going to feel either man's embrace again. 

The incoming footsteps draw his attention and he was relieved to see it was in fact just Doctore. Their eyes meet and he knows that Doctore understands he wants a word. Sighing heavily he stands, his nerves nearly taking him over. 

"A word Doctore?" He asks quietly. Hopefully Gnaeus wasn't out and about looking for him, but he wasn't going to make it easy if the man was. Oenemaus nods.

"Pietros?" He stops just short of the house slave looking mildly concerned. Pietros hesitates to look at him but there was nothing for it. 

"The birds left in Barca's cell," he starts, fiddling with his hands as he talks, "what should I do with them?" He asks not even sure what answer he was looking for but being afraid of it all the same. Doctore blinks looking confused for just a fraction of a second. 

"Whatever you wish." He informs. Pietros feels his heart constrict. What he wishes. What Pietros wishes. That wasn't something he could do. To do so would be saying goodbye to every hope and dream he and Barca has shared....thought they shared. 

"He said we would release them when we gained our freedom." Pietros tells him trying to keep his voice level even as he feels tears springing to his eyes. The look of surprise on Doctore's face was a small comfort.

"He intended yours as well?" The disbelief a new wound. If even Oenemaus thought it ridiculous then Pietros was truly foolish. 

"That was his purpose with speaking with our Dominus." He defends even as his anger was growing. How could Barca do this to him? After all they had been through together. "A-Ashur said the price was too steep for the both of us." Pietros could feel the words spilling out of him his tongue nearly twisting with the speed of his speech.

"Ashur?" Doctore sounded lost as if he hadn't thought that the Syrian had anything to do with Barca's freedom. 

"He helped negotiate the sum." Pietros tosses the explanation out not exactly caring to talk about the man. "Would it be alright if I keep them? The birds?" He pleads, feeling the need to remind Doctore of their original conversation. The man having looked out into the distance obviously in deep thought. Oenamous gives him a sympathetic look with a small nod. 

"It would not cause notice." Which is just as good as giving him permission. Some semblance of relief spreads through him and he nods before headed to get out of the man's way,

"Thank you." Quickly he goes to check and see if Crixus has risen yet. Having taken the long way around to not be suspicious. He was only mildly shocked to see Naevia there. Pietros hesitates watching the two of them. The Gaul still unconscious fever making him shake even as Naevia dabs at his face with a wet cloth. Hushing any distress sounds and occasionally placing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

"I am here my heart. Rest, worry not I am here." He hears her whisper. Pietros feels his heart break all over again but shakes his head. Once awake he shall speak to Crixus about what he should do. Until then he has a lot riding on his plans for tonight. 

If 'good' Batiatus would shut the fuck up. Pietros doesn't know the Champion overly well but even he can tell that the man was only half hearing what their Dominus was saying. Should have delayed giving Barca his freedom indeed. Pietros takes a few deep breaths to get his anger under control. Spartacus was clearly a man who desired delicate things. He would gladly and easily be so, to be able to be free of Gnaeus. 

Batiatus gives a start after leaving the baths and seeing Pietros. 

"Ah, erm you are tending to your duties then?" He questions with a cough not quite meeting the boys gaze. Pietros nods and mutters a soft

"Yes Dominus." Batiatus nods before all but fleeing. Pietros scowls at the back of his head before giving a shake of his own. He had a Gladiator to seduce after all.

"Oh. Apologies." He whispers softly from the doorway. Spartacus's eyes fly open and see's Pietros hovering. Spartacus stands quickly, reaching for his towel. Pietros tries not to stare his grief and anger disappearing for a flash of a moment. 

"No need. Pardon, give me a moment. You and Barca can have your privacy." Pietros snorts looking hateful, giving the Thracian pause. He knew the bastard wasn't listening to their Dominus. The man's been gone for nearly two days. Where the fuck did Spartacus think he was?

"Barca. The Beast of Carthage, my lover," The word spoken with anything but, "has purchased his freedom and left me for dead." Spartacus's eyes widen before he shakes his head in disbelief.

"I am sorry." He tells. "He does not deserve one as kind as you if that is how he treats you." Pietros snorts again and rolls his eyes in a way that almost has Spartacus smiling. Without a word the slave discards his towel and climbs into the bath with him. If that's how Spartacus feels then maybe he could earn the man's protection.

"He was always rough, but never in a painful way. I suppose this is his version of a punishment." Spartacus tilts his head. Pietros glances at him making sure he was watching as he begins cleaning himself. "For not letting him treat me the way he wished to. The way some will." Pietros informs not caring to hide the disdain from his voice. Spartacus scoffs.

"One such as you does not deserve rough treatment. Rather to be worshiped and treasured." Spartacus replies making Pietros wonder if the Thracian has been interested since they met. The young boy tilts his head looking the Champion up and down. Hopefully in a successive way. It's been a while since he's had to seduce someone new.

"Is that how you would have me?" Spartacus looks rather cute as a small blush creeps up on his cheeks. "Slow, and delicate?" Pietros moves to glide through the water stepping closer. The boy wasn't much shorter than Spartacus, and not without strength. He hopes he presents himself as a promising fuck. Although his stomach threatens to empty itself at his own actions. The man's wife's ashes hardly to the wind and here he was presenting ass for fucking. 

"If you were mine, yes." He states sounding truthful. Although there was still no light in his eyes. Something Pietros hopes to fix. 

"I could be." Pietros offers sinking low, they were close but still not touching. "If only for tonight." Spartacus hisses when Pietros licks his waist line. "To forget our sorrows for a few moments." The Thracian's head tilts back while the slave mouths his way across Spartacus's stomach. "Traded," a hand slides up his hip, "for bliss?" It was an offering, anything that happened next had to be Spartacus' decision.

"Pietros," Spartacus breathes out, the young boy smiles wickedly up at him, the Champion sounded strained as if trying not to give in to what was willingly presented.

"hmm?" He was eager to hear what the Champion had to say.

"I," A moan as Pietros stroked his cock without warning, "I ca-cannot protect you the way Barca did. I will not claim you as my own in front of the others." It was a warning. Pietros feels his heart sink and his panic rise. However he can't let Spartacus think that's all he wanted. In a way it wasn't, in a larger way Pietros was ashamed of his own actions. If Spartacus doesn't change his mind after this then he was never going to approach the man again.

"I understand Champion. This is a one time thing." Pietros pouts not looking up at him. He wonders if Spartacus was pitying him. Pietros works his hand around Spartacus's growing erection for a moment. It seems the man's grief had him distracted, he was going to have to fix that. When the head of his cock was above water the younger leaned down to lick around the tip. He was very proud about the broken noise he pulled from the Thracian. A clear sign he had the Champion's full attention. Holding his breath Pietros manages to swallow half of the Thracian's cock into his mouth without drowning. Spartacus moans clenching his hands into fists at his sides. 

"Pietros stop." He gasps at the first bob of the slaves head. The fear of rejection was clear on his face when he looks up at Spartacus. Damn it the man has already changed his mind! 

"Have I done something to displease you? Apologies. I wished only for a shared comfort." His soft voice was so full of hurt when he releases Spartacus's cock. The Champion snatched the boy's wrist holding him in place shocking the Egyptian slave. Pietros feels his shame growing. He wouldn't be in this situation if Barca had taught him how to fight. Or if the Beast had kept word and taken Pietros with him. He notices Spartacus' cock twitch even as the man tilts his head and gently pulls Pietros to a standing position.

"Gesture is much appreciated. And this night it shall be accepted." Spartacus whispers softly moving to cup both hands around Pietros's face. "But I shall do it on my terms. The baths are much too public. Join me in my cell?" It was a question. Relief swept across the boys features and a small smile even graced his lips. Spartacus wasn't sending him away and even treating him kindly like he said he would. He can't recall a time where he was asked to join someone he was planning on sleeping with. Simply told to follow. 

"Gratitude." Pietros surprises him by giving him a swift kiss. "Come then. I shall not waste any more of your time." Spartacus shakes his head following the slave out. The two barely bother with covering themselves. Erections impeding any sort of decency anyways. 

"By the fucking Gods!" Spartacus shouts bucking his hips into Pietros's throat. The boy chuckles around him, vibrations making him moan and sag back against the bed. "A-apologies." Pietros pops off with a perverted slurp grinning up at the Champion from between his thighs. 

"For what?" His laughter was not mistaken for innocence. Spartacus pants a little looking down at him. The way his blue eyes were blown with curiosity and desire had Pietros' pride swell. He likes pleasing people. Just the people he wants to, the way he wants to.

"I boasted earlier about being gentle and sweet with you. Yet here I am, choking you-" Oh fuck the gods. 

"Pfft. Thracian your cock is of an impressive size, tongue cannot bare false words in such a matter. But you are far from the largest I have ever had." Spartacus chuckles sitting up on his elbows. Having shared a bath with Barca in the past he knows this to be true. 

"Fair enough." Spartacus reaches down and pulls Pietros up on top of him. "But the rest of this shall be what I promised." Pietros rolls his eyes but smiles brightly. He has heard similar promises before. He wasn't sure what it was but always at some point his lovers become rough with him. As if they cannot control themselves. With those who do it properly such as Barca and Crixus the slave found he didn't mind. He shivers thinking of Gnaeus.

Spartacus seeming to sense the boy's mind wandering rolls them so Pietros was on his back. He ghosts kisses across his lover's face, down his neck biting and sucking gently here and there. Mere whispers against Pietros's skin. Moaning Pietros arches up into Spartacus' touch, begging for more. Spartacus ignores the plea as he teases each dark nipple slowly and carefully. No rush and just the barest hint of teeth. He could feel the Thracian's cock leak against his thigh. Pietros whimpers when Spartacus uses his hands to spread his legs making more room for him between them. He wishes he could stop the little noises he was making. It's no wonder the man was married, his wife surely wanted to keep this talented lover to herself! Spartacus dips his fingers in some leftover wine before slipping them into Pietros's mouth. The Thracian makes a sound as if holding back a whine at the way Pietros swirls his tongue. He couldn't help lifting his hips when Spartacus drags his tongue along the underside of Pietros' cock. 

"Spartacus," Pietros keens throwing his head back, abandoning his attempt to soak Spartacus's fingers. 

"Hush, you're safe. I will take care of you, Delicate one." Pietros smiles at the reassurance letting his eyes close. It was rather odd how much he trusted Spartacus. Carefully he traces the wet digits down, the way he encircles Pietros's cock head swiping some of the clear liquid beading there drawing out a harsh breath from Pietros who spreads his legs further, encouraging. 

"Please, it has been too long." Pietros begs surprising himself. Barca has only been free for two whole days. Spartacus huffs out a small laugh before pressing his index finger against Pietros entrance. Wantonly Pietros pushes down against him. His whole body seemed to rise up. A strangled moan escapes him as he pushes past the outer ring of muscles with little resistance. Pietros feels his face scrunches up with frustration. Spartacus adds a second digit perhaps sooner than he should have. Pietros cries out with a smile spreading across his face, fuck yes this is what he was wanting. Craving. "Yes, please Champion." Blinking stupidly Spartacus pours some of the oil Pietros brought with him on his cock, hissing at the contact. As he did this he was sure to stretch his young lover, scissoring his fingers, curling them waiting until, "OH FUCK!" Pietros convulses violently grabbing a hold of Spartacus's wrist his nails digging in. His orgasm slamming through him without much of a build up. Spartacus lets out a shaky gasp, looking down. Pietros almost broke skin but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Pietros are you alright?" He asks sounding shaky. A lazy smile was his response. Shaking his head Spartacus eases his hand back and slowly places the tip of his cock against the slightly puckered hole. Pietros lifts his hips wrapping a leg around Spartacus's waist. 

"Now, please. I cannot stand to wait any longer." Spartacus hums at his words, making the house slave panic at the thought of him doing so. Pietros wiggles against him hoping to tease him enough. It seems to have worked as Spartacus eases himself in slow, tortuously so. Pietros clenches his muscles gripping Spartacus' cock contracting, hot, wet and eager. Just as he was fully situated Pietros thrusts upwards. 

"Fuck." Spartacus moans, pulling back almost all the way and slowly pushing himself in again.

"I cannot. This is too soft." Pietros complains with a frustrated sob. Spartacus smiles, carefully speeding his thrusts up a little. Pietros was getting impatient at the way Spartacus was doing his best to be gentle, having lost the battle for slow, soon after Pietros had grabbed his ass. Before he could say another word Spartacus was turned onto his back with a lap full of dark, sweet skin. He was too close to the damn edge to wait for Spartacus' and his soft thrusts.

"Champion my fucking ass. You are to kind for such brutality." Pietros snaps at him lifting himself up before slamming himself back down. Spartacus shouts as much in surprise as in pleasure. He was awed into near silence at the way Pietros rides him. Fast, hard, and loud. Their skin smacking echoed, the bed creaked and gods save him the sounds coming out of his mouth were dwindling any reservations that Spartacus was the wrong choice. Groaning Spartacus grabs his hips and aids in the pursuit of release. With a shift Pietros was crying out, a smile back on his face. Two more strokes and their chests were being painted with white strips. The Thracian tries to slow down to ease Pietros off his high, but the slave growls and doubles his efforts. "Not until you finish." He demands. Spartacus makes an obscene noise pushing Pietros onto his back once more and all but pounding into him. Pietros shouts his encouragement locking his ankles behind Spartacus's back. Their thrusts became erratic, the clenching muscles around him almost painful, he was close to the edge Pietros could tell. Suddenly Spartacus lifts Pietros slamming his back against the wall harder and rougher with him than he had been since the start, twisting his hips when he thrusts. 

"Oh fuck!" Spartacus moans. Pietros scratches his back in efforts to pull him closer, desperate to feel every twitch of the man's cock as he spills inside Pietros stilling his movements. The two slowly sink onto the bed panting and gasping for air. "Apologies." Spartacus whispers after a moment pulling out with a wince. Pietros laughs brightly.

"No need. I enjoyed it. You were still far gentler than any other lover I've had." Spartacus looks him up and down. He must have had too much hope on his face as Spartacus' become serious.

"I do not need to remind you that-" Damn it.

"This was a one time thing yes." Pietros sighs shaking his head. He grabs his towel and kisses Spartacus on his cheek. "Rest well Champion. You have my gratitude." He doesn't wait for the man to respond before rushing out. Pietros slinks back to his cell shame covering him. He threw himself at the Champion of Capua. The Thracian. Crixus was going to be furious. Heartbroken. His heart clenches when he thinks of Barca. Was he simply working fast to make enough money to free Pietros? Did he just throw away their love for nothing? Shaking he shuts the door behind him and curls up on the bed tears forming in his eyes. He had always found Spartacus appealing, but he always liked the man's kindness more. Perhaps he just ruined a friendship as well. Perhaps he deserved whatever it was Gneaus was sure to have in store for him now that Barca and Crixus could no longer protect him. The coo of the birds, something that usually helps him fall asleep, aid into reminding him of his grief. Sitting up he takes out one of Barca's favorite birds letting himself cry. 

He looks up when the door opens and can feel the fear gripping his entire being. Gnaeus smirking, looking victorious strutting into his cell. He doesn't even bother to shut the door behind him. The gladiator's delight in the way Pietros starts to shake. Pietros wants to beg, to scream for help. But he knows it won't do anything...nobody would come to his aid. Crixus being unable and Barca being gods knows where. There was no one to save him. 

Gnaeus doesn't even say a word before discarding is subligarium. Pietros releases the bird and tries to duck out into the hall at the very least but the Gladiator catches his arm and drags him down. Twisting his arm and keeping him low. The man's knee hits him so hard in the face that he could already feel it swelling. 

"The less you fight the less you hurt." It was the closest thing to a warning Pietros gets. Being forced to the ground Gnaeus forces his jaw open bruising just under his now bleeding lip before shoving his cock straight to the back of Pietros' throat. He was gagging feeling like he was going to throw up. Hair being pulled, threatening to be ripped from roots. Tears were streaming down his face and for a moment he thought he was actually going to die like this. His face buried in dark smelly curls his throat stretched beyond reason and his eye throbbing from the earlier hit. Freedom wouldn't come so soon as the bastard yanks him backwards with a groan. 

"Ga-rmph" Pietros manages to gasp and attempt to reject before Gnaeus snatches both his ears and drags him back down. He wouldn't be surprised if there was blood with how sharp his nails felt against such tender skin. If he was a braver man Pietros would have biten the intruding cock as hard as he could. But he was too scared of what Gnaeus would do to him if he even tried. 

"Fuck the gods you have the best mouth." He was disgustingly praised. Pietros could feel his heart pounding against his ribs hard enough he wondered if he would bruise. As with everything Gnaeus has done, without warning he drags Pietros off his knees and slams him up against the wall. "Look at me while I fuck you, my pretty little bitch." 

Pietros sobs pitifully. Attempting to shove Gnaeus off of him but to no avail. With one arm pinning Pietros to the hard wall the other nearly tears the house slave's clothes off. Regardless of anything else, despite the fact that it did nothing to save him from this; Pietros was greatly relieved that he had seduced Spartacus earlier. Having the Champion properly stretch and fuck him was the sole reason his pain at Gnaeus' forcing his cock inside was minimal. 

It did however also make the man pause. 

"Please stop this." Pietros whispers his voice shaking as he weeps. Gnaeus tilts his head as if thinking about who Pietros could have had. He nods after a second seeming to come to a conclusion.

"You will regret fucking someone else. You are mine once again Pietros. I will not let you get away again." The gladiator utters choking Pietros as he begins his rough and tactless rutting. Pietros squeezes his eyes shut clawing at the arm that was cutting off his air supply. If it was possible he wouldn't have doubted his ears bleeding having to listen to the grunts and pants of his assailant. It turned his stomach and he felt tainted when Gnaeus plasters against him the stench of his breath crowding Pietro's senses. 

After what seemed like hours Gnaeus finally made a gutteral sound that Pietros remembers all to well. He hiccups feeling his load trickle out of the abused hole before Gnaeus tosses him onto the bed without care. Pietros yelps as he lands harshly, the edges of the wood Knocking his knees. Terrified he looks up at the net wielder. His smirk was all teeth before he tackles Pietros. Shouting and squirming he tries to escape again but was elbowed in the gut for his efforts. He out right wails in agony as Gnaeus bits his ribs, sucking hard and marking him with a telling bruise. 

"No." He bawls when Gnaeus stands. Another wordless smirk before he snatches up his subligaria and waltzes out of the room without a second glance. Miserably Pietros curls up in a ball wishing the soft noises of the birds would ease him to sleep as they used to. Instead of mock him with what was supposed to be. 

In the morning he gets nothing but mildly sympathetic looks. Doctore does a double take but besides a tightened grip on his whip also stays silent on Pietros' appearance. He knows his eye and face must be an ugly reddish purple. He wishes that he owned a shirt if some kind to hide the mark on his ribs. Wishes that Crixus was awake and well enough to defend him from Gnaeus. More than anything he wishes he was a fighter and could have prevented this from happening. He sighs heavily noticing Spartacus kneeling at the edge of the cliff. An already incredibly awkward moment was now made a nightmare situation as Pietros approaches with the wooden swords. 

"Your swords for practice Champion." He states flatly wishing his injured lip would stop throbbing. Spartacus stands and takes the swords silently before even meeting Pietros' gaze. He couldn't help but feel ashamed at the questioning look in his eyes. The two of them holding their breath before Doctore snaps his whip making Pietros flinch turning to look at him. 

"Today's training begins." He shouts stepping further onto the sand. "Pair up!" Pietros walks towards his usual post instinctively taking what Oenamous hands him, startled to realize it was the whip! "Sword and shield." He instructs without even turning his head. Panicked Pietros rushed to follow command. Throughout the days training Pietros does his best to act like it was any other day. Doing his normal chores, having to pause once to retrieve Doctore's practice weapons and trade them for his whip once more. 

Pietros skipped midday meal, pretending to fill the gladiator's water basin. Ignoring the burning look from Gnaeus as he does. As last night proved he was not going to be able to avoid the man forever. He had tried multiple times throughout the day to visit Crixus. Every time he even turned that direction someone was calling him for something. 

Varro needed parchment with quill and ink. Donar required replacement manicae having torn his and it all but fell off of him! Rhaskos had Pietros track down Ashur for new dice and bones, someone (Hamilcar) had lost a large hand and sent the old set over the cliff. He of course had to feed and water the birds, more of a burden now than they ever were. Liscus demanded a new to him subligarium which Pietros had to ask a guard to send the request to Batiatus for. Before being tracked down and informed that he was to retrieve it from Naevia as she was headed to check on Crixus. He dreaded that conversation. Unsurprisingly she gasps dramatically when she sees his face. 

"By the gods, Pietros what happened?!" He asks as he takes the bundle from her arms. 

"It is nothing of note. Please do not tell Crixus. He must focus on recovery." He begs her wincing as she cups his face. They stare at each other for a moment before she nods sympathetically. 

"I understand. There are things that happen to me in the villa that I keep from him as well." Pietros blinks wanting to snap at her that fucking Domina or Dominus was a far cry to being beaten to a pulp and then raped but, her eyes were so full of sorrow that he couldn't bring himself to do so. He just nods and hurries off. 

That night he was tempted to barricade the door with the bird's crates. If not for his concern for their safety he might have. He did manage to have enough time to prepare himself. Knowing if he didn't things were going to be a lot worse. It would have been easier to do if he knew just where that fucking marble went. As far as he could tell Barca took his purchase with him when he left. 

He didn't shed as many years when Gnaeus stormed in. Thinking of Barca now made a bubble of rage build in his chest. The Beast of Carthage knew what would happen to Pietros. Knows the house slave wasn't able to defend himself against a fully trained gladiator! He barely made a sound as Gnaeus pounded into him without care. Sounding like a drunken goat as he forced himself in and out of Pietros' ass. Not even having the slave wet his cock with his mouth before soldiering in. 

The next day was much of the same. Pietros working tirelessly to attend to each gladiators needs. A new found limp adding to the pitying glances he received. Yet no offers of help or defense. Once more every chance to see Crixus deterred to a different task. He once was able to catch a glimpse but the man seemed to still be gripped with fever, oblivious to the world. Naevia at his side whispering sweet words. 

The baths were the worst of it today. Gnaeus grabbing his arm, his hips slamming Pietros against him. Dragging the sigil down his back before shoving it in the house slave's hands holding his wrist tight enough that he fears it would break. Donar clearing his throat loudly seemed to keep Gnaeus from doing any real damage. But the humiliation of having the brotherhood sit there and watch him be helpless was more than Pietros could bare. He cleans Gnaeus and himself quickly before ducking out of the baths having noticed Spartacus and Varro do so earlier. 

Heart pounding he was desperate to go check on Crixus. Hoping beyond reason that if he was near the Gaul, Gnaeus would leave him alone. If only for tonight. Yet as the past few days has proven there was an obstruction. A curly blond one at that. 

Varro gives him a sheepish look. 

"Sorry little one. The Bringer of Rain has requested a private audience with the Gaul." He explains folding his arms. Pietros frowns shifting a little. 

"I didn't know Crixus was awake." He sighs wondering why the medicus had not notified anyone. Varro chuckles. 

"He isn't. But our current champion isn't exactly of sound mind. Clouded by grief as it is." Pietros nods before the two of them hear a shout, so painfully Crixus it was embarrassing. Especially with the skin on skin slapping the followed. Varro glances over his shoulder before grimacing looking at Pietros. Besides being wide eyed and open mouthed he does little else but stare at Varro. An uncomfortable moment passes between them before he just turns and walks away.

His shock over what he heard was such that Pietros almost didn't notice Gnaeus coming into his cell. If it wasn't for the clatter as he trips over a crate he would have jumped out of his skin when grabbed roughly by the shoulder. The cursing was well deserved in his opinion and he hopes the net wielder had a bruise on his shin. Hopes he was injured enough that by the next time he stood in the arena it would be his last. The pain Pietros felt in his body only second to that of his heart. Even as angry as he was at Barca; he misses the man more than words could express. 

"Fuck, so good as always." Gnaeus sighs stilling his hips at last. Pietros wipes the tears from his face hating himself for allowing this and hating his body for starting to react. He does not enjoy this, yet any attention he receives seems to mildly stir his cock. He hopes it's out of habit. "Tomorrow night, you sleep in my cell. Fuck these stupid birds." Gnaeus instructs. Pietros curls into a ball facing away from him. Perhaps if he could drug the man's wine that at the very least would be an escapable fate. 

If looks could kill, the cook would have died on the spot when he instructs Pietros to clean a mess Gnaeus made. Rhaskos tries to give him a friendly smile when Pietros' wrist was snagged in Gnaeus' grip. Panting heavily and pleading under his breath he was dragged down next to the man. An arm sling around his shoulders tightly. His breath nauseating as Gnaeus leans in. 

"Pietros." Spartacus' voice catches their attention from the other side of the room. Tears of hope in his eyes he meets the Thracian's gaze as Gnaeus studies his face still not letting go of him. "Bring more water." Gnaeus gives a quick disbelieving look towards the Champion as Pietros attempts to get up, before being tugged back down. "Now!" At Spartacus' sharp tone Gnaeus laughs shoving Pietros off. 

He takes as long as he could to follow Spartacus' instructions. Having to skirt around Varro, his wife and adorable child. Tears falling at the thought of a life waiting for him outside these walls. He doesn't stick around to even thank Spartacus from the brief moment away from Gnaeus. Too ashamed of his own cowardice and much to aware of the sounds he heard from the medicus last night to look the man in the eyes. 

His only respite at dinner was Donar continuously filling Gnaeus' cup of wine. Cheap or not the amount drank was sure to help Pietros be free of him for a night. Although the terror of the man's touch having him flinch and twitch at every loud sound. He knows he cannot continue to live this way. Knows that no amount of words would give him Dominus' ear. He was a lowly house slave. Shit from a whore. 

Loaded with a plate of food for the Gaul, Pietros was determined to at least talk to Crixus'. See the man's eyes light up when they gaze up at him. Regardless on how scared he was of the questions surely to be asked when he does. Crixus would probably injure himself further just attempting to get to Gnaeus. Shaking from head to toe Pietros stops short of the door a bitter seed of resentment sinking in his stomach at the sight of Naevia, once more dabbing him with a cloth. 

"You bathe me as if a child." Crixus croaks. The sound spilling tears faster than any bodily harm Gnaeus could inflict. 

"You must rest." She reminds Crixus as a coughing fit over takes him. "Lay still." Pietros grits his teeth. Even he knows the man could not, injured as he was. "You'll re-open your wounds." She observes looking at them as if Crixus wasn't aware they exist. Pietros feels a small amount of hatred towards the body slave. She knew nothing of gladiators despite being here for a few years. Crixus sighs defeated.

"I can't even rise." He complains. She smiles softly all the same

"In time." Was her pitiful attempt at comfort. 

"Always the enemy of a gladiator." Crixus states the fact as if she didn't know it. Pietros almost snorts realizing she probably doesn't. 

"Yet a friend to us now!" She says excitedly, her smile and the love in her eyes as she stares at Crixus making Pietros feel guilty for having negative thoughts and feelings about her. "Domina has given excuse for us to be together." Her voice a tone of reminder. Pietros tightens his grip on the plate in his hands. Barca would find this fact extremely funny. "Let us pluck blessing from misfortune." Naevia offers leaning forward. Her expression changing from love to lust with the beat of a heart. Before their lips meet a voice directs Pietros' attention to the outside door. 

"Crixus." Doctore greets oblivious to the annoyance of Naevia. "You live." The relief in his voice almost tangible. "My prayers answered." He sighs reaching the foot of Crixus' cot. 

"I would have more prayers to return me to the sand, to be by the men." Crixus scoffs with a lull of his head. Oenemaus beams down at him and Pietros shrinks back to keep out of sight. 

"You shall rejoin your brothers soon enough." Doctore soothes with an approving nod. 

"Brothers?" Crixus says as if the word was foreign and new. "None have visited me." He shakes his head a little, the emotion in his voice breaking Pietros' heart all over again. "Not even Barca." Just hearing Crixus say his name has Pietros shoving the food at the closest guard and running. Naevia was a fool for keeping this information from Crixus. And when the Gaul learns that the Beast of Carthage left Pietros alone then he was going to know. Know that Pietros wasn't strong enough to be here. Not worthy of being a friend let alone lover to Crixus. Not something or someone to be treasured or protected. 

Blindly he runs through the bowels of the ludus. Straight into Gnaeus himself. The net wielder smirks even as he staggers. Pietros sobs even harder realizing the man was waiting for him at his cell. Drunkenly he drags the house slave down the hall. Gnaeus' cell far colder and emptier than the one Pietros used to share. Desperately, the sound of Crixus' voice giving him strength Pietros slaps Gnaeus as hard as he could across the face. Accomplishing nothing but a fist to his uninjured eye. He screams in pain as Gnaeus slams him onto the bed, pawing and mawling him as he drags their clothes off. With one hard thrust the man was fully seated in Pietros' abused anus. Deaf to his tears. 

It was over faster than it had been the past few days. Gnaeus having grunted loudly pressing on the new wound with great malice. Instead of removing himself the gladiator simply collapses on top of him. His loud obnoxious snores echoing  in the tiny cell. It took great effort and a lot of time for Pietros to wiggles and push his way out from under him. Panting heavily he stares. Crixus wasn't going to want him. Not after what Pietros has allowed to happen. Even if his pride has him fight Gnaeus his condition would have him killed. He knows the man well enough that Crixus was going to challenge someone before he was fully healed. Going to hurt his pride and his body unnecessarily. Pietros couldn't be the reason. There was only one thing he could do. Only one way he could think of to be free of Gnaeus forever.

Nervously he makes his way back towards his own cell. There was a small amount of planning needed for this. He was going to have to find something to support his weight. He rounds a corner and sucks in a harsh breath to see Spartacus, lumbering slightly with his distracted mind. 

"Pietros?" He questions even as Pietros ducks his head attempting to just walk past him. Spartacus grabs his arm however. It was gentle but having just been attacked and after three days of torture it was sore, the sensation stinging his muscles causing him to hiss. He tries to turn away but Spartacus cups his face to get a better look at the swollen shut eye. Pietros can feel his shoulders sag at the tenderness of the Thracian's touch. "Gnaeus' hand?" His question sounding more like a demand. 

"Mhr." Pietros sighs, shivering with self hatred unable to look at him. 

"I shall have word." Spartacus whispers viscously. 

"To what end?" Pietros asks incredulously. "Would it see Barca return? Would it see us reunited? F-free?" He licks his lips feeling fresh tears sliding down his face. "As he promised?" Pietros hates the fact that his voice cracks as if hope was the only thing keeping him standing. 

"Fate often takes a man far from his heart." Spartacus explains, his words meant to be a balm. Knowing how hard the Thracian worked to find his own wife only to have to woman delivered all but dead, Pietros fails to find comfort at the thought. "To his regret." Spartacus notes eyes filling with sorrow to replace the righteousness that was there briefly. 

"Felt more keenly by the one left behind." Pietros practically snarls, the venom he holds in his voice an unintentional stab at Spartacus and the man's failure. He shakes his head and turns to his purpose. The fact that he was not followed was just a confirmation to Pietros that this was the will of the gods. He must believe that, or else feel their abandonment as well. 

It took most of the night for Pietros to find what he was looking for. Having to dash between shadows so the guards and other gladiators would not find and question him. It took half the time to figure out how to tie the damn thing to the support beam above his bed. Wistfully he waits until sunrise. Knowing that the gladiators would be filling their bellies, far enough away that he would not be saved. He was never saved by any of them before and he curses any attempt from them now. 

With a shaky breath he begins to unleash the pigeons. Hoping they would live long and happy lives. Free of this retched place. Far from the horrors of the Ludus and all who dwelled within. He was breathing harder than he thought he would since making his choice. The thought of another day, another night with Gnaeus his motivation. Directly under his chin and beneath his ears so he wouldn't slip his noose, Pietros stands among the crates before sending a soft prayer. 

"Forgive me Barca." He whispers before kicking off the small tower. 

The most unfortunate part was his neck not snapping. Having to wait, to choke on his breath. His lungs burning as he fights every instinct to stop this madness. His eyes feeling as if they would pop out of his skull, the gurgling of his own throat making him twitch. The scratching of leather as it digs into his skin.

After a while it didn't really hurt anymore. In fact he was almost bored. Waiting for the darkness of unconsciousness to envelope him. It never came. But the sound of footsteps did. 

"Are you going to hang there for all eternity or are you coming?" A familiar voice jars Pietros so much he tumbles onto the bed gasping.

"Barca?!" He squeaks both eyes wide. The beast of Carthage grins down at him before scooping him into a hug. "Wha-how?" Confused Pietros realizes he never heard the strap snap. Patting his neck he frowns when he doesn't find it before looking over his shoulder and screaming. 

"Calm down it's not that bad." Barca laughs burying his face into Pietros' hair. 

"That is my fucking body!" Pietros shrieks pointing at the swaying thing. A chuckle accompanies Barca's belly laugh. Twice as confused Pietros turns to see a man he's never seen before. 

"You'll get used to being dead soon enough. Now come here! Embrace me! It's good to finally meet Barca's second love!" Pietros' mouth drops understanding who this must be.

"A-Auctus?!" His disbelief cracking his voice. "Dead? Barca! You are-!" He screams frantically checking over what he could touch of his lover. Barca nods grabbing his wrists. 

"Ashur." He explains with a murderous look. "But worry not delicate thing. We are free now. And you have much to learn about the after life." Pietros smiles for the first time in days. Wrapping his arms around his waist Pietros holds tight and close. Barca was right, he was always right. They were free.

Chapter Text

Now she's used to being a slave. Especially in the House of Batiatus. It's the best house she's worked at. Which is saying something. Humiliation comes with the "job". Licinia is certainly not the first person to see her naked. Won't be the last. The brat girl, Ilithyia saw her getting fucked by the gladiator, hell was the reason it happened a second time. So when she and half of the other female slaves were told to strip and put on masks, visages of the goddesses Mira was hardly one to argue. It was a little fun since they were allowed to choose which ones they wanted to wear. Being lined up took away most of the enjoyment. But such was the life of a slave. 

"These are exquisite." Licinia sighs sounding like she's just been thoroughly fucked. 

"Yes they've been in the family for generations." As a married into the family member Mira thought the pride in Lucretia's voice should have been a little less. Although as far as she knows they could've come from Lucretia as a small form of dowry or whatever rich Roman's did. 

"So this sort of arrangement happens, often?" Licinia questions giving Lucretia a side eye. Lucretia gives a smug little smile. 

"No." Licinia hums as if impressed before continuing down the line, "But when such a request is made one must be prepared to offer only the finest quality." Licinia gives a delicate laugh. 

"The House of Batiatus does not fall short in that regard." The way she looks at Lucretia makes Mira question what the fuck the women were doing before this. Especially the proud little huff that Lucretia gives in return. "This one I think." Licinia states with a nod, stopping right in front of Mira. It takes all of her self control to keep a straight face. 

"Ah, Diana Goddess of the hunt." Lucretia's praise sounding more like a lovers whisper. Making Mira's efforts to keep a neutral expression that much more difficult. "A fine choice." Mira bites her tongue as Lucretia removes the mask as if Mira wasn't anything more than a statue. The clap and motion for them to be excused was such a relief Mira nearly sighed audibly. After getting dressed she was at last allowed to complete her normal daily chores. Something she found far less humiliating than what just happened. 

Being instructed to bring her Dominus and Domina some wine wasn't an unusual request. She'd much rather do this than what the poor girl half waddling out of their room had just done. Still, she dislikes seeing a naked Batiatus. He and his wife lounging on their bed as if the world didn't exist around them. 

The double take Lucretia gives and the questioning look Batiatus stares at her with as he reaches for a cup makes her heart pound. They were just talking about honing Spartacus' skills. The man was already their champion, with the conversation with Licinia earlier and now this one Mira fears she was about to be asked to do something humiliating again. She takes a deep breath as they study her to keep her anger at Bay. Unlike other master's these people would kill her instead of just re-selling her. She's cleaned blood out of the pool before and would hate for someone to do so for her own. 

"You, what are you called?" Batiatus asked taking a sip. 

"Mira." She responds after a moment of hesitation. The two Romans hum still eyeing her as if a piece of meat. 

"I would have you tend Spartacus' needs. Go to his cell tonight and service him until he is well satisfied." Dominus instructs before setting his cup back down and falling backwards. Mira glances at Lucretia who's taken her own cup, before she nods. 

"Dominus." Was her parting words before shakily walking down into the bowels of the Ludus. The bottom of the stairs a familiar place as it's where they keep the wine, but approaching the guard was new. "I-I am to service Spartacus." She mutters unable to look the man in the eye. He nods as if not surprised and unlocks the gate. 

"He's this way." Mira blinks following him. It never really occurred to her that being Champion he would get his own cell. Somehow that eases her nerves. At the very least the rest of the animals wouldn't hear them. Besides the Thracian wasn't ugly. Certainly one of the more attractive gladiators. It could be far worse. It could be Rhaskos. The thought makes her shiver as the guard holds the door open for her. She nods her thanks before stripping, clamoring onto the small bed in what she believes is a seductive pose. 

Whatever the fucking man was doing was taking forever. Mira was no longer nervous simply bored. Ready to get this over with so she could go to sleep. It had been a long day and she was going to have to bathe and drink that gods awful tonic to make sure his seed didn't take hold. A long list of shit to still do and here she was waiting. Now she knows how Dominus and Domina feel to be kept so. She grew so bored that she was picking at a loose stitch when the door finally opens and the bastard walks in. She glances at him a little apprehensively. He did look startled at the very least. 

"You have wondered into the wrong cell." He tells her as if she was stupid. 

"Are you not Spartacus?" She counters with a little smirk. "Bringer of Rain?" He squints for a moment making her wonder if he wasn't a fan of his new title. Sighing she shifts to the edge of the bed invitingly. "I am Mira. I've been sent to please you." She doesn't think her disdain for the task was completely kept out of her voice but she does try. 

"To what end?" She gives a real smirk and half laugh at that. He was indeed an odd man. 

"Is your pleasure not an end to itself?" She tilts her head wondering if this was a type of game he liked to play with his women. 

"I do not care for games." Spartacus takes a few steps forward towering over her. Mira thought his attempt to be threatening adorable. "Give your true purpose." He demands as she moves her hair from her face. Idiot man. She keeps silent giving him a look of contempt. Until he was suddenly yanking her into a standing position by her shoulders. The strength in his hands already alarming. Fuck what if he enjoyed beating women? Dominus wasn't going to find fault in it and there would be zero sympathy for her pain. "Find your tongue!" He whispers harshly. Blinking fast hoping to regain some composure as she was shaking again unable to look him in the eye. 

"Domina fears that you've been too long without a woman." Mira somehow finds strength to meet his gaze, staring at his towel and the fragile knot was her only other choice. "That you will be unable to withhold your seed long enough to please the Roman woman." Mira confesses noticing the way his shoulders stiffen. 

"The notion offends me!" His voice rather cold as the muscles in his jaw and throat flex, showing his anger better than the fury in his eyes. "As does your presence." He scoffs moving past her. Her confusion grows as he hands her, her dress. Hardly glancing at her naked body at all. 

"You do not desire me?" Mira blurts out trying to understand what was happening. She doesn't think a man has ever rejected her body before. 

"I desire only sleep." Spartacus sighs, "And the absence of dreams." Was his whispered explanation. Mira searches his face for a moment before realizing what this was. As the other slaves have noted, Spartacus must have realized how much she looks like his dead wife. Mira wasn't stupid. It's the main reason she was chosen for this task. Sighing she turns and walks out. Opting to dress as she crosses the sand. Miserably she forces herself up the stairs and to the patch of hay she calls bed. Somehow being thrown out without being taken was more humiliating than if she had been fucked until sunrise. 

She really did her best to avoid Domina the next morning. With the woman's attention on Crixus returning to the sands she thought it possible. Even tried to tip toe as she poured milk into the woman's bath. Preferring her current position much better than poor Naevia having to bath the Roman woman. She had barely turned to walk out before Lucretia was calling her. 

"Wait." Her command sounding vile and full of hate. Mira freezes feeling ice run down her spine as she turns back around. 

"Domina?" She holds the container in front of her as if a shield. Maybe she could lie? Spartacus wouldn't should he be asked. And if it was discovered that Mira lied then she was sure to have her tongue cut out as the kindest of punishments. 

"How did you fare with Spartacus last night? Was his cock of impressive size when engorged?" Mira gulps at the slightly insane grin Lucretia gives her while scrubbing something onto her hands. "How many times did he have you? Huh?" She asks as Mira's lips tremble trying to find the right words. "Speak." She commands. 

"H-he would not have me." She admits clutching tightly to the vase. Lucretia blinks looking at her dumbfounded. 

"He would not?" 

"No Domina." Mira confirms having a feeling she knows what was coming next. 

"And yet you wait until now to tell me?" Her sass adding to Mira's anxiety. 

"I was afraid you would be displeased." Lucretia scoffs before looking at her.

"Take off your dress." She scowls as Mira hesitates before following instructions. Mira didn't think she was going to be naked in front of her Dominus and Domina let alone this frequently yet here she was. "Tits, ass and cunt all appear to be without disease or deformity. Which tells me the fault is not in the flesh." Mira takes a deep breath, "but in the bitch." The rage in her eyes terrifies her to near death. 

"Apologies Domina." Even though this was all Spartacus' fault and not Mira's. If that bastard would have just acted like a normal person she wouldn't be in this position. 

"Return to his cell tonight, and I expect his cock in you," she demands, words leaving no room for argument "or you'll find a sword in its place." Mira nods in understanding, dressing quickly and taking the vase away. Trying her best not to panic. 

The man didn't want her! What was she going to do tie him down and rape him?! Not without drugging him to knock him out! But if she did that then maybe his cock wouldn't work at all! The thought of begging was too much. Out of all of the humiliation she has and will endure, begging a man to fuck her was where she draws the line. 

Much to her dismay the man was already asleep when she arrived. Having had double the chores after Domina had an absolute meltdown. Ilithyia having requested her own gladiator to fuck. Mira has no doubt the choice alone was what caused all this mess. Not that anyone in the house held any doubt.

Shaking her head Mira nods a thanks to the guard before stepping in shutting the door behind her as quietly as possible. Taking a breath she reaches out running a careful hand over his chest. Unprepared for the jerk of him waking up and snatching her throat into his grasp. The bored look that takes over his face was rather insulting. The interest in his blue eyes was the exact opposite. He sighs loosing his grip a little. 

"If you value your life, never awaken a gladiator." The intensity of his warning almost as scary as Domina's threat. 

"Please." She pleads. "Domina sent me." The man must understand what she was going through. She's heard stories of him being compassionate.

"Return the way you came." Or he was a selfish dick. Standing up as he all but flops back down looking a little exasperated. Mira makes a pained face before looking down at him. 

"Why do you refuse me?" If she was going to die tomorrow she should at least know the reason. It can't be something as stupid as the man's pride. He slowly sits up propping his arms onto his knees. Bravely she opens the blanket that was her only shred of decency. "Am I not pleasing?" She could feel her anger start to rise. 

"I have no desire to lie with a woman who has been commanded to do so." Unbelievable. It was his pride. The stupidity of this man! Mira glares a little at him as she wraps the blanket more tightly around herself. 

"And what do you think will happen if I fail such a command?!" The pitying look on his face as he swallows obviously thinking of all of the horrible possibilities. There was a pain there and she was ready to slap him for it. He gives the tiniest of nods. 

"Stay then." Mira stares at him waiting for him to explain himself. Instead he hands her his blanket too. "On the floor." With a small sneer she settles onto the ground next to his bed. Mira looks him up and down once more vexed by the man. 

"Is there nothing I can do for the champion of Capua?" He turns away from her almost as if in thought. 

"There is...one desire I would have serviced, if you are able." Mira looks up almost hopefully. At the very least she would have something to report to Domina. He looks back down at her again. 

Chapter Text

When her father told her the Crassus' were coming for a visit, Ilithyia was fine with that. A chance to reunite with the beautiful Licinia, and get some answers from her was something she has been hoping for. When he mentioned they were bringing military friends and the like she didn't mind at all. This was nothing new. The last election he had a parade of people coming through and none with anyone her age in tow, half of them had left their wives and home! When he told her that she was going to be in charge of entertaining Licinia and Marcus' heavily pregnant wife and teenage son, that Ilithyia held issue with! Even after a week of debating she had confessed to her father about what had happened during her first meeting with Licinia and expressed wanting to talk to the girl about it, something she couldn't do with the wife and child of Marcus Crassus there! And what had her wonderful doting father told her?!

"Do what you must to please and keep Licinia's favor. Marcus is coming with many people of note and I will not have you poorly entertaining her be the cause of my failure in the Senate!" 

So now here she was smiling graciously. Aiding her slaves in filling cups and laughing at any and all jokes Licinia and her cousin in law make. Luckily the son, Tiberius she thinks his name was, couldn't be bothered with the chattering of women. No her challenge with him was keeping him next to his mother instead of rushing off to spy on the men. The boy seemed rather surly about Marcus telling him to stay with them. With his mother as far along as she was Ilithyia understood that he was there to assist her. Not that he was doing so. 

"Now tell me, because my father kept it such a secret; who all graces the halls of my storied family with your wonderful husband?" Ilithyia pries generally curious. Crassus' wife, Tertulla, smiles softly shaking her head. 

"Oh now if your father doesn't wish for you to know-" Licinia laughs loudly interrupting the poor woman. 

"Your father does think so little of you, does he not? If he keeps a casual meeting such as this from your ear." Ilithyia could feel her face burning with the insult. Despite Tertulla tossing a grape at the girl. 

"Licinia! I am certain her father is just trying to keep his only child as much of one as he can for now!" Ilithyia doesn't like that explanation any better than Licinia's.

"As father does me?" Tiberius pipes up turning away from the pillar he was trying to peer around. His mother beams motioning for him to come closer while Licinia rolls her eyes. 

"My cousin sits with some of the most storied families of Rome. Were you older I'd warn you that he was making attempt for you to marry her." Licinia sneers with a gesture to Ilithyia as she sips from her cup. Wide eyed Ilithyia and Tiberius look at one another. 

"Oh, how absurd!" Ilithyia laughs lightly feeling a mild panic set over her. "My father has all but forbade me from marriage until I am close to becoming an old maid!" She tries to joke noticing the worried look Tiberius gives his mother. Licinia downs her cup and shoves it at Ilithyia for a refill. Something she does with very thin lips. 

"Please, I know my cousin. If poor Tiberius here was born a woman he would have been married off to that insufferable Caes-" 

"Licinia! Enough! I believe you may have had too much wine. Ilithyia be a dear and get her some water, before her tongue flaps about with anymore ridiculous notions." Tertulla requests with a tight smile. Despite the loss of color in her son's face she refuses to turn to look at him. No matter how hard he was staring at her. Ilithyia nods letting Licinia finish the cup she had before replacing it with a large one of water. Her cheeks were a tad rosy. 

"So, Licinia speaking of marriage, have you found yourself a husband yet?" Ilithyia asks unable to look away from the woman's striking features. In this light she looked as beautiful as Juno herself. Licinia makes a face taking another sip of water. 

"Mh, yes a fat old man with barely enough coin to keep me entertained." Licinia sighs sounding utterly bored. Ilithyia glances at Tertulla and Tiberius before placing a hand over Licinia's. The boy was starting to back away slowly as his mother finally gives him a very soft and sad smile. 

"You could always stay a Vestal Virgin." She encourages. Licinia laughs loudly. The sound both as if the heavens were singing, and as if Pluto himself was gripping her heart. 

"Oh while Vesta shall remain my goddess, I've been a Vestal long enough." Licinia scoffs although she didn't push Ilithyia away, something that made her heart flutter. 

Most of the rest of the visit was rather boring in Ilithyia's opinion. Although with no scandalous activities, and nothing but pleasantries passed between them it was technically a successful visit. The most exciting part about the whole thing had to be when they had lost Tiberius and a very handsome blond escorted him back by his arm. A brilliant smile on his face despite the flashing of his blue eyes and the near bruising grip he had on the boy. Tertulla seemed displeased with his presence in general. Licinia held an air of mild interest and contempt. Tiberius looked livid at the very existence of him. Ilithyia however thought he looked rather dangerous once one got over the shock of his looks. Like a wild animal stalking his prey. 

"Thank you, Caesar. Apologies for allowing him to intrude." Ilithyia's eyes widen at the name looking between Tertulla and the already famous Caesar. He chuckles still burning his gaze into Tiberius as if he didn't notice the venom that was put into his name. 

"No need, I was on my way back from a brief respite and caught him before he could do any such thing. Stay with your mother now Young Crassus. The men are hard at work." Tiberius looked murderous as the man patted his head, treating him as if a child. Ilithyia covers her mouth shocked at such a rude action, considering Tiberius' age. The four of them were silent until he rounded the corner. 

"What were you thinking?" Tertulla snipped at her son. He pouts slightly folding his arms. 

"I am of age. I am a man! I'm just as good with a sword as father and certainly smarter than that fool Glaber." He mutters. Tertulla looked as if she wanted to slap him but takes a deep breath a hand on her large stomach. Licinia makes a face when there was a visible shift, as if the baby was touching her back.

"Do not talk ill about a Praetor. He was elected by the Senate, he is a fine young man and you," she sighs with a soft smile, "are ambitious. Take time, learn all you can and find deserved laurels to follow." Ilithyia glances at Licinia who rolls her eyes linking their arms together. 

"So, what think you if Gaius Julius Caesar then? Is he not of a form?" Ilithyia glances her up and down trying to decide what the tone of voice truly was. It sounded light, nearly bored, but the vice like grip on her arm and the darkened blue of her eyes gave Ilithyia the sense of something dangerous. 

"He seemed rather full of himself didn't he?" Ilithyia comments hoping to sound as if she didn't really care. In truth he was one of the most interesting men she'd ever lain eyes on, and she was practically itching to learn more. "I'm more intrigued with this Glaber, I heard my father mention him during the election. And a Praetor! What do you know of him?" She asks Licinia. It was a relief that her guests seemed to agree with her description of Caesar. Why a family as rich as them would ever mingle with someone they disliked was beyond her. However with his rich history and their, well lack luster of one she supposes that's probably why they do it. Not unheard of. Over in Capua they had just announced the beginnings of building a new arena and the local Lanista's were apparently glamoring over each other for the Magistrates favor. 

After wondering the halls and admiring the views for a few hours they wind up meeting her father, Marcus and someone Ilithyia's never seen before. The fact that they were this far from the war room tells her they had concluded business. She would have commented about it if she wasn't struck speechless. Hardly noticing Licinia tightening her grip again. 

The man was striking to say the least. Taller than Ilithyia with broad shoulders and a not too trim waist. He looked like he could pick Ilithyia up without hesitation. With startling piercing blue eyes and fluffy brown hair that truly complimented his strong jaw in Ilithyia's personal opinion. As everyone else talked he looked right at her. Giving her his undivided attention and a polite smile. Even with her staring like a brainless idiot. 

"-and of course Ilithyia is so simple in her pleasures that it's just adorable." Licinia laughs startling Ilithyia out of what could only be described as a haze. Blushing slightly Ilithyia bites her lip bowing her head. 

"Oh, I don't think someone as beautiful as Albinius' daughter could be simple in anything." The man speaks with a click of his tongue eyes straying slowly from Ilithyia to Licinia, almost as if he would rather look her than the rich former Priestess. "Ilithyia," the way he says her name sends shivers down her spine as she snaps her head up to look at him again, "such a unique and delightful taste on the tongue." He concludes giving Licinia a look of distaste. 

"Well stated. Now, we must be off. I expect to hear from you soon Glaber. Good to see you as always, and Albinius gratitude again for having us meet here. It's much more convenient than my own grandiose estate." Marcus chuckles lightly, quickly clasping both hands separately before wrapping an arm around his wife and walking off. As far as Ilithyia was aware, without even a word to Licinia or Tiberius. Her father gives this, Glaber a hard look before nodding at Ilithyia. 

"Go get cleaned up for dinner. I will see Claudius out." Blinking at the man, captivated Ilithyia nods walking away slowly, glancing over her shoulder multiple times as she leaves. 

"I meant no offense." Glaber comments walking towards the open doors. Albinius snorts with a wave of his hand. 

"Ilithyia is too young to even comprehend your meaning. Though it was not lost on me." He voice held a warning, causing Glaber to clasps his hands behind his back. "Even as Praetor, you are not good enough for my daughter. Take heed and even more care." Glaber nods with a tight lipped smile before walking off with his entourage. Albinius shakes his head watching. The fools who elected him were just that. Fools. There was nothing but disaster and disappointment to follow in that man's wake, and he was determined to keep HIS daughter away from it.

Chapter Text

It wasn't hard to finish cleaning up Barca and Pietros' cell. Certainly wasn't difficult to take the little wooden box and secret it away in his own. Despite him acting as if he was guarding a secret treasure as he slipped through the halls. No, the difficult part of all this was keeping his mind to the task at hand. 

Acting normal. 

Now was there anything really keeping Crixus from rushing off to his cell and spending the rest of the afternoon reading all of those letters? No, not really. After yesterday though, having rescued Spartacus' ungrateful life, nearly reopening his wounds in the process, and securing his stay as a gladiator of Batiatus, he was determined to not seem weak. Not act like a fucking cockroach and go crawling back to his hole. Besides, even after completing his task it wasn't lost on him that Varro and Spartacus were acting a little peculiar. 

In fact, even though he's been able to avoid them all day thanks to his cleaning and burning of the bird cages it's safe to say that Spartacus was mad at the Roman. Glaring at him across the sand. Shoving him against the walls on the way to the baths. Seeming to be threatening him under his breath. For his credit, Varro was relishing in the Thracian's rage. Laughing anytime Spartacus pointed a finger at him. Crixus even heard the Rhine brothers question their relationship since apparently Varro had kiss Spartacus. In front of people! Even Barca and Crixus didn't do that. 

The thought brings his mind right back to that box of papers in his cell. 

Rhaskos and some of the others question his rush through the baths. Hamilcar mentioning that he should be a little more careful with his still healing wounds. Liscus offered assistance with a comment on how Crixus might have overexerted himself with the cleaning today. Donar simply rolled his eyes and told Crixus to don't be stupid. Whatever that means. Crixus ignored them all. Brushing away the attention and attempt at helping. He had something to do after all. 

Finally, after settling down having a few candles lit for reading, Crixus settles on his excuse for a bed and takes out the bottom letter. He figures it was the oldest. And he could only guess that perhaps it was a response to Barca's. Whatever the Beast might have written was beyond him. He didn't even know the man could write. However it didn't take a genius to figure out that it must have been about HIM.

Barca,

It is good to hear from you my friend. I have moved on from Capua, but intend to visit and gaze upon my fellow gladiators as much as possible as they take to the sands. Fuck you and your questions about my night with the damned Gaul. Crixus and my business is just that. Ours. A second fuck you for teaching him a damned thing. Although I highly suggest you continue his teachings both on the sands and off of them. Do not die you fuck, purchase your freedom and join me out here. The world is beautiful and should be explored. 

Gannicus.

He couldn't believe it! Gannicus was writing to Barca about Crixus!! Not only that, but of their night together! Was this letter the reason Barca had purchased the marble cock? Or did he receive this letter after he had already purchased it? There were so many questions that would never be answered. Crixus wipes away a tear determined not to cry anymore today than he already had. Besides there were dozens more letters to go through. He doubts he will finish reading them all in one night. Shaking his head he sets the first down and turns to the next. 

Barca,

Pietros? I do not recall the name but the description and Gnaeus pawing at a boy does spark memory. I suppose it is good for you to take the boy for his safety. Although I do not think he would make a suitable replacement for Auctus. But the fuck should I know when it comes to cock and balls. That remains your expertise. It is good to hear that Crixus is doing well. I hope he continues to stroke the fires of his passion. It should keep him alive in the arena. Working close with Ashur sounds like a chore I do not envy you of it. Remind Crixus that he and I have no relationship and should he wish to present ass for fucking it has nothing to do with me.

There was a lot of spotted ink in between the next few sentences. Almost as if Gannicus was thinking of what to say. 

It is still none of your business on my thoughts about that night. Stop asking else I shall return simply to remove your cock and replace it with that monstrosity you described earlier. Crixus is his own man and can do what he wishes. Do not die you fuck. 

Gannicus

Smiling fondly Crixus leans heavily against the wall trying to decide on how he feels about this. If what he can tell through this second letter is true then that means Gannicus knows about the Marble. And what it was used for. Gannicus knows about Crixus' relationship with Barca and Pietros and even the fact that he didn't wish for the real thing. 

He blinks at himself wondering why the thought was past tense. 

It's never occured to him before to have anyone besides the Celt to be the first real cock in ass. Although his skin tingles thinking of the screaming everyone heard coming from Spartacus' cell last night. The forcefully way Varro had dragged the man in there. The blazing of his blue eyes when he had nodded a thanks to Crixus before slamming the door shut. 

Shaking his head Crixus moves on to the next letter. This one much shorter and seemingly scribbled quickly. 

Barca, 

You still fight wonderfully. I was able to catch the last games having come through town. I am currently working as a body guard for a traveling merchant for the spring. Tell Crixus that if he does not raise his fucking shield in a timely manner then he is sure to lose his foolish fucking head! He nearly lost a fucking leg to that shit he barely killed! Throwing his helmet like a wet cunt what was he thinking? 

Fuck you

Gannicus

Blinking Crixus couldn't help but smile at the paper. Gannicus seemed to be taking jobs solely to be able to come watch them fight! He wonders why he was never able to pick him out of the crowd. The man had such remarkable features. Perhaps he was hidden? Cloaked as to not be recognized? Crixus feels his heart give a squeeze of disappointment at that. Glancing at the candles he decides on two more before forcing himself to sleep. Too much had happened for Naevia to be free tonight, but there was still much to do tomorrow. 

Barca

The fuck you mean I 'care for the Gaul'? I do not. I simply care about the fact that he has replaced me as fucking Champion. I told him never fucking lose! Dying is losing. Ashur sounds like the worst kind of shit. I never liked that Syrian in the first place. Although that fuck Dagan wasn't much better. If you wish to purchase your freedom stop wasting coin on letters to me. I shall still send some but fuck save your coins. Batiatus is a cunt but he understands value. It is going to take a year or twos worth so you might as well start betting on our fellow gladiators to gain enough. Especially if you wish to bring that Pietros with you. 

No I don't think Crixus would go even if I was waiting. I told you there is no relationship between the two of us. Do not die. Perhaps next time I am in Capua you will be on a mission from Batiatus and I can see you in person. 

Gannicus

Crixus chuckles as he reads. Practically able to hear the man's voice in his head as he does. He would like to think that the defensive tone wasn't just his imagination. Even through words on paper Barca had sensed Gannicus worry and care for Crixus. So maybe it was more than hope. Perhaps it was there and it was real. He wishes there were dates on the damned things so he could tell how long between letters it was. How long the correspondence was happening before Barca's disappearance. 

Barca

Yes it's fucking cold. It is winter it is cold everywhere. I know it is no warmer in the Ludus. I keep myself busy just fine damn it. I have whores, I do not need a toy like you three do. Why Crixus insists on using it I have no clue. His plump ass can do what he wants I've said that before. What Doctore and I discuss in our letters has nothing to do with you or the fucking Gaul. Do not pretend to know my mind or my actions. I have made plenty of friends. A blacksmith in Sinuessa en Valle and I have become quite close. Although I will not be back there for a while. Damned city is a maze. Crixus should practice with a shield smaller than the one he uses in the arena. It'll make him take head from ass and be able to block better. Do not die you fuck and just ignore Ashur, he's nothing but piss. 

Gannicus.

Crixus sets everything underneath his bed before staring at the ceiling. There was no denying that Barca told Gannicus about them. Although the Celt did not mention if the whores he had were female or male. He guesses female. But perhaps he was good enough that Gannicus decided he enjoyed cock now? Crixus blinks back tears wondering if Gannicus knew about Barca. Or if Barca wasn't dead as he suspected and was with or looking for Gannicus? Batiatus had said he received word from him. But with the man it was always difficult to say if it was the truth or not. Sighing he rolls on his side, flinches at the discomfort, and forces himself to rest. He would have plenty of time to read tomorrow evening. After visiting Naevia. 

The next day was truly unusual. He does his daily visitation to the medicus. Asks about the man's family. Engages him in conversation about the recruits and such. Even when he stepped out to stretch his legs he could tell that something was off. Rhaskos and Hamilcar were happy to see him. Being greeted warmly by the brotherhood was always uplifting. But there was no denying Spartacus acting strange. Burning holes into Varro until the man looked at him, and then bending over pretending to pick something up when he does. Extending his backside obnoxiously. Crixus blinks before retreating back to the medicus, desperate to ignore the growing interest of his cock at Spartacus' actions. 

Apparently the man did not gain any senses throughout the day. After midday meal the Thracian was sent to the medicus. Someone (Doctore) having concern that the heat was melting his brain. Crixus nearly runs into Rhaskos in his hurry to leave. Grunting apologies he makes it to his cell nearly wheezing with the effort. The last thing he needs is to be alone with Spartacus. So soon after saving him from Segovax. Shaking his head Crixus pulls out the box. He still can't believe Spartacus thought it was just because he was a gladiator. Not that he wants to explore his emotions for the Thracian but still. He decides he'll stay holed up here until dinner and then figure out how to see Naevia. A smile once again spreading across his face, Crixus begins reading. 

Barca

I will not become a goat farmer. I am not meant for such a life. Being a guard for hire is the best that I can do. It works for me. It keeps me in shape and my skills honed and sharp. It also allows me to travel without being stuck in one place. Should you and Pietros ever get free the two of you would do well tending goats. Crixus would lose his fucking mind. There is too much passion, too much untapped rage in the man for such a life. If he is not a gladiator then I cannot imagine what he would be. 

Stop. Describing. The. Three. Of. You. Fucking. 

I do not need to know how well the Gaul sucks your cock. The knowledge will not make me jealously come back and demand Crixus' affection. The fuck is eating ass by the way? Why would I want to do that to Crixus? You are fucking mad. Should I not call a peach plump if it is so? How is it a 'telling sign' of my interest in the man if that is what his ass looks like? You have a fat head should I not describe it as such? I hold no interest in the Gaul other than his victories in the arena. Fuck you and do not die you cunt. 

Gannicus. 

Blushing furiously, Crixus rereads this one twice more. Barca was teasing him for claiming Crixus had a plump ass. Something Barca has mentioned before. Hell he and Pietros used to practically worship it with their teasing and attentions. Prepping Crixus for their toy. Barca on more than one occasion had fallen asleep Crixus' ass in hand. Pietros used to like to pinch it in the baths when no one was looking. He knows he has a great ass. And is more than pleased that apparently Gannicus thinks so too. Although he agrees with the Celt that Barca shouldn't be telling him details about their sex life. Sighing he grabs the next one noting that dinner should be ready by the time he was done with it. 

Barca, 

After all you've told me, no I wouldn't trust Ashur with anything. Who cares if he had wanted to recite the oath or not? He was a cunt as a recruit and remains to be a cunt to this day. Crixus has grown in confidence since the last I saw him in the arena. If he could make it through a fucking fight without getting hurt it'll be a miracle from the gods! Does the bastard know how to keep a fucking helmet on his head? Instead of bouncing on that stupid toy cock he should be practicing bouncing on his head to prepare his neck for breaking! It seems in spring I shall always have a job as this particular merchants body guard. He sells silks so I doubt I'll run into you, I almost ran into Lucretia if not for noticing her body slave and recognizing her I would not have ducked out of there on time. I hear a Praetor has dishonored himself in Thrace. Turning his back and forgoing his word on helping more than one village fight something called the Getai or whatever. A large number of his Auxiliary defected and now the remaining ones are headed here to Capua for their death sentence. Should you kill any of them make it quick and painless. Those attempting to find themselves out from beneath the fucking Republic's heel deserve freedom in anyway. If you send me another drawing of a cock I will come part you of yours. 

Gannicus

Crixus barks out a laugh wondering why this time was one too many drawings. Or perhaps it was the first and only time Barca had sent one? He likes to think that there was one with each letter the Beast of Carthage had sent out. Just to annoy the Celt. It seems he had plenty of time to respond to whatever Barca had sent him. And plenty to say. Mentioning Thrace was at least a time setting. So about a year the two were writing to each other before Spartacus arrived. If Gannicus has been watching Crixus in the arena in the past he wonders if the Celt saw him fighting against Theokoles. Sighing he trudges out to the main area to get a bowl of food. Slightly disturbed by the way Spartacus was eating. Sucking his fingers as if cocks, eyes rolling to the back of his head as if in pleasure. Moaning. 

"The fuck?" He grunts out looking around. Almost everyone was doing their best to avoid looking at the Thracian. Varro was watching amused, and Agron was staring, seeming stunned. Liscus mutters under his breath leaning in so Crixus could hear him.

"He's been acting like this all day. Whatever is going on between him and Varro is getting worse." He explains. Donar nods. 

"Acting like this at midday meal is what got him sent to the medicus." The others nod grimacing at a particularly loud sound coming from across the room. Crixus makes a face sitting next to the others. 

"Let us hope he gets his shit together before the games. Else there will be no Champion at all." Crixus grumbles having difficulty tearing his eyes off of Spartacus' mouth. Hamilcar gives him a reassuring look. 

"You'll always be champion to us Crixus." Crixus smiles and claps his shoulder, finishing his dinner quickly to be able to go wait for Naevia. 

He was very nearly discovered in the attempt. Naevia apparently had a lot of chores to do that day. It took everything in him to not be upset about it. Already wishing he could rip the bars from their mornings. Despite Naevia's late arrival she still left quickly. Tear filled and full of sorrow at their lack of time together. Not that there was anything they could do about it. Shaking his head at the sensitivity of women, Crixus makes it back to his cell to read at least one more letter before sleep. 

"Crixus!" The Gaul nearly jumps out of his skin at the voice in his doorway. 

"The fuck do you want you cunt?!" He half screeches. Ashur chuckles obviously pleased at having startled him. 

"A request from Varro. Tomorrow night after dinner, wait about an hour before going to the baths. He has a surprise for our champion." Crixus scowls stomping over to glower at the Syrian. The smirk does not leave the man's face. 

"He is not my champion." He snarls. Ashur rolls his eyes. 

"I care not for your opinion of him. However if you wish to avoid an extremely ah," Ashur sways back and forth for a moment looking for the right word, "intimate moment between the two, then I suggest you head warning friend." Crixus shuts the cell door in his face turning away. His heart clenching. Why should he care if those two were having a secret, special moment? They've only used the toy the one time. And there was hardly a moment with just Crixus and either of the other. Scowling to himself he snatches up a letter hoping to be in a good mood before drifting off to sleep. 

Barca

How fair the new recruits? The heat and drought is choking most of Rome. I myself am headed to Neapolis for some respite of it. The Vulcanalia approaches and although I know I will be unable to witness I do know that you and Crixus will come out victorious in whatever battle you face. What the fuck is a Spartacus? Tell Crixus I do not think it a good idea to pursue Lucretia's body slave. There is a multitude of reasons. And no you fuck not a single one of them is possessiveness or jealousy. So do not even think it. Crixus holds too much passion and shall somehow let his feelings be known. Which will piss Lucretia off and she shall have him tossed off that fucking cliff. Probably be able to see it in his fucking eyes. He holds his heart as well as his soul there. Able to be read by any who gaze upon them. 

Fuck you and Batiatus' scheming. Get out as soon as you can. I can only imagine it shall get worse from here. 

Gannicus. 

Deflated Crixus puts the letters away. Gannicus thought him and Naevia a bad idea? They were careful. Perhaps Gannicus just did not think Crixus able to hide his expressions. The man hasn't seen him up close and personal in a little over two years after all. He did not know Crixus as well as he thinks he does. He wishes Gannicus had been able to see him fight at the Valculnalia. Defeating Spartacus. Knowing that the next time the two of them were on the sands together was to fight Theokoles. Sighing Crixus gets as comfortable as he could his mind swirling with possibilities and longing. After all this time of being a gladiator, Crixus isn't sure he's ever felt so....lonely. 

Chapter Text

She could still hear it. The laughter. Echoing off of the walls. The mortification sinking into her bones. Burning through her flesh and staining her soul. The bitch was always laughing at her. Ever since they first met. Loud, condescending, possessive. The incense and the candles were doing nothing to calm the storm that was her mind. Helpless against the shadows of the dark deed that will forever lurk. Clawing at every breath until the scales have been balanced. 

"This place is cursed." She sobs pitifully. If she strained her hearing there was sure to be a whisper of agreement floating through the air. 

"Ilithyia!" A familiar and almost cheerful voice startles her. Scrambling to the other side of the bed, eyes wide and fearful. A wave of the hand and a sigh was the reaction to hers. 

"She's still in a bit of shock. But don't worry, she'll come around." The serpents voice was around the corner and Ilithyia whimpered. 

"Apologies I did not mean to startle." A soft smile before turning to speak to the walking evil that was out of sight in a harsh whisper. "We are fucked Lucretia! Fucking fuck! The cunt cowers at every fucking sound! She fears her own shadow!" Ilithyia winces at the anger in his voice. Knowing just what a human being is capable of when tempers are raised. Glancing at the fingers clutched in front of her Ilithyia nearly shrieks. She could swear that they were still covered in the horrid sticky warm blood. 

"I must bathe." She whispers more to herself than anyone and begins crawling away. 

"Fuck, just look at her!" Batiatus' voice floats over. Ilithyia glances behind her and her heart jumps to her throat. 

Licinia. As plain as day standing behind the Lanista and his wife. Smirking with that smarmy smugness that Ilithyia has come to know so well. Screaming out right, Ilithyia stumbles in her haste to get away. Her slave Thelesia rushes after her trying to get her to calm down. 

"It's been one day. Ilithyia is a spoiled bitch and has never done something so violent before. She will recover before the next games." Lucretia soothes shifting so she and Naevia could also run after the delirious woman. 

"Domina, please. Everything is fine. There is no one chasing you." Thelisa pleads getting in front of the Roman woman and grabbing her shoulders. "Lucretia is looking for you but that is all." She reassures. Ilithyia was shaking eyes darting all around. 

"Ilithyia!" The annoyed hiss has her jumping nearly out of her skin. "Pull yourself together already." Ilithyia shakes her head backing away. Lucretia sneers at her. 

"I am unclean." She whispers eyes still wide and chest heaving. Lucretia tsks at her, the wildness of her hair making the crazed look complete. Something the disarray of her clothes couldn't. 

"Then you and I shall bathe together." She ignores the desperate shake of Ilithyia's head and grabs her arm. Practically dragging her to the baths. 

The flower petals in the water aided in the aroma of calm. Ilithyia sat unmoving letting Lucretia pour water over her. The older woman had let Ilithyia scrub at her hands and in between her fingers for a little bit. No matter how much she scrubbed Ilithyia couldn't get the feel of blood off of her skin. If she stares at the water too long she could see it turning red. 

"I am undone." Ilithyia mutters to herself. Lucretia scoffs at her. 

"I understand that you did not mean to kill her." She snips moving a strand of Ilithyia's hair out of the way. "However, what is done, is done. Now you must accept it and let us move forward." Ilithyia slowly looks up at her before shifting her gaze to the doorway. A thin veil had been hung for privacy. In the wind it shifts and Ilithyia sees Licinia pacing, disappearing with every flicker of fabric. 

"Forward? There is no such thing anymore." Ilithyia sighs listening to the laughter grow louder around her once more. The sound of bone cracking against stone accompanying it this time. "I have killed her and thus myself." Blinking back tears Ilithyia sinks further into the water, head slumping onto Lucretia's shoulder. 

"Oh don't be ridiculous. Ilithyia, you must understand what needs to be done." Lucretia argues. A hand petting her head in what should have been comforting, but instead felt like chains falling around her. Ilithyia glances back at the veil terrified at the dark silhouette that was standing there. Lucretia makes a face at the whimper. This was going to take longer than she thought. 

Ilithyia was startled awake. Her name whispered down the walls. Shaking slightly she slips out of her bed. Feet padding quietly past the sleeping couple in the adjacent room. The villa was dark. Almost completely black in sight. Yet she could see her. Licinia. Her beautiful and cruel friend. A soft smile on her face, beckoning for Ilithyia to follow. Dazed, elated and filled with fear she does. How could she not? Hadn't she always? Licinia was everything. The moon and the sun. The reason Ilithyia had a husband. The very person to teach her what she knows about her own body. Licinia's laughter continues to ring in her ears. Overlapped by the sirens call a soft chant of her name. 

Ilithyia, Ilithyia, Ilithyia. 

The night was moonless. Naevia tip toeing back towards her designated bed when she starts. There was someone wondering the halls. Heart in throat, worried that Domina has caught them at last, she peers around the corner. The breath of relief has the poor woman jump. Scared of her own shadow. Naevia wonders if she should go get Lucretia. Although the woman hates being woken. Shrugging Naevia decides to just follow in case the woman tries to hurt herself. 

"Licinia." She murmurs. Naevia makes a face. Sure it took her a while to get used to life with Batiatus and his ilk. Yet with the amount of time Ilithyia spent at the games one would think death wouldn't be so traumatic. Perhaps she's been around Lucretia too much. Her stomach had not even churned when she and some of the others had cleaned up the mess. Watching Ilithyia for another moment Naevia decides whatever wrath Lucretia sends her way would be worth it. 

Rounding the corner Ilithyia gasps. Standing at the balcony, looking like moonlight was her. Beautiful Licinia. In that dark blue dress with the gold accents that makes Ilithyia's heart clench. Blood red lips split in a knowing smile. 

Ilithyia

Her mouth didn't move but she could hear the whisper as if ghosted in her ear. Tripping over her own feet Ilithyia walks forward. Reaching out. Beyond her fear of ruin, the guilt of loss stung in her chest. Burning through her blood and spilling tears over her unblinking eyes. Heart pounding Ilithyia was close enough to see the sparkle of amusement in those ever blue eyes. Hand about to brush her arm when a claw like grip was on her shoulder causing her to scream. 

"Ilithyia! What are you fucking doing?!" Desperately Ilithyia looks from Lucretia to where Licinia had just been. Gone again, out of reach. Sobbing Ilithyia collapses to the ground clutching to the older woman. Panting slightly Lucretia holds her close staring at the balcony's edge. Seeing Ilithyia close enough to fall off the cliff was nerve wracking to say the least. For once she was glad Naevia woke her. 

"She calls me. I hear her still. Laughing, beckoning." Ilithyia bawls looking over Lucretia's shoulder. She swears she could see Licinia's eyes between the guardrail. 

"Hush now. You are here. Safe with me." With effort Lucretia drags her back to bed and mutters an order to Naevia. The girl nods and rushes off. 

"What is this?" Ilithyia questions being forced a small cup. 

"A tonic. To help you sleep." Lucretia explains cupping the back of her head. Ilithyia takes it without question and after just a few moments a glaze slides across her eyes. Unfocused and pliant. Lucretia slots their lips together for a moment. Tempted as she was the Lanista's wife pulls back and forces Ilithyia to lie down. "Rest. The games are being held in a weeks time. You will be expected." Ilithyia mutters something incoherent before drifting off. 

The next few days were more of the same. Ilithyia stalking the villa. Following a voice only she seems to be able to hear. Batiatus having a guard on the balcony at all times when she was out and about. Three times she has had to be directed away from the edge. There was a time when everyone panicked as they could not find her. Until Ashur came limping up from the bowels of the Ludus looking rather amused. 

"I am unsure how she made it past the gate, yet there she was, standing in the sands staring at the sky." He provides as Lucretia inspects her for damage. Batiatus had nodded and dragged both women back to Iliythia's quarters. 

"Do not leave this room unattended until your mind is once again steady and unimpaired." He growls nearly bruising her arm. He scoffs at the look in her eyes. "And for fucks sake stop giving her opium." He points at his wife releasing the Senator's daughter. "Jupiter's fucking cock! The games are held tomorrow and we sit with the magistrate and his son! We have opportunity to gain position! Fix her!" He storms off. Lucretia huffs with a glare after her husband. Men hold no sense. 

"You will be expected tomorrow. Tonight you shall bathe and rest well. No more tonic just simple wine." Her eyes flicker to the slaves in the shadows with a pointed look. 

"I cannot." Ilithyia whispers. Lucretia rolls her eyes before wandering off herself. 

She could hear them getting ready. Could hear the preparations. Sitting up watching someone she didn't know the name of light the incense Ilithyia feels her stomach flip. All would know. Everyone would see what she had done. Her throat tightens at the thought of it. 

"Ilithyia." Lucretia's voice calls. Ilithyia barely looks at her. "We shall meet you there. We are taking our leave for the games. Do not dally." She instructs before disappearing in a swish of silk. The curtains around her closing in. 

Ilithyia stays where she was. The deafening silence surrounding her only disrupted by the laughter. Licinia's voice enveloping her senses. Ilithyia could recall how the woman smelled. Of roses and riches. Of temptation and shame. How her skin felt dancing across her own. Glowing in the moonlight. Ilithyia hugs a knee to her chest watching Licinia's face fade in and out of sight in the swirling smoke in front of her. Everytime it was clear enough to count the freckles on her cheeks a deep red gash disturbing the image and having it fade away again. 

The curtains were tossed open as Lucretia bursts back in. Looking relieved that Ilithyia was still there. She even sighs before fiddling with her bracelet. Words hardly registered. 

"Your absence was noticed." Ilithyia flinches slightly at the haughty tone. 

"Absence?" She ponders trying to figure out what Lucretia meant as Licinia's breath flitted across her face. 

"The games." Lucretia nearly barks. "You were supposed to join us." She reminds. Ilithyia looks to her side as if Licinia was going to be sitting there. Finding nothing she turns back to Lucretia. 

"I could not face prying eyes." She swallows unable to meet Lucretia's gaze. "One look into mine and they would have full knowledge," she takes a breath seeing the wicked grin Ilithyia knows so well flashing through the smoke, "Licinia's blood, her skull steeped between my fingers." Ilithyia whispers feeling a hand run through her hair. 

"Jupiter's cock, would you come to grips!" Lucretia exclaims moving to sit next to her with a shaky breath. "Licinia's murder and your part in it have been concealed." Ilithyia gives her a disgusted look as she keeps talking. "The truth will only unfold if, if your jaw splits and your tongue unfurls in song." Lucretia twirls a small strand of Ilithyia's hair. Ilithyia shakes her head slightly hating the heat from the same hand moving down to rub her back. 

"What would you have me do?" Her tears choking her voice. 

"Appear yourself!" Lucretia implores with a drop of her hands, letting them find place in own lap. "Absent conscience of deeds unknown. The magistrate's celebration provides a perfect opportunity. The venue turns to my husband as host." Ilithyia looks up at her, words accompanied by gestures, "You won't even have to move from under this roof, my hand ever present to steady your resolve." As Lucretia talks faster a hand covering her breast Ilithyia can hear Licinia whisper

snake

"You will guide me through this?" She questions reminded of how her father used her to get closer to Marcus Crassus through Licinia. How the girl she used to be was so awed by her beauty that she had not minded at the time. Lucretia gives her an encouraging look clearing her mind for the first time since realizing what she had done. 

"As trusted friend." With a once over of Ilithyia and a sigh she adds "And as such I require favor." Ilithyia closes her slightly ajar lips listening. "We would swell the ranks of celebration with these noble citizens," Lucretia holds up a scroll, "ones I'm certain would accept the invite from the daughter of Senator Albinius." Lucretia smirks at her and with a soft laugh puts the paper in Ilithyia's hand. Seemingly blind to the contempt the younger was gazing at her with. "Gather yourself." Ilithyia glances between it and her. "See it done." Lucretia demands before walking off. 

Ilithyia watches her go, hearing Licinia's laugh start up again. Unrolling the paper Ilithyia reads the familiar names. Looking at the corner where she thought she saw Licinia had been standing. Understanding seeped through her grief and horror. Just as her father had, just as her husband had and just as she knew Batiatus and Lucretia had been doing; she was being used to elevate status. Blinking back tears Ilithyia rests her head on her knee. Licinia had truly been the only person to care for her as a person. 

"Well?" Batiatus questions. Lucretia makes a face as she sighs. Batiatus runs a hand through his hair turning in a circle. "Jupiter's fucking cock!" He groans. 

"Worry not. I have a plan." Lucretia informs stepping off. Batiatus grabs her arm.

"Speak thoughts before applying actions. I shall not have this situation worsened." He nearly snarls. Lucretia smiles giving him a soft kiss having his grip loosen. 

"Has Varro completed his visit with his wife?" She questions innocently. Batiatus tilts his head watching her. 

"I believe him to be in the baths with the rest of the Gladiator's." He informs slowly. Her smile widens and he realizes what she means. "Are you fucking kidding me? You wish to have her bed Varro?" Lucretia makes a soft noise with another shrug. Releasing her Batiatus paces a little. 

"It shall work." She insists. Clasping both hands to his head he groans deeply before pointing at her. 

"You have one chance. I must speak with Spartacus and Crixus about Numerous' request for exhibition. Their hatred of each other is well known and I shall insist on the importance of the punishment if the outcome is death of either of them." He sighs with a shake of his head. Lucretia's face flashes with fear. 

"You are sure they will both survive?" The worry in her voice prominent. They stare at each other for a moment before he nods. 

"The reason for my meeting with them. Worry not. Our two best Gladiators will survive. Absent grievous injury." A shared sigh before they move off in separate directions. 

"Ilithyia." The familiar voice causing her to roll over. She had written letters quickly to send them off and promptly went to try and sleep. Yet here the woman was. Probably to question her. 

"I sent out invites." She informs with a croak. Lucretia smiles at her. 

"I have brought a gift. Something to aid in your mental recovery." She informs. Ilithyia frowns as she sits up. The curtains were moved back and there stood;

"Varro? I do not understand." Ilithyia looks between the two of them. The blond gladiator seemed equally confused. Closing and opening his hands into fists repeatedly. 

"He is to tend to your needs tonight. Rid your thoughts of unfortunate past actions." Lucretia tells her before addressing Varro. "Do not leave until she is well satisfied." She tells him. He gives her a nod glancing at the younger with concern. This was going to be a monumental task. He waits until Lucretia had left before shifting his stance. Ilithyia has done nothing but gawk at him in stunned silence. 

"Um...may I sit?" He asks nervously. Ilithyia makes a strangled noise but glances at the chair off to the side. She jerks her head at it curling around herself. He follows her gaze and gives a thankful look. 

"I do not desire to lay with you. Nor with anyone." She mutters rocking a little. Varro looks her up and down trying to figure out what the fuck happened a week ago. He knows Spartacus slept with the woman. Almost choked the life out of her. But surely that couldn't have broken her mind. 

All in the Ludus had heard her screams. At least once or twice a day. A few nights ago Varro had thought the woman had finally tumbled from the balcony to the bottom of the cliff with the way Dominus was shouting. Crixus had complained in hushed words to him and Spartacus the night before that Naevia had even less time to sneak down to see him because of Ilithyia's actions. 

"If I may be bold?" He offers noticing a familiar look in her eyes. Something that reminds him both of his wife and Spartacus. Ilithyia blinks at him. "You look as if you require embrace. And a chance to shed tears." Varro grins sheepishly. If she was either of the other two he wouldn't have offered and just done so. Ilithyia tilts her head studying him. 

"You believe I deserve such a kindness?" Slightly stunned Varro straightens his shoulders with a chuckle. 

"Uh-hum. Well, yes? I know you and Spartacus hold differences but-"

"You are friends with the Thracian?" She blurts out cheeks turning pink. Varro hesitates with a scratch to the back of his head. 

"Out of all the Gladiator's here, yes. He is dear friend." He admits without thought. No need to lie to the woman. Her eyes seem to be searching. 

"You think an embrace shall chase the darkness that clouds my mind?" She asks sounding slightly amused. Varro shrugs. 

"It surely could not hurt." Ilithyia nods scooting aside. Varro takes a breath before moving to sit next to her. Slowly and gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders and the other tugging her in close. Trembling Ilithyia allows it. 

Neither of them know how long she cries. But the tears started almost immediately after she had settled in Varro's arms. Shamefully she had clung to him. The feel of his hot skin against hers a mockery against the cold she has felt for days. Her body wracked with sorrow and remorse her nails dig into his skin. Nearly breaking it. If not for years of practice between his fragile wife and Spartacus' constant meltdowns, Varro would have felt awkward. Instead, he makes hushing sounds while rubbing circles in her back. Moving her so her head was cradled in his neck. Surrounding her with protection and care. Treating her with a compassion he only really feels for others. He stood Roman as her but it was not kinship he felt. Thracian, Gaul, Roman or Rhine, Ilithyia stood as a person. A human being with thoughts and emotions. Whatever it was haunting her, he wished to help. 

"G-grati-hic-itude." She hiccups wiping her eyes. Varro smiles softly cupping her face. 

"Whatever I can do to aid you. I shall." For a moment she looked as if she believed him and his kindness. Her features changing from despair to cheerful. Something flickers in her eyes and a dark expression over took her. 

"As you were ordered by your Domina." Ilithyia's words held a venom that Varro did not understand. 

"I was ordered to your side by her but I wish to help. Clearly something has upset you and if I can be of assistance." Ilithyia curls her lip tearing herself away from Varro. Standing for the first time today. 

"As a man, being the fucking animal that you are, thinking with your cock." She snaps. Varro makes a face before glancing upwards. He had real problems to deal with. Aurelia being heavily pregnant. Crixus and Spartacus' relationship with each other. Let alone their individual relationships with him. Assisting Crixus with his relationship with Naevia, and Spartacus' budding one with Mira. The mind of a woman he will likely never be alone with ever again was not his to deal with. 

"My cock has nothing to do with this." He wants to tell her 'unless you wish it' simply because it was true. If Ilithyia wanted him to fuck her then he would have to. However unlike his two partners below, he knows that will piss her off. 

"So if I told you to remove subligarium and split me in half until I was delirious you would not?" Ilithyia laughs at him her eyes slightly wild. Varro leans back a little half reminded that he wasn't supposed to look her in the eyes with his station being so below hers. 

"If you so ordered it, I would do so. But it is not something that I seek." He speaks through tight lips, hating being thought of as nothing more than a horny bastard. Despite Spartacus and Crixus making him feel like one more times than not. Ilithyia stares at him in disbelief. Her head cocks to the side. 

"You do not find me attractive?" Varro knows this is a trap. But he doesn't know her well enough to placate entirely. Would it be Spartacus asking such a question.

"You are one of the most attractive women I have met. Yet I am not a man who seeks to take advantage of someone in distress purely to pursue personal pleasure." Varro stands, eyes intense shoulders tight. Ilithyia blinks up at him. 

"Did you know Segovax as you do Spartacus?" Her out of nowhere question trips him. 

"Sego- no? He was but a recruit when he foolishly made attempt on Spartacus' life. He held promise and I never knew his reasoning for doing what he did." Varro places his hands on hips in thought. Not knowing that Ilithyia takes his words and stance as accusations. 

"He was my recruit. I had plans to use him as Lucretia expects me to use you now." Ilithyia scowls looking towards where he came from. Varro blinks hard eyebrows rising. He wins two bets. Hmm. 

"I am sorry for your loss." Varro comments chewing his cheek. Ilithyia glances up at him, studying his face. Remembering watching him all those months ago. 

"You know, I do believe I shall do it." Ilithyia whispers hearing Licinia's laughter fade. Varro tilts his head looking at her. "Strip." She orders untying her dress. Varro nods after a moment before following instructions. If Spartacus could use Crixus for distractions then certainly this woman could use Varro. He nearly laughs realizing his cock and skills were going to be compared to Spartacus' again. Somehow he must figure out how to stop fucking the man's leftovers. 

Chapter Text

He knows she would come. Even as he paces back and forth. It was getting late. Doctore would be coming through the halls soon. He was rather desperate to see her. After spending all day in this fucking heat, working with Spartacus and learning of them fighting Theokoles of all fucking people in the Primus. The more he thought about it the more fear gripped him. It held no sense why he cared so much if the Thracian lived or died. He should be more concerned with his own safety. If he died then he would never see Naevia again! He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice her approach, hears her voice before he sees her.

Nervously reaching through the gate. A gourd of liquid extended. Her beautiful skin shining in the moonlight that filtered through the steps leading up to the villa. "Water." She calls out in greeting. Crixus stops looking at her feeling hesitant all of a sudden. The two of them have not had a chance to be completely alone since she confronted him about Domina wearing the necklace. Never the less he smiles and takes it from her. Recognizing her worry he gives her a reassuring and grateful smile before doing so. "From Domina. To help with your training." She informs taking him back just a tad. It hurt a little to think that it wasn't her kindness but of course it couldn't be. Not with everything she owns comes from Lucretia. His stomach clenches as he processes the second half of her explanation. His training. Keeping this worry to himself he takes a long drink, gulping loudly before seeing her turn to leave. 

"Wait a moment." Crixus croaks out, only just now realizing how dehydrated he was. Damn was his mouth dry. She turns slowly looking a little sad. 

"To what purpose?" She was stepping closer anyways making his heart lift. 

"Need there be one?" Crixus offers unable to stop himself from staring. Honestly he can't believe it's taken him this long to fall for her. Naevia was the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Endlessly kind and patient. The absolute opposite of the former Champion. He mentally chides himself for even thinking of the Celt. He's long since given up on seeing that man again. Longingly he studies her face even as she shyly smiles and shakes her head. 

"You shouldn't look at me that way." Naevia tells him, looking rather enraptured the corners of her mouth still turned up. 

"I try with all my strength not too." He admits to her. Crixus knows that she could end up being his undoing. Falling to distraction and getting himself killed. Whether in the arena or even here. If Lucretia noticed where his wondering gaze landed. Crixus sighs heavily. Because knowing this didn't mean he cared. "But I am weak." At his admission her face breaks into a true full smile. Full of love and hope. Crixus feels his heart sore knowing his words brought her such happiness. His smile matches hers as Naevia reaches out stroking his jaw. 

"Sleep then." Her eyes turn serious, "And regain your strength." There was a warning in her voice. He sighs hanging his head in understanding. Even as she moves to go back upstairs Crixus knows he can't have her leave just yet. 

"What if I had purpose?" He blurts out. Naevia pauses looking over her shoulder. "For you to stay." Crixus hears her take a breath as she debates this. 

"Oh very well you stupid man." She scoffs shoulders sagging in defeat. He would be insulted if he couldn't see the smile had returned to her face. Beaming he waits until she was in front of him again. 

"Barca knows all." Crixus whispers deciding he should start there, he can tell that she was confused at his words. "About me and my life." He continues. Naevia's eyes flash in panic and she steps back just a little. 

"Do you mean that you've told the Beast of Fucking Carthage about us?!" She speaks through clenched teeth gripping her dress tightly. Crixus winces looking guilty. Pietros was right he should have told Naevia about them sooner. So she wouldn't be so surprised.

"He is the only true friend I have in the brotherhood." Naevia gives a disbelieving laugh running a hand through her hair. 

"We will be undone! Barca spends untold hours with Ashur." Her whisper of horror has his heart go out to her. 

"Barca holds all manner of secrets. Especially from that Fucking Syrian." Crixus tries to reassure her. Yet her eyes snap to him blazing in anger. 

"Just what have you told him?!" She snips. Feeling a little foolish Crixus shifts from foot to foot not quite looking her in the eye. 

"I did not tell him about the necklace until after your rejection of it." Crixus can see her holding her breath. "And of your requited affections after your clarification." He mumbles rubbing the back of his neck. Naevia practically hisses looking furious. 

"You have doomed me." She gasps tears filling her eyes. Panicked Crixus reaches through the bars as best as he could to grab her hand. 

"I trust Barca with my life!" He states fiercely. Whatever happens he could not let her leave crying. His heart couldn't take it. "Barca holds more secrets than you can imagine." His voice hoarse with urgency. Naevia just stares at him. 

"How could you be so sure?" Her voice held a quiver and Crixus gives a squeeze. 

"Should you stay and listen you will learn." Naevia tilts her head. Crixus sighs shifting to grab the bars again. "Eventually, I have no mind as to when but eventually you and I shall be together." His eyes nearly burns her skin as he rakes them over her body. She blushes deeply understanding his meaning. 

"What does that have to do with Barca?" The harshness of her words underlying her concern. Crixus grimaces. Hating that he's the reason she feels like that. It seems he was horrible at bringing comfort. As he noticed earlier this week when trying to provide some to Varro and his curious concern over the rabbit. 

"Barca mentioned that you might be....affronted with my past." Crixus clears his throat trying to keep his face from turning red. "Pietros also mentioned that with your lack of...history," fuck he preferred talking to men. No having to beat around the bush to avoid offense, "knowing mine could ease your worries regarding our first time." Crixus finishes lamely. He wishes he had planned this better. Practiced his words with Barca and Pietros. The two of them have let him be distant when it came to Naevia. Understanding that she was something that could potentially be his and his alone heart body and mind. Something he hasn't ever had before. He nearly grimaces Gannicus' face swimming to mind. 

"You wish to discuss past lovers?" Naevia echos his thoughts blinking at him through the bars as she makes sense of what he was talking about. He looked very different from the overly confident champion she knows him to be when he blushes. More like the nervous rabbit he compares Spartacus to. 

"Barca mentioned should I continue seeking your affections that it is something I must do." He mutters leaning against the metal that separates them. Naevia gives him a puzzled look but he sighs deeper. 

"Before I came to this house, before my time as a recruit let alone a Gladiator I was...I belonged to Tullius." He doesn't notice the look Naevia gives him. She knows it's only been the last couple of months that he's taken notice of her, but Naevia was here long before Crixus was purchased. A pessimistic thought reminds her that she would probably be here long after he falls in the arena. 

"Yes you were a stone hauler." Naevia presses against the gate watching Crixus sink down to the ground. Propping his elbows on his knees. 

"That was the official title yes." He sounded miserable even talking about it. "Yet it was not all of the tasks he had me do." Naevia pauses before sinking down to her knees patting his shoulder. "One of his slaves, a moron new to the stones, caused an accident." He gestures to the scars on his head and face. Naevia gasps realizing she never gave it much thought on how he came by them.

"You could have been killed!" She fusses. Crixus shrugs, surely he's been through worse since becoming a gladiator. 

"After I was healed, he had me almost nightly," Naevia watches his eyes darken in memory as he stares unseeing at the opposite wall, "service whores and slaves of not just his, but friends of his." Crixus grimaces thinking of all the familiar faces he's seen since being here. Somewhere along the line he had stopped asking the names of the women he worked on. 

"Serviced?" Naevia ponders. "As you service Domina?" Crixus peeks over his shoulder at her. 

"Similar. For whatever reason the man was adamant that I only used my mouth." He shrugs turning away before seeing the way Naevia's eyes widen and cheeks flush. 

"Oh." Crixus nods. "Is-is that all?" Gods she hopes that was all. He grunts sounding vaguely apologetic. 

"From Tullius yes." Naevia frowns. She knows of Crixus sleeping with Lucretia. Why would he wish to discuss it? 

"I do not understand." If he was just going to sit there quietly then perhaps he was waiting on her. "Why would Barca fear my reaction to you following orders? You were instructed to please these women orally and you did so. It is not so different as what you do with Domina." Crixus casts a nervous glance at her. 

"Barca's concern stems from all that has happened since I've arrived here." Naevia rubs his shoulder encouragingly. "I erm," he clears his throat blushing furiously, "when he was still here...he was the first man, and I just...there is no one like him." Naevia, for all her innocence knows exactly who Crixus was mumbling about. The fact that she did surprised her. 

"The last Champion of Capua?" She was sure to confirm. Even Crixus' ears turned red. Blushing down to his chest. 

"Just the once...the night before he left...a parting gesture." He grumbles fiddling with his necklace. Naevia focuses on it for a bit trying to remember when he obtained it. Finally realizing who it belonged to before him. 

"We-were you erm..." Her throat burns with the question but she was terrified on how he would react. Would he be mad that she was unsure on which part he played in his coupling with the Celt. Was he the dominant? Crixus continues to surprise her by answering without insult. 

"It was a gift from the gods that I was able to convince him to allow my cock to find itself inside him." Naevia wonders, even as her blush deepened, if Crixus even heard her attempt at asking. "Instructions and advice falling from Barca's lips before hand." She gasps. Surely if Barca told Ashur anything in the form of gossip then he would have mentioned that. Something as shocking and, even Naevia can admit, alluring to think of, would have made its way through the House like wild fire. Yet she never knew. Has never heard a whisper. 

"So he can keep a secret. Even with him knowing this about you and," the both of them stiffen even now with him being gone so long his name has yet to be whispered in the Ludus, "Gannicus." She pants rushing to finish her thoughts, "Why does the man hold your trust so much?" It was startling how fast Crixus' blush returned. 

"He and um, Pietros and I....we erm..." He trails off shifting a little. Rubbing a hand over his wrist. Naevia blinks. She doesn't think she's ever sat so still. "Barca bought me a toy." He fumbles over his words. Naevia scrunches her face. 

"A...a toy?" Try as she might she couldn't picture Barca giving Crixus' a toy. Be it a doll or even a toy sword. Yet he nods not looking at her. "Like...a ball?" She wishes she could be mad at the way he burst out laughing. But hearing him so happy, Naevia couldn't even try to get upset. 

"No, not a children's toy. A uh-ha, a sexual toy." He explains grinning at her. Crixus thinks his heart might burst at her returned blush. "It is, well there's nothing for it, the toy is a marble cock, complete with a set of balls. The damned thing is larger and longer than my own." He snorts with a reminiscent sort of look on his face. Confused but trying to be supportive of him for sharing this with her Naevia nods. 

"Alright um...why did he purchase such a thing?" She supposes the most important question should be asked first. Crixus shifts around some more, once again not looking at her. 

"To use...on me." His voice was so quiet that Naevia wonders if he's ever spoken about it out loud before. 

"So...you and Barca? Was this before Pietros and Barca started being together?" It would make a little more sense. But she can see Crixus was smiling again. 

"Same day...and um...the same time?" He was nervous again. Naevia studies him for a moment before giving his shoulder a squeeze. 

"Meaning, while everyone believes Barca and Pietros are a couple....it has really been, YOU Barca and Pietros." She was careful with her words, keeping her voice low and tone comforting. 

"In a sense yes. I have never been Barca's top and he has never been mine. But we have done a great deal many things with each other. With Pietros and with the marble." He explains gently. "The two of them mean a great deal to me...neither hold my heart as they do each others." Naevia holds her breath again as he looks at her eyes burning once more. "As you hold mine." She feels a sob escape her as he speaks exactly what she hoped and feared he would. 

"You are such a a foolish man." Her hand moving from him to wipe furiously at her face. Crixus smiles softly with a nod. 

"Perhaps. It must be as fools do foolish things." If he didn't look uncomfortable all over again she might have thought he would lean in and try to kiss her. Yet something that resembles guilt mars his face. 

"Crixus. What is it?" Her sniff has him nearly flinch. 

"The Thracian." He mutters. Naevia wonders if he would ever start a sentence that didn't have her confused. Crixus drags the palms of his hands down his face looking frustrated. "I visited him in the medicus. The night before he completed his tour of the pits." Naevia raises an eyebrow. Why he did that was beyond her. Why it had anything to do with his sexual history was worrisome. 

"The night Dominus was injured." It was a rather chaotic night for those in the Villa. And for Barca and Ashur if the rumors were true. Crixus nods firmly. 

"He awoke. Crazed from his time in that hellish place. More beast than man. Out of his mind, didn't think I was real." Naevia's trepidation increases listening to him. "I am still uncertain on why I did it. Why it seemed like a time to exploit an opportunity." Naevia could feel her lips thin. 

"Crixus." The wince all but confirmed her suspicion. 

"I took advantage of Spartacus' condition." Standing hands balled into fists Naevia nearly shakes in rage. 

"You 'took advantage'? Unfurl your tongue from the twisting of words. You raped him!" She was near screaming and Crixus scrambles to his feet trying to shush her. 

"Lower voice or risk discovery." He urges. His stomach twists as she sneers at him. 

"You men are all alike. Thinking with nothing but your cocks and forcing it wherever you deem fit. For pleasure or for power it matters not to you." There was venom in her words and Crixus was momentarily terrified that someone had done to her what he did to Spartacus. 

"He was willing participant-" Crixus attempts to defend his mind swimming with the possible horror. Trying to ignore his cocks twitch in memory of Spartacus' mouth around it. Surely someone as willing as that was not a victim. Naevia slams her hands against the metal. 

"If this were not here I would slap you!" She seethes. "The man was out of his mind! You said so yourself! He did not realize what he was doing did he?!" Her voice had barley lowered so Crixus decides to rush this explanation. 

"He thought I was a vision from the gods from what I could configure from his ramblings." Naevia straightens her shoulders teeth gnashing in rage. "Yet as soon as he learned my intent he was more than eager!" Naevia spits at the ground near his feet. 

"I am disgusted with you!" Crixus could feel his heart breaking. So this is what Barca meant. 

"I shall make amends. I have never been proud myself actions that night! Somehow, in some way I shall redeem myself!" Crixus cries out clasping the gate even as she takes a few steps back. She looks him up and down in a debate. 

"Next we speak, I expect to hear of it. Or at the very least a plan." Naevia instructs him. He nods vigorously. "Should none be presented then find my heart and affections ever absent of you. You shall be put from mind and I shall never even speak to you again. Do you understand?" Crixus nods again feeling a few tears run down his face. Naevia huffs before hurrying up the stairs, before rushing back down and slamming herself against the bars. 

"Naevia what-" With probably all of the force she held in her body she kisses him through one of the squares. Stunned Crixus drinks it in wishing he could drown in her lips. Wetly she pulls back. 

"Show me that you are a good man." Naevia graces him with a brilliant smile before scowling at him again and rushing off for the final time. Despite the warning she had given him Crixus couldn't help but beam after her. Picking up the gourd of water as he walks. Headed back to his cell thinking of all the positive things happening in his life. All in all, he believes his life was going great thus far.

Chapter Text

Varro wasn't used to following Crixus around. His lead during training sure. Instructions with that damned toy of his, of course. But slipping and slinking through the bowels of the Ludus in the dead of night was not something he thinks he was comfortable with. True the man had more experience than him in this, but still. The Gaul had been on edge since this morning. When they agreed Spartacus would explain his state of mind when he chose to fuck Agron of all people. Briefly he wonders if the Thracian had done so due to himself and Crixus being unavailable. He grimaces realizing they had been with each other and perhaps that's why they were. 

"Keep mind on fucking task!" Crixus' gruff whisper knocks his focus back in place. The shorter was plastered against the wall peering over the corner. While Varro was standing in the middle of the hall like a fucking moron. Shacking his head Varro leans putting his back to the wall as well. He still wasn't sure if he was done being angry with Crixus yet or not. From the insinuation Spartacus left him with earlier it's possible that he could end up grappling before the night was over. 

"Guard?" He ponders their delay. Crixus shakes his head looking confused. 

"Donar." Varro makes a face while Crixus watches. "He is going to the back corner cell?" Crixus mutters leaning even further. "I cannot see if anyone else is in there." Varro scoffs. 

"It matters not. Do not bitch at me about keeping mind to task and then fall from it yourself." Varro nudges him roughly, grinning once the glare was turned to him. "Stop nosing about like a fucking woman and let us move to purpose." Crixus' look darkens for a second before he rolls his eyes and motions for him to follow. 

"You do not understand the significance of that cell, so even as you try it, I shall attempt to keep my patience with you." Crixus complains as they tip toe in the shadows of the sands. Freezing anytime a guard shifted around. 

"Oh thank you for that. You're too fucking kind." They bracket Spartacus' door, Crixus giving a quick knock as a cloud passes over the crescent moon. 

"Be quick, the both of you." Spartacus' hiss was nearly masked by the creak of hinges as the door opens. Neither of them waste time skittering inside. Varro pulling the door closed behind him. They notice Crixus looking mildly uncomfortable as he huddles in the corner. 

"What is your issue now?" Varro nearly barks. Spartacus frowns looking between the two of them even as Crixus shifts on his feet. It was unusual for the two of them to be at odds.

"Fuck you. The last time I was in this cell..." His voice trails away and Varro sighs reaching out for him. 

"You shall tell us of it." Crixus darts his eyes between the two of them, but Varro squeezes his shoulder. "After our- my," he quickly corrects himself at the scowl from Crixus, "Champion explains just what happened last night." The two of them turn to Spartacus who looks rather sheepish suddenly. With a heavy sigh he plops down onto the edge of his bed and the others follow suit. Varro on his right and Crixus on his left. 

"Where should I start?" He chuckles sounding nervous. Varro pats his shoulder. 

"Crixus once mentioned having a conversation with Naevia about his past partners. Perhaps start there?" He offers. Crixus rolls his eyes. He's had to have two conversations with Naevia since these two fucks have started sharing his bed and cock. 

"Well, I um....in my time in Thrace, before Sura," there was a tense silence when he speaks her name. Varro can't recall the last time he's heard it. Crixus fidgets a little. He never even got a chance to see the woman, but heard everything that happened. ",before Sura there were many. Men and women...." His voice fades eyes clouded with memories of a lost life. Varro pats his back and rubs small circles. 

"Apologies for making you relive what are now part of a painful past." He consoles. Crixus nods his own eyes faded with what Varro could only guess we're similar ghosts. Spartacus shakes his head. 

"No. It is important to speak of it. Those who leave us are only true dead and gone when we forget them." Spartacus' voice sounded stern and certain, despite the glistening of tears in his blue eyes. Varro smiles softly glancing at the way Crixus stiffens, chewing his bottom lip. He decides that none of them are leaving until they know everything about each other. 

"Well stated. Continue. We understand that once you were married there was no one else." He offers, knowing that speaking of Sura was sure to spark a meltdown. There were some games coming up and he needed to make sure Spartacus was in the moment enough to survive. 

"Well...then I came here. Was too focused on Sura to notice my feelings and desires..." He sounded guilty but Varro notices Crixus looking uncomfortable again. Even standing and moving to the other side of the cell. "When I was recovering from the pits...." There was uncertainty there. Spartacus' gaze turning to Crixus. 

"You and I despised each other. There was no gentle touches or sweet words." Crixus spoke as if in defense. Spartacus nods as if accepting an apology. Varro stares at them puzzled.  

"Would either of you like to speak clearly or shall I remain the fool?" He snips taking his hand off of Spartacus. Crixus flushes while Spartacus hunches his shoulders. 

"You recall Doctore's speech." Varro quirks an eyebrow at him. "How we are taught to find an opportunity and exploit it..."

"Fuck it?" Spartacus finishes the whispered explanation. Varro blinks hard. It takes more than a few deep breaths to keep him rooted in his seat. 

"Which is why you decided to fuck Crixus as he was recovering from his injuries." He muses clasping his hands together. Spartacus nods looking at Varro through his lashes. 

"It's exactly why." Varro nods even as Crixus turns a deeper shade of red. 

"You knew?" Crixus asks sounding both hurt and affronted. Varro licks his lips trying not to laugh. He sure hopes Spartacus remembers to take the knowledge of the brothers catching them to his grave. The four of them were making progress with their relationship with Crixus in their own way. Varro would hate for this to ruin all of that. 

"I know a lot of things. Like how Pietros knew too." He states while rubbing the back of his neck. Spartacus and Crixus both stiffen. Both choked by the memory of their delicate friend and companion. 

"What?" Crixus croaks. Varro runs a hand through his hair taking a deep breath. He wishes either of them would blink! For fucks sake. 

"I was standing guard. You know I would do anything for Spartacus." He sounded relatively offended shooting a look at Crixus. "As I did Pietros came forward and wished to check on you." Varro informs. Crixus looked rather murderous. 

"You should have let him come." He snarls clenching fist. Varro makes a face and a wave of his hand. 

"The two of you were busy doing that. I had no knowledge of what the boy meant to you at the time." He hates that he knows now. Crixus is right, had he known he would have dragged Spartacus off and out without a second thought. "I regret actions now as you do too. Past cannot be changed." He mumbles feeling miserable. Perhaps if Pietros had a chance to speak to Crixus he wouldn't have freed himself. Although then Gnaeus would still be alive, he shakes his head even as Crixus sinks down to the floor. 

"Mistakes were made all around. Blame for Pietros lies firmly," Spartacus shakes a little clutching his own shoulders, "with me." He whispers the last part. Crixus frowns deeply fiddling with his finger nails as they're propped up on his knees. 

"What do you mean?" Varro presses gently. Spartacus pales a little, eyes looking vacant. "Spartacus?" He calls out very much reminded of attempting to give the man Mandrake root. Swallowing thickly Spartacus glances at Crixus. 

"He came to me the night after." Brown eyes narrow and Varro feels compelled to move in between them. "Pietro, he....I-" Varro gives him a startled look. In a flash he was catching Crixus around the middle. Keeping him from tackling the Thracian. Spartacus flinches before moving further away. Varro was struggling more than he thought he would. Half the issue he was having was attempting to quiet the fucker down. 

"Close mouth! Should we be discovered -"

"Aaarrgghh!" Crixus' continued shouting was his only answer. Spartacus hangs his head being no fucking help whatsoever. 

"Damn it you wet cunt." Varro makes a quick jab with his palm right into Crixus' throat. Spartacus makes a sound of concern and disbelief even as the Gaul chokes stumbling backwards. "Regain senses! I did not attack you when suspicions of your exploitation of his lack of sense!" Coughing Crixus scowls at the pair of them. 

"You should let him have at me." Spartacus whispers. Varro rolls his eyes to the ceiling wondering why the gods punish him so. What did he do in a past life to deserve this. At least now he knows why Spartacus reacted the way he did when they discovered Pietros. 

"If we ever share the sands again, for any reason," Crixus croaks holding his esophagus, "know that I will kill you." Varro sighs watching them both. Each with silent tears running down their faces. 

"I long for it." Spartacus states softly. Looking defeated. Varro doesn't know which one he wants to smack more. 

"Stop it." He chides giving a stern look at Crixus, "You," he points a finger at Spartacus, "are not dying. Pietros made his choice. Why fucking Spartacus was one of those I do not know-" Crixus snorts even as Spartacus sinks back down to the ground. 

"He was asking for assistance with Gnaeus. A protector. The boy might not have used words but his actions surely did." Crixus was keeping his voice low. Whether due to his injured throat or the amount of emotion Varro was unclear. 

"I informed him prior to the deed that I would not do so." Spartacus continues digging his grave. "He expressed to me wishing to seek a shared comfort." Varro frowns hands on hips. "Barca leaving and Sura's death leaving us both broken hearted." He clarifies hardly able to look at the Roman. Crixus sneers. 

"Is that what you think happened? Barca left?" There was definitely more sorrow in his words now than before. Varro feels his heart go out to the man. Having been stuck in fever not hearing let alone seeing his friends and lovers and then suddenly both gone. 

"That is what we were all informed. Pietros confirmed with Doctore, that Barca procured his freedom. With aid of coin owed by Ashur-"

"Ashur is a devious shit!" Crixus snarls wishing Spartacus owned anything, just for the sake of it being thrown at his head. He shut up at least. Looking hurt and worried. 

"Barca would sooner part cock from body than to leave Pietros behind. He would not have left that infernal marble with me had he not planned on writing!" He was very near sobbing and ignored the way Varro was inching towards him. "The man certainly wouldn't have left letters in his cell from fucking Gannicus had he departed from this fucking house." Varro wraps an arm around his shoulders as he starts openly weeping. There was a heavy silence as Varro and Spartacus digest this information. He wonders if they should mention it to Oenemaus. The Doctore was a good friend of Barca's if Varro was correct. 

"Who the fuck is Gannicus?" Spartacus blurts out tactlessly. Varro gives him a slack jawed look before shaking his head. Blond curls bouncing at his lovers ridiculousness. 

"I forget how little you know of the Arena and it's history." He sighs cupping the back of Crixus' head to allow further comfort. Crixus sniffs with a scowl. He hates feeling so weak, but Varro was sturdy and comforting, and fuck he misses Barca and Pietros so much. Thinking about how he could have helped him. Protect him. How scared the boy must have been, how much pain he must have been in to chose to do what he did. 

"Dishonorable fuck." Crixus gulps wrapping his arms around Varro's waist. Varro shushes him kissing him under his ear. 

"Gannicus is the only Gladiator to win his freedom in the arena." He explains letting Crixus step away. "The opening games of the arena. It was a glorious showing." Varro sighs glancing at the Gaul, who stiffens at his words. 

"You were of the crowd?" He demands asking Spartacus' stunned unspoken question. Varro makes a face, much as when he admitted to attending a show of the pits. 

"It was a gift from Aurelia 's parents...." Varro licks his lips guilt falling across his handsome features. "A wedding present." He adds lamely. Spartacus raises an eyebrow while Crixus nods in understanding. Brown eyes then widen a flash of embarrassment ghosting his face. 

"So um...you saw what...what happened with...Ashur." Crixus bows his head rubbing the back of his neck. Spartacus' frown deepens even as Varro shrugs. 

"The smallest gladiator got injured and nearly burned to death due to own foolishness." Spartacus understands thanks to Crixus that they are talking about Ashur and how he became a cripple. Yet he still understands that there was something the two of them were discussing that he was not privy to. Something for Crixus' benefit. He feels his whole body soften as he smiles lazily at Varro. The man was truly remarkable. Spartacus decides the blond was not leaving this room until he understood how much he was loved. 

"Was...was Gannicus from this House?" Spartacus asks wanting to do what he could to keep the conversation from steering back to him. Crixus smiles fondly. 

"He was. Marvelous in every sense of the word. Breathtaking on and off the sands." The way he spoke was of reverence. Obviously Crixus idolized the man. "This used to be his cell." He mentions almost as if just remembering. Looking around with an odd sense of longing. 

"You shall tell us more of him later. For now," Varro turns attention back to Spartacus making the Thracian grimace, "what happened after Pietros?" Sighing he leans heavily against the wall legs sliding in front of him. Varro does his best not to be distracted.

"Well, you and I were taught how to use the marble a few days later." Crixus blushes a little while Varro's cock stirs at the memory. "Then Segovax made attempt to kill me." Absent mindedly his hand went to his throat. As if reliving the moment. 

"Which is when this fuck laid an open claim on you." Crixus observes almost grinning. Varro tsks folding his arms. 

"Fuck you I did no such thing." Spartacus beams up at him before turning to Crixus. He was still nervous to speak directly to the man. Having learned about Pietros and Spartacus' guilty part in it was still fresh. He wouldn't stop an attack should one be made. 

"What makes you say that?" Crixus snorts also sitting back down. There was a twinkle of amusement blooming in his eyes. 

"Neither of you were overly quiet." The pair of them flush a deep red. Varro not looking away. Spartacus on the other hand crosses his arms over his face with a groan. "The guard kept fighting for a rotation. No one wishing to be anywhere near the sands let alone your door." His laughter bleed into his sentence as his shoulders shake trying to hold it at bay. 

"Well," Varro chuckles a little, "it wasn't a claim it was him promising to follow words of advice. While also apologizing for scaring me half to death." Crixus was out right grinning, now knowing how demanding and protective Varro could be. He could only imagine what the Roman put Spartacus through.

"Yes well, I do believe we are more interested in what happened the night with the Roman woman." Crixus shakes his head. Spartacus' eyes narrow. 

"Why? Would you like me to skip over my punishment for not giving you gratitude? Or our shared apology to Varro-" Spartacus was sounding a little whiny and the blond couldn't help but wonder why. 

"The both of us were there. We know what happened." Crixus snips. Varro raises an eyebrow. 

"And of our night together while Varro was chained to the wall?" Spartacus nearly hisses baby blues glistening with hurt. Varro's eyebrows hit his hairline looking between his lovers. 

"Your night when?" Crixus makes a frustrated sound pulling his knees closer to his chest. 

"It matters not. I simply asked him about Mira." He grumbles ears redder than Varro has ever seen them be. 

"And of course the two of you can't be alone without either brawling or fucking. Fair enough carry on Bringer of Rain." Crixus feels immense relief that Varro did not press the issue. While he enjoyed Spartacus immensely that night, it was an attempt to ask the other for what Varro eventually finished. His skin tingles even at the thought. How well Varro handled him. Bent him over and tanned his hide. Clearing his throat he shifts hoping neither of them noticed his need to adjust. Fuck that was just the other night. So much has happened since he could hardly believe it. 

"Well...I bedded the Roman woman." He voice lowers as his shoulders sag. Crixus and Varro both frown as his chest starts heaving. Spartacus' face was quickly pailing. Heart jumping to chest Varro kneels next to him gathering him in his arms. 

"Spartacus." The concern in his voice has the champion crumble into him. Shaking visibly and even Crixus scoots across to them. Placing a hand on his shin. "What happened with Licinia?" Varro coaxes bewildered at the shaking of Spartacus' head. 

"N-no. Not Licinia. It was suppossed to be Licinia." Voice tight with suppressed emotion lithe muscles pulled tight as he clutches Varro. Crixus stiffens remembering the way Ilithyia pawed and mauled him in front of Lucretia. How Naevia said Lucretia had thrown an absolute tantrum after Ilithyia interrupted Licinia's visit a few days prior. 

"What did Domina do?" He whispers, voice gruff with contempt and worry. Spartacus closes his eyes lips trembling. 

"Lied. Humiliated." Varro pets his hair glancing over his shoulder at Crixus. "It wasn't Licinia I bedded." He takes a shaky breath. "It was Ilithyia behind the mask." Spartacus nearly wails. Crixus makes a face while Varro's mouth drops. The Gaul flickers his gaze between the two of them missing something. Sure she was the bitch who was married to the man then sent Spartacus and his wife into slavery. But isn't that....well Crixus figures it would be a large fuck you to Glaber versus Spartacus. 

"Explain your distress you mad fuck." Crixus huffs earning a dirty look from Varro. Spartacus bites his lip with a sniff keeping his head down. He looked so upset Crixus almost wishes there was something he could do. Seeing the man cry was not a thing he enjoyed. Unlike before Crixus doesn't mock him for their existence. Reaches past Varro's bicep and wipes the smaller man's cheek. "I wish to understand." The bubble of warmth that spreads through his chest at the approval in Varro's eyes was ignored. As was the twitch of his cock. 

"I it what I did," Spartacus stumbles over his words before taking a shaky breath. "My enjoyment of Ilithyia's body is a betrayal to Sura." He manages to state despite his unsuccessful attempt to stop crying. Crixus' tongue burns with the desire to ask just how much enjoyment he got from the Roman bitch. Yet something tells him now was definitely not the time. Obviously the man's mind was in enough torment. 

"And then Agron appeared. Willing and available." Varro soothes, manhandling Spartacus until he was straddling the blond. He was sure to rub the Thracian's back while maintaining a tight grip. Spartacus nods peeking over Varro's shoulders at Crixus. 

Thinking of everything he's learned. Everything Spartacus has gone through. With what Crixus started. It didn't escape his notice that grief, panic and near death experiences were the main causes of Spartacus' debauchery here in the Ludus. Perhaps if he had not taken advantage of the injured man that night, he would have never started down this path. Shaking his head Crixus reaches out and cards his fingers through Spartacus' hair. 

"The blame rests with us. For not being there for you." Crixus grunts. His heart squeezes at the hopeful look in those wet blue eyes. 

"I had assumed you for sleep. As was Varro." Varro and Crixus glance at each other guilt shifting the mood in the cell. Spartacus frowns looking between them. 

"Not entirely." Varro murmurs holding Spartacus tighter. Crixus refuses to meet his gaze while blushing down to his chest. That itself was odd to him. 

"So the two of you were together when you had a free chance." He shrugs. His only question is to why Agron had lied to him. Not something either of his lovers could answer. But something he was certainly planning on finding out. Varro chuckles drawing his mind from itself. 

"So mysteries are solved all around." He kisses Spartacus' temple twisting and turning the two of them so they were both facing Crixus. "So, is there anything else you'd like to tell us? Hmm? Like exactly how close you and this Gannicus were?" His teasing was back and Crixus could feel his bruised backside tingle in anticipation. Although logically he knew it was much too soon for another beating. No, more than one night was needed for recovery. 

"None of your fucking business. If you're up for learning, perhaps we shall find out whose cock you prefer? Mine or the Thracian's." Crixus snaps snatching his leg out of Varro's reach. It was too easy to lose himself in the fuckers touch. Spartacus looks up at Varro eyes darkening with lust. Varro grins wickedly tracing a hand down Spartacus' chest. 

"That sounds like a fucking challenge. We did not bring any of your toys. Are you prepared if things get out of hand?" Varro provokes right back. Crixus grits his teeth shooting Spartacus a warning look. 

"The both of you shall keep cocks far from my ass unless you wish to be parted from them." He threatens. Spartacus suddenly looked rather menacing as his shoulders square. 

"Shall you make attempt to harm Varro it'll be more than your cock that you lose." He warning was dipped in venom sending a thrill down the Roman's spine. 

"You're both adorable. Now who's going to fuck me first?" His question drawing the two of them back from their bickering. Between the two of them Varro hopes that he's brought enough oil. Although his cock straining almost painfully against his subligaria wasn't nearly as concerned as his brain was. 

Chapter Text

"Agron." Doctore watches over the only two recruits left. Unsurprisingly it was the two from East of the Rhine. The taller steps forward at Batiatus's command. Oenamous glances over the crowd of Gladiators sighing to keep his patience. Donar was still burning holes into Agron's skull as he has been the past week. "You will face Hamilcar." Dominus instructs with a wave of his hand. Spartacus scoffs somewhere in the back. His mood still sour as whatever was going on between him and Varro not yet coming to a head. Oenemaus knows it has something to do with Crixus. Speaking of. Scowling Crixus folds his arms as if offended with the world. It has been a few days since he saved the Thracian from Segovax. Doctore wonders if what was going on with Varro and Spartacus had to deal with that. It wouldn't surprise him. He makes a note to speak to Varro about it in the morning. Crixus scrunches his face watching Hamilcar climb up with Agron. Doctore thins his lips shifting to watch them. Even as he sees Varro and Spartacus slinking through the crowd. Both pairs of blue eyes locked on one or the other Rhine. Both looking ready to devour each of them. 

"Come on Agron!" Oenemaus flickers his gaze to the younger brother. He was smiling, eyes bright with pride. His age and admiration shining brightly as was the nose ring he sported. Doctore wishes he could rip the damn thing out. It could be used against him in the arena. Oenamous raises an eyebrow when the pup looks over at Crixus before quickly turning away, a blush fresh upon his cheeks. Odd. The clashing of swords draws his attention back to the two contenders. He almost laughs at the ridiculous height difference. It would do Hamilcar well to be paired against Agron in the future should he pass his current test. He would hate for the man to fall just due to being the shortest in the brotherhood. 

"Fucking shit!" Agron shouts when Hamilcar manages a small cut on his arm. Oenemaus huffs noting that it only happened with the elder brother had glanced towards Donar. Who uncharacteristically jeered loudly. Agron, it seems did not like seeing his own blood. The thud of his large foot to Hamilcar's chest echoed when the Gladiator fell off the walk way. There was some cheering and a small curse from Rhaskos who bet against Agron. The taller jumps down and offers a hand to his opponent with a grimace. Rolling his eyes Hamilcar takes it and allows himself to be pulled up. Doctore nods and motions for him to stand to the side. He passes his brother clapping a hand on his shoulder squeezing it tight. Crixus tilts his head watching them, Doctore wonders why the younger has caught the Gaul's eye. 

"Duro." The young man looks up, excited and eager. Something that could get him killed. Oenemaus would have to talk to him about that. "Facing Rhaskos." 

"Fucking idiot." He hears Agron grumble when Duro gets tripped. From the corner of his eye he could see Spartacus move closer to the angry brother. Eyes practically glowing with intent. Oenemaus holds back a look of disgust. The other day with Varro in the Thracian's cell was bad enough. He'd hate to think of the noise from more than one partner. Perhaps he should talk to Batiatus about giving the current champion some hay for the floors to aid in the dispersion of echos. 

Spartacus speaks softly to Agron, words Doctore was too far away to catch. He does see Crixus scowl not even blinking anymore as he watches Duro roll out of the way and managed to catch Rhaskos off guard. But Rhaskos wasn't as slow as Hamilcar. The two clashed swords. 

"I'm going to strangle him." Agron growls clenching his fists the wind carrying his voice and Varro' laughter as he makes his way over as well. 

"Which one?" Oenemaus reads his lips the thudding of shields canceling out the actual sound of his voice. Crixus stiffens his shoulders in a way that has Oenemaus frown. Agron answers through his teeth. Crixus smirks at whatever was said. Duro was faster than Rhaskos due to his slimmer frame, the only thing that saved his life in Oenomaus' professional opinion. He managed to get behind Rhaskos aiming his sword directly to the back of his bald head. 

"Duro!" Doctore shouts. Everyone freezes. There was always the one possibility of a rebellious one. Duro however smiles brightly lowering his weapon. A few chuckles was the signal he needed, Rhaskos stands and turns around rolling his eyes and extending his hand. Awed the younger takes Rhaskos' hand practically shaking in delight. He hops down and Agron beams in pride. The two share a hug before Agron muses Duro's hair. 

"You need to be more careful." He says loudly clasping a hand on the back of his neck pressing their foreheads together. Duro snorts.

"Says you. I made it out without a scratch." Agron laughs sticking his tongue out. Crixus's eyes widen and slide to the laughing Duro who smacks his brother away from him. Doctore shakes his head wondering if Crixus was ever going to realize other people could see him. From the corner of his eye he sees Crixus make his way to the baths while the rest of them watched the brother's receive the mark and recite the oath. 

Agron he notices grits his teeth but otherwise makes no sound. An odd gleam in his green eyes. One that Oenemaus doesn't want to begin to understand what that meant. Perhaps he should have the man pair with Rhaskos instead of Hamilcar. Maybe have him switch back and forth throughout the day even. 

"Pay attention you fuck." Agron hisses to his brother. Duro looks up from where Crixus had left bright red. Everyone was waiting for him to take the spot in front of Doctore that Agron was just kneeling at. He smiles apologetically before doing as he was told. Doctore gives him a patient look. It wasn't his fault. He understands that Crixus has captured the young man's attention. He hopes he knows it was a mutual interest. Although he worries that Crixus might not act on it. Seeing as he was attempting to make moves onto Naevia. A fools errand if there ever was one. Especially with the current relationship between the Gaul and Domina, but that wasn't any of his business. While he wishes Crixus could get head from ass and not do anything stupid, Oenomaus' job was to keep him alive on the sands.

Duro extends his arm his eyebrows furrowed together. Blandly he recites the oath, echoing the words he was supposed to seemingly without much thought. The white hot metal was then searing into his flesh. Duro's hand clenches into a fist in the dirt as he lets out a yelp of pain before his teeth clench. More to hide the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, does he duck his head. Scowling to himself Doctore waits, trying to convey comfort in the hand he had on Duro's wrist to keep his arm in place. The stench was worse as the pain as any who bare the mark know well. Done with the normal amount of counting, Doctore pulls the brand back, he noticed some of his skin went with it. Doctore looks at the brand and the tool with a small frown and a glance at him but says nothing. There would be no reason to worry the newest gladiator with knowledge that it was a well known sign of death when the skin peeled at the branding.

Agron either unbothered or unaware laughs and hauls him to his feet. The other gladiators were congratulating him and shaking his good arm while his brother wrapped his wound. Doctore sets the tool to the side hoping that perhaps this time it was nothing more than superstition. 

"We did it brother!" Duro chimes smiling up at him. Agron scoffs. Doctore nods to them listening to Batiatus' speech with no interest. Crixus hasn't returned and Spartacus has moved closer to Agron. He and Varro whispering low. Whatever was spoken has peaked the elder's interest. Even as Donar was close behind. Oenomaus raises an eyebrow at the way Agron glances back at the blond German. Perhaps not as interested in Spartacus as he let on. 

Long after dinner Oenemaus smiles to himself as he walks through the halls of the Ludus. With Crixus regaining his strength and two new promising recruits finally gladiators it seems life was starting to regain normalcy. His mind still itches with the mystery that is Barca's disappearance. It also rings sadly with the death of Pietros. There was some guilt over the demise of Gnaeus but, other than being a decent fighter the man held little worth or concern. Lost in thought Oenamous was startled to hear is name. 

"Doctore!" He turns looking mildly surprised at the fast approaching German.

"Donar. Is everything alright?" He asks clasping his hands behind his back. Donar grins broadly. It was rather unusual to have the man so expressive. Whatever was on his mind must be important. He was still in his towel for goodness sakes. 

"Yes. Forgive me, if this is too bold." Doctore nods a motion to proceed. "But, I had a suggestion for when Crixus returns to the sands in a fortnight." Oenomaus raises an eyebrow. He has always suspected that Donar was far more observation and competent than he let on. Just liking to stay out of the spot light as it were. Oenamous could respect that and never treated him as someone who could do more than he did. 

"Go on?" Donar grins. Doctore was slightly taken aback. The man has never outright grinned to his knowledge. And he knows a lot about his Gladiators. 

"I think it would benefit the two of them if he was paired with Duro for a while." Oenomaus' eyebrows shoot up. That was by far the last thing he thought the man was going to say. Out of the two brothers Agron showed the most potential. It had been him plan to pair the elder with the Gaul. 

"Duro? He has just this very night revived the mark. He won't even have had a match in the Arena when Crixus returns to training." Despite Agron being in the same situation he still thought it was better to pair them up instead. Donar nods again,

"Exactly. Crixus has been away from the Arena a while and will need to build back up some momentum. And Duro is going to need a true Champion's guidance. Just like Gannicus guided Crixus." Doctore blinks in shock. That was very insightful. He hadn't thought about it in that way. Easing Crixus back into the sands so as not to stress newly healed wounds. Perhaps Donar had a point. Oenamous held a lot of faith in the man and maybe that was clouding his judgement. He nods curtly.

"I will think on it." Donar smiles before running off to his cell. Humming to himself Doctore turns and continues on his way. He was worried about his attachment to Crixus, if only because the Gaul now found himself all but alone. He remembers the man as a recruit. Sticking to himself. Pining after Gannicus. Until Barca took him under his wing. Coaxing him into spending time with the others. Then of course Spartacus showed up and was instantly and quit obviously obsessed. 

A screamed curse catches his attention. He hesitates knowing exactly what his Gladiators do to pass the time. And the shout had come from the direction of Crixus' cell. Oenamous stands still for a moment waiting. He's not entirely sure which gladiators were still in the baths. Although there was some more loud noises and the sound of a slap so he figures he better at least walk past. Once closer he's sure he could figure out if it was a fight or, well... something he didn't want to see. He sighs heavily. This was not something he expected as one of his responsibilities when he became Doctore. Even after the last few years he was still uncomfortable with having to know what he does. Just for their safety.  

Rounding the corner he was a little surprised to see the Rhine brothers huddled around Crixus' door. Duro seems enraptured and he wasn't entirely sure what Agron was doing. Although from this position he's not sure he wished to know. 

"You enjoy yourself overly much. Fuck me with that contraption like you mean it." Crixus' voice echos stopping Oenemaus in his tracks. A wet sound like a kiss was heard before a second demand. "And take this fucking thing off me." Duro whimpers noticing Doctore at the end of the hall. Face pale and eyes wide in horror. Oenemaus glances at Agron and when the man shifts his shoulder he can see the top.of Varro's head, blond curls unmistakable. And the glint of Spartacus' wild eyes. 

Keeping his hands clasped behind his back, Oenemaus walks past. Not giving them or the cell a second glance. Knowing that with the door open that the brothers had permission to be there. If he never broached Crixus' sexual habits with him when it was with Barca and Pietros then he sure as shit wasn't going to ask when it was with these four. 

He reaches his own cell a short time later shaking his head and blinking hard. Perhaps Crixus has spent too much time with Lucretia. Attended too many of Batiatus' parties. A small groan of regret filters through him as he sinks down in front of his wives shrine. He wishes Titus had never died. That this house was still the honorable Ludus it was when he was rescued from the pits. Perhaps it would have been easier to train Spartacus had it been so. A free man from a foreign land would easily see the oddities that their Dominus and Domina subject them to. Shaking his head he lights the candles and sends a prayer to Melitta. Perhaps he might write to Gannicus. Not that he's heard from the man since Spartacus' arrival. 

Chapter Text

Gannicus grumbles to himself as he schleps away from the whore house. Everytime he attempts one it went one of two ways. Either he finished seeing flashes of Melitta or him. Or he couldn't finish at all which was just not worth the coin. He's bedded the Capua whores for years. There was no way he was going to risk embarrassment. Let alone spend money on doing so. Perhaps in a year or so when there was a fresh batch of whores. Besides working up a sweat in this gods for fucking saken heat wasn't something he wanted to do. 

Being jostled about in the crowd was bad enough. He was glad that the trader friend/employer of his got to market safely. Not that there was much danger with Gannicus being his escort. Still. The man was feeling extra generous and gave Gannicus a bonus. Since they would be in town for the next week the Celt decided it would be good to enjoy this weeks games. Especially if the rumors were true. 

Rumor has it that the city in a desperate attempt to end the drought has purchased Theokoles. The Shadow of Death. Paid for by Marcus Decius Solonius himself. It came as no surprise that his old Dominus Quintus Batiatus was having men fight the monster. Crixus the Champion of Capua. And something called Spartacus. Bemused as to why not someone of greater note Gannicus eagerly made his way to his seat. His heart was pounding, just as it had been the first time he had been spectator versus gladiator. Eagerly waiting to see those who he uses to call brother on the sands. 

"Sit here with me." A deep voice speaks to the meak woman in front of Gannicus. His eyes narrow at the hesitation from the woman. She looked so fragile that he was afraid to even touch her to assist in the switching of seats. 

"Gratitude, Titus." She whispers shaking like a leaf. Gannicus chews his cheek reminding himself that it was none of his business. His attention was shifted as the magistrate announces the start of the games. 

He's sure it was the heat that causes time to slow. One by one and two by twos men fought and died. It seems the magistrate has drug every Lanista from here to Neapolis in for his sacrifice for the gods. Barca fought, killing two men in less time than it took for some of the crowd to even realize what had happened. Gannicus beams pride swelling for his friend. Regardless on if his opponents were half his size and clearly of poor training. A blonde fuck, Varro he thinks the name was called, took longer to kill his singular opponent. Gannicus notices the woman beside him sobbing quietly ever since the man stepped onto the sands. He wonders the relation.

Two men from Ludus' not of Capua fight just before the Primus. Even Gannicus was impressed with the way Septimus' axe dug itself into Valarius' neck for the final blow. Nothing to cheer about in terms of finesse. But he remembers what it is like. Knows exactly why Septimus struts away chest heaving. He was the victor. And more importantly the survivor. Gannicus grins with the roar of the crowd. Tries to tell himself that he doesn't miss it. That freedom was preferred to being forced to battle for ones life. Yet there was a bitterness to his freedom. It was unasked for, and at the time, unwanted. 

Gannicus stiffens at the sound of the trumpets. The Primus was upon them. With it, either the demise of the Gaul which haunts his dreams and waking memories. Or the death of that fucking son of a whore who nearly killed his best friend and sentenced him to a life of teaching.

"Citizens of Capua!" The Magistrate's voice was barley heard over the screams around him. The clean up crew ignored as the distraction runs around the edges of the arena. "Brothers of Rome!" Gannicus rolls his eyes wishing they would just hurry up. "In the name of my forefathers," a privilege thing to have, "I Titus Calavius present to you, the final event! A spectacle of blood and death!" Gannicus suppresses a yawn.

"Jupiter's cock." He sighs. The man could talk forever. 

"A sacrifice to Ceres, the great goddess of renewal!" Gannicus has always wondered why Romans announce the powers of their gods and goddesses when declaring whom they're sacrificing to, oh shit he missed something. "...to shower us with an ocean of rain!" There was more cheers for this. 

"A fucking drop would be received the same." The man, Titus, barks behind Gannicus. The Celt glances over his shoulder to see him smack the woman on the back nearly toppling her over. "Wouldn't you agree?" He sneers at her. The woman whimpers but nods. Gannicus curls his lip before turning back to the sands. 

"From the house of Quintus Lentulus Batiatus," Gannicus stands to be able to see better, "Behold, Spartacus, Thraex!" Gannicus blinks. A Thracian? Didn't one of their Legatus' have an embarrassing tour there almost a year ago? The crowd boos and Gannicus makes a note to learn this man's history. If only to properly mourn him. 

"Spartacus?" The woman behind him whispers her quivering momentarily stopped. 

"Joined in battle today," Gannicus steels the hand of someone about to throw some lettuce as Spartacus walks into the middle of the arena, "by the Undefeated Gaul!" The crowd quickly changed to excited cheering. "The Champion of Capua! Behold! Crixus! Murmillo!" All around Gannicus were clambering in their approval. Some women begging him to even look their way. Others claiming they wish to bare his children. Gannicus chuckles but couldn't help the warmth that flows through him at the sight of his old....well he's not sure what to call him. Brother should he go by their shared mark. But his skin tingles just by the thought of the Gaul's touch. It had to be more. But Gannicus couldn't have it so either. 

"Arrogant shit." He laughs to himself as Crixus holds his sword up in the air. Gannicus joins the crowd in a chant of the man's name. Regardless on if the Gaul could hear him or not. Should he fall today then Gannicus shall know he had cheered for him. And perhaps in the afterlife Crixus would learn of it. 

"Capua!" He thinks he hears Crixus shout as he turns in a circle arms spread. Gannicus ignores the twitch of his cock as his eyes devour him. Ears straining to hear that gravely voice. "Shall we begin??" Crixus questions to the delight of the crowd. And apparently the confusion of his fighting partner. The fool Spartacus looks like he's never stepped foot in the arena. Giving Gannicus the impression of a scared rabbit who stumbled into a den of wolves. 

"Together," Magistrate Calavius' voice gains their attention again, "they stand against a man, who has never fallen!" Gannicus motions to Crixus. The fuck did 'Undefeated' mean then to these people? "A beast that has never been tamed." Gannicus snorts recalling watching the man fight Oenemaus. He was a good fighter but there wasn't anything animal about him besides his fucking appearance. "A legend that has never been tarnished." Gannicus flips the Magistrate off. Oenemaus' legend was whispered in awed voices throughout Rome. Respected throughout citizens and slaves alike. "By the grace of Marcus Decius Solonius," Gannicus grins imagining how pissed Batiatus must be, "behold! Theokoles! The Shadow of Death!" 

There were murmurs rippling through the crowd as all eyes turned towards the gate. Gannicus sees Spartacus look to Crixus before doing so. As if nervous. He supposes that was the smart emotion to have at this moment. And something tells him Crixus probably wasn't. Gannicus smiles eyes never leaving the Gaul. Wishing, even from a distance to memorize the man. Heart clenching when he realizes he wasn't going to be able to see his eyes. Maybe ever again. 

"Holy shit." Someone to Gannicus' left gasps. Theokoles steps forward, white hair and red eyes unmistakable. Skin littered with the scars of fallen warriors. The second his feet hit the sand a dark cloud rolls across the sky. Everyone was nervously glancing about. Gannicus quirks an eyebrow at this ominous sign. He feels pride thrum through him as Crixus keeps his eyes forward even as Spartacus glances up and around. 

"AHH!" Theokoles screams when he steps closer to the middle. Arms raised and Gannicus grimaces. Did he really used to do that too? Gods he hopes noone remembers that. From this angle it looks fucking ridiculous. 

"Begin!" The Magistrate instructs. At the words Theokoles turns and charges with a battle cry. The other two glance at each other before doing the same. Gannicus' heart leaps to his throat when Crixus dodges a swipe of Theokoles' sword. Fists clenches as Spartacus leaps in front of him blocking them both and then spinning out of Crixus' way. Gannicus raises an eyebrow as Crixus draws first blood. 

Crixus ducks and swipes his feet to be able to doge another blow. Spartacus moving to try and aid in Crixus' defense again gets his helmet hit. Gannicus knows there must be a slight ringing in there. He always hated fighting with helmets for this reason. But the Thracian throws his shield up keeping his mind in the present. Just as Crixus tucks under his own shield to be able to leap into action while Spartacus stumbles from the blow. The two of them were shoved back a little as Theokoles uses both swords on each shield. 

Gannicus flinches seeing the corner of Crixus' bounce off his helmet. The two of them working together. When Theokoles was hitting one shield the other gladiator was trying to hit him with their sword. If they kept this up Gannicus was sure that the Shadow would lose his footing. Out of no where Crixus dashes to the side managing to slice a decent hit across Theokoles' stomach. To the surprise of all present. None more so than Theokoles. While slower he doesn't stop his assault. Even as Crixus blocks jumps out of the way. Spartacus delivers a hard kick to the injury sending the Shadow fumbling backwards. Distractedly hitting Crixus' sword out of the way looking confused as Spartacus' shield shoves the sword out of the way to press on. Crixus dipping under the Thracian's guard the two of them managing to disarm Theokoles. Each of them managing a hard cut to his chest.

The way they attack looked so well practiced and flawless that Gannicus feels a small pang of jealousy. He recalls fighting along side Crixus against a giant. The sloppy and panicked way they were nearly tripping over each other. Yet Spartacus stood close as the Shadow fell backwards. The ground thudding as he landed hard. Spartacus and Crixus share a look as the crowd falls deathly silent. Spartacus takes a step forward.

Gannicus nearly throws himself down into the sands when Crixus peels his helmet off. Spartacus following the Gaul's lead. If one or the other would just slit the fuckers throat! His frustration had his skin crawling! Stupid mother fuckers! The shocked look on the Thracian's face was noticable as he glances at Crixus. Who has started laughing!!! Gannicus grits his teeth as the crowd slowly starts to cheer. Spartacus joins the laughter even as Crixus bends for a second in apparent relief. 

Why the man stops and raises his helmet to the Magistrate's box was a mystery. Gannicus blanches remembering Barca's last letter. If he squints he thinks he can see Lucretia. Not that he thinks she would miss a chance to be seated next to such important people. And if that bitch was there, then Naevia would be too. His lips thin understanding that Crixus must have succeeded in his goal of being with the girl. He refuses to acknowledge the pain in his chest as heart break. Spartacus spreads his arms as he walks around. Crixus turning his attention back to the crowd lowering his arm. His grin returned as well as his laugh. 

"Yeah!" He thinks he can hear Spartacus scream his arms slinging to his side again. Crixus holds his shield high as if it didn't weigh fifty fucking pounds. 

"Yeah Capua!" Crixus' victory shout echos as the crowd falls silent in confused fear and awe. Gannicus nods grimly watching Theokoles stand. Glaring daggers into their backs. Spartacus and Crixus turn around bewildered at the crowds silence. Those idiots left Theokoles alone long enough that the Shadow was armed once more. 

"Capua!" He shouts throwing his arms up with a glance over his shoulder. "Shall I begin?!" Thunder and lightning rolls as he speaks. The crowd damn near losing its mind in excitement. Gannicus could feel his own sanity slipping when Crixus throws his fucking helmet what was that idiot thinking?! 

Without a second glance to his partner Crixus rushes forward. Spartacus darting to his right as Theokoles smacks their shields at the same time. Gannicus groans. Of course the giant was toying with them earlier. Testing their strengths and weaknesses. And now has shaken them. Thrown their confidence and focus. With two swipes he makes an opening on Crixus. Nearly succeeding in it too if not for also trying to get a hit on Spartacus at the same time. 

There was a clash of swords and Crixus collides with Spartacus. Elbowing him backwards. Telling him something that Gannicus hopes was a plan of attack. The Gaul syucks under a swipe as Spartacus rolls out from under his feet. Worried that they're no longer in sync Gannicus grips his rudis tightly. He dares not blink. Crixus leaps over an attack but was sent crashing into the Thracian as he attempted to stand. 

He can see Crixus scowl and snap some sort of instruction to Spartacus as he hurries back to task. The look on his face not one of determination but near panic. Gannicus feels his heart stutter, terrified that the Gaul believes he will die. Even as he throws himself into Theokoles way. His sword swinging low and his shield clanging as it blocks another. 

Spartacus, whether listening to Crixus or not Gannicus does not know, stumbles in his effort to join back in. A particularly hard blow has Crixus' arm exposed and cut. The Gaul's shout of pain echoing in Gannicus' head. Probably for the rest of his days. Theokoles takes advantage of the exact second of hesitation, swiping Crixus off his feet again. Crixus curls while in mid air to keep his legs out of the attacking Spartacus' way. Landing hard, Gannicus knows that angle. His arm nearly torn from socket and shield nearly lost. 

Spartacus leaps up aiming for the Shadow's face. A good strategy in Gannicus' opinion. Their swords clash, once, twice before Spartacus was forced to throw his shield up. Both of Theokoles' swords slamming down, buckling the small man's knees. The quick twitching dodge technique has Theokoles miss stabbing into his side. Hitting the sands instead. In one swift motion, Spartacus rolls covering the swords with his shield and body. The butt of his weapon drawing blood as it cracks against Theokoles' jaw. It did little else. 

The Shadow turning back snarling down at the glaring Thracian. Gannicus hopes the man gets kicked in his head for not continuing to attack. Theokoles roars, throwing his arms up and sending Spartacus spiraling through the air. Gannicus could tell the air was knocked from his lungs as Crixus' was earlier. The difference was that Crixus was now screaming as he charges forward. A strange rage on his face. Gannicus once again hates to think what the Gaul's relationship is to the Thracian. Hates that he doesn't like the thought of Crixus finding a replacement for the Celt. 

Though small, Crixus throws his whole body behind his shield. Colliding into Theokoles and sending him stumbling backwards again. Not hesitating Crixus whirls around his sword flying through the air faster than Spartacus' body had been. Yet it did little. Theokoles quickly having Crixus on the defensive again. Crixus let's the Shadow stab at his shield throwing it open and managing to impale Theokoles. 

"Yes!" Gannicus shouts suddenly, once more on his feet. His joy was short lived. Theokoles grabbing Crixus' wrist with a growl. And pulling the sword further into his body. Gannicus can see Crixus' feet digging into the sand, being dragged forward. There was a second, where Theokoles was craning down, Crixus glancing at the wound and then back to the man's face. Gannicus could see the intimidation tactic. The way Theokoles was silently asking if Crixus was afraid. 

Crixus shouts in anger, frustration or something. Spartacus still choking on air behind him. Theokoles roars right back. Gannicus shouts his pride knowing damn well Crixus couldn't possibly discriminate his voice from any of the others from the crowd. The Shadow head butts Crixus when getting the message that the Gaul was not afraid. Blood spurted gloriously as Crixus was stunned. The hold on his sword forgotten and he flails back. Spartacus seems to have recovered enough to see Theokoles pull Crixus' sword from his body.

With the man's own sword he brings his arm down. The grunt from Crixus proof enough of its force. A chink of metal has the Gaul exposed and there was no stopping Theokoles' blade from slicing across his stomach. A second gash dangerously off Crixus' chest sends him twisting, exposing his back. Gannicus couldn't breathe, unaware that he has his rudis clutched as if an actual weapon. He screams in horror as Theokoles brings his blade crashing down. Sword splattering Crixus' blood dropping him to his knees. 

Vaguely, Gannicus sees Spartacus look just as heartbroken and fearful as he felt. Terrified that this was the end of Crixus. The Gaul gasps looking down at his injuries before eyes tilting his gaze up to the box. Gannicus sees the grimace of regret and wishes those eyes were locked with his. Theokoles roars proudly at the crowd turning in a circle before aiming for the final blow. 

"Theokoles!" The loud broken scream draws the Shadow's attention. Spartacus poised, looking ready to attack. Gannicus sees he was shaking. Crixus slumps forward using his shield for support. Just as Spartacus runs up, the same shield now a spring board. The force of it jolting Crixus out of his shock. The look of horror and disbelief on his face as he spins has Gannicus gritting his teeth. The way he feebly reaches out as if to stop Spartacus from his foolish endeavor. It made his heart ache.

Theokoles counters and dodges Spartacus. Both swords aimed for the Thracian's head even as the small man ducks. Spartacus uses his shield to disperse an incoming attack. Crixus was left to bleed out. Gannicus sees him pushing his guts back into his body from where they were trying to empty out of. What he was attempting was beyond the Celt. He tries to pay attention to Spartacus. The way he ducks again. Eyes wide and alert. It occurs to Gannicus that perhaps Spartacus was able to read and learn Theokoles' fighting style just as the Shadow had done to their team work. 

Spartacus uses his shield to shove another attack away. Bobbing and weaving out of harms way. Which only worked until Theokoles' latest blow flings his shield from his grasp. A glint of sunlight catches Gannicus' eye. Crixus' helmet for whatever reason, Crixus was snatching it, even as he was coughing up blood. Gannicus wants to throttle the man! Now he cares about the fucking helmet?! A hard punch lands on Spartacus' face. Allowing him to be backhand with a sword. The scrape across his face twisting him around. Gannicus grins as he sees Crixus angling his helmet in the sun. 

"He's not as stupid as he looks!" Gannicus cheers to the confusion to those who could hear him. The glare from the metal blinding Theokoles. His pained shout as he covers his eyes dropping one of his blades just the opening Spartacus needed. The Thracian rolls, literally out of the way. Snatching up another weapon as he rights himself. Theokoles tripping in his effort to keep Spartacus in sight. 

But down a sword Spartacus was able to rid him of the other. Slicing his thighs and bringing him down to his knees. Clouds were rolling in over head and Gannicus knows it was the last chance the two of them were going to get for survival. Spartacus thrusts a sword straight through the wound Crixus had given him. Keeping him in place as he hacks at the man's neck and chest. Blood spurting across the sand. A chant over taking the crowd. 

"KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!" The 'good' citizens of Capua demand. Gannicus watching the consciousness flickering in Crixus. Spartacus takes both swords, crossing them in a finisher position and without a second glance at anyone else he takes the head clean off Theokoles' shoulders. The cheering was earsplitting. Spartacus kicks the finally dead body to the side as more thunder bellows around. A loud clap and a huge gust of wind has everyone stopping. 

Just as the rain starts. 

Cheering resumes as everyone stands. Arms outstretched to the skies to welcome the water. Gannicus shoves his way forward as a chant of 'Spartacus' begins. He gets down to the bottom of the stands watching Crixus being carted off on a stretcher. 

"Crixus!" He calls out clutching the wall. One of the carriers looks up at him startled. "Does he live?!" Gannicus demands. The other hesitates. "Does he fucking live?!" Gannicus yells ready to throw himself down into the sands. 

He was given a signal of affirmation just as the gates were closed behind the Gaul. Heedless to the cold splattering down onto him and around him Gannicus shakes fiercely as the crowd begins to bleed out into the streets. Even so he felt hollow. Clammy. As if he had just been stabbed through the heart. 

"Titus I must get back to my son." A fragile voice cuts through his haze. Blue eyes settle to the woman and man that had sat behind him. 

"He'll be fine. You're not going anywhere." Gannicus glares at least glad that there was a target for his confusing and swirling storm of emotions. 

Chapter Text

Ilithyia could feel her heart pounding hard enough she feared her ribs would crack. She walked on shaky legs up the familiar steps of the House of Batiatus. This was the most brass and disobedient thing she has ever attempted. If Ilithyia was discovered being disloyal then her family name would be ruined forever. Her father would disown her and Gaius! Jupiter's cock her husband would see her dead! Even as she stepped through the doors Ilithyia was certain she was going to call it off. Despite the knowledge that Licinia was going to fuck a Gladiator as well. 

The very thought of her had Ilithyia straighten her shoulders and beam as Lucretia rounded a corner. 

"Welcome! I'm so glad you've arrived on time." The older woman snaps her fingers and her body slave hands Ilithyia a full cup. "Drink! Relax, I understand this is your first time doing such an act." Lucretia soothes wrapping an arm around her. Ilithyia downs the cup and doesn't even have to ask before it was being filled. 

"I'm not nervous," she defends unnecessarily, "I'm excited." She whispers. A horrid thought hits her when she sees Batiatus' Syrian pass them in the shadows. "Erm, your husband isn't here is he?" Ilithyia ponders sipping the second cup. 

"No no no no, my husband is attending matters elsewhere." Lucretia assures her, encouraging her to drink more. Ilithyia nods finishing the drink and was rather thankful a third was being poured. Her chest was starting to feel warm but the restlessness hasn't left her limbs. 

"So how do these sort of things begin?" Ilithyia questions being herded into a room. Lucretia fills a fourth cup with a wicked smile. 

"You'll be prepared in here." She motions around to the male slaves all in various states of dress. Ilithyia tries not to blush but she's sure half the rosiness in her cheeks was the wine. "He shall be yours to command for the evening. Until you are finished with him." Lucretia informs snapping her fingers. 

"Prepared?" Ilithyia echos glancing at the vats in front of the slaves. 

"Yes of course. This is a fantasy after all." Lucretia purrs tucking a strand of Ilithyia's hair behind her ear. The younger nods taking a large gulp. "I will see you after." She plants a quick kiss to her lips before rushing off.

Ilithyia wants to call her back. To scream that she's made a horrible mistake. There was a chill running down her spine. What sounds like a ghost of a warning. Something was trying to tell her to run. Far and fast. But it was too late. Besides with a fifth cup of wine settling in her belly she was feeling a tad more confident about this. 

She's sure her husband fucks whores while away. War held some strange bedfellows she's been told. Ilithyia deserved to have some fun too. Licinia was going to do this. And if Licinia could do it then so could Ilithyia. Gaius himself has said that anything that rich snobby bitch could do Ilithyia could do it better! If Ilithyia knows Licinia, and she knows that cunt like the back of her hand, then she knows the gladiator chosen was Spartacus. Making her choice of Crixus that much better. 

That and there was something extremely alluring to the thought of fucking the same man as Lucretia has. Even though the two of them have explored each other's bodies. This was something else physical they would share. And since Lucretia won't admit to it being Crixus then Ilithyia could share him in secret. Watch the older woman writhe in jealousy. Fuck it felt good to have someone be jealous of her. To think her worthy of such an emotion. Ilithyia scowls thinking of Licinia. 

She was so lost in thought that she almost screamed when a cold wet hand touched her shoulder. Ilithyia giggles with a wave of her hand. The poor bastard who had begun to smear white paint on her looking terrified. The others had frozen in place awaiting a reaction. Ilithyia sets her cup down and removes her dress stumbling slightly. 

"Apologies I had forgotten. Please continue." Her laughter subsiding a little as she exposes herself. They nod but still hesitate as the do. Carefully spreading the paint across her body. Down to her ankles. The only place they ignore was her cunt and the dark patch of curls that covered it. Ilithyia jumps and guffaws when they smooth thinly over her buttocks. She hisses when they pinch and paint her breasts, nipples once rosy now turned to stone. But she just adores the little skirt thing they drape across her hips. Situating a golden leaf sash across her shoulder, wrapping around her side and connecting to the back. It jingled when she moved. Giddily she shimmies around listening to the bell like noise. 

Lucretia's personal slave reappears with a fresh cup of wine. And a mask. Ilithyia'd eyes widen as she was situated with it. Her hair being treated and shaped. Framed and draped around her shoulders. The dark girl motions her to follow and Ilithyia with her mind spinning and vision slightly blurred does. Surprised on how steady she was on her feet. The girl, Naevia she thinks her name is, assists in her climbing onto a chase. Posing her alluringly. Fixing her hair and making sure all the leaves that adorned her were in place. 

The apologetic look Ilithyia was given was missed. Naevia rushing off and motioning to some naked women around her. Ilithyia tries not to laugh staring at the wine in her hand. With the mask now covering everything but her eyes and nostrils there would be no way for her to drink it. 

Although when the girls move the curtain back, Ilithyia loses all her humors. A wave of seriousness settling in the air. Slowly she looks out across the villa casting the most alluring look she could muster. Despite they eyes being the only to be seen. On the other side of the pool golden curtains were opened to reveal the gladiator. 

Painted as golden as the sun, with a mask to match. Standing tall and proud as she remembers. A little thinner but Ilithyia guesses it was due to his recovery. And the cock on the man! Ilithyia slowly slides off her seat making sure to roll her hips and she strides towards him confidently. The cold water sending a little thrill through her as she walks through it. Her eyes settle between his legs while she crawls across the bed. She traces a hand up his chest before their eyes meet. 

There was that ghost of a feeling on her neck again. Something in the background screaming for her to stop. A warning it sounded like. 

But the challenge she had in her eyes while looking at the man was met. Without a word or warning she finds herself on her back. A small gasp escaping her, had she not had so much to drink she might have been embarrassed about it. But he was using his legs to spread her thighs. Covering her. With eyes still locked he reached between them, teasing her briefly. 

Ilithyia lets out a small breathy shout when he breaches her. Filling her welcoming cunt with one smooth thrust. He was far larger than her husband. The difference was immediate. The way he was angled had her back arching, head thrown back. His groan matched hers as he started thrusting. Slow and languid movements to start as he slides a hand across her breast. Cupping her throat damn near possessively. A hard thrust has her hooking a leg on his hip. His head thrown back as she moans. Shifting his grip to her lower back pulling her closer making them chest to chest. The room was too hot, hearing his muffled sounds was too much. Knowing that this god of the arena was finding just as much pleasure as Ilithyia was from this most basic act. Her whole body was tense, and without him even touching her clit Ilithyia was suddenly wracked with her orgasm. Cunt pulsing around his hard cock.

She wonders if Spartacus would make Licinia cum this quickly. Ilithyia moans at the thought as her cunt pulses practically milking the erect cock still nestled within her. She didn't want to think of the Thracian while being filled with the Gaul. 

Whether for her comfort or pleasure she wasn't sure, but he lifts her up. Settling himself on his knees and her sunken down on his cock. They were as close together as she could possibly imagine two humans could be. And Ilithyia was mesmerized by the scars she could feel under the paint. The fact that her skin was covered as well adding to the titillation of her senses. The gentle way he caressed her hair, looking at Ilithyia as if she was the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Holding her carefully while also rolling their hips. Working her back down to earth from her bliss. 

Ilithyia was rather mortified about coming so quickly. It's never happened to her before with a man. She licks her lips and was ready to apologize for leaving him wanting, but she never got the chance. He was pulling her back. Having her lay atop of him. Gently, but urgently canting his hips. Ilithyia shivered at the way his hands covered her back. So much larger than her own. And so forceful as he rolls them. She wraps an arm around his head, their masks clinking together in a mockery of a kiss. Her nails dig into his back. Shifting quickly to pull his hair. Her own hands unsure of where to stay. She wanted to touch all of him. Wanted to keep him buried as deep within her as he was. Wanted him to keep fucking her and touching her. 

Ilithyia realized she was being louder than she ever had been with her husband. Trying to form the words to have him do as she wished. Unnecessarily so. The Gladiator seemed to be able to read her mind. Adding speed here. Depth there. Amazingly, without warning he grabs her ass and fully stands up. Ilithyia shouts, as he thrusts up into her. She was sure she could feel his cock give a throb. With her back bowed he continues the worshiping caress of her torso. Her mind completely lost with his strength. Vaguely she's aware that her chest piece was gone as was part of her skirt. 

None of that mattered though. Incredibly, her gladiator was moving them again. Without missing a stroke. Avoiding hurting or dropping her. The way he squeezes her ass while she meets his movements as if encouraging her, dragging a little shout from her throat. Another climax was building as he hovered above her. Deep gutteral moans heard even through the muffle of the mask. 

With a desperate little push she was rolled. Straddling him, his hand cupping her plump ass and settling on her hips as if to direct her movements. But for a warrior of death he was being too gentle with her. No matter who Licinia was fucking, Ilithyia knows it wouldn't be soft and careful. Desire suddenly shifted and forcefully she takes his hands and shoved them both on her breasts. All but bouncing on his cock as her head was thrown back. The way he rolled her nipples was perfect. Her hands balanced on his knees as she rode him as hard and fast as she pleased. 

The image of Varro fucking the slave burns into her mind.

With a gasp she throws his hands off of her. Resting her hands on his chest. Ilithyia could feel his heart pounding. Just as fast as her own. Their eyes meet and her unspoken demand was understood. 

It was a mad scramble for the wanted position. The gladiator all but throwing her off of him in their haste. Ilithyia nearly laughs having to throw a sheer out of her face. Angled practically off the bed as she was on all fours. They both groan loudly as he slides back into her overflowing cunt. The way he was slamming into her. Ilithyia's arms nearly give out with the force of it. Voice hoarse with her keen of encouragement. Faintly she was aware that there was movement nearby. But she couldn't care. Could feel his cock give a mad twitch. A third orgasm threatening to overwhelm her. Just a few more strokes and she would be undone! 

The curtains were flown open as Lucretia appears out of thin air. 

The pair of them freeze. Ilithyia shaking from the absolute worse climax of her life. Even as she feels his seed filling her cunt lamely. In this split second she has half a mind to kill the Lanista's wife. 

Her eyes widen in horror as a familiar figure steps closer to Lucretia. Even as she separates from the gladiator. 

"O-oh, apologies Licinia." Ilithyia feels a wave of fear with the calm and collected look in Lucretia's eyes as the older woman folds her wrists in front of her. "We appear to have arrived before Ilithyia's finished with Spartacus." The name said with a dark purposeful look. 

Ilithyia could feel her heart stop at the name. No. No no no no. In horror she turns around looking up at the masked gladiator her stomach clenching. For his part he looks between her and his Domina in obvious shock. With a small shake of his head he reaches up and removes her mask. Revealing her disbelieving expression. Without hesitation she reaches up and does the same. To see the heartbroken look on the Thracian's face. 

"NO!" He screams, in a rage he starts throttling Ilithyia. Shoving her back onto the bed his face contorted in pain. Ilithyia shouts in fear, horror and some pain of her own. But she doesn't fight tooth and nail. Grips his hands scratching a little but to die here and now would be a kindness. 

"Guards!" She hears Lucretia's bark of terror. Ilithyia kicks a little, her breathing nearly finished before Spartacus was being dragged off of her. Hurriedly she scurries backwards. Lucretia putting herself between the Thracian and Ilithyia. A third guard arriving and clobbering the back of the man's head despite his lack of resistance. 

With Spartacus being dragged off Lucretia takes a few calming breaths looking Ilithyia over. The younger turns around remembering just who was on the other side. 

Slowly, and as smugly as Ilithyia has ever seen her, Licinia removes her own mask. Adorned in a similar fashion as Ilithyia had been. Simply with a noticeable lack of paint. Ilithyia feels tears swell in her eyes. She knows what was coming. What the rich bitch was about to do. 

"Oh," Licinia whispers looking Ilithyia up and down. There was a slight rage in her eyes that Ilithyia was familiar with. Licinia was always a possessive cunt. "would this not set every tongue in Rome wagging?" Her voice was soft and full of joy. Ilithyia knows better. Knows that Licinia's mind was racing with hundred of possible ways to make Ilithyia pay. The least of which would be to speak of this. Betrayed Ilithyia glances at Lucretia. A spark of hope that her new and dear friend would help save her. Even as a small high pitched laugh turns her attention right back to where it always lands. "The wife of Legatus Claudius Glaber, fucking Spartacus!" Ilithyia stares at her mind reeling at her words. "The man that nearly ruined him!" 

"It is a scandal is it not?" Lucretia asks. The disapproval and superiority in her voice far from hidden. Ilithyia shakes her head a little looking down at herself in shame. 

"The most splendid I have ever heard." Licinia tosses her head back with a hard laugh. Her impish features pulled looking more demonic than Ilithyia has ever seen them. Her normally soft and pleasantly soprano voice dropping several octaves. 

"Stop laughing." Ilithyia begs in a whisper. She was shaking again, eyes swimming with tears. Licinia's laughter was echoing in her ears. Growing louder as if there were multiple Licinia's in the room. "Stop. Laughing." Ilithyia orders her teeth clenching a glare settling on her face. There was also a tint of red flooding the room. Licinia's perfect fucking teeth gleaming in the light, blue eyes black with delight. Delight at Ilithyia's misfortune and humiliation. She had always been laughing at Ilithyia. Looking down on her. Flaunting the fact that Licinia was the better, the prettier, the richer. Always laughing. A scream claws its way up Ilithyia's throat. "Stop laughing!"

Vision blurred Ilithyia flings herself from the bed. Grabbing the still laughing Licinia by the back of the head and the throat. Spinning her around with a hard grunt as she's seen the gladiators do so many times. They lose their footing with the sheet slipping under them and Licinia's head smashes against the tile step. Her mask and blood splattering. Ilithyia could still hear it. The laughter. The mockery. Hair tangled in her fingers she slams Licinia's head down again and again. Small screams mingling with the squishing noise. 

"Ilithyia!" Lucretia snaps running forward. Her footsteps clearing Ilithyia's mind and vision. Gasping in a new horror she releases Licinia. Looking at the pool of blood covering them. She whimpers her arms hovering in place. Hands stained in Licinia's life. Watching a piece of brain dangle from the gash in the woman's skull. 

"What have I done?" Ilithyia whispers, shaking renewed. Tears flowing as freely as Licinia's blood. 

"Do not panic. Come with me." Lucretia speaks but Ilithyia could hear her hyperventilating. Ilithyia lets her half drag and half carry her to the baths. The dark haired slave waiting. A flash of shock flits across her face at Ilithyia but otherwise she says and does nothing. "Get out you fucking slave." Lucretia snaps ripping what was left of Ilithyia's clothes from her. "Go clean that fucking mess up." The girl nods and rushes away. 

Ilithyia sinks into the bath her body going numb. If she was breathing she couldn't tell. Her head was throbbing. It, the burning of her eyes and breaking of her heart the only thing she felt. A wave of emptiness swallowing her whole. Ilithyia wishes Lucretia had let Spartacus kill her. Wishes there was something sharp so she could do it herself. 

"Lucretia!" Batiatus' voice rings out, loud and panicked. Lucretia gives Ilithyia a look before running out the room. Faintly she could hear the two of them. Plotting, panicking, planning. Ilithyia sinks lower into the bath. Shoulders hunched. Her eyes raise when Lucretia steps back towards her. Stepping over candles. From the corner of her eyes she sees Batiatus leaving. Where he was going was of no matter. 

"There, let us get you cleaned off." Lucretia coos. A strange look settling in her face. Ilithyia says and does nothing as the woman cleans her. Rubbing the blood and paint from her body. Ilithyia felt hollow. Frozen. As if she was never to be happy again. All light and meaning gone from this world. 

She didn't even notice Lucretia walking her out of the bath. Drying and dressing her. Moving her to a chase. Limply Ilithyia falls across it. Staring at the ground not seeing it. 

"I did not mean...." She sniffles looking out towards where she knows Licinia's body was. 

"No," Lucretia comforts rubbing Ilithyia's shoulder. "Course you didn't."

"The way she laughed at me." Ilithyia shakes her head as if that would make the sound disappear. A thought occurs to her making her furrow her brows. "You said I was to lie with Crixus." Ilithyia turns over looking up at Lucretia. "Why did you give me Spartacus?" That looks was gleaming back to life in Lucretia's eyes as Ilithyia sits up further. "Why would you do such a thing?" 

"You ask what you already know answer to." Lucretia pets Ilithyia's hair. A tiny smirk on her lips. Almost looking at the younger in pity. Ilithyia takes a shuttering breath falling against her again. 

"My husband will see me dead for this." She chokes out tears and snot thickening her voice. Lucretia guides her hands to be around the older woman. Once more rubbing her shoulder as she cradles Ilithyia to her. "You have killed me." She whispers looking up at the red head in horror. 

"No." Lucretia informs the gleam in her eyes glowing bright enough for Ilithyia to name it. Madness. "I have brought us closer." There was a slight raise to her eyebrows even as her voice remained even. Almost hollow. Ilithyia stares in confusion even as Lucretia continues her explanation. "No one will ever know what happened here tonight. Licinia's body will never be found." Ilithyia wants to rip the woman's tongue out for saying the name. "You're protected." She whispers sending a shudder through Ilithyia who shakes her head. 

"No. They will know." She implores feeling a cold hand cupping the back of her neck. Despite Lucretia's having not moved. "They will see the deed in my eyes." 

"Then you'll stay here with me." Lucretia offers with a satisfied smirk. The wind around them starting to sound like whispers to Ilithyia. "Until your eyes are clear. We've had our differences, however veiled." Ilithyia feels her stomach churn realizing that her toying with Lucretia's jealousy was the catalyst of this nightmare. "But I've come to see what a valuable friend you are." She spoke as if in reverence, but the greedy lust on her face made Ilithyia want to recoil. Ilithyia stiffens when Lucretia dips her head and places a soft kiss to her lips. "This will be our little secret." She grins wickedly tracing small circles on Ilithyia's skin. An unfamiliar voice whispers in Ilithyia's ear. 

"run" Confused and heart pounding Ilithyia curls into Lucretia. The coldness on her neck spreading. Feeling like hands of death grabbing at her arms and legs. Trying to drag her away. Lucretia hums above her as she gently starts rocking. Ilithyia whimpers her grip turning claw like. The world around her seemed to be spinning. Spiraling out of her vision and control. Just as darkness was falling over her Ilithyia was sure she could see Licinia. Standing behind Lucretia next to a beautiful brunette woman she's never seen before. The stranger looking at her with a semblance of pity. 

Chapter Text

It had been a long and difficult day. He had thought that life would get easier after achieving the mark of the brotherhood. Perhaps it would have been. If not for the traitorous Gaul. He grits his teeth together even thinking about the bastard. Last time he does anything to save someone. Didn't even get a chance to explain to him why killing Dagan was necessary. Not one person asked. They really thought so little of him. He huffs to himself as he inches his way into his cell. If that's what they wanted to think then fine. 

He was too tired to care right now. Having chased Batiatus around Capua on business. Then limping after Barca to purchase some sort of sex toy and oils. Since the man's lover was dead Ashur wasn't all that surprised at the item. Partially insulted that Barca didn't even consider Ashur a replacement. Although little else fell from the Beast of Carthage's mouth besides slander. As proven today in the shop. 

Drunken laughter reaches his ears. Striking fear into his heart. Since Gannicus' departure, the favorite past time of drunk gladiators was to torment. Ashur, the cook, the medicus, it did not matter. Whomever was caught first. He longs for the day that Batiatus purchases new recruits. Fresh meat for the rest of them. A chance of peace for Ashur. 

As fast as his brace would allow the Syrian slides under the pitiful thing he called a bed. His good foot kicking a stone and exposing the sloped entrance to the tunnels. With practiced smoothness he manages to right himself and shut the passage before anyone came looking for him. He recognized the voice of Gnaeus. Joined by the familiar laughter of Leviticus and Ortius. 

"That crippled fuck must still be above." Gnaeus complains with a loud belch. 

"Servicing our Dominus enthusiastically I'll wager." Leviticus guffaws much to the delight of the other two. Through the slits in the walls and floors he could see them pantomime cock sucking. Howling with laughter as the three of them stumble away from his door. 

Sighing heavily he figures it'll be a night in the walls. If he gets too tired he might sneak into the attic room for a quick nap. Until then; he shakes his head and begins to wander. Checking here and there for any sign of entertainment. Although past attempts to find such a thing has failed. 

"Ah GODS FUCK SHIT CUNT!" The shout startles Ashur as it echos down the halls. Whatever that was he was sure it would be a wonderous source of information and entertainment. Smirking he winds his way down. The sound of skin slapping further intriguing the Syrian. He rounds the corner and has to cover his mouth as he gasps. 

"You are not going back to Gnaeus." Barca was saying. Ashur's mouth going slack watching Barca pull his hand back enough to curl it into a fist and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, sinks his fist into Pietros. "You are mine now." He all but growls mouthing his way across Pietros' collar bone. Pietros keens arching towards Barca. Whatever transpired prior to this Ashur was surely disappointed that he missed it. Especially when he realizes who was on the other side of the room. 

"Barca" Crixus pants pushing down on his fingers, desperation clearly building. Barca grins reaching over and pulling the marble toy Ashur watched him purchase less than two hours ago out of the small basin of oil. So this is what he wanted it for. 

"Get on the bed next to Pietros on your hands and knees" Barca instructs pulling his hand out and coating his cock. Crixus makes a choked noise as he does as he was told. Pietros hooks his leg on Barca's hip to make room for the Gaul, biting his lip as he takes the Beast of Carthage. Barca's breath hitches as he bottoms out squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Ashur could actually feel his own cock stirring at the sight of the three of them. He felt rooted to the spot. Eyes glued to the Gaul's leaking cock, ass in the air. He curses the angle of this room. Why oh why couldn't Barca have faced the bed this way?

"Are you in pain?" Pietros's voice was barely more than a whisper as he stares up at the Beast. Barca laughs thrusting once to silence him. Ashur winces hoping that the previous prepping was enough. He knows exactly how rough the bastard could be and feels mild pity towards the house slave. 

"No you fuck. I'm trying to focus. Doing more than one task at once is difficult when so tightly held." Pietros blushes again turning away. He gasps facing Crixus. Ashur feels his empathy towards the boy fading quickly. Lucky little bastard.

"Am I that hideous you forgot my presence?" Crixus said with a grin but Ashur detected genuine hurt. Nervously, after a quick glance at Barca he leans in presumably to give Crixus a kiss. Once more the angle Ashur was at from the narrow passage a disadvantage. This was not a room fit for an audience. Stupid bird cages impeding his sight as well. 

"You are the farthest thing from hideous. My mind was blown by one god of the Arena and it had difficulties handling the idea of another sharing my bed." Pietros explains, Ashur could hardly hear him over the pigeons. Barca thrusts again smiling at the way Pietros shouted. 

"Your bed now is it? I'll be sure to let that fucking cripple Ashur know." He teases tilting himself deeper into Pietros. Ashur wonders if he should mention this to Barca. If he does though the cunt might find a way to block him from every witnessing anything like this again. Or just kill him. Or perhaps discover the same passages Ashur has and reveal them to the rest of the Gladiator's robbing Ashur from his hiding place. No for now he'll just keep it to himself. Crixus smiles doing something that makes Pietros whine a little wrapping a hand around Crixus's arm. The Gaul hums as Barca sucks in a harsh breath eyes glued. Not one to forget his purpose however, he moves the toy pressing the well lubricated head between Crixus's cheeks. 

"Oh shit." Crixus murmurs pulling back. Ashur palms the front of his robes carefully. The Gaul was truly a marvelous sight. And he remembers clearly how well that cock of his felt. The Syrian licks his lips watching intently.

When Barca started easing the dildo past the outer muscles with little resistance, Crixus started to insistently rock his hips trying to portray that he was ready for more. Barca reaches over running his tongue over the curve of Crixus's ass muttering something Ashur couldn't hear. Crixus jerks his hips with a strangled cry when Pietros' soft hand leaves his arm to wrap delicate fingers around his cock. Ashur bites his lip slipping his hand down the front of his clothes. Jealous of both Barca and Pietros. What he wouldn't give to lick and touch Crixus the way they were. 

Barca smiles softly as he furthers the dildo into the Gaul. The way Crixus reacts sets his blood a fire. He watches the way the molded balls were used as a handle as it fills Crixus. Carefully moving the toy in and out in an increasingly faster pace. Crixus starts thrusting into Pietros' hand urgently. Barca tilts his head quirking a smile angling the marble slightly higher. The scream tells Ashur he's found his mark. As does the slight white puddle between Crixus' thighs. Ashur's mouth waters, dying to taste. 

"That's it you mad fuck, tell me how much you want this." Barca fucks into Pietros with earnest. Ashur jerks his wrist matching their pace as best as he could with his clothes still obstructing his movements. He dared not shed them though. 

"Barca, shit! Show me how badly you wish for your cock to replace this simple fucking toy." Crixus orders louder than he had been. Pietros shudders reaching up a hand on Crixus' and Barca's shoulder each digging his nails in. Ashur swallows a moan wondering if Crixus was going to be able to finish untouched. His own cock twitching at the thought. 

He didn't have to wait long to find out. 

"Mouthy shit," Barca grits out hips stuttering. Crixus curses under his breath gripping the edges of the bed another climax slamming through him. Barca moans evidently spilling into Pietros, hips stilling as does his hand. Ashur nearly groans his cock giving a throb of want and disappointment. 

The three of them collapse to the bed with a combined sigh of satisfaction. One Ashur wishes he could share. 

"Lesson....well received...." Crixus whispers. What the fuck did that mean? Has Barca and Crixus been sleeping together before this? Ashur gives himself another squeeze watching the three of them put themselves back together. Chatting about their day before meandering off to find some dinner. Having skipped it. Pietros mentioning that the should probably bathe too. 

"Damn it." Ashur pants adjusting himself but otherwise giving up. Shaking his head he continues on. Annoyed with his unfulfilled desires but still glad to be safe from the rest of the cunts. He has to do a double take passing one of the rooms. Tonight seemed to be a night for surprise pairings. Shifting closer Ashur squints realizing who was sucking who's cock. 

"Fuck Rhaskos." Liscus grunts thrusting his hips faster. The bald gladiator smirks pulling back. 

"Should you finish now you'll never find cock in ass." he teases. The two grapple for a moment before falling to a bed. Stunned Ashur watches for a moment before continuing on. The corner they were in not a good placement for his viewing. Besides neither of them ignited his blood and would make for a poor show. He wonders how many of the brotherhood was actually fucking each other. 

Ashur keeps peering through the slots of stone as he walks. Learning a lot about his fellow Gladiators in the process. Even manages to find Doctore. The cell being empty on Ashur's last tour of these hidden halls. The man was praying for a moment before heaving himself onto his bed with a heavy sigh. Folding up the cloth he wore around his shoulders and reclining onto his bed. Ashur's cock twitches when Oenemaus strips. Taking himself in hand and begining slow firm strokes. 

"Melitta." Ashur hears him moan. He watches for a moment before running a hand down his face and hobbling on. Doing his best to be quiet. While Doctore was of a form, Ashur still didn't think he could get off to the man masturbating. Methodical as always it seemed. 

Although a females gasps and panting had him turning down a steep flight of steps. Farther away from the walls of the villa. It took him longer than he would have expected to find the source. The back corner cell where Gladiators seldom rest, as it was private and required permission. Ashur's jaw drops recognizing the relatively new house slave: Mira. Bent over the bed much like Crixus was a little while ago. With Donar of all people rutting into her wet cunt. 

Now this was a sight he could finish to. Ashur licks his lips. Devouring the sounds pouring out of the two of them as he once again grips himself. Having fallen to half mast the Syrian eagerly works his cock back to life. He nearly groans watching the German's hips working. Can only imagine what his cock could look like disappearing into her willing cunt. 

Mira moans loudly much to Ashur's delight. He grins perversely when Donar covers her mouth. They must not have permission to be here together. The thought of them getting caught has him pumping his cock faster. Practically fucking his fist. Ashur bites his lip seeing Donar's muscles tighten. Wishes the tall man was shifted to the left just so Ashur could see his balls pulled against him. The part of his face Ashur could see contorted in strained passion. 

"Fuck." He whispers quickly exposing his cock. The precipice of release making his movements shaky. A shiver runs through him as Donar's back arches. Hearing Mira's muffled cries being the extra push he needed. Ashur bites his top to keep himself from being discovered. His body shivering as white strips splattered onto the wall. He swallows thickly milking the last of his orgasm through him. 

Ashur was still paying attention to the two of them as he put himself to rights. He's not sure how long they've been at it, but it was long enough that Mira was sounding a little hoarse. Even as a scream tears its way through her, and Donar's hips slam to a stop the gladiator did little more than grunt and pant. A silent fucker in bed. Ashur chuckles moving onward. If his memory serves then there was another staircase up ahead that would lead him through the villa. 

He was out of breath by the time he reached the top of the stairs. The damned brace making his life more difficult than it should be. Once more he curses Crixus. Should have just let Dagan kill the Gaul and be done with it. Ashur presses his palms to his eyes taking a gulp of air. Thinking of his fallen friend and lover would do no good. It was a necessity and it was over with now. Leaning against the wall Ashur slides his hands down with a sigh. 

"Fuck yes!" He jolts at the shout of encouragement. Glancing around frantically Ashur finds spy holes. Should he be discovered it was imperative to know by whom. That way he could think of a way out of it. 

"Oh." He mutters watching Domina grind against her body slave. The girl sobbing even as she helplessly bucked up against Lucretia. Ashur licks his lips before the chink of metal has him looking past the spectacle. He was both surprised and not to see Batiatus lounging nearby. A different slave perched on his cock facing away from him as Dominus was thrusting insistently. From what Ashur could tell it was the girls ass versus cunt. 

The two on the floor shout in sync, movements jarring and sporadic. Ashur runs his tongue across his teeth eyes drinking in the sight. He hopes they do this frequently. As he will be back regularly to watch this. At a time where his cock wasn't already spent. Smiling to himself he shuffles down the hall to a direct path back down. 

"So much learned. And not a single person to inform." He chuckles glimpsing here and there. Mostly seeing Gladiators pleasuring themselves or just passed out from the days work. He makes a note of Gnaeus slapping his own hips hard enough to bruise as he passes. Ashur was sure to wait long enough to be sure of safety before crawling back into his cell. As usual he wonders if this would be easier were he not injured. "I hope you choke on that fucking marble." He grumbles thinking of Crixus once more. 

The next morning even Batiatus found the smug look on the Syrian's face to be annoying. Grating even. It didn't matter whom he looked at either. The bastard was just smirking. Acting as if he knew the secrets of all. Impossible of course. Everyone was certain Ashur was just being a cunt. A self righteous one at that. Although Barca was mildly concerned. When informing Ashur that Pietros would be staying in his cell from now on instead of Gnaeus' the Syrian jotted it down in his book with a hum and a nod. No questions asked. In their brief time as Batiatus' entourage he's learned that Ashur questions. That he was a nosy little shit. Even as Barca was ready to tell him to shove it where the sun don't shine and for the bastard to mind his own business the lack of questioning tied his tongue and words failed him completely. 

Ashur took great joy in this. Cupping his ear leaning into him. Waiting. 

"Fuck you, you fucking shit cunt." He was smacked upside his head for the trouble before Barca stomped off. Ashur grins after him rubbing his temple. 

"Worth it." Ashur laughs with himself. 

Chapter Text

Crixus grumbles as they slink into his cell. Having waited until the rest of the brotherhood was scattered about their own. Resting or fucking at will. He still thinks this was a bad idea. Mostly because it takes away the privacy of the whole thing. He just didn't have a better plan. No clearer way of helping these two idiots understand the mind of Gannicus. And if Varro was insisting that the three of them were, whatever they were, then they were going to need to know this. To get it through their thick skulls. For Spartacus to know the truth. 

"Get in you fucks." He grunts holding the door for them. Varro gives him a wink while Spartacus rolls his eyes. 

"I do not understand the secrecy." The Thracian mutters. Varro gives a soft chuckle while Crixus checks the hallway prior to shutting the door behind him. 

"You are far too arrogant for your own good." Varro informs leaning against a wall. "So, what is it in here that is going to help wrap our minds around your relationship with Gannicus?" He questions watching eagerly as Crixus bends to retrieve something from under his bed. 

"Remove brain from cock first." Crixus warns glaring over his shoulder. Spartacus grins at Varro who holds his hands up in defeat. 

"Apologies, I'm just enjoying the view." He teases. Crixus snorts digging through the box and handing a stack of papers to Spartacus. 

"I have yet to read them all." Crixus comments taking his own stack and sitting on the bed. Varro slides over to Spartacus and reads over his shoulder. 

"He sent these to Barca?" The smaller of the two asks. Crixus nods not looking up from the letter he held. The fact that they were left spoke more about the man's disappearance than their Dominus ever could. 

"Shut up and read." Varro flicks his ear as he talks. Crixus smiles to himself at that. He was starting to truly adore the Roman cunt. 

Barca

Be wary of the pits. Oenemaus used to tell stories of its horrors. Makes the arena look like a childs game. Batiatus must truly be desperate to drag himself down there. If Crixus falls to distraction whether it be from the body slave or this Thracian you keep pissing about then he shall lose his miserable life. Do what you must to pull his head from ass. A task I know is Herculean at minimum. 

Purchase freedom as soon as you can friend. You and that boy of yours can travel with me until you find a place to settle. Company would be most welcome.

Fuck you do not die

Gannicus

"I don't understand." Spartacus' voice pulls Crixus' attention from reading the letter once more. 

"What the fuck are you confused about?" Varro ponders scratching the back of his head. "Clearly Barca told the man of him Crixus and Pietros using the marble cock." Spartacus narrows his eyes at him but then motions back to the paper. 

"Clearly but, why? And why would Crixus continue to deny himself the pleasure of flesh?" The Gaul flushes at the wording but keeps his brow furrowed in agitation. 

"Barca and Gannicus were always close. There was not a subject that they would not broach with each other." He explains shifting to the next letter. 

"And denying yourself?" Varro coos mockingly. Crixus gives him a rude gesture with a small smirk. 

"My own business you shit." Blond head was thrown back with a laugh. Crixus knows by the look on Spartacus' face that his heart wasn't the only to skip a beat. Fuck why was their Roman friend this fucking attractive? And since was a laugh attractive anyways? Crixus glances down at the letters with an internal snort. 

Gannicus' always was. 

Barca

You mentioned the Thracian was searching for his wife? I saw a slaver with a batch of women. Poor souls that were purchased in Neapolis. More than one from Thrace. If Batiatus is truly intent on "rescuing" this woman then find a way to suggest he search north of there. Perhaps without Crixus in your bed, you and Pietros should give the marble to him. That way you can STOP FUCKING TELLING ME ABOUT IT. I care not for fake

There was some scribbling as if a word or sentence had been scratched out. Crixus raises an eyebrow looking at it. 

Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Purchase your fucking freedom and do not die you fuck.

Gannicus.

Only one letter remained. Crixus wonders if it was truly the last sent. Or if it was the last Barca had received prior to his disappearance. He hates to think the man dead, but with what he knows of his Dominus and all that he knows of Barca he couldn't imagine another scenario. Somehow he's sure it's Ashur's fault. Varro's renewed laughter has him look up. 

"Something amusing?" Crixus tries to hide a smile. If only they knew what Gannicus sounded like. To imagine the deep slightly accented voice speaking and laughing. As Crixus did. His heart constricts, fuck he misses the drunk bastard. Although his cock twitches when Varro locks eyes with him. A continued testament of Crixus' warring emotions. 

"I simply agree with the man." Spartacus glances between the two of them but continues on reading. "Your ass Crixus. It does stand plump." Crixus throws the lid of the box at him despite a laugh bubbling in his chest. 

"Fuck you! You fucking cunt." The three of them share a laugh before focusing on the Celt's letters once more. 

Barca. 

If what you've implied in your last letter is truth then you must seek freedom with fucking haste. Batiatus' schemes shall get you all killed. The magistrate's cousin is not the same as Tullius' fuck ass. That cunt deserved it. Ovidius working for that creepy cunt Solonius due to Batiatus' debts is not the fucking same. The upcoming games should you place proper bets shall produce adequate coin for you and Pietros' freedom. Do so quickly. 

I heard rumor that it shall be Crixus and this Spartacus cunt fighting Theokoles. Jupiter himself would not be able to stop me from witnessing such a thing. Oenemaus should be the one to slay the goat fucker. Yet I know the Champion of Capua is why the monster crawls from its hole. 

There was some spotted ink as if Gannicus was in thought again. 

While yes betting on Crixus is the smart thing to do, warn the Thracian that should the Gaul fall that his wife shall be a widow. 

More ink splattered. 

And no you cunt it does mean I have feelings for Crixus. My concern is....fuck you that is what my concern is. I make haste to Capua. Do not let Crixus die. 

Gannicus.

"Crixus?" Varro rests a hand on his shoulder. The Gaul sniffs wiping his face. "What has happened?" The concern in his voice warmed Crixus' heart. He leans into the touch only half remembering that Spartacus was in arms reach as well. 

"The drunken shit." Crixus states fondly handing the letter over. "If it is to be believed, then he witnessed my failure against Theokoles." Spartacus makes a sound, as if stopping himself from saying something. 

"And all but admits heart." Varro notes reading quickly. He hopes if Gannicus and Spartacus ever meet that the Bringer of Rain shall have forgotten the contents of this letter. Truly he wishes he could stop the man from reading it. But even as the thought crosses his mind Spartacus was plucking it and the one before from his and the Gaul's hands. Crixus grimaces knowing how unpredictable Spartacus could be when it came to his wife. He wonders if he'll ever be like that towards Naevia. To lose mind and all focus over another person. Although looking at the two of them in peripheral and being reminded of the fear for Spartacus' life during their fight with the Shadow has his heart pounding. 

"Pfft, the oaf thinks he can best me in combat?" Varro scoffs even as Crixus rolls his eyes. The man was unbelievable. 

"The cock on you!" Spartacus looks offended. "You've never met the man! Never laid eyes! You might survive but you certainly won't beat him." Varro chides ruffling the Thracian's hair. Crixus nods in agreement. 

"I wouldn't be able to defeat the Celt even if I was at full strength." Crixus admits running a hand over his fresh scars. Spartacus folds his arms looking doubtful. 

"The both of you once believed Theokoles undefeatable." Varro throws his hands up while Crixus groans falling back onto the bed. 

"You did not face the giant on your own." Varro reminds sounding extremely tired. As if they've had this conversation a dozen times. Which they have. At great length. 

"And all here used to think I couldn't beat Crixus." He adds impatiently. Crixus glares at him sitting up on his elbows. The reminder of the pitiful demonstration in front of the brotherhood not welcome. Nor needed. 

"That's because until you pulled your head from your ass and actually learned how to properly fight; you couldn't." He snaps while Varro cleans up the letters. Spartacus balls his hands into fists ready to defend against the, true, statement. 

"Would the pair of you stop squabbling?" Varro sighs setting Crixus' stuff back under the bed before sitting next to him. "Need I remind the pair of you that you have yet to grace me with your apology?" Spartacus grimaces but Crixus tilts his head. 

"Apology? For fucking what?" Spartacus starts waving his hands behind Varro's back. Looking panicked, eyes wide and mouthing words too quick for Crixus to read his lips. Motioning to his knee and stomach and cock. Crixus makes a face looking between the two of them. 

"For the other night. The two of you fighting." Varro reminds. His voice dropped to a serious note. There was a gleam in his eyes that stirred Crixus' cock. If the Thracian wasn't there Crixus might have even  suggested the Roman give him punishment himself. Instead of waiting for an apology. Spartacus slaps his own forehead with a groan. 

"Varro." He whines but was ignored. 

"That wasn't a jest?" Spartacus sighs hands on hips. Crixus might be a fast learner on the sands...or so he's heard, but the man was slow in the ways of Varro. Not that he was much better but three days of constant torture will fix that. His mouth waters at the memory of being convinced to give gratitude to his fellow gladiator. 

"Pluto's asshole no!" Varro growls lunging forward. Fast and unexpected enough that he was able to pin Crixus down. The Gaul gives a half grunting shout, as if he was about to protest. Either he decided his pride wouldn't allow it or the darkening of Varro's blue eyes changed his mind. Spartacus stiffens, glancing behind him to make sure the door was still closed and there wasn't anyone nearby. Although the feeling of being watched was still prickling the back of his neck. 

"You fucking cunt, let me go!" Crixus glares while everyone notices that he wasn't struggling. 

"Not a fucking chance." Varro grins wickedly tracing his tongue down the Gaul's larynx. The way it bobs while he gulps making Spartacus' cock stiffen. "Not until the two of you are the very best of friends." The Thracian nearly shivers thinking of the night before. Where the three of them were in his cell, where it was him pouring his past and his heart out. His own palm itches with what he learned. 

"He has healed has he not?" Spartacus ponders crawling next to them, struggling to remove his subligaria in his haste as he does. Crixus gives him a wary look even as Varro nibbles across his collar bone.

"Mmh, enough I'm sure." He comments fingers dancing down Crixus' side to disrobe him. "Why? Are you wishing to give out a little punishment yourself?" Varro teases, slipping a hand under the Gaul to grab a tender globe. 

"The fuck he will!" Crixus argues slowly begining to writhe under the attention Varro gives. For someone with fewer lovers than the former Champion the man was truly skilled with his hands. And that fucking mouth of his. Crixus chokes back a moan. "I will not have him bruising my ass!"

"Why not? You left some on mine!" Spartacus complains, one hand running down Varro's back and the other up Crixus' arm. 

"Of your own insisting I love to remind you." Varro adds before Crixus could even open his mouth. "Should the Gaul be too scared to allow you the joy of spanking him then you must respect that." Crixus rolls his eyes. And here they were saying Spartacus was arrogant.

"You shall not manipulate into this." Varro glances over him and a soft look falls across his face. Somehow Crixus felt as if the man understood something the other two did not. See something that only he saw. 

"Apologies. I should head my own words." The blond states fondly. Spartacus frowns looking between the two. While he adores Crixus as a rival and otherwise, every day he finds himself more possessive and protective of Varro. After all it's not every day ones heart revives itself. The man gave him a reason to live. To breathe. While Sura had been the sun, Varro was certainly his moon. 

"So what then?" He pouts reaching between the two of them. Crixus raises an eyebrow watching. Spartacus discarding Varro of his modesty with one hand the other tangling itself in the blond curls. There was shift happening here and he wasn't sure why. "I sit here and watch you fuck the Gaul?" Crixus notices Varro's confusion matching his own.

"The fuck are you prattling on about?" Varro asks even as Spartacus wiggles his way through. The blond shoved to sit on his knees, Crixus on his back and Spartacus sitting on the Gaul's thighs. Sandwiched effectively. "The strap on is buried in his fucking chest and he does not wish for flesh. Untwist your words Champion." Spartacus grabs Varro's face in both of his hands dragging their mouths together. Varro places a hand on Crixus' thigh to keep himself from falling over due to the sheer force of it. 

"Fuck." Crixus sighs. From his angle it certainly was a pretty sight. Reaching behind him he grabs one of the many hidden vials of oil he keeps around. Coating his middle finger graciously. Varro groans just as his champion whimpers. Cocks slotting together as Spartacus rolls his hips. Tangling a hand once more in Roman hair, spare hand toying with a pink nipple. 

"Varro I-" Varro grabs his face by the chin. Squeezing hard enough that his cheeks were squished a little. The intensity of his expression sending a sliver of anticipation through Crixus. A quiver through his friend. 

"I grow tired of this conversation Bringer of Rain." Varro's voice was deeper than normal, his lip curling a little with annoyance. "Keep your fucking words. And sentiment." Spartacus moans deeply when Varro crashes their mouths together again. Crixus slides his palm over the Thracian's lower back glancing between the pair of them and his self appointed task. Whatever the fuck that was about certainly wasn't his business. Although his curiosity was peaked. 

"Fuck." Spartacus gasps as Crixus slides a finger past his sphincter muscles. The past few days keeping him relaxed and practically prepped already. 

"The rabbit is most willing." Crixus mocks curling his digit before adding a second with considerably less oil. Brown eyes dancing in delight at the faint bruising on Spartacus' ass cheeks. Cock straining with the knowledge that Crixus was the reason. The memory of last night replaying in his head like a fantasy. 

"Did you wish him begging?" Varro questions against Spartacus' lips. The smaller panting, stuck between rutting against Varro's own leaking cock and grinding down on Crixus' hand. Mind already hazy with lust and a building pleasure. "It won't take long if that's your desire Crixus." The two of them were taken aback at the light growl from Spartacus. 

"I know exactly how to make the cunt beg." Crixus announces giving a sturdy thwack across Spartacus' backside. His shout was swallowed by Varro, just as the blond wraps a palm around their cocks. Humming delighted at the amount of precum he finds there. 

"Hmm, that you do." Varro mouths down Spartacus' neck nipping here and there. Sorely tempted to make a few marks. Batiatus would surely be the only one to complain. "Fuck I love how needy you are." He murmurs raking his teeth across the man's clavicle. Spartacus braces himself on Varro's shoulders back arching. Even as mesmerized as he was with the Champion, Varro glances around him. Watching Crixus slick and line up his cock. 

"Do not get any ideas damn it." Crixus warns lifting his hips. Varro winks at the Gaul, twisting his wrist as he keeps Spartacus against him. Spartacus lets out a breathy noise as Crixus breaches him. 

"Fuck yes. Crixus deeper." Varro demands torn between watching the way Spartacus' rim stretches and the expression on his face. He thinks he could get drunk with the sounds coming from Spartacus. "He can take it. Fuck he wants it. Just, keep going." Crixus curses under his breath listening. The words sexier than they should be. He recalls Pietros demanding far more with filthier phrasing. Yet he still keens bottoming out. Pushing hard while Spartacus tries to cant his hips. Varro impeding this endeavor. 

"Varro, fuck Varro please." Spartacus begs. Varro chuckles shifting so Spartacus' leg was tossed over his thigh and spreading the Gaul's legs. Exposing and trapping Crixus all in the same motion.

"Hand me the oil." He requests hardly looking down at Crixus. Although he gives a reassuring smile at the hesitation. "My cock, much like your own is preoccupied with Spartacus. I swear to you it will stay that way tonight." Crixus sucks in a harsh breath at the insinuation of the future. The absolute certainty in Varro's voice. Licking his lips he nods handing the vial over. 

"See it so." Crixus whispers giving a few quick thrusts. Enjoying the broken reaction from Spartacus more than he should. One of his own following quickly behind as Varro, quicker than to be believed, was probing. Excess oil spread across Crixus' hole and perineum. Varro's thumb pressing firmly on the Gaul's taint even as he coaxes Spartacus into fucking his fist. Crixus was aware of the fact that with the tight heat of Spartacus and the delicious stretching from Varro, especially with those soft circles to his exposed bundle of nerves, that he wasn't going to last long. 

"Varro, you-" Varro cuts Spartacus off again. This time with a softer kiss. With his hand controlling the pace of the Thracian's incoming climax. 

"Hush my champion. This is enough for me. For now." He soothes biting Spartacus' lower lip and giving a small tug. Varro preens at the way this makes the Thracian's cock throb. 

"But you, I wish for you to, my mouth-" Varro chuckles determined not to let Spartacus finish a thought. Let alone a sentence. Crixus grunts at the flexing of Spartacus' muscles. 

"No. This is what I want." Varro tells him. Swiping his thumb across Spartacus' cock head. "Watching the two of you. Feeling the way Crixus causes your release." Varro glances at the frustrated expression on Spartacus' face, trying to understand what war the man was raging in his head now. Crixus groans his head making a thunk sound as his head falls back. Spartacus makes a face for a flash of a second. But Varro glances between them anyways. Pieces falling into place. As does a rueful grin. 

"You best hurry the fuck up." Crixus warns bucking into Spartacus. Varro leans in, whispering in the Thracian's ear low enough that Crixus couldn't make out what he was saying. 

"You are the sight I enjoy." Varro mutters. The way Spartacus' skin pebbles confirming his suspicions. "Crixus is appealing there is no lie." The furrow of Spartacus' brow amusing to say the least. "But it is you, my champion. You who stirs my blood and drives my passion now." He was careful to choose his words to keep himself from lying. Even as he adds a second finger to Crixus scissoring and pumping, staying focused even with a bead of sweat trailing down his spine. The urge to seat himself in Crixus' tight hole over shadowed by a sudden need to have Spartacus' fall apart like this. Just from this. 

"Fuck." Spartacus moans clinging to Varro as best as he could in his position. 

"I want this." Varro comforts, rotating his hips. The feel of Spartacus' cock jumping at the motion enough to make his own do the same. "Jupiter's cock, I want to watch you cum from this." He's aware that his breathing was heavy. Knows by the near desperate racket that Crixus made that he was close. Closer than Spartacus or Varro was. Determinedly he works his cock filled hand faster. Deliberately slowing down the ass filling one. 

"Please, fuck the gods please Varro." Spartacus nearly sobs. Crixus nods eagerly his rhythm becoming sporadic. 

"What are you waiting for oh mighty Spartacus?" The way Spartacus' voice breaks as he screams, hot release spilling across Varro's hand a trigger for Crixus. Frantically the Gaul pounds upwards all but clawing at Spartacus' hips. Crixus' thrusts stuttering as his own orgasm crashed through him. Varro curses under his breath. Between the muscles tightening around his fingers and the wild twitching of Spartacus' cock against his own, he was helpless to stop the climax that tears throughout his body. 

The three of them slowly collapse. Shifting and lifting. Untangling themselves so as not to crush each other. And still miraculously fit on Crixus' tiny bed. Gasping and gulping for breath. The air suddenly cold against their heated skin. Making Spartacus cuddle closer to the Roman. 

"The fuck was that about?" Crixus asks curling against the rabbits back. Varro beams down at the flush that spreads across Spartacus' face. Even as he buries his face in the blond's chest. 

"The Slayer of Theokoles was jealous." Varro muses playfully. Crixus raises an eyebrow watching Spartacus get his hair petted. "Apparently unless we are both stalking and preying on you then he does not like it." Varro's amusement felt rather than heard. Crixus snorts giving Spartacus a smack on the ass. 

"Naevia holds my heart Thracian. Your pet Roman remains just that. Yours." Although even as Crixus speaks his heart aches a little. Varro was a good man, a great lover and just the kind of person that one couldn't help but like. Varro sticks his tongue out at Crixus. 

"Do not encourage him. I won't have such ridiculous ideas and notions spoken out loud." Crixus makes a face. Spartacus tightens his grip on Varro. The blond sighs heavily gazing down at his champion. "Come on now. We must get some rest." Spartacus nods lamely giving a guilty look at his two lovers. Crixus stretches watching them stand. Pretending not to see the grimace on Spartacus' face as he straightens up.

"Close the fucking door behind you." A distant scream from above has them flinching. "Roman bitch?" He asks them slightly concerned. Varro cracks the door open a little tilting to his head to listen better. 

"I'd say so. There's no clamoring." Spartacus leans out looking up and down the hall. 

"I'll swing by the gate and if I think Naevia is in danger I'll come and tell you." He tells Crixus eyes softening. Understanding all to well what the Gaul was feeling. 

"Gratitude. Now go the both of you. Before we are discovered." They nod and rush off. Leaving Crixus to pace his cell. Trying to take comfort in the lack of continued screaming. His candles were nearly burned out before he was relaxed enough to sleep. 

Chapter Text

It was shameful of course. His pride has taken another blow as he ducks through the back alleys of the city. He never meant to end up here. Both figuratively and physically. In up to his elbows in debt to his own foolishness with gambling. And schlepping through the shadows on the slave block. He detested the idea of slaves. Employees sure. But never slaves. Although he was a simple citizen. No power or control over their government or laws. So the most he could do was not own any. Which was easier to do than one would think. Considering his lack of coin let alone space. He and his wife and now tiny child barely had enough room to call it a two bedroom house. 

"Hardly any shits worth the coin we have." He could hear a local Lanista bitching. Varro nearly snorts glancing over the men. He understands that gladiators have certain training and skill. A real fully trained gladiator would have his head before he could blink. Yet with the fugitives, thieves and other sad sacks that were lined up Varro felt rather confident that he could best these men. 

"Domina expects at least four new recruits purchased and set for delivery prior to the games." A short devious little fuck was muttering. Varro raises an eyebrow pausing. 

"Do not fucking lecture me on what my wife expects you Syrian fuck." The man snarls motioning for a darker, and far more intimidating man to make an offer on his behalf. Thinking quickly and heart pounding Varro shifts a little closer hearing the disappointment in the Lanista's voice when his offer was accepted. "Fucking greedy bastards." He grumbles handing his entire purse over. Varro clears his throat. The three men turning to give him a curious look. 

"I beg pardon, but won't it cost more coin to train and feed multiple shitty options than just a few good ones?" The dark man gives a look of agreement before moving off. The Syrian looks nervously between Varro and his Dominus who scoffs at him. 

"And what do you know of gladiator training hmm? Let alone the cost of such ventures? Fuck off you cunt." The man mutters turning, but Varro was struck with an idea. And although he knows he should really speak to his wife about it first; the opportunity was here and now. 

"I meant no offense. Simply offering a less costly recruit." The Syrian raises an eyebrow. The Lanista pauses looking him up and down. 

"You? And why would an upstanding citizen wish to be drug through the mud with nameless slaves just to be thrust into the dangers of the arena hmm?" The man questions with an inclination of his head. Varro grins brightly noting the interest of the Syrian. 

"My wish is simply for the laurels that accompany the dangers." He informs. The Lanista squints but motions for him to continue to explain. "I find myself in a shameful situation and the future of my wife and child depend on my removal of such a thing." The two of them nod and 'ah' in sync just as the other man returns. 

"Huh. Well Doctore, what potential do you think this man here has of becoming a Gladiator?" The Dominus asks folding his arms. The Doctore looks him up and down before circling him for a moment. Assessing him based upon his appearance and nothing more. Something Varro tries to not take offense to. 

"Hmm. With proper training I do believe he would be worth the same accumulated amount as the men you have just purchased." He concludes folding his hands in front of him. Varro grins again. While it wasn't much it was the worth of a fugitive and a couple of common slaves. It was sort of nice to be valued. The Lanista hums again in thought. 

"You mentioned a wife and a child. Would you be so willing to be apart from them for such a time?" Varro smiles softly. Rubbing the back of his head with a tiny chuckle. 

"She will be displeased, but with half of my winnings going to her and the rest going to the erasure of my debts she will understand." He admits. The other three glance at each other before the Dominus nods more to himself than anything. 

"I shall have a contract written up by Ashur here." The Syrian barley manages to stop his eyes from rolling before nodding and holding up his book. " Come by my villa first thing in the morning. Have the evening to work out details and arrangements for your family and say your goodbyes. What is your name?" The Lanista extends his arm. 

"Varro." He states proudly taking the offer. "And you are good Batiatus. I look forward to working as your gladiator." They nod at each other before Batiatus and his onterage make their way to the arena for the games. If Varro had half a mind he would join them. Maybe bet on Batiatus' Gladiators as both a show of good faith and a way to lessen the debt he owed. But now was not the time. Aurelia was going to stab him over this. He was going to have to put her into a good mood before even broaching the subject with her. 

It was long after dinner that he had a chance. Late into the night and when Janus was deep in sleep. Having been sung and rocked in Varro's long arms for the better part of an hour. His heart aches with the thought of not being able to hold his child. The boy was going to be missed beyond words. But this has to be done. And to do so he was going to have to talk to the boy's mother. As usual he was hesitant to initiate intimacy. His wife was so frail. So tiny and nervous. Even after the four years they've been together. However he had no choice. It was his best plan to get her to be harmless. Well as close to it as she could get. 

It starts as it always has. Varro running a hand slowly and carefully up her spine. Cupping the back of her neck and at an almost torturous pace pulling her in for a soft kiss. And like always, she was stiff at first. Varro was sure to keep his touch soft. Running his tongue across her lips coaxing her to let him in. The way she was trembling still familiar. It used to worry him when they were first together. But now he knows what it means. 

That whatever mental and emotional block that keeps her from being who he knows she can be was crumbling. That the resolve to stay a demur quiet respectable woman as fading. Quickly if the hand that braces itself against his shoulder was an indication. Varro hums encouragingly, the hand on her neck moving to tangle in her hair. His free hand cupping her face, rubbing the pad of his thumb along her cheek and down her jaw line. Letting his mouth follow. 

The tiny breathy gasp that escapes her hardens his cock. Her little impish face was tilted towards the ceiling as Varro lavished her throat. Nipping slightly getting her to recline back onto their bed. Framing small body with his large one. Using a knee to spread her thighs. The taunt muscles were damned near quivering. Every twitch of her body was like a count down to him. 

It was the hard slap across his face that signaled him. Aurelia no longer having to shout and curse him into doing what she wished. Not when the simple act of her palm landing on his cheek did the trick. Varro gives a low growl of acknowledgement. His very own signal of affirmation and obedience. His wife's desires always something he was happy to accommodate.

He nearly rips her dress in the removal of it. Tossing her legs over his shoulder as he buries his face in the dark patch of curls between her thighs. Jaw, and tongue working vigorously at her wet folds. He groans at the taste. Like honeydew wine. Varro adds two fingers to his onslaught. Curling and scissoring them as he fucks her with his tongue. Twisting his wrist so his thumb was able to flick and grind against her clit. The action having her buck against his face. Perhaps if it was a different person he would have chuckled at the reaction. Would have grinned deviously at the wanton moaning and half shouts of approval. The demands for more. 

"Fuck Varro! Fuck me now! Fuck me now!" Aurelia nearly shrieks tears of want and frustration spilling freely from her eyes. Varro risks a grin as he wipes his face. 

"And Varro answers." He whispers huskily, crawling up her body with a cocky sway of his shoulders. Despite her eagerness and the amount of strength Varro feels when she wraps her legs around his waist; he stayed careful. Not gripping her hips tightly. Not rutting into her welcoming cunt, but rather sinking in. Regardless of the near desperate way she was clawing at his shoulders and cussing him for filth. Varro knows his wife's mind was clouded with lust. His own rather hazy, but he would never allow himself to harm her. To not become so out of control that there were bruises on her backside, or breasts. No red marks or anything of the sort. Was in control of himself to keep his weight from crushing her. Removing the possibility of breaking one of her ribs or arms on accident. 

"Varro you fucking bastard!" Aurelia sobs as he starts rocking his hips. The way her cunt pulsed around his cock drawing a prideful keen from his chest. Gods he loved this. As frustrating as it was to be gentle with her, the knowledge that he and he alone knew how she felt from the inside out. The way her cunt convulsed around his cock. They may not have much but they had each other. 

"Fuck Aurelia, you feel so fucking good." He murmurs shifting for added depth. She nods, panting too heavily for proper words. The way she screamed and clung to him as her orgasm over took her without much warning was one of his favorite things to witness. Possibly more so since he was the cause. Her biting his shoulder sent a jolt through him. Causing Varro to last only a handful of more strokes before spilling into her. His cock throbbing as he cums hips jerking to a stop. His body shivers with the familiar feeling of being spent and yet seemingly only halfway fulfilled. 

"Varro." Aurelia whimpers looking up at him. Eyes wide and pleading. So different than the blaze of passionate fury that she was a moment before. He smiles reassuringly, giving her a quick kiss while staying fully seated within in. 

"You are my Aurelia. And I yours." He whispers. A common thing to assuage fears of him running off now that he was 'done' with her. A thing happened to too many people she knew already. And for a moment his words work. Like the balm that she needs. Whether it was a look on his eyes, or the fact that he hasn't finished the well known mantra, the softness and comfort in her body language fades. Eyes narrowing even as lips purse upwards. Varro sighs filled with guilt as he pulls back. Moving to find a rag to clean them with and check on Janus. 

"Varro." The barley concealed rage making him wince. Fuck why was he such a fool? Why had he given his word to Batiatus before talking to his wife? 

"I have secured a way to erase my debts." He starts off conversationally. Perhaps if he could get her to understand his logic. "It will take a while, and the flow of coin is sure to be slow to start but I've worked it all out." That was true enough. He knows how much purse even an ill favored gladiator was worth. Simple math wasn't difficult to figure out. And this equation was based on if he did not ignite the crowds. Keeping expectations low in case of emergencies and such. 

"The mines?" Her voice quacked much like her body had moments ago. Varro gives her a soft look, thankful that at the very least he could reassure her in this regard. He smiles at her as he works to rid them of the evidence of their fucking. 

"No. Not the mines worry not. Something just a little more advantageous than that but leagues more dangerous." He shoulders sag hoping that he has the stomach to end the life of another man. He'd much rather be an executioner than faced with a simple slave fighting for their life. Varro's mind reels with the revelation that he would be just that. 

"What then? What horrid situation have you put yourself in, one which will leave me and our child defenseless?" Aurelia hisses at him. Varro glances at the scratches on his arms and an old scar on his thigh. As frail as her body was his wife was hardly defenseless. It took great restraint not to snort. 

"A gladiator." He mutters wiping his cock clean since his wife was. Varro was sure not to meet her eyes. Knowing the rage that awaited him. Not for the first time was he thankful that they didn't keep anything sharp in here. 

"A gladiator." She parrots sounding hollow. Varro grimaces reaching for her. Not surprised but no less hurt when she pulls away. "Have you lost your fucking mind?!" Her voice was raised. But that was to be expected. 

"Lower voice. Janus-" 

"Will be missing his father! How am I supposed to raise him without you?! Is he expected to learn how to read off of letters from you? Depictions of you killing other men? Or narrowly avoiding death yourself?!" Varro thinks she must be out of her head if she thought he would write to the two of them about such things. Aurelia disliked the games at best. And Janus was barely over a year old. 

"Then we won't write! No letters. Just a word from Batiatus to you as an update on my well being." Because he knows she needs that. Something to hold onto. To look forward to. 

"And I am just to trust this man?" Aurelia crawls over and grabs both of his shoulders. A move where she was near hysterical in the need for him to hear her. "What is to stop him from lying to me? What is to stop him from keeping the money for himself and not sending any coin to us?" Varro takes her hands and kisses them. Her worries were not unfounded, trusting people was always scary. 

"Have faith Aurelia. This is going to be a short time of our lives and change it for the better." He wraps her in his arms rubbing circles down her back. "We can do this. Our future will be bright and prosperous." Aurelia whimpers burying her face into his chest. 

"I'm going to be so scared without you Varro." He shushes her giving the top of her head a few kisses. 

"You are strong Aurelia. It won't be for too long. And then we will be debt free. Free to go about our lives and do whatever we wish." She cries a little more but after some more assurances and soft kisses they end up going to sleep. 

"Who are you?" The brunette woman was asking. Varro frowns feeling confused. There was a burn on his arm that he didn't recognize but instead of pain it was just heavy. 

"I should be asking you." There was a faint liquid dripping. Although with a chill through his spine something tells him it wasn't water. While her mouth moves to answer he can't hear her. 

"Do you know my husband?" She asks looking tearful. Varro glances around trying to devine where they were. It was dark and cold. A dungeon or prison of sorts? 

"Who is your husband?" And just like with her name even though her mouth moves Varro hears no sound. "I don't know. Where are you? I'll send him to save you." How did he know that she needed to be saved? Suddenly her eyes were wide and she was reaching for him. Looking terrified. 

"No! Stay away! Stay away from my husband! You'll die! He'll kill you! You'll DIE!"

Varro jerks awake in a cold sweat. Panting heavily and glancing around frantically. Aurelia was curled up. Still fast asleep. And from the sounds of it so was Janus. With a groan he flops back down onto the bed. Absentmindedly he runs his fingers over his arm. Free of a burn and as weightless as ever. Who the fuck was that woman? And why was she so sure that her husband would kill him? Whoever he was. Varro snorts rolling over to hold Aurelia. Whoever the fool was, Varro would love to see him try. 

The goodbyes a few hours later was more emotional than he had intended. Holding and kissing Aurelia and Janus tighter and longer than before. His wife tearful and his son confused. More than likely not understanding the words of love and support that Varro was showering him with. 

The walk up to Batiatus' villa was longer and steeper than he had thought. Knowing the man lived on a cliff was different than hiking up on it. Maybe after training he wouldn't be so out of breath next time he makes this climb. To keep his embarrassment to himself, Varro even waited until his breathing was back to normal before asking for the Dominus. As if an echo he could hear the brunette woman from his dream screaming. In pain and in fear. It makes his stomach churn. Especially since she hadn't made that kind of sound in his mind last night. 

"Ah Varro! Good man! Prompt and true to his word! A great start to a great relationship!" Batiatus greets him. Being, in Varro's opinion, overly friendly and pleasant. He smiles none the less. 

"Agreed. Should I call you Dominus now or after the contract is signed?" Batiatus chuckles as the clasp hands. 

"No no no no. Worry not. Unless surrounded by your fellow Gladiators you can still call me Batiatus. You are a free man after all." Varro smiles at him with a nod. Aurelia had no reason to fear. The Syrian hobbles into sight. Looking mildly annoyed. Varro wonders if Batiatus had rushed off without him. 

"Dominus, good Varro." He greets. Varro nods at him as well. 

"Ah, and you remember Ashur! Devious little shit that he is." There was a great deal of affection in his words as Batiatus claps his slave on the shoulder. Ashur makes a pained noise and grabs his leg. A motion ignored by his master. "Come come! You can meet my beautiful wife!" Something tells Varro that Batiatus and his wife didn't have a lot of friends. He seemed rather eager to show anyone around the villa. 

"Dominus, the er contract?" Ashur reminds sounding as out of breath as Varro had been a moment ago. Batiatus waves both hands with a groan. 

"Bah! Ashur! We have all the time in the world for such things!" A striking woman with red hair in a rather unflattering green dress rounds the corner. "Aah Lucretia!" They share a quick kiss despite her curious gaze. "Come! Meet Varro! Our volunteer recruit!" Her eyes widen for a second before she gives a tight lipped smile. 

"A pleasure I'm sure." Varro takes her offered hand with a nod. He's sure he knows exactly who reigns Batiatus in when the man was overly excited. The conversation he over heard yesterday between Ashur and Batiatus making a lot more sense. "Quintus shouldn't be be below? In the Ludus?" Lucretia all but hisses at her husband. The man rolls his eyes with a small laugh. 

"Oh Lucretia you have no sense of wonder! Varro is a free man! Chosing to find an honorable means to erase shameful debts!" Varro almost grimaces at the reminder. This was not something he thought would be discussed in front of the man's wife. "Besides he still has a contract to sign!" Lucretia nods before motioning for her personal slave to walk with her. The tiny dark haired and dark skinned girl gives Varro a curious glance but otherwise nothing more. 

"To business then? I'd hate to slow down any proceedings. My intent is to benefit us both not hinder your work." Ashur looks relatively relieved at Varro's words and Batiatus grins broadly. 

"Aha! See! A good man! You already honor this Ludus with your frame of mind! Come! Let us hash out the details and get you below to begin your training!" Varro smiles back and follows him to a separate room. Ashur hands him the contract and Varro quickly reads over it. 

"You've added a stipulation to have my wife visit?" Varro asks looking bewildered. Batiatus nods with a half smile. 

"Uh-huh. I understand she might be concerned for your well being and you hers. This would be a way to avoid such unfortunate things." Varro feels a small wave of affection towards the man. 

"Gratitude, but um I would have it amended?" Batiatus tilts his head looking confused. "I wish to keep her and my son far from the death and hardship. Perhaps instead just sending a letter once or twice a week to inform her of my progress and health?" Batiatus hums in thought as he nods. 

"I see, very well. It shouldn't be any more costly than our original plan! And no worries of letters! I shall send Ashur!" The cripple glances up from what he was working on. His mouth opening slight. Almost as if he wishes to argue. Instead he snaps closed the book he was holding and grins. 

"Of course! Your will, my hands." Varro smiles again and nods. The necessary amendments made and Varro quickly signing. The two of them stand fully and grasp hands again. 

"Welcome then! To the first day of your gladiator training! The first step on your road to glory!" Varro laughs at the way he speaks, following him all the same. Glory was not what he was seeking. But it would be nice. Regardless on what happens Varro knows this was the right decision. Becoming a gladiator was the path he needed to take. 

Although with every step down he was starting to worry.  Informed that he was going to be lined up with the rest of the recruits his stomach clenches. There was a real danger here. Although he tells himself that it was because he was untrained. That over half of the men here held the skill to stop his heart. Even the little man he ends up walking behind held a sense of death.

Although as soon as his eyes landed on him his heart skipped a beat and the screaming of the woman in his mind increased for a second before fading into nothing. As far as men went this one was gorgeous. Which was odd. He's never thought of men on that sense. His frown deepens realizing that there was a part of this that he had not considered. Absent his wife he was going to be left with nothing but his hand. Guiltily he wonders if it'll be the same amount of satisfaction. Never having been truly sated by either it wouldn't be a real issue. The thought still sours his mood. Sighing he resigns himself to two years of nothing but his hand for pleasure and to let this nightmare begin so it can hurry up and end. 

Chapter Text

"Doctore; is it alright if I worked the pulvinous?" Crixus grumbles some time after the Syrian bird debacle has ended. Almost all the other Gladiators and slaves were gone. Off to get clean or rested. But Crixus couldn't. Didn't feel like he had deserved it. Knew he needed more training. The pain in his shoulders and back rioting at the very idea. 

Oenemaus nods giving him a soft look. Every inch of Crixus craved some sort of praise or approval. A 'good job today' or something of the like. Anything to give credit to the fact that Crixus did not back down. Kept getting up. To acknowledge that Barca was the one who decided they were done fighting. That Crixus was still willing to keep going. 

None came. 

His shoulders sag as he works. Hating himself for being so pathetic. So needy. Hating the desire for other people's opinions. Especially the thought of a certain Celt's attentions. His skin burns with the knowledge that Gannicus was watching him today. He sighs heavily dealing a hard hit to the wooden man. 

"Crixus!" He nearly topples over at the familiar voice cutting through his thoughts. Nervously he turns to look up at the Beast of Carthage. Wondering what on earth the man could want. "I know what your problem is and I can help fix it." The taller man informs. Crixus furrows his brow confused. 

"My problem? It's lack of training." He knew that. It wasn't a secret. He was still new after all. Nothing wrong with not knowing how to do a skill until you've learned it. Nobody makes fun of slaves for not being able to read. Barca chuckles patting his back. 

"No little man! It's confidence! You lack it and I can assist in the obtaining of it. In doing so it'll cheer Auctus up as well!" Crixus glances over at the Greecian with growing concern. The days events have left the man and his lover in a sour mood. 

"What would you have me do?" If he could assist someone, anyone it would be worth it. Especially someone so close to the Champion. Maybe Gannicus would hear of Crixus aiding his friend and express gratitude? His cock half stirs at the thought. Barca grins wildly. 

"Do what you're doing. Just naked!" Crixus nearly blanches. The idea was so simple but so jarring. Crixus wonders, more like hopes, he heard wrong. 

"What?" Barca holds his gaze pretending the man wasn't bright pink. A miraculous accomplishment of Crixus says so himself. 

"Work the pulvinous naked. There is no one around but myself and Auctus. Pretend we are not here. It'll help. Trust me." Barca has yet to steer him wrong. And all of the training he has done was been beyond Crixus' imagination. Squaring his shoulders the Gaul nods firmly. Barca slaps his back and rushes off. Crixus glares at the ground for a moment in a small debate. 

He has already agreed to this. And if Barca has seen his lack of confidence as a weakness then it must be true. He's been a slave for a long time. Has been humiliated time and time again. Crixus knows he's uncomfortable being exposed around others. But he was a gladiator now! If he wished to be champion then he needed to start acting like one. Gannicus would not hesitate. The thought of the Celt hardens his resolve. And a little bit his cock, but there was no time to worry about that now. 

For good measure Crixus sends his subligarium off to the side and out of reach. Away from the near desperate temptation of giving up and putting it back on. He just had to think of this as fighting in the baths. They all bathed together. Seen each other naked countless times already. And many more to come. A loud wanton moan makes him freeze. Eyes wide he slows his movements trying to wrap his head around what he just heard. There's no possibile way someone could get off to watching him work the pulvinous. To have their cocks harden at watching him fight. Crixus flexes a muscle in his jaw as he focuses on the wooden man. Pretending it was a faceless gladiator from a different Ludus. Trying to force himself into the mindset that this was life or death. Imagining the man trying to lunge at him with a spear that Crixus has to spin out of the way of. 

In doing so he catches a quick glance at Auctus and Barca. 

Fucking on the bench! 

It wasn't really the fact that they were fucking. The pair were known to go at each other when the mood struck them. Regardless of time and place. The guards complain about it so frequently Crixus was made aware of the men trying to make bets about which ones request transfers and which ones simply send themselves to the mines. Being a guard is only slightly better than being a slave after all. There isn't exactly such a thing as quitting.

No what was so shocking about this was that they were doing so without so much as a warning. And specifically facing Crixus. As in watching him! The scrapping of the wooden bench on the stone made Crixus' ears burn red. He doesn't know if it's because it was just the three of them out here or if it's because of what was happening but his hearing seems to have miraculously improved. Suddenly he could hear the panting and groaning clearly. Practically felt the grunting as if it was happening in his own ear. Crixus tightens his grip on the handle as he continues swinging. 

"Shut up!" He hears Auctus snap at whatever Barca was whispering in his ear. Crixus' lips thin keeping his back straight. Crixus does what he could to let his mind wonder. Drown out the sounds behind him with his thoughts. 

Unfortunately the only thing coming to mind if what Gannicus would say if he saw them like this. The man's cell was right over there. It wasn't sound proof. Crixus wracks his brain trying to recall if the Celt had went there for the evening or if he was spending time with Oenemaus and his wife like he normally does. He curses himself for not being able to remember. Spends all fucking day watching the blond and yet here he is unsure on where the man has stumbled his drunken ass off to! Joy. 

For two of the loudest Gladiators in the Ludus they sure as fuck finished quietly. Crixus nearly jumping out of his skin when Barca places a hand on his shoulder. Crixus didn't even hear him coming. 

"Gratitude. I hope you enjoyed the extra training." Crixus nods, eyes ever wide and full of questions. Not that he receives any answers. Perhaps one day he wouldn't be so nervous around the Beast of Carthage.

"Come, it's time for the baths. You get to see the process on how we learn who fights in the games." Eagerly, Crixus rushes and puts away the wooden swords and follows suit. Barca rolls his eyes leading the way. It was rather nice to walk through the halls with someone he hopes to consider a friend. Certainly made the whole ordeal less lonely and daunting. And if he could befriend THE Beast of Carthage, then obtaining Gannicus as one shouldn't be an issue. Even if it was the barest relationship he was hoping from the Celt. 

Chapter Text

The cart finally comes to a jarring stop. The way the road bounces has everyone bumping into each other. Agron cursing under his breath as his skull connects with Duro's. His brother bitching about it trying to bring his hands up to clutch his head. Succeeding in nothing but making Agron fall onto him and the Gaul next to them to as well. The two taller ending up head butting as a result. 

"Duro you cunt!" Agron snaps with a jostle of the chains. The Gaul gives them an impatient look even as the door was opened. The slave trader dragging them out. 

"Shut up all of you." The man fusses. "Move." Agron grumbles shuffling with the rest of them onto the street. Leading them down. Agron notices a tall bald dark skinned man talking to the slaver. Glancing at the line that Agron leads before nodding and moving off to the side. 

"Our next auction is about to begin." Someone booms over the crowded tiny square. Agron rolls his eyes leading the way, shuffling about onto the block as someone prattles about Gladiators. 

"Fortune favors us." Agron can here someone chittering as Duro bumps into him. Earning a reproachful look that was ignored. As if this whole thing wasn't his brother's fucking fault to begin with. Agron nudges Duro in aggravation. "A fine selection, enough coin to take our pick." The moron who spoke was standing next to the dark man from before. Not that Agron cared about that. 

Scanning the crowd he sees more than one person was observing the slaves with a leer. Watching them as if hungry beasts and the men on stage prepped meat. Only two men were dressed in finer fabrics than the rest. One of which was stopping before the Rhine brothers looking rather interested indeed. With bright gray hair stylized in curls and accompanied by a blond twink. The elder was pointing and muttering something about Rhine's being aggressive fighters. 

"Solonius! My heart brims with joy!" The other nicely dressed man speaks. The same jackass from before. Agron spots a smarmy looking man leaning against a pillar eyeing the other two with envy. "I had hoped to see you here, buying new men for Spartacus to slaughter." The man mocks with a wave of his hands. Agron sighs guessing that this was going to turn into some sort of pissing match between Romans. Joy. 

"Batiatus, now purse-proud and so potent with charm." This Solonius counters much to the apparent delight of the other man. A shifty looking character close to his side assessing not just Agron and the men he was chained to, but the women on the side of an adjacent building. 

"How quickly, Fortuna shifts her blessings. Huh?" Batiatus continues with a small cheering motion with his arms clasping his hands together quickly. 

"A fact that beloved Ovidius was unexpectedly made aware." Agron chews his cheek wondering how the Romans managed to destroy so many lives and fuck up so many different places and countries if all they did was spew bullshit at each other all fucking day. 

"You speak truth." Batiatus agrees. "His murder was a deep tragedy." The words were spoken but the emotion was left out Agron notices. The sign of a true killer.  

"Indeed." Solonius adds with a quick nod. Duro and Agron share a look. Should this go on much longer he might just wrap these chains around his neck and yank his fucking head off. Torture was preferred to this drabble. "One can never know who is plotting violence, can one?" Solonius muses. Agron could tell him the truth if they fucking asked. The who was him and the when was every gods damned second he had to suffer the presence of these shit eaters. 

"Or when they may commit the act." Batiatus informs. Even Agron who knows shit for dick about either of these men hears the veiled threat. Dangerous mother fucker to be sure. 

"Good citizens of Capua!" The lazy trader speaks at last drawing the attention of the Rhine's. Although Agron spots the Gaul next to Duro still watching Solonius' slave. 

"To business then." He hears Batiatus say as everyone steps to the sides leaving the sight of the captured men clear. 

"Behold the finest offering of flesh and bone." Agron snorts tuning the rest of Gaul cock sucking out. Listening intently to the conversation between Batiatus and his men. 

"The Gaul, Segovax will demand expense." The trader blocks out whatever else was said. But he thinks he heard his and Duro's names. 

"Let us begin with a Celtic Gaul of imposing virtues." Agron keeps his face stoney although he's confused at the phrasing. He thought Celt's and Gaul's were from two very different places. Duro he notices was watching the slaver carefully as if trying to figure out what the man ment by 'virtues.' Like the way the bastard was all but pointing at the Gaul's cloth wasn't the telling sign. Agron ignores the questioning look Duro turns and gives him. "I give you! Segovax!" Duro and Agron glare as the man was pulled forward making them shift down the line. 

"Bitch." He breathes out quiet enough that none but Duro hears. 

"Skin, his armor!" The slaver continues, Agron watches carefully now. "Hands! His steel!" The man makes a show of curling his hand into a fist while Segovax puffs out his chest. "Who would claim such a man?" Agron could admit to himself that the bastard was rather attractive. For a Gaul. They were of similar height, with Segovax being a little thicker. He'd hold no issues with claiming the man for his bed. Especially if the virtues were as imposing as promised. "Bid!" The slaver announces with a slap to his palm and wave of his hand. 

"Five denarii!" The smarmy man from earlier calls out with a raise of his hand. 

"Five denarii from good Vibius!" Agron tries not to grimace. This was a fucking man. A Gaul but still a human being! If one was to put a price on such a thing they should at least make it a fucking lot. Mentally he shakes his head. Fucking Romans. 

"Ten denarii." Solonius joins in rubbing his chin sizing up Segovax. 

"Twelve." Batiatus chimes in. Agron suspects more just to spite Solonius. The way the crowd glances between them shows him he is correct. 

"Fifteen!" Vibius snips starting to look stressed. Agron fights a yawn as he knows Duro does as well. Hopefully they'll at least get a bath at the end of this. His hair was starting to itch. 

"Twenty!" Batiatus counters after sharing a quick look with Solonius. The crowd murmurs excitedly. Apparently a man's life was worth very little in the city of Capua. Solonius gives Batiatus a once over before turning forward again. 

"Twenty-five denarii!" He announces confidently. More than one person nods impressed with this. Agron balls his hands into fists at the thought of being bought for a mere handful of gold coins. Knowing that he and his brother might be separated and for what? Someone to save a bit of money? 

"I grow tired of bidding." Batiatus drawls looking bored. Solonius gives him a shit eating look as if he knew the man would give up. Batiatus sighs heavily making a face as if trying not to smile. "A hundred denarii!" He declares with a jerk of his head. The two men beside him look at Batiatus as if he grew a second head while the crowd ooo's and aah's the sudden increased coin. 

"A hundred?!" The slaver checks with a point sounding excited. Agron straightens his shoulders as Batiatus waves his hand down the line.

"For the entire lot." Batiatus counters much to the obvious displeasure of his men. 

"Sold!" The slaver announces without hesitation. The shorter man next to Batiatus grimaces teeth flashing. "To Batiatus! Savior of Capua!" Agron frowns looking the man up and down. How the fuck was this shithead the savior of anything? With the hustling and bustling of the men off the stage Agron misses what the dark man whispers to Batiatus. 

"Fuck value!" He does catch Batiatus' response. "None can be placed on seeing that cock eater's pride ground beneath my heel." Agron sighs again as he moves next to follow Duro off the stage. "Solonius! Consider the whores!" Agron glances over his shoulder at the poor women on the wall. Waiting to be sold. "Perhaps you will have better fortune fighting women in the arena!" Agron nearly snorts at that. If they were Rhine women then he would think that a true statement. The laughter that erupts around the crowd was enough for Solonius to storm off to gods knows where. 

Much like Agron and the rest of them. Marching up a large hill. Duro tripping once and nearly sending them all tumbling down if not for Agron catching him. Righting his brother as they come closer to an imposing looking building. A sense of foreboding was felt. And Agron was sure he saw a dark haired woman standing at the gates. Crying up at him, bleeding from her side. 

It must have been the heat however, because as soon as they were close enough for him to reach out and touch her, she vanished from sight. Shaking his head Agron follows the others into the bowels of this new place. Relieved with the shade providing some much needed respite. 

"You are to bathe and then meet me out on the sands. Do not delay." Batiatus' man informs sternly as the guards set about unchaining them all. Agron waits until the man is out of sight before smacking Duro upside the head. 

"Ow! Goat fuck! What the fuck did you do that for you cunt?" Duro snaps rubbing his skull. Agron scowls grabbing the back of his neck pulling them close.

"For tripping like a fucking girl earlier." He informs quietly. "Shut the fuck up and follow my lead." Agron demands. "Do as I say and we will both survive this shit hole." Duro tugs away looking pouty as they start cleaning. Glad to be rid of all of the salt and grime acquired from their sea voyage here. 

"I am no child. I can handle myself." Duro whines sounding every bit the younger brother Agron knows. 

"Do not speak unless directly spoken too alright? Don't be a fucking idiot." Duro makes a mocking tone before waving him off. Agron huffs but trusts his brother to understand the seriousness of their situation. It took a great deal of effort and luck for them to make it this far together. And Agron will be damned if he sees it all go to shit now just because Duro was a cocky little shit. 

"Times up! Let's go!" A guard commands from the entrance. Agron rolls his eyes replacing his loincloth and trudging after Segovax. Dragging Duro along so they could stay close in this new line up. At least now he was going to be able to see the men he needed to go through to get them out of here 

Chapter Text

"Now I need you all to be on your best behavior tonight! Lucretia is a tad sensitive and isn't used to women of our caliber!" Ilithyia giggles as they trudge up the slope. Licinia gives her a rueful smile one that she's seen many times. It holds the promise of bliss and despair. She swallows thickly trying to ignore the feeling or foreboding she feels creeping down her spine. 

"I still don't see why she couldn't have joined us at your or even better my villa here in Capua." Licinia questions as they near the door. Amelia nods fanning herself slightly. The silent agreement to regain their breath and posture after the climb before knocking was much appreciated from them all. 

"I agree I wish to know why we had to leave the civilization of the city to be up here in the middle of fucking no where." She huffs never having much cause for exercise. Ilithyia smirks patting her friends shoulder. 

"I have a surprise for you all and Lucretia has been keeping it for me. It's not something she can just cart through the streets." A chorus of 'ooh's and an eyebrow from Licinia. 

"Oh well then let us not waist anymore time. We shall find out what this old hag has stashed for you and be done with it." Licinia states with a flash of her teeth. Smile still plastered onto her face. Ilithyia pretends to join in with the others as they burst out into a fit of giggles. Motioning for the guards to open the doors. Seeing Lucretia standing so close she hopes the Lanista's wife didn't hear Licinia's comment. 

"Lucretia! So good to lay eyes." Ilithyia quickly takes her hands while the rest sweep on in. They exchange quick kisses to the cheeks before she turns to the others. "This is Amelia, Caecilia and of course our dear Licinia." The three give a polite nod, nobody but Ilithyia seeing Licinia sweep her eyes across Lucretia. Sizing her up as a fox would a rat for dinner. 

"Gratitude for the introduction, but we require wine after the climb." Licinia states motioning for the others to move ahead of her. Ilithyia ignores the squirming of her stomach as Licinia situates herself to be following Lucretia. That was a good way to get stabbed in the back. Thank the gods for Caecilia. Too busy looking around to notice they've moved on from the door until too late to not bring up the rear. 

"Gratitude for joining us this evening at the house of Batiatus, indeed, Ilithyia has spoken so very highly of you that I feel as if I’m with old friends." Lucretia gushes giving Ilithyia a large wave of second hand embarrassment. She was fauning and obviously desperate for female companionship. If only she had acted like she had when Ilithyia first visited the villa. Calm and collected. Ilithyia had thought her so cool and alluring.

"Oh that’s a disadvantage." Amelia scoffs as she walks. "Ilithyia neglected to mention she was aquatinted with the wife of good Batiatus." She gives Ilithyia a little playful smirk as she states this. A reminder as to why she should visit the brunette more often. Ilithyia huffs out a laugh feeling Lucretia's eyes on her. She must feel so awful thinking that Ilithyia didn't care about her. Especially after everything she's done for and to the younger. 

"I’m sure I must have!" Ilithyia defends herself giving a light smack to Amelia's arm and glancing behind her at Licinia. Didn't she just say that they needed to behave? Fuck the way Licinia hasn't looked away from Lucretia was worrisome. 

"She is quite the bitch if you have not noticed." Licinia offers with a small wave of her hand before they round the corner. Ilithyia feels her hands shaking the familiar shiver of Licinia's displeasure falling over her. It's been months since she's felt it and even longer since it hasn't ended in some sort of torture. 

"Which is why we love her so." Caecilia adds as if the whole thing was just a joke. Like they don't all consider Ilithyia a feral bitch just because she was the poorest of the four. And she wasn't even poor! 

"I grow rather fond of her myself." Lucretia sighs happily. Watching them all with an eager fondness that breaks Ilithyia's heart. The woman was out of her depth with these heffers and it was Ilithyia's fault. She wanted to rub it in Lucretia's face that she knew them since she realized Lucretia was just using her to advance her own station. But now of course she was able to use the same thing to demean Licinia. Who loves the games and Gladiators and will be frothing to know Ilithyia owns one and she doesn't. 

As usual Lucretia's slaves appear with food and wine. Something she did enjoy about Lucretia trying too hard. Even with her own slaves who she's known since childhood aren't as prompt as these were. Maybe it was different training. She's heard that Batiatus was rather strict with any and all slaves not just those who become gladiators. 

"Mmm, I could use a cup of wine to wet my tongue." Amelia hums watching one be poured. Ilithyia doesn't even hesitate to get her payback for the earlier comment. 

"You could be drowning, and gurgle the same." How's that for 'quite the bitch'? Amelia gasps and the tiny jingle of Licinia's laugh fuels her own. As it always does. Even fanning the heat between her legs that she ignores. 

"Is this Sestian?" Caecilia questions taking a large swig. Ilithyia resists the urge to roll her eyes. Obviously this was not sestian. Fuck she told Lucretia that these were sophisticated women! 

"Falernian." Lucretia answers soundly vaguely smug. Much more like the woman Ilithyia first met and was so intrigued by. Good! This was good. Lucretia was getting over her initial excitement and was remembering not to just entertain but to impress. 

"Hmm, she is trying hard, is she not?" Amelia coos eagerly taking an offered cup. Ilithyia notes the almost bored way Naevia looks over her friends. Unimpressed which was odd. She was Lucretia's personal slave so surely if Lucretia thought Ilithyia's friends were worth the effort than why wouldn't the girl? Perhaps she'll ask Thessela about it later. 

"Only because I have told her how important you are to me." She gives Amelia a quick pointed look. The both of them knew how fast Licinia's mood could shift if they didn't find a way to praise her. 

"Yes, we all love each other and have orgies under the new moon." Licinia teases with a wave of her hand lounging on her side. Leaning close to Ilithyia. Amelia gives Licinia a knowing look, and considering that was exactly what they did on the last new moon Ilithyia does what she could to not look at any of them. "Now tell us stories." Licinia instructs. 

"Yes, tell us everything about this horrid place." Caecilia laughs not noticing the way Lucretia's smile freezes in place. The rudeness of these bitches Ilithyia doesn't know why she bothers calling them friends. 

"She means the ludus below." Ilithyia soothes with a slightly heated look, gaining Lucretia's attention for a moment. Something she hopes Licinia doesn't see. 

"Do I need an interpreter?" Caecilia sniffs while Licinia looks between the two of them the picture of shocked. 

"Apparently." Ilithyia shrugs with a look over her shoulder. The little twinkle in Licinia's eyes tells her that she is delighted by all this back and forthing. 

"Do me quiet, let her speak!" Licinia gives them a familiar dismissive motion before locking her gaze onto Lucretia. "How do you live among such beasts?" The half smirk she gives tells Ilithyia exactly where her mind wondered. Which was exactly where she wanted Licinia's mind. Oh once she see's Segovax's cock she will absolutely throw a fit! 

"My husband sees them well tamed." Lucretia explains with a large amount of pride in her voice. Ilithyia nervously watches Licinia for a reaction. 

"I pray not fully." Licinia near whispers with a quirk of her brows. Ilithyia nearly drops her wine. The whore was flirting with Lucretia! How dare she! Lucretia was someone that was supposed to be just for Ilithyia! Anger and jealousy churn in her stomach. Although she isn't entirely sure of who she's more jealous of. Licinia was her everything after all. And Lucretia her dear friend and now lover. Or could she be called such after just one time? 

"Licinia." Caecilia reprimands glancing her up and down. It was truly shocking to have Licinia so openly flirt with someone without informing the rest of them that she was planning on fucking someone. It made them all worry that perhaps Licinia wasn't sleeping with just her three friends. A common concern where Licinia was involved. 

"Some instinct remains so that they may yet unleash their savagery in the arena." Lucretia speaks as if telling a ghost story. Ilithyia appreciates the dramatic and shifts, relaxing a little knowing that Lucretia has no idea of Licinia's intent. 

"I would go insane here, surrounded by all these animals, high atop this mountain." Cecilia continues on with a dismissive laugh. Ilithyia nearly winces at the disapproval look Licinia sends her without her smile faltering. "Would you not prefer to live in the city, surrounded by real people?" Real people? Jupiter's cock the woman held no tact whatsoever! She was as bad as Licinia's cousin! Whatever punishment Licinia has for her Ilithyia does not envy it. Unfortunately this wasn't something Ilithyia could answer for her and so she just takes a bite of a strawberry and turns her attention to the older woman waiting to see how she responds. 

"I find that we are perfectly located." Lucretia muses picking up her own piece of fruit. "I need only step out onto my balcony and all of Capua kneels at my feet." She informs taking a crunching bite. Ilithyia blinks quickly watching Lucretia's mouth for a moment recalling how well it works against her clit. 

"Well stated." Licinia praises chewing around whatever she had picked up from the passing plate. Never breaking eye contact with Lucretia. Ilithyia chews her cheek trying not to show her anger at this. Once Segovax was shown all would be fine. 

"But are you not bored?" Amelia questions sounding sincere as always. "Up here all alone? Nothing but sieves and beasts. Not even children to occupy-" she cuts herself off as she looks around and meets Ilithyia's eyes. They had spoken briefly about Lucretia's struggle to conceive and Ilithyia hadn't mentioned it to anyone BUT Amelia! If Licinia learned that the two spent time together without her it would be disastrous. Oh and now of course Lucretia knows that Ilithyia has talked about it, and was now reminded of her lack of children! Something Ilithyia knows she desperately desires. 

"Boredom?" Ilithyia sucks in a breath looking over Lucretia and seeing the mild distress. "Impossible with so many distractions." Even Naevia was watching her Domina with concern. This was such a touchy subject. Fucking Amelia. Ilithyia gives a pointed look hoping Lucretia understood the meaning of her signal. 

"I stay quite occupied." Lucretia nods at her as Amelia sheepishly looks back at their hostess. "Each day brings with it opportunity." She sighs building a tiny amount of suspense. "Yesterday, in fact, six new recruits began their training." Her eyes were re-locked onto Licinia's and Ilithyia was near buzzing in excitement. "One of whom fights under Ilithyia’s patronage." All eyes widen and turn towards Ilithyia and she couldn't help the big grin that spreads across her face even as she turns and looks around at her friends. 

"Ilithyia!" Amelia gasps loudly.

"Claudius gave you approval?" Licinia asks eagerly her hands landing on the pillow in front of her in her haste to know more. Oh the shock and awe in her voice was well worth the wait. And the ignoring of the disrespectful usage of her husband's second name. Glaber would have been more proper. 

"He does not know." Ilithyia informs with a renewed smirk. Absolutely basking in the little 'oh' Licinia's mouth makes in surprise. Barely sees Caecilia's doing the same. "A few coins, parceled from my allowance." The girls snort and giggle much to the delight of Ilithyia and apparently Lucretia of the quick glance tells her anything. 

"He will kill your when he finds out." Caecilia warns, all of their husbands and even Licinia's cousin having stated their thoughts on a woman owning Gladiators. All of which revolved around the 'should not' category.

"And I will kill the first who tells, Caecilia!" Ilithyia threatens popping a fruit into her mouth and giving a hard look. They might think of Ilithyia as the poorest of their friend group but they also knew she was the one who wasn't afraid of getting her hands dirt if she needed to. Not that she's ever killed someone before but still. 

"Mmm, a gladiator of your own!" The proud way Licinia was looking at Ilithyia as she twirls her hair and swayed a bit in her seat made Ilithyia think her heart was going to burst with happiness. "May we see him?" Yes! Absolutely the moment she's been waiting for! Ilithyia turns to Lucretia waiting hopefully. 

"Course, he’s not yet a gladiator." This was Amelia's fault. "He must pass the final test before he earns the mark of Batiatus." Ilithyia swallows her disappointment knowing it was just a few weeks until Segovax did so. As a Gaul it was sure to happen. Most of Batiatus' Gladiators were Gaul's after all. A slight set back and one she probably deserves since Amelia let that children comment slip. 

"Oh." Caecilia snorts. "So he is only a slave, then?" Ilithyia's head whips around looking at her. Not having thought about it like that. This was quickly spiraling out of her control and not even in a positive way. Their envy and amazement quickly fizzled out and into nothing. 

"Oh," Lucretia back tracks quickly acting as if she hadn't means for them to make that connection, "for the time being but-"

"I would lay eyes upon a real gladiator." Amelia interrupts lecherously with a wicked grin towards Licinia. The defense of Ilithyia's choice in recruit forgotten. If only these bitches knew what the man held between his thighs! Ugh they frustrated her to no end. Caecilia gives Ilithyia a slightly pitying look before her eyes positively glow with the possibilities. 

"Yes!" Ilithyia studies her nails half glancing at Lucretia, once more at a loss in front of her friends. "A champion!" Ilithyia feels her stomach twisting in the familiar uncomfortable way it usually does when Licinia was being dismissive of her and her accolades. "Bring Spartacus up!" Licinia demands excitedly. Lucretia stares at her dumbstruck for a moment. And Ilithyia knows it was because the older thought as little of the Thracian as Ilithyia did. There was no chance to tell her that the didn't see that Crixus was the real man and champion. 

"Spartacus?" Licinia looks at the questioning Caecilia next to her. "Oh yes, you must!" She agrees quickly her hands clasped in her lap demurely in an attempt to lesson Licinia's anger. At the agreement Licinia looks towards Ilithyia who can see the warning in those ever blue eyes. Shakily she nods and smiles at Lucretia. 

"Bring the champion." The glowing approval of Licinia next to her did little to settle her pounding heart. "Let us all...revel in his presence." Ilithyia nearly sneers but with her approval Lucretia smirks and the fact that she waiting for Ilithyia's approval before doing so elated her to the heavens. Licinia gave an obvious and direct order and Lucretia waited for Ilithyia, Ilithyia before doing so! Proof that the Lanista's wife was hers and not Licinia's! 

"Of course. Naevia, please go fetch the Bringer of Rain so they can gage for themselves the worthiness of a Champion from the House of Batiatus." Despite her opinion of the man Ilithyia knows she wasn't going to hesitate to use him as much as she could for her own gain. Whatever that may be. 

Chapter Text

While the rest of the streets wept and partied in relief he was still seething. Trying to calm his pounding heart and ease the panic in his veins. Seeing Crixus nearly die? Not knowing his fate and probably won't until the next letter from Barca? Whenever that fucking appeared. He's sure the Ludus is going to be full of chaos the next couple of days at the very least. It was maddening. He knows surviving the Shadow was possible and he's seen those injuries before. Fuck he didn't feel this nervous waiting to learn of Oenemaus' fate. 

His stomach knots uncomfortably in memory. He and Melitta didn't sleep for two days. Pacing and circling the medicus and nearly shouting down the house for news. Would Barca and his boy Pietros be doing the same thing? The Beast of Carthage mentioned he was placing a large wager on this fight to try and win enough money for their freedom. Perhaps they would be too busy packing and celebrating. He hopes they'll wait to leave until Crixus was better. That'll be the smart thing to do at least. 

"Titus you're hurting me." The frail woman who sat behind him cries out again. Gannicus instinctively grabs his rudis. As a weapon or to remind himself to not be involved he knows not. 

"Oh quit your whining. I brought you to the games." Gannicus grinds his teeth hating that he's somehow ended up behind them in their attempts to weave through the crowded streets. "Besides I thought you learned your lesson the last time you resisted me." The man growls making Gannicus look up at last. Lips thin and eyes wide. "Now wait here while I relieve myself." The brute instructs basically shoving her into a wall. Gannicus' heart goes out to her. She looked so small and fragile. But it wasn't his problem. 

He gets halfway down the street before he stops. The guilt of not assisting someone who clearly needs it making him nauseous. Gannicus stands still for a moment. Chewing his cheek before glancing to his left. The buildings were thin enough here that he could see just the top of the House of Batiatus. Where he knows Crixus was fighting for his life. Where Barca was probably celebrating and also worrying. Where Oenemaus was surely standing proud and avenged at last. His brother who thought him a good man. His best friend who has no idea the utter betrayal that Gannicus has done. What would Oenemaus do if he were in the Celt's shoes? Free to make his own selfish choices. 

A scream has him turning around quickly. Heart once more racing. 

Yet there was no danger. Not a single other person even acted as if they heard a sound. The woman from before was still leaning against the wall, shaking with the cold of the rain. His vision was slightly distorted with the new onslaught and he's pretty sure there was someone standing beside her. A beautiful sad looking woman staring at Gannicus. 

"Help her" she pleads. Gannicus' skin rises and a chill runs down his spine at her words. It sounded as if she spoke right in his ear. 

"What?" He mutters with a shake of his head rubbing his ears quickly. Once he looks back the other woman was gone. Leaving this Aurelia by herself once. More. With a groan and a promise to stop drinking, a common one which he always ignores, Gannicus schleps over. "You there." He calls out making her jump nearly out of her skin. 

"Me?" She whimpers eyes wide and wet. Gannicus sighs heavily. 

"You look as though you require some assistance." He nods towards the jackass in the loo. Aurelia was shaking glancing between the two. 

"Yes." She whispers before looking down, ready to cry. Making Gannicus all the more uncomfortable. "Bu-but I, I can't. My, my husband-" 

"He stands your spouse?" Gannicus snaps a new fury rolling through him. Aurelia shakes her head waving her hands desperately. 

"No! N-no. My husband he is working to pay off debts. I have no means to pay for help." Gannicus takes a breath thinking how stupid a man has to be to leave such a defenseless woman alone. He rubs the back of his head frustrated. Her gasp draws his attention. 

"What?" He barks seeing her staring at his arm in awe. 

"You are a gladiator from the House of Batiatus?" She breathes her pouty lips trembling. Gannicus glances at the old brand with disgust. He's always debated on carving it off or even just making new burns or cuts across it, but....it was the mark of the brotherhood. His only real connection to those he left behind. 

"A life time ago I was." He clarifies. "How long will your husband be absent?" Gannicus asks grateful for whatever reason was keeping her tormentor at bay. She bites her lip for a moment before hanging her head. 

"Varro will be gone for at least a year." She confessed for reasons unknown to him grabbing her stomach looking like she was ready to be sick. Gannicus grimaces at the thought. Recalling the blond Gladiator from the games. He was a decent fighter but would never be a Champion like Crixus. He simply wasn't flashy enough with his fighting. Formidable yes, but that wasn't enough to ignite the crowd. 

"Do you not have other family? A father or a brother perhaps?" The way she folds her arms glancing behind her tells him far more about the man that's been tormenting her than he needed to know. 

"I do my brother in the hills, but Titus...I could never make it out of the city without him finding us." 

"Us?" Gannicus echos a new sense of dread falling over him. Aurelia wipes away some tears able to hear him even over the increasing noise of thunder and rain. 

"My son Janus. He is still so small. Only three summers." Gannicus curses under his breath. There was no way he could allow a child to stay in the way of danger. Let alone this poor woman. But he still had other responsibilities. Fuck this was complicated.

"Do you think you could hold out for three days?" He demands highly serious. Aurelia makes a startled sound eyes wide once more. 

"What?" Gannicus nearly groans at the uncertainty. 

"It'll give you time to send a letter to your brother to have him prepare for your arrival and it will also give you time to gather supplies." Gannicus fusses stepping closer to her to be able to speak lower. Least Titus had friends. 

"Bu-but I cannot travel the roads by myself." She argues voice quivering as bad as she was. 

"I shall escort you. But I won't be back in Capua for three days." Gannicus informs as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. He winces when she lets out a soft sob. "Why do you cry?" 

"Gratitude, but I don't have any coin to give you." Gannicus waves his hand feeling a sliver of regret for the lack of money. He usually charges a lot for an escort job. Perhaps he'll ask for a bonus from his current merchant. 

"I did not ask for coin." He huffs acting as if he was offended by the notion. "You stand in need of aid. And on top of that your husband stands a Gladiator. A brother to me by means of brand." Gannicus is glad he's still good at pulling sentimental bullshit like that out of thin air. Aurelia cries a little more. 

"But how will I escape Titus?" She whimpers. Gannicus takes out his rudis shifting to be beside her. 

"Grasp any sort of blade even a fruit knife as such," he demonstrates a good hold making sure she was paying attention, "and then slice in a downward motion like this." He slowly pulls the wooden sword through the air. "Aim for his cock with all your strength." Gannicus instructs. She blanches looking horrified. "Even if you do not remove the damned thing it'll leave him in enough pain for you and your boy to flee. I shall meet you here in three days time. Do not be late. I will see you to your brother's." Aurelia grabs his arm tightly with both hands. Gannicus was slightly surprised by the hidden strength he feels there. 

"Gratitude. I-" 

"Save it until you are safe." Gannicus nods taking a step back. "I shall see you soon. Aurelia hiccups but gives a noise of agreement. Gannicus shoots her a small smile before turning to make his way through the once familiar streets. Hoping he hasn't just made a horrible mistake. Only time will tell of course. He simply hates not knowing. Sighing again he glances towards his old Ludus. 

When he and his current employer were on the outskirts of town he glances over his shoulder. If he squints he could swear there was someone standing outside of the House of Batiatus. That chill rolls down his spine again and he hears the woman from before the one who told him to help Aurelia. 

"Save me!" Gannicus glances around not seeing even the slightest sign of a person. Let alone someone who would be close enough for him to hear that clearly. Running a hand over his face Gannicus continues on. 

They were half way to their destination when a cart passes them. Gannicus recognizes the man and coach. They belonged to Batiatus himself. His stomach threatens to empty itself and a tremor of fear passes through him at the sight of it. In his head he could hear that same woman screaming. 

"Did you hear that?" He asks the merchant. The man looks at him as if he's grown a second head. 

"Hear what?" Gannicus sighs with a sag of his shoulders. 

"Nothing. The gods are simply punishing me for last transgressions." He grumbles as they continue on. Gannicus leading them at a slightly faster pace. If he couldn't help the mystery woman then at least he could hurry up and help Aurelia. 

Chapter Text

Oenemaus has one goal and one goal only. To bring honor and glory to this Ludus. To his Dominus' name and family. Titus rescued him from the pits and gave him this life. Being champion was all that mattered. He wasn't here to make friends. Not here for promises of love and coin. No the sands were his heart, the clashing of steel his soul. And making Dominus proud his reason for breathing. 

So meeting the newest batch of recruits and house slaves was an interesting way his head spun around. 

The blond Celt, so short and strong. But not bulky. Leaping about and laughing at the way he learns every new swing of sword. The man wouldn't take Oenemaus' rejection of friendship. Not just easily but at all. Would sit next to him for meals and follow him around if Oenemaus would try to walk away. He was sorely tempted to hit him. But that was what basic Gladiators did. Start fights with fellow brothers of the brands. But Oenemaus stood champion. And most unfortunately this drunken fool that Titus' son purchased was of skill and easily earned his mark. It was against one of the older Gladiators that has managed to survive since before Oenemaus' time but still. 

A strange distraction in his own right. 

But the house slaves. The ones that came with Quintus' wife. Those were the real distractions. One in particular. The personal slave to Lucretia herself. If the Celt was distracting the man had nothing on her. It took him a whole week to learn her name and nothing he had imagined prepared him for the beauty of it. The delicious taste of it on his tongue. 

Melitta. 

Her tan skin and large brown eyes were just a part of her allure. The dark nearly black hair that cascaded about a wonderful accent to those pouty upside down lips. Luscious curves sent by the gods themselves drove Oenemaus mad. In fact his desire for her is what had him cave to Gannicus' friendship. 

"You know your way around a woman." Oenemaus comments out of the blue one day. Interrupting Gannicus' latest onslaught of babbling. The blond looked so shocked that Oenemaus spoke he simply stared at him for a moment. Eyes wide and mouth open. "If you're not going to speak you should shut your mouth. Else a bug might find it's home there." He jokes nervously. 

This seemed to be a good thing to say as Gannicus burst out laughing for a good five minutes. 

"Ah, oh fuck the gods. I never knew you were so funny brother!" Gannicus praises making Oenemaus squirm. As soon as the Celt learned that Gladiators were part of a brotherhood he calls all that share the mark 'brother'. The only thing he seems to take seriously is this bond. 

"You never stop talking long enough for anyone else to speak." Oenemaus teases feeling a strange weight lifting from his shoulders. Gannicus barks out another laugh slapping him on the shoulder. 

"Alright yes I talk overly much. But you allow it so you are at fault as well." Oenemaus chuckles at that moving to put both their empty bowls away. "But why question about women? I have never seen you take a whore." Oenemaus fights a blush knowing that Gannicus takes at least one if not two anytime he can. It was a consistent joke within the Ludus that the only reason Gannicus fights is so he can fuck. It's also the only time he leaves Oenemaus alone, which is why he aids in the Celt's purchases in secret whenever possible. 

"You recall the house slaves that accompanied Quintus' wife?" Oenemaus starts slowly not sure if he was ready to divulge this information. But Titus was busy and it was smart to broach the subject with someone more on his level than with his Dominus first. If this goes well with Gannicus he supposes he shall speak to Doctore next. 

"No." Gannicus states plainly with a shrug as they strap on their gear. Oenemaus blinks at him looking startled. 

"No?" Gannicus shrugs at his surprise. 

"I was bought to become a gladiator. To honor the walls and sands of this place and the arena." There was a slight note of bitterness there. "And reap all the rewards that come with my victories." He laughs brushing off that quick glimpse of the man's true heart easily. Oenemaus gives him a stern look. 

"Women and wine you mean." The sound of a whip cracking draws their attention. 

"Gladiators. Pair up. First positions." Oenemaus hears Gannicus groan under his breath. The man was ever impatient. Oenemaus knows the importance of remembering all positions. Not just the ones you used in the arena. 

"So what about the house slaves?" Gannicus inquires as they practice. Oenemaus glances up at the balcony feeling a sense of longing that he's never known. His heart swelling when Melitta comes into view next to Lucretia and Quintus. 

"Melitta." He breathes out as if that answered Gannicus' question. The Celt scrunches up his face following his gaze. 

"Lucretia's slave? What about- oooh!" He laughs softly. "Isn't there a rule about sleeping with the personal slaves?" He ponders as the whip signals the switching of positions. 

"Titus prefers if personal slaves are either abstinent or married." Oenemaus sighs for the first time in his life feeling frustrated with his Dominus' way of thinking. "Some of your whores have been lesser slaves with no real meaning towards the Ludus." Oenemaus explains blocking as he was supposed to. He notices Gannicus' patience running out and he wonders if Doctore will have them spar sooner rather than later. 

"Oh well that makes sense I suppose...so what? You wish to marry her?" He sounded so confused and incredulous that Oenemaus almost laughed. Almost. 

"Well...I believe so yes." Oenemaus knows she is kind and patient and beautiful and even if she isn't currently intelligent that can be taught. Gannicus rolls his eyes obviously his ideas on matrimony didn't coincide with his new friend's. 

"Alright that's great fine and wonderful have you ever actually spoken to her?" Gannicus asks flabbergasted and frustrated. Oenemaus blinks glancing back up at the balcony. His heart skips a beat and his cock even stirs when their eyes meet. Her lips parting for a moment and a small blush stains her cheeks before she turns and follows the Roman's back into the villa. 

"No. I suppose that should happen before I ask Dominus for her hand on marriage." Gannicus laughs loudly at that. Too loudly it would seem. The whip slicing through the air and nicks his shoulder. 

"Ow! Fucking cunt!" He snaps slapping a hand over the injury. 

"Gannicus!" Doctore shouts making everyone else pause. "Does something about fighting to stay alive amuse you?" He growls the Celt bowing his head rubbing his arm. 

"No Doctore." He grumbles sounding like a child caught stealing a sweet treat. 

"Stay focused!" Doctore informs placing his hands behind his back. Turning to address all of them instead of just the one. "One moment, one second of distraction within the arena?" He pauses for dramatic affect glancing around as he paces. "Could cost you, your life." There was a chorus of agreements and acknowledgements from the Gladiator's. Doctore nods and cracks the whip again. "Attend!" 

It was almost odd how easy it was to talk to Gannicus. The man hangs onto his every word. Taking any and all advice Oenemaus gives to heart. Much to the annoyance of Barca and Auctus. Once Gannicus was told how to best them it was all over. Then when Oenemaus chastised him about overly flirting with the female house slaves who came to refill the medicus' supplies Gannicus over took a serious look. Nodded sagely even at Oenemaus' joke of;

"Stop thinking with your cock for once." But it was also Gannicus who was encouraging Oenemaus to speak with Doctore. Reminding him that the man has been here longer than the both of them. Would know Titus' heart about the matter better and would be the one to first break words regardless on if Oenemaus' request for audience was granted. Which they were both sure it would be. So they went over what he wished to say a few times before executing their plan. 

"Doctore a moment." Oenemaus calls after leaving the baths that evening. Gannicus following behind him looking proud. 

"Oenemaus. Gannicus." Despite the less than pleased tone when it came to the Celt's name Gannicus grins at him anyways. "What seems to be the problem?" 

"There is no problem. Exactly." Oenemaus explains sheepishly. Doctore tilts his head watching them. "Well I um I wish to break a subject with Dominus but I am unsure how to start." Before anyone else could say a word an unfamiliar voice bounces off the walls.

"Gannicus!" A woman calls out getting their attention. The look of absolute shock mirrored their faces and she beams at it. He looks to his left then his right before pointing at himself. He recognizes her as Domina's friend but can only guess her name. She laughs sauntering over, Oenemaus rolls his eyes noticing the Celt give her a once over. 

"Uh," There was a pause as he glances at the other two before shrugging. "How can I help you?" He asks with a smile. The woman giggles leaning against a beam. 

"Do you have a moment?" Gannicus raises an eyebrow. She looks him up and down openly before reaching out to drape herself on his shoulder. "I just need to know if I can borrow you for a little bit. In private." The Celt looks over his shoulder bringing the attention back to the Doctore. He was still facing Oenomaus but scowling at the blond gladiator. 

"Absolutely." He answers nodding with a big grin. She laughs looping her arm through his and leading him off. Oenemaus gives a ruffled huff at this. Considering all the trouble Gannicus has gone through the past month and a half to have him as a friend. Just to turn tail and follow the first pretty face. Truly a man with no loyalties. It was oddly endearing. 

"Well that is surely noted." Doctore snorts with a little 'pfft' sound. Oenemaus smiles and nods because yes absolutely. Titus and even Quintus' wife would be interested to know what her friend was doing. Let alone how she ended up down in the bowels of the Ludus in the first place. "So, Oenemaus what subject are you wishing to broach with Dominus?" Oh right. Shit. 

"Uh-hum....well you see Domina's personal slave-"

"Melitta."

"Yes Melitta....she is unwed is that correct?" First things first. If the woman already had a husband than all this dreaming and questioning was for not. Doctore raises an eyebrow before a knowing smirk slides across his face. 

"Correct. An odd topic for an odd subject. To what purpose does your tongue flap about?" Oenemaus chuckles a little rubbing the back of his head looking at the ground. 

"I was um...hoping to get to know her better." He mumbles unable to meet Doctore's eye. The soft laugh grates his nerves in a similar fashion he imagines a father towards a son would. 

"I see. I will broach subject with Dominus in the morning. Along with the activities of that trollop his son allows in here." That was both unexpected and completely expected. A small wave of relief washes over him at the news. He smiles brightly at him taking his hands in a firm grip. 

"Gratitude." Doctore nods before walking off. 

It took almost an hour for Gannicus to re-find him. Evidently he had no idea that Oenemaus had his own cell tucked in the back of the Ludus. Nice and cozy and more home than cell. With a very nearly full on real bed and even a little chest he used for candles. For a lowly gladiator it was astonishing. For the Champion of Capua let alone the House of Batiatus it was quaint. 

"Apologies for disappearing earlier. I did not think it wise to anger the friend of Domina." It was still a difficult thing to think of Lucretia as such. But he still hardly thought of Quintus as Dominus. The man was more his brother than anything. But Gannicus was for once, right. "How did things go with Doctore?" 

"They went exactly as we hoped. He is going to speak to Dominus in the morning about my getting to know her." Gannicus laughs deeply slapping Oenemaus on the shoulder. Blue eyes shined bright and Oenemaus wonders if Barca and Auctus had sights set on making Gannicus their third. Not that they have one often but they've asked him a few times and he rejected them repeatedly. 

"You lucky bastard. Finding a woman you wish to claim your heart and having the permission to do so?" Oenemaus takes his turn to laugh. Interrupting whatever train of thought the Celt had upon the subject. 

"Claim my heart? I admit to being infatuated and desire her but without knowing her better I cannot make such a foolish declaration." Gannicus grunts in mild agreement settling on the floor next to his bed. Oenemaus blinks down at him a little startled. Nobody except Titus has visited him in his cell. Let alone stayed to chat. This was....nice. Perhaps he had been foolish not forming strong brotherly and friendship bonds with the other Gladiators. Surely no harm has come to his title and his life as of yet with this new development. 

"I suppose that's true. But obtaining a loved and even perhaps wife as a Gladiator? Won't that be cruel to her?" He muses fiddling with some bit of hay he finds on the ground. Oenemaus smiles at him understanding suddenly that Gannicus gives a shit. Cares about others, their thoughts and feelings. He just pretends to not. Probably as a way to protect his own. It was...sweet. 

"If I were a lesser man yes." Gannicus laughs again and it warmed his heart to know he was the cause. "Luckily for her I am a Champion and plan on living until I am too old to lift a sword." The two grin at each other a semblance of seriousness falling between them. The life of a Gladiator was one full of uncertainty. Planning a long life was normally foolish. 

"Well I wish you luck in your pursuit my friend." Gannicus sighs heaving himself off the ground. Oenemaus nods watching him leave. It wasn't often that he felt nervous for the morning activities. But this was something new. He's never attempted such things before. And he wished it to go well. 

"Oenemaus!" He pauses in his attack on the pullvinus as Dominus' voice calls from the balcony. Glancing up nervously he can feel a sense of relief wash over him at the soft look Titus gives. "A word." Oenemaus nods at the command. 

"Dominus." The familiar walk past the gate felt different today. Light and not so long. As if he was headed for something pleasant instead of heavy and life or death. The guard escorting him gives him a strange look at the smile that was spread across his face. 

"So my old friend." Titus greets looking over some papers. Oenemaus gives a nod as a form of greeting himself. "You have set your sights on Melitta." He comments signing something. Oenemaus fidgets fighting a blush. 

"She has caught my attention and I wish to see if it could be more than just fascination." He explains shifting from foot to foot. Titus gives him a serious look for a moment before his face cracked into a smile. Chuckling loudly and moving to give him a pat on the back. 

"Ha, well worry not. I have made arrangements for her to visit you in your cell tonight after evening meal. If all goes well we can turn it into a weekly meeting and then you can decide if you wish to marry her." Oenemaus blinks startled that Titus would jump to conclusions regardless on if they were the right ones. And also at the speed of which this was going. It was too easy. Is it because Oenemaus was basically raised her after being rescued from the pits? Is it because he stands champion? For whatever reason he feels like he doesn't truly deserve this. 

"Gratitude Dominus." Titus nods giving him a one harmed hug that warms Oenemaus' heart. "Is there anything else you need of me?" Titus grunts moving back to his paper work. From the corner of his eye Oenemaus can see Quintus lurking behind a pillar. Looking as sour as ever. 

"No I- ack." Titus hunches over a now familiar coughing fit over taking him. Oenemaus rushes to his side just as Quintus does. Lucretia quickly behind with Melitta herself and a cup of wine. 

"Dominus please sit." Oenemaus encourages dragging the little stool over. Quintus nods support his father by the shoulder. 

"This heat is not good for your health." The younger Batiatus expresses his concern handing the cup of honeyed wine from his wife and helping his father drink it. Concern was etched across everyone's faces as they watched him. 

"If this blasted-hu-ugh cough doesn't elevate itself within a year then we shall discuss what is and isn't good for my health Quintus." Titus growls holding the cup out for a refill. Oenemaus and Quintus share an exasperated look before shaking their heads. Oenemaus was very much on the same page with Quintus when it came to Titus' health. The man did not make himself a priority and it was beginning to be worrisome. 

"We but desire your strength to return Father." Lucretia coos earning a dismissive look and a small grunt. 

"Speaking of desires." Oenemaus gives him a momentarily panicked look not having expected the conversation for his wanting to get to know Melitta better to happen so soon let alone be so public. Although the fact that she glances at him makes him wonder if they haven't already discussed it. "Your friend Gaia." Oh. Phew. "She has departed from this house?" His displeasure at the mere mention of her was apparent and the way Lucretia's lips thinned reminds Oenemaus that this was not a conversation he should be apart of. 

"I'll take me leave." He murmurs with a nod to Dominus before shuffling off back the way he came. The Roman's continuing their conversation as if he hadn't been there at all. Comforting and insulting all at once. Glancing over his shoulder Oenemaus was startled to see Melitta watching him with interest. Her eyes widen and a blush stains her cheeks when their eyes meet before she turns away. He could feel his heart lift, fly out of the villa and to the heavens with that reaction. Tonight was definitely going to be interesting. 

"You seem in a good mood. I'm assuming things went well?" Gannicus barks the question as he rudely walking away from Auctus and Barca mid conversation once his eyes land on Oenemaus. He chuckles at the over eagerness from his new friend. Like a puppy happy to see it's owner. 

"Yes you pup." Oenemaus sighs with a shake of the head. Barca tilts his head while Auctus gives a small laugh. 

"Is that what we call the newbies then?" The Greecian asks despite Gannicus' scowl. Oenemaus holds up his hands in apologies not sure why he said that out loud. 

"I like it. It certainly describes this drunken fuck well enough." Barca agrees with a lewd look running a hand down Auctus' chest possessively. Gannicus flips them both off before shoving Oenemaus farther away from them. 

"Go fuck yourselves. You did not answer my question." He complains admits their laughing response. Oenemaus smirks at him grabbing a bowl for lunch. 

"It did. She is to meet me in my cell tonight and if all goes well it shall become a weekly treat." Gannicus chuckles sounding slightly disbelieving. Something Oenemaus finds hilarious and annoying all at the same time which baffles him. 

"And by 'if all goes well' do you mean to find your cock in her or just enjoying her company." Oenemaus gives him a pointed look and a small smack upside the head. "Ow! You fuck." Gannicus laughs making a show of being wounded. 

"Watch fucking tongue. If things go well Melitta shall eventually become my wife." Oenemaus huffs already feeling defensive of the woman. He actually curses himself for missing an opportunity to speak to her. He was such a fool. Fuck was he going to mess this up? 

There had never been a day before that Oenemaus was distracted during training. Yet Gannicus managed not one but two lucky hits and Barca nearly got his flank with the spear. His mind for once in his life was not on the sands. Was not focused on the arena. And for the first time in a very long time he longs for the days training to end. Not a soul attempted to speak to him during the baths. He's not sure if Gannicus warned everyone away or if the look on his face was menacing enough that nobody dared. Even Barca and Auctus didn't try which was startling since those two were as bad as Gannicus with talking to those who did not wish for conversation. 

Although if Oenemaus paid any attention he would have noticed what was happening between those three. Gannicus being essentially cornered by the lovers and looking rather flustered with whatever they were discussing. 

Then all of a sudden: it was happening. 

There was a knock on his door, a mere formality as the guard was opening it anyways. Oenemaus' heart was pounding as the man steps to the side and Melitta come forward. Looking as nervous as he felt. Twisting her hands together, eyes wide and chewing her bottom lip. The guard a man younger than Oenemaus who he thinks his name is 'Hector' gives a lecherous grin at her before looking at the gladiator. 

"I will be back once the moon has reached its peak." Oenemaus nods realizing that with her duties it'll probably be extremely rare for them to spend a full night together even if this does go the way he wishes it to. "Try to find yours before then." Well that was disgustingly personal. Oenemaus' mouth drops as he shuts the door behind them. Melitta blushing furiously and unable to meet his gaze. 

"Uh, apologies. It is not my intent to force myself upon you." He cautiously explains taking a step away from her. Melitta tilts her head still fiddling with her hands. 

"Then why did you ask for me?" She ponders with a glance. Oenemaus sighs heavily sitting on his bed. 

"You are truly beautiful, I will not negate that. But...I am more than just base desires." He felt ridiculous. Dumb even. Trying to explain this to Gannicus and Doctore was one thing. To Dominus was another. But he didn't even think about untangling his thoughts and making Melitta aware of his intentions. What a stupid selfish thing to do. "Although, evidence points to the contrary." He huffs relaxing his elbows on his knees. Melitta hesitates before taking a step closer. 

"May I sit?" He could kick himself. What an ass he is. 

"Yes of course please. Apologies, you can do whatever you like." Oenemaus sighs shifting so there was room on the bed, but also so he could grab the little stool that Dominus uses when he comes to visit. Melitta gives it a debating look before sitting next to Oenemaus. Shocking him enough to sit up and look at her. 

"Dominus mentioned you wished to get to know me as a person." Her inquiry sounded more like a question than the statement it was. Oenemaus nods feeling more and more ridiculous with each passing second. "Meaning the evidence I've seen of you is that of a good man with a good heart." Gods her voice was so soft and reassuring. He could feel stress draining from his body with each word. 

"You speak wisely." He compliments with a soft smile. "How long have you been in Dominia's service?" Oenemaus questions unintentionally leaning into her. Their shoulders touching and spreading a warmth the both of them relish in. Perhaps it was simply positive physical touch, but something tells him it was more. 

"I have been a slave my entire life, but the last ten years I have been with Domina. She is...." Melitta looks up at the ceiling with a slight frown, as if she was looking at Lucretia herself. "Complicated and passionate woman. There are many things about her that I admire, but some things I wish were not true." Oenemaus nods watching a few different emotions pass over her face. More than anything he wishes to erase the concern he sees there. The mild haunted look that every enslaved person has at least once in their life time. This was not an easy life as they all knew. But that didn't mean it had to be a bad one. Taking a deep breath to steal his nerves, Oenemaus reaches out and takes her hand into his with a squeeze. 

"There are many things in this life we wish we could change. Absent the means to accomplish these goals we are forced to suffer in silence. But not alone." Oenemaus does his best to keep his voice low, calm and what he hopes full of reassurance. Melitta smiles up at him causing his heart to skip a beat and his cock to harden faster than it ever has before. 

"Gratitude. You speak wisely yourself." She compliments giving his hand a squeeze of her own.

They stay silent for a moment. Studying each other's faces, momentarily lost in one another's eyes. Never before in his life has Oenemaus felt so peaceful. So safe and assured. His heart was filled with longing and yet felt so content all at once. This had to be what love felt like. Something so simple and yet so foreign to him. They've only had the one conversation and yet he knows that this was the person he wished to call wife. The one he wanted to live for and protect more than honoring Titus and all the man has done for him. 

"Apolgies for forcing you down here." Oenemaus blurts out suddenly aware that if Titus hadn't told her to then Melitta would probably have never come down into the bowels of this place. Regardless on this being pleasant or not he didn't want the fact that this was nothing more than a command from Dominus to be looming over their entire relationship. But she holds his hand tighter as he tries to pull it away with a sad smile. 

"You have forced nothing upon me. Dominus did not command this." Oenemaus looks at her with widen eyes. "He asked if this would be something I would like to pursue and allowed it when I told him it very much was." Relief washes over him and he was halfway leaned forward before he stops himself. 

"Melitta.... everything about this is new to me." He admits distracted by their closeness, the way her lips were close enough to his that he just knows they're going to be soft. "How I feel, what I want." He gives a small shake of his head never tearing his gaze from her. 

"It is all new to me as well." She whispers shifting to face him more fully. "But I know what I desire. Not just for these next few hours." Oenemaus blinks watching her hands slowly slide from his palm to his arm. "But for the future as well." He felt like the world around them had stopped. Time wasn't moving and he wished it would never start again. 

Life and light. 

She felt like life and light when their lips touched. It was like climbing out of the pits for the first time all over again. Except this time he wasn't scared or distrustful. 

Slowly and carefully he cups her face as he adds pressure. Deepening their kiss and drinking in the sharp inhale of her response. The grip on his arm tightens and for a moment he worries it was a sign, a question of him to stop. But her other hand grips the back of his neck drawing him closer. Alleviating this concern as he feels she would do any and all he has. 

"Melitta." He gasps when they're forced apart for air. 

"Oenemaus?" Was her breathless reply, their knees bumping into each other and the grip he's had on the bedding tightens. 

"I don't know where to go from here." He confesses feeling foolish for not asking Gannicus these question before. He was an adult and knew the basics of it all. But he didn't want to fuck this up. She gives a relieved smile before blessing him with another kiss. 

"Then we do this." She whispers eyes hooded her fingers tapping against the back of his neck. "Just this. And next time we do more." Oenemaus nods at the offer. Knowing it was probably the most fair and the smartest choice for success. Despite the throb of annoyance from his cock. A new thing to deal with later. 

"Agreed." He murmurs pushing forward for more contact. Feeling drunk on her kiss. He understands what she means by plans for the future. She was in every vision he had all of a sudden. And even though they were not yet done with this visit; he already ached for next week's. 

Chapter Text

It wasn't difficult to find the source of all the noise. It never was when their village had visitors. But these same horses and the same banners had been seen all across their country for weeks. Other villages have warned against aiding these foreigners, these.... Romans. But perhaps, and this was a large perhaps, they could use the Romans. Gain their assistance with the Gaetae. Once and for all. It couldn't hurt to hear what they had to say. He smiles at his wife, his heart warming at her touch as he kisses her hands. 

"I will meet you at home. Once I find out what these particular visitors want." Sura beams at him stepping forward giving him a kiss that stirs his cock. As she always does. Feeling alive and full of purpose with the look she gives him. As one's heart and soul does. 

"Hurry up. Else you'll miss dinner." He smiles and nods headed into the building. There were plenty of men already here. The leaders and defenders of his village all arguing against this strange man in the back of the room. The eldest of them turns towards the crowd just as he makes it to the front.

"Hold your fucking tongues!" He shouts gaining a small silence over them. "Let the Roman have his say." Roman indeed. The brunette in front of him stood on a small platform, flanked by his men and torches. In full military uniform that he couldn't help but admire and respect. Even from this distance the Roman's strong features were nothing more than a compliment to his eyes. Full of fire and determination. 

"Thrace and the Republic have known their differences." He starts, speaking in the common tongue that was popular and familiar. "We have not always been as...brothers. Let us put aside such matters." The man offers scanning the room, not actually looking at anyone person. A trick known for those unused to speaking to a crowd and would be nervous about it. "Uniting in just cause." Oh there's a just cause that could unite them, he's sure of that. One he knows his wife would enjoy watching and maybe even participating in. 

"You pushed your way into our land." Oh fuck the elder was speaking again. Right, focus. For once he wishes that he could stop thinking with his cock. The faster he got through this meeting, the faster he would actually be satisfied by his wife. There was a murmur of agreement around him, but he couldn't help but stay transfixed on the Roman. Squinting trying to decide if the light made his eyes blue instead of green or if they were in fact the color of the sky. "And now you stand asking for our help?" He chides himself again for not focusing. There were many dangers about. The Romans for one, and the Gaetae another more pressing concern. He glances at the elder recognizing the old man's temper rising. "Your hand extended?" For emphasis the man extends his hand towards the Roman as he speaks. 

"I extend no hand." The Roman informs keeping his hands clasped in front of him. The Boar on his chest gleaming a little in the fire light a distraction on its own. "I am here merely to inform." He shifts from foot to foot chewing his cheek for a moment as he listens. This man was clearly no mere messenger. These Romans were not leaving without something. But what it was they wanted was a mystery. "Mithridates and his Greeks," There was a lot of disdain in how he said 'Greeks', "attacks from the East. Encroaching from the Black Sea."

"Far removed from our villages" The elder scoffs loudly gaining the Roman's attention once more. 

"True!" The Roman conceeds with a small nod. The corners of his mouth turning up a little cockiness seeping into his posture. "But the Gaetae take advantage of the distraction." The Roman comments surveying the room. Gauging the response from his statement. He glances at the elder in thought as the man keeps talking. "Their barbarian hordes amass to the north. Barely half a week's march from your villages." If the Roman's know that, have learned that information before they have, then that means they have the numbers to do something about it. The fact that the Gaetae were so close made his heart sieze in fear. What if they invaded his village? What would happen to Sura?

"How many?" The elder demands. A good question considering if it was a small group they could be handled easily, even in the winter months. 

"Thousands." The Roman informs without batting an eye. The room around him erupts in disagreements, disbelief and frustrated comments. "Align yourselves with Rome!" The Roman calls out over the crowd with a hand now extended, he believes unconsciously, "Pledge your service to the auxiliary and join us in our campaign!" He offers fruitlessly to the angry group of Thracians.

"To what end?" He asks, politely at first, but in a second he realizes that the Roman couldn't hear him over those around him. "TO WHAT END?!" He screams earning the attention from everyone around him. A heavy silence follows his question. His heart skips a beat and he wonders if the Roman's does the same when their eyes lock. The curious tilt of his head was encouraging, and a strange sensation goes down his spine making him stand up straighter. A familiar voice was whispering in his ear, words he couldn't understand. He knows this feeling. Destiny was calling, pushing him forward. Just as it did the day he met Sura. Who was this man?

"Victory." The Roman states planly. So confidently that he couldn't help but believe him. To know that if he follows this path, this path will lead to just that. But there was a lingering doubt. A concern. A distrust so strong that he blurts out his next question.

"And how is it to be measured?" He couldn't forget the fact that Romans, still so new to their soil, already had a name for themselves. In owning what they call slaves. Forcing human beings to be used and abused for the whims and pleasures of those they call Master, no the Roman word; 'Dominus'. "The Gaetae have raided our villages in the past." He reminds those around them and informs the Romans in front of him. Having the man's full attention sent lightening through his viens. He couldn't tell if it meant danger or something more pleasurable. So he continues his speech, "Raped our women." He glances around him as the murmuring and agreements start again. "Killed our children!" Fuck he and Sura wanted children. She talked about how she saw a baby in his future. With eyes just as blue and intense as his own. A strong boy born from a strong womb on a stormy night at the end of the Summer. "Each time we have pushed them back. Only to see them return." He sighs sadly. At the mention of what the Gaetae have done the Roman shifts, taking on a more serious note, not just listening, but understanding the words he was saying. The importance of them.

"He speaks out of turn. Yet the truth falls from his mouth." The elder adds, as if that would persuade the Romans to lift a finger to help them. He and the elder look at each other as he starts to speak again. 

"If we are to align with Rome," He sighs turning back to the Roman man, "the purpose must be clear." The burden of what he was about to say passes through them, thinking of how easily the Romans could accomplish this, not just with the Gaetae but with them as well. "The Gaetae dead." His stomach twists trying to think of what his eniemies children look like. "All of them." He breathes out trying to just picture fully grown mongrels crawling out from the rocks. Nobody dares speak a word as they wait for the Roman's response. Ice floods through him as the man nods, completely expressionless besides those damned eyes. Reflecting not just the fire of the torches but the fire of the man's soul. 

"Dead. All of them." He agrees never looking away. The cheers erupt around them but there was still that concern. The distrust. The man did not specify on Gaetae. But there was nothing more to say. Even as they continued staring at each other for another moment. However his job was done. And his heart was aching to be back with Sura. To run away from this heartless, passionate man. To clear his muddled thoughts and honor his word. Let the elders hash out the details of the auxiliary with the Romans. He would fight and win when the time came.   

Chapter Text

"I could be going mad,"

"You already are go on." Varro interrupts as they settle into their usual spots for dinner. Spartacus already having a few bites. Considering the amount of energy he just exerted, Varro wasn't surprised. Spartacus gives him a sarcastic grin before continuing his thoughts.

"I think the food is getting better. Or perhaps I have just been here too long." He chuckles soundly mildly fond, but also sad. Varro knows exactly why the food tastes better. Barca was no longer around to piss in it. The cookware having had enough washes since the Beast's "disappearance" that the taste has finally gone with it, noting this would dampen the Thracians mood. Although a sad Spartacus usually lead to other desirable activities. Varro chastises himself at the thought. What kind of horrid person was he to want to make Spartacus, his best friend and lover sad just so he could fuck him? As if he hadn't done just that mere hours ago. The soreness of his muscles and balls remind him that much. He spots the arguing brothers before Spartacus did. His cock was not yet ready for another round with the Thracian and the Rhine's. No he had to change the subject quickly before Spartacus had any more ideas.

"Heard of opportunities in Sicilia." He comments earning an interested look. "Had I been wise, we would have moved there to escape my debts, yet the advice of my wife fell short of its mark." Varro sighs taking another bite. Sometimes he feels guilty talking about Aurelia to Spartacus. The man having lost Sura less than six months ago. But he once mentioned this to the Thracian and got an earful, so guilty or not he speaks of his wife to his friend. Spartacus smiles at him across the table making his heart skip a beat. 

"It is a distance to travel." Varro nods thinking about how to keep Janus entertained on a boat. "From a woman's mouth to a man's ears." Spartacus teases cheekily. They both chuckle at that one. Making him wonder how many times did Sura beg Spartacus not to go to war. To not trust the Romans. To try and escape this fate that brought him to Varro's arms? He gives himself a mental shake feeling his heart break as he goes on.

"I shall close the gap, from this point forward." He sighs glancing at the way Spartacus licks some porridge from his lips then tearing his gaze away just as fast. "Aurelia tells me Sicilia is an island blessed by the gods." Did Spartacus have to hollow out his cheeks when he ate that way? Varro rubs his hands together to keep them to himself, even as his eyes trail on back to that fucking talented mouth. "You must visit us there when you gain freedom." Because why would he say anything else? Friends visited friends right? Varro certainly hasn't been haunted recently by dreams of himself and Spartacus with his tiny fragile wife between them. Spending lazy days tending goats and chasing his son through ponds and fields. Not at all. 

"I no longer concern myself with thoughts beyond these walls." Spartacus' words crashing over Varro like a bucket of ice water. Robbing him of breath and life. 

"And nor should you." Crixus smirks walking past and pausing long enough to interject his own thoughts. Varro gives himself another small shake, making sure he was ready to separate the two if needed. Although it did not go without notice that out of the six of them Crixus was the last to emerge. Something he was definitely going to tease him about later. "A true champion dreams of only the arena." Ah there was that subtle little tell of his that Varro now sees as his self doubt. He wishes he could feel sympathy but all he feels is fear right now. With what Spartacus had said. It sounded like he was planning to die. And with that exhibition tomorrow where Crixus is so sure that one of them will ....

Spartacus gives Varro a sly little smirk as the blond sighs heavily settling back from his 'ready to lunge' position. Whatever the Thracian was going to add was either going to set them all off or bridge the little gap in their relationship that much more. 

"And what does one dream of when he's no longer champion?" Spartacus asks not looking away from Varro. Gods be damned he knew it. After the conversation they had about Crixus's dreams! Oh the sassy little bastard was going to get it tonight. Varro gives him a warning look as he hears Crixus stomp back on over. He knows that look. Even as he leans back a little. Spartacus was itching to be man handled. And he thinks he's so clever to have gotten Crixus' attention. 

"Regaining the title," Crixus nearly whispers looming over the smaller of the two. "From the thief who stole it from me." And if Varro didn't know how well Crixus could suck cock, how pliant he could be while getting spanked, he might have been intimidated. No wonder Barca was always smirking and laughing at Crixus' displays of dominance over the recruits. Fuck Spartacus was chuckling. Sighing annoyed at having to mediate between them again Varro tries speaking first. 

"He stole nothing." Spartacus just happened to be the one who chopped of Theokeles' head. He knows the two had a private conversation the past week. Knows they shared some secrets. Why, why did these two arrogant men have to act like this in public?

"If I am a thief," Spartacus interrupts Varro, dropping his spoon and leaning back to look Crixus in the eye, "the crime was witnessed by all of Capua." Varro tries kicking him under the table to get him to shut the fuck up. But Spartacus stands, not missing a beat getting in Crixus' face as he keeps running his mouth. "And is still celebrated to this day." Celebrated was an exaggerated term. All were happy for an end to the drought but damn. Varro curses the day he started giving a fuck for either of these cunts. He shifts ready to drag Crixus away from Spartacus as they square up. 

"Spartacus!" A guard suddenly shouts. Earning nobodies gaze. "You are summoned." The guard insists. Varro glances at where Crixus and Spartacus' hands were bumping against each other. Sees the way they're challenging the other, daring them to reach out and grab it first. Spartacus chews the remnants of his food before smiling brightly at Crixus and walking off without a word. Crixus glances down at Varro's disapproving glare before moving off to get some dinner. Varro takes a few deep breaths as Donar settles on the other end of the table. Clearly waiting for the brothers to join him. 

"Crixus." Varro calls out after the two do. If they have their food then Crixus certainly has his. There was a tense silence, so Varro glances over his shoulder with a grin. "Join me." He offers cheerfully. The wide eyed hesitation did not go unnoticed. Nor did Agron's grumble of dislike. Obviously mentally debating on how to keep his brother away from Crixus while also not having to sit beside the man. 

"What do you want you Roman cunt?" Crixus mumbles miserably sitting in Spartacus' empty seat, knocking the forgotten bowl to the middle of the table. Varro rolls his eyes giving the three Rhines a signal to leave the two of them be. Whether they actually leave the table or not he doesn't give a shit. The three of them know enough by now that over hearing this conversation wasn't going to do much. 

"The both of you know that kind of bullshit is unnecessary and uncalled for." Varro lectures taking another bite. Crixus bristles poking at his own meal. It was always strange to see how nervous the man got when broaching an unfamiliar subject. It just so happened that this particular subject was Spartacus and Varro knows how volatile the Gaul could get with him. 

"I simply want him to either be a good Champion or give up the title." Crixus admits finally eating. Varro hums in thought, reaching his foot across the table to caress the side of Crixus' calf. 

"I know you don't think he is taking the title as serious as you did." Crixus blushes a little jerking his leg so Varro would stop. "But that does not mean you should antagonize him." Crixus gives a small nod chewing slowly. Varro frowns as he studies him. The man was thinking deeply. There was no way Spartacus being a good Champion was the heaviest thing on the Gaul's mind. "Crixus." He coaxes leaning forward trying to meet his eye. "What troubles your thoughts?" Was Naevia getting cold feet again? With Spartacus now having Mira's ear it should be easier to assuage her fears once more.

"I am debating something." Crixus sighs dropping his spoon. "Once mind is made you shall be the first to know." Crixus huffs out shoving off and only barely stopping to give the smallest of pats to Duro's shoulder as he heads towards the baths. The Rhines and Varro watch him go before the three turn to him in sync. 

"The fuck was all that about?" Agron snips. Varro shrugs with a half grin. He hopes he knows, but there was not a chance in the world he was going to jinx it by speaking it out loud.  

"He is a complicated man, with complicated needs." He offers with a small smirk. Damn even with as spent as it was his cock twitches just thinking of all the needs of Crixus' he could fulfill. Agron and Donar grunt in indifference but Duro leans across the table eyes gleaming as brightly as the metal stud in his nose. 

"How well do you know his needs?" The younger questions sounding hopeful. Agron snorts shoving his food away and standing. 

"I can not fucking eat while listening to you drool over the fucking Gaul." He complains storming off in the opposite direction Crixus had. Varro grins watching Donar gather the empty and tossed aside dishes, putting them away in their proper places before following the elder brother. It was fun to watch the taller blond act as if he wasn't rushing off to trap Agron beneath him. Varro chuckles realizing just how crazy his life has become in the last month alone. Hell the last couple of days! He really should have confessed more to Aurelia in person when he saw her. He had just been far too relieved to see her alive and well. Swollen with pregnancy and as beautiful as he remembered. 

"Varro?" Duro's curious voice cuts through his thoughts regaining his attention. 

"Hmm? Oh right, your nosey little self." He chuckles delighting in the pink that splatters across the man's chest. "I know plenty of Crixus' needs, and that you alone cannot satisfy each and everyone of them." Varro comments picking up his own bowl and going to put it with the other discarded dishes. Grinning at the sound of Duro scrambling behind him to do the very same. 

"Says who?" Varro rolls his eyes making his way down the halls towards the baths. If he knows Crixus, and by now he'd like to think he knows the man fairly well, then he was already pacing the halls near the gate awaiting Naevia. Although the sun had barely set, if she showed it means they were getting reckless. If they weren't careful they were going to get caught. He frowns as he walks thinking about it. In the morning he was going to have to talk to him about it. At least wait until the rest of the brotherhood were in bed asleep. Doctore if nobody else. 

"Says me. Crixus enjoys the touch of both men and women. Dominating and non." Varro talks quietly to make sure that those who have no business knowing these things doesn't hear him speak them out loud. Let alone not letting Crixus hear him talking about the fact that the Undefeated Gaul likes to be dominated in the bedroom. He's barely gotten the man to be okay with that fact in private. Gods only know what he would do, how he would react to hearing it spoken out in the open like this. Despite nobody but Duro around to hear it. 

"I can be all of those things." The young Rhine pouts. Varro barks out a laugh at that feeling his mood shift once more. On a higher and brighter note. 

"Can you now? Then please bend over and show the cunt you miraculously grew since the last time I saw you upon your back." Varro taunts stripping off his subligarium. Duro fumes for a moment as he follows suit, snatching the closest strigil up and starts cleaning himself before Varro was even done sinking into a bath. 

"I meant I can dominate him." Duro grumbles before slumping into the baths too. Varro snorts grabbing his own cleaning tool and getting to work. "I can!" Duro argues with a small splash. 

"Duro, you couldn't dominate Rhaskos." Duro opens his mouth but Varro cuts him off. "And that's perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with being a bottom when it comes to men." The thought of Pietros floats through his mind and he's glad that neither Spartacus or Crixus were here to hear him speak, knowing they both would probably think of the departed Egyptian and then they would both be sad. Not something he wishes to have to deal with. For multiple reasons. His heart could barely handle one of them being sad. 

...

His heart? Fuck did he really just think that?

"I can be dominating!" Duro hisses as more members of the brotherhood wonder into the baths. Varro hums as if in thought his grin returning at the angry way that Duro was trying to convince him. With his night suddenly clear and free of plans, he was in need of a good distraction. And past experiences has shown that either of the Rhine's were good for that. 

"Do you say this because you wish it to be true or because Agron accuses you of presenting ass like a fucking girl?" He teases liking the shade of pink that filters across the younger Rhine's face. With Spartacus busy up above, Agron and Donar preoccupied with each other and Crixus throwing caution to the wind with Naevia, Varro realizes that either he and Duro could have a rather boring and uneventful evening, or...

"I say it because it is true!" Sure it was. 

"Well, you're wrong. But I'd love to prove it to you if you're willing." Varro offers quietly. Making sure that those who he does not wish to know his private business (Ashur who was no doubt lurking out of sight) would be able to keep to their noses out of it. Looking intrigued and determined Duro leans in as well. 

"When and where you Roman shit?" He challenges making Varro chuckle darkly. One thing he adores about the Rhine brothers is that they don't ask too many questions before accepting a challenge. They were perfectly terrible for Spartacus and would get themselves killed. He makes a mental note to talk to Crixus and Donar about the recklessness of these three. 

"Meet me in the back cell after the rest if these fools are in bed. Your brother and Donar should be away all night, Crixus will be preoccupied with Naevia and Spartacus was summoned so the gods only know when he will return." Duro's eyes shine with ambition and determination making Varro inwardly preen. It is no wonder Crixus calls him 'pup'. 

"I am no so frightened of the others that I must sneak around." Duro huffs folding his arms letting the strigil he was using fall into the water. Varro knows a lot of gladiators who are going to be furious about that. 

"Of the others? You mistake notation of their whereabouts." Varro chuckles standing unable to hide the growing interest his cock has with this conversation, and not caring either. It wasn't so uncommon for more than one member of the brotherhood to be sporting an erection at the end of the day. "I simply do not wish to be interrupted while proving you wrong." He teases snatching up a towel and wondering off. Not letting the pup defend himself at all, his imagination suddenly running wild with all of the things he can do to the youngest Gladiator. There was indeed some preparations to be done before this evening got started. Plans to be made and even ideas to test. 

After grabbing the needed supplies from Crixus' cell, Varro was sure to swing by Spartacus' to snatch the half full vial of oil he left in there the other day. Perhaps since the Rhine brothers have started fighting in the arena they should purchase some oil themselves. The lot of them would be less sore if all of them held a vial or two instead of just a select few of them. More mental notes. Varro laughs to himself wondering if he should get himself a book like Ashur has for keeping track of the bets. So many things to keep track and take care of. 

He snorts lighting the candle while he was in the Champion's cell wondering how the fool could remember every fighting stance and style sent his way but couldn't be bothered to light a fucking candle. He nearly jumps a foot in the air when someone grunts and grumbles at the light. 

"Jupiter's fucking cock can't a man sleep around here?" Varro clutches his chest staring wide eyed at the wiry gladiator occupying Spartacus' bed. 

"Acer?! What the fuck are you doing here?!" He gasps leaning against the door way. Acer sits up rubbing his eye with one hand and shoving his hair out of his face with the other. He was one of the few Gladiators who was able to keep theirs long and was rather proud of it. 

"Attempting to sleep without Liscus or Tyronius pawing at me." Varro runs a hand over his face with a drawn out sigh. He sometimes envies Spartacus' lack of friendship and all in all civilities with the rest of the brotherhood. He doubts the Thracian knows who either of those two are. Hell the bastard was probably unaware of Acer himself. 

"An understandable endeavor. Take my corner cell with Rhaskos and Hamilcar tonight I won't be needing it." Varro offers with a shake of his head. "Just mind business and get the fuck out of the Champion's cell you cunt." He commands with a point after the mild questioning look he was given. Acer yawns before shrugging and headed off. 

"Gratitude. Perhaps you aren't as bad as the rest of your kind." He mutters sleepily. 

The fuck did that mean? Making a face Varro watches him go feeling rather insulted. Shaking his head he makes his way through the maze that is the Ludus, peeking around corners here and there. The further back he goes the less permission he has to being there in the first place. If a single guard catches him then there was going to be some consequences. Honestly he hopes if he is caught to be brought in front of Batiatus versus the guards deciding to dish out their own punishments. He grimaces remembering his time chained to the wall for attacking Ashur. Shaking his head he pushes such thoughts and concerns from his mind, there was much to do and Varro couldn't help but grin as he slips into the dimly lit room. 

"Eager little cunt aren't we?" He teases seeing Duro sitting cross legged on the bed, already stripped of modesty and cock at half mast. Duro lifts up his chin looking rather proud of himself. Whether it's because he arrived here or arrived here first Varro neither knew nor gave a flying fuck. 

"I was beginning to worry that you were going to back down from the challenge you presented." Duro snarks earning a bark of a laugh from the blond. Cheeky little shit. Varro was really starting to like the brat. No wonder Crixus does. 

"I presented facts and truth. It is you who took it as a challenge." Duro opens his mouth to argue but Varro tosses his ill gotten goods onto the little broken chest in the corner. "Oh shut up." He chuckles as he shuts the door behind him. It was endearing the way the pup snaps his mouth closed. Further proving Varro's point anyways. And while he was going to enjoy this and revel in the retelling of it to Crixus and Spartacus in the morning; if he was going to get any sleep then he needed to hurry this along. Just because there was going to be a Batiatus House Party tomorrow doesn't mean that the Gladiators were going to get the morning off. "Lay back and stretch your arms above your head." Duro was halfway through following instructions before he pauses. Watching Varro grab some silk ribbons and a few strands of rope makes him frown. 

"Hold on." He chirps making Varro's grin return. "I'm supposed to be dominating you!" Duro whines.

Yes highly dominating and intimidating. 

"And I am here to prove that you cannot." Varro coos degradingly. Duro stands his hands balled into fists, despite his jutted out jaw and glare of indignation; he only comes up to Varro's mouth. Almost a whole head shorter. It's strange to know that if this was either Spartacus or Crixus then his cock would do more than just the mild stir of interest it was doing now. Hell if it was his Thracian he's sure it would be leaking. 

"I've dominated Gladiators before I'll have you know!" He nearly growls. Varro licks his lips trying not to laugh. 

"Hamilcar and Acer hardly count." He points out taking a step closer, feeling far too superior in his height than he should. Duro scowls at him before shaking his head. 

"I was referring to prior joining the Brotherhood." Duro practically sneers folding his arms. Oh? 

"And in what wild scenario were you ever in the presence let alone the ass of a gladiator prior to coming to Rome?" Varro chuckles trying to think of any reason a Gladiator would be roaming free about the country let alone East of the Rhine. Duro blushes a little before fidgeting.

"Tis my fault Agron and I were captured in the first place." He grumbles the admittance. Varro sighs heavily resigning himself for a pitiful night's sleep before motioning Duro to continue. The faster the story ends the faster he can fuck the younger and then go to bed. "I had um..." Duro mumbles something Varro can't decipher. 

"Speak up little Rhine. We've all done things we aren't proud of all which have led us here." He encourages as gently as he could. Where was his normal amount of patience when it came to Spartacus and Crixus? The patience he had last night with fucking Ilithyia? Literally and figuratively. Duro grimaces before hunching his shoulders the folded arms seeming to tighten up. 

"I was captured for almost a fortnight and working in a campaigning Roman's house of whores." Duro informs not meeting Varro's gaze. That was certainly interesting and telling news that he's itching to blab to Donar and Crixus for highly different reasons. 

"And this campaign just happened to have Gladiators?" He snorts in disbelief. Duro gives him a side eyed look before continuing his tale of woe/hoe. 

"No. The man had earned freedom. Was working temporarily for the Roman as a form of entertainment for money." Varro feels his attention snap to hyper focused faster than Doctore's whip. 

"He told you this did he?" Varro questions his heart pounding and his mind racing. Duro nods with a smirk. "And you?" Varro glances him up and down quickly. "You topped him?" Duro looked as smug as Varro has ever seen him. Even more than when the little shit was sucking the soul out of the Gaul after lunch. 

"Managed to have him scream something in his native tongue." Varro feels his eye twitch and with no real explanation as to why. 

"Which was what little man?" He whispers leaning down and pressing forward enough that their chests and foreheads were touching. Duro makes a face. 

"How the fuck should I know? I did not speak it. I had never heard it before and did not pause to ask." Varro feels his lip curl in agitation for a second before he grins. 

"So you've topped one Gladiator of note and think you can do so again is that right?" The blond whispers. Duro tilts his head as if trying to read the lay of Varro's thoughts. 

"Spartacus gets topped all the time. And Donar never. I hardly believe skill on the sands has anything to do with present ass." Varro chuckles dangerously. Making Duro take a step back, shrinking down a little with the way he does. 

"Well put. I'll have to point that out to Crixus at some point." He muses before moving. Shoulder down and knees locked in a practiced motion that gets Spartacus every time. And Duro was no different. Gasping loudly when his stomach connects and falling back with an equally loud thud. 

"Oh gods fuck it!" Duro cries out face scrunched in pain for a moment before glaring up at him. "You fucking Roman cunt-mhr!" His curse cut off with Varro lips. A hunger he felt for a different man leading the breathless way he leaves Duro. 

"I have many plans for our dear Gaul." Varro gasps pulling back and pinning Duro down. The younger looking up at him dazed and wary all at once. Whatever dark emotion Varro was feeling must show on his face. "I hold no knowledge on why you were blessed with topping the freed Gladiator, but that," he nearly growls tightening his grip on Duro's wrists making him flinch, "that shall remain a secret between you and me. Are we clear?" He whispers leaning in the tips of their noses touching. Duro gives a small nod his eyes widening. 

"Ye-yes." He sighs out wondering if all Romans were cruel and insane, enslaved or not. Or if Varro had simply lost mind. 

"Good." Varro coos cheerfully sitting up on his knees and reaching for the pile he left on the chest. "Then we can begin." 

Duro was uncharacteristically silent as Varro wrapped the strands of ribbon across his wrists and ankles. It was an unfortunate thing to have to scare him and he really didn't want to. But Crixus couldn't know about Duro topping that man. Not before Varro learned how the Gaul felt from the inside out. Wrapped tightly around his aching cock and begging for more just the way Varro can get Spartacus to. Because if he does? Will he decide Duro is the worthy one? Or will be continue to hold out for a drunken Celtic bastard that he may very well never see again? No Varro couldn't risk it. Not with the way Crixus looked at him this afternoon during their groups little escapade. 

"Fuck." Duro hisses as Varro tightens the knots on the ropes he's placed over the ribbons. Blinking he gives an apologetic look before loosening them. 

"Apologies. I did not mean to be so rough." He pauses giving a sad glance at him. "Nor did I mean to use fear to have you agree to keeping your triumph a secret." He sighs earning a confused expression. 

"You are Roman are you not?" Duro questions making Varro sick to his stomach. Acer's comment bubbling to the front of his mind. 

"I do not hold myself above you purely due to my being born in a different country than you." Varro sneers grabbing a folded up cloth and putting it under Duro's head. "I am more skilled and more intelligent due to life experience and training. But I am just a man. Just a slave as you." He explains softly noting that Duro's cock was no longer even at half mast. That wasn't going to work. 

"You're a strange Roman." Duro comments watching him strip. "And a stranger person at that." Varro tilts his head waiting for an explanation. Duro shrugs glancing at his wrists. "The ribbons are an example. You are taking great care not to hurt me, or even leave any marks." The corners of Varro's lips twitch as he nods. 

"True. But that is purely selfish reasons." He offers grabbing the vial of oil and sitting next to Duro on the bed. "I wish for you to enjoy this because I will enjoy watching you." He starts explaining as he pours a bit of the oil onto the softened cock. "I do not wish to hurt you or leave evidence of it because I do not wish to cause a rift between myself and your brother as that will affect Spartacus." Varro continues getting some on his hands and rubbing them together. "And I am unsure on if the ribbons alone will work so I'm testing them on you to see if they will work when I use them on Crixus." Duro's eyes go wide at that. 

"When not if?" He gawks. Varro chuckles swiping a finger up the shaft spreading the oil about. He finds it hilarious that Duro's cock twitches under the simple touch. As eager as Crixus and as sensitive as Spartacus. Delightful. 

"I told you I had many plans for the Gaul." Varro muses shifting to start pumping Duro's cock to life. The young Rhine hisses with sensitivity his hips arching a little at the action. "Proper restraints are just one of them." Duro bites his lip eyes closing as Varro focuses on the head. It was a stroke to his ego the way Duro's cock was close to leaking already.

"So I'm just a-shit- a play thing?" Duro nearly whimpers jerking at his restraints. Varro raises an eyebrow reaching his free hand up to tweak a pebbling nipple. 

"Just? Tut tut baby Rhine." Varro gently reprimands. "Far from it. You're the newest addition to my strange list of male lovers and an integral part of my plan to keep those I care about alive."  Varro beams as Duro tossed his head side to side obviously trying to stay focused. He wonders if Agron was similar in matters of mindless lust. 

"H-how so?" He pants peaking up at Varro face already flushed with desire. Varro bets that the pup was an exceptionally popular whore. 

"If you are so willing, I would have you be the catalyst between Spartacus and Crixus. And aid in bridging the cap between them and your brother." Varro informs cupping Duro's sack, encouraging the shifting of legs and exposing of ass. 

"You believe-gyah- that I am capable of su-uugh-ch a thing?" Duro keens needily arms straining against the ropes. The creak of them making Varro squint at them. If Duro breaks them then Crixus will certainly be able to. 

"I do indeed. You're already behaving so well and are so eager to please." Varro leans down nipping at Duro's neck and down to his collar bone. "Crixus has stated that should anyone bed you he could not blame them." He murmurs against Duro's skin. "And Spartacus held similar statement although leaning more towards your kin than yourself." Duro makes a face at that but doesn't have time to respond. Varro sinking an oil slicked finger down to the second knuckle robbing him of speech the cause. 

It seemed a life time that he spent teasing the pup. Adding a second finger after a while and then taking his time to stretch and curl. Spread Duro's willing hole open to accommodate Varro's cock. Despite thinking earlier about how he wished to finish things quickly, he also wanted to do this correctly. Wanted to not cause anymore pain, nor make him afraid. Besides he wasn't lying about using these restraints on Crixus in the near future. And no marks could be left that couldn't be explained away with a rough sparring session. 

"Varro please." Duro whimpers arching as much as the ropes would allow. Varro chuckles reaching under him aiding in the bridge pose the pup finds himself in. 

"You think yourself ready?" Varro challenges realizing he was enjoying this more than he thought he would. If that wasn't the theme of his time as a gladiator then he didn't know what was. Duro nods frantically instead of voicing an answer making Varro grin some more. "Very well pup." He mutters softly adjusting his own position to line up his cock to the willing hole. 

"Oh fuck!" Duro moans as Varro sinks past the sensitive rim. Pliant muscles encasing him deliciously. He knew that fucking Duro was going to be good. It was before but something was different this time. Perhaps it was imagining Crixus in his place, or maybe it was the fact that it was just the two of them versus literally any combination of their growing group. Although he wonders if it was the fact that nobody knew yet. Having a sexual secret always made it feel more intense. 

"You take my cock so well little Rhine." Varro praises bottoming out. He groans at Duro's attempts of rolling his hips. "So fucking eager." He's not sure if that comment was teasing or more praise despite the words leaving his own lips. However he doesn't waste anymore of their precious time. Rocking into Duro carefully and swiftly, increasing the pace and roughness steadily so as to avoid injury. Something that seems to infuriate his current lover. 

"Fuck! You already noticed I can take it so fucking give it to me you Roman shit!" Duro cries gripping the ropes making them creak with the strain some more. Varro gives a quick tug to Duro's dreads resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

"Patience is something you will have to learn. In all aspects of your life. Else you shall lose it." Varro pants knowing just how much bullshit he was spouting. With Duro's experience in the bedroom and Varro having nothing more than ideas and whatever he's done since coming to this Ludus it was important to keep the upper hand here. Regardless on how. 

"Your cock doesn't agree with you." Duro counters able to feel every hard inch of Varro's cock within him. Can tell just how much his body was enjoying this. Duro tries his best to meet Varro's thrusts, to encourage him with convulsions, becoming nearly desperate for release. Despite the lack of urgency from his partner. 

"Prolonging your climax can still happen even after I reach my own." Varro warns. It was difficult enough to stay focused. Trying to picture Crixus in the pup's place and managing it for seconds before the image fades to one specific Thracian. As enticing as the thought of having the Gaul tied down, this obsession he has with Spartacus was apparently getting worse. 

No matter what he does it always goes back to fucking Spartacus. He had thought being mildly obsessed with wanting to take Crixus' "virtue" would be able to free him of this. This shackle of desire for his friend. A week ago when Spartacus had a small jealous fit he gave reassurance, but since then? It's as if the man had to be present for his cock to work properly. Or else his mind presented the needed stimulus. 

Such as now. Even as he squeezes Duro's ass, trying to think of it as Crixus'. To remember how close he got to finding release just from spanking the former champion. His skin still burned with the memory of Spartacus' in either Gladiator's  position, everyone of his senses still craved to have his friend once more in any form. Damn the man for somehow seeping under his skin, down past his bones and into his soul. And damn the Gaul for not being on par with the fucking Thracian in this regard. 

"Fuck the gods Varro I can not last!" It was the only warning Duro could groan before breaking. Cock spurting a pale white mess between them while Varro continues his fight for release and sanity. He knows Crixus would have lasted longer than the pup and with Spartacus it would all depend on his mood throughout the day. He tries his best to focus on the Gaul, the whole fucking purpose for the ribbons and ropes, much like the blue one he used to keep Crixus from finishing when he and Spartacus were giving Varro apologies. The first time he spanked Crixus, hell the first time the Rhine brothers ever actually entered the equation. Remembering that heated night was the needed push that sent Varro over the edge. His own release pulsing through him with his final few pumps into Duro. A strangled sort of grunt spilling from his throat at the same time Duro gives a rather loud shout of encouragement. 

The two of them remain in place for a moment. Both panting from the exertion but Duro's fading into an amused little laugh that has Varro tilting his head. despite the light pink his chest turned and the minimal sweat coating the both of them, the younger was still grinning. Relaxing back onto the bed as he catches his breath. Not for the first time since becoming a Gladiator, and especially not the first time since his sex life got so wild did Varro just know that he would have much rather this have been Spartacus. A thing that makes his heart ache for Crixus. 

"Something funny to you Baby Rhine?" Varro asks with a half sigh half chuckle. Duro licks his lips as Varro eases himself out of the slightly abused hole. There was a tiny amount of self pride over the fact that he wasn't shaking from the effort to remain in the position that he was in. Hauling logs for training really had multiple benefits after all. 

"No nothing," Duro explains with a small shake of his head while Varro manuvers to his knees starting the process of release and clean up. "It's more of I under stand why Crixus, let alone Spartacus enjoy you so much now." He grins sheepishly at the raised eyebrow. "I mean more of why they are so protective and possesive. You have always been attractive and as we've discovered over the past week, a wonderful addition to any situation."

"Addition?!" Varro barks out laughing. Oh if only the little cheeky bastard knew. The entire week he speaks of, all of their private interactions, all part of Varro's plans and the result of his patience and hard work. 

"This stands the first time you and I have fucked without one or more people at the same time is all I was referring to." Duro defends rubbing his wrists as he was freed, sitting up and finding being between Varro's thighs was really a plesant place to be. "I saw the appeal but now I have experienced it first hand and can conclude that their emotions and boiling blood is in fact, well, understandable." Varro swears he might hit him. 

"Yet I still stand pale shadow in comparison to Crixus or Spartacus I'm sure." He chuckles standing and packing his materials. Duro shrugs. 

"The Mighty Crixus certainly, however I have yet to have the Thracian as a solo venture." Varro frowns taking the pup's wrists and inspecting them before squatting down to do the same for his ankles. There was hardly a mark and if done correctly could be excused as sleeping dents. It would mean this would have to wait a little for the colder months but that wasn't too far off. A couple of weeks at most for a small blanket to be blamed. Enough time to gather more oil. 

"I had thought the day before last, the two of you were supposed to have been?" Varro questions. Duro flushes a dark color and it occurs to the Roman that perhaps the Rhine's were unaware that Spartacus and Crixus told him literally fucking everything. 

"We had meant to it was just that erm..." Duro trails off rubbing his neck. Varro folds his arms making sure to keep his shoulders down to not be threatening but also block the door to let the young man know there was no escape without an answer. "Crixus sort of joined us." Duro confesses after a moment of silence. Varro sighs heavily with a shake of his head. 

"Damn the both of them. Alright. Gratitude for the information." Varro moves to head out and was determined to find the Gaul and was prepared to wait all night for the Thracians appearance to properly chastise them, but Duro grabs his arm in a panic. 

"Wait! Please! I-" Varro frowns patting the hand on him comfortingly. The strange worry and slight fear on the pups face was concerning. "I wasn't supposed to tell you." Ah. Varro grins quickly shifting again to wrap an arm around Duro and give him an kiss to the forehead.

"Worry not, they will not learn of you being the informant." Duro looks up at him puzzled. Rolling his eyes Varro keeps a hold of him as he grabs the bag of supplies and peaks out into the poorly lit hallway. "Are you as foolish as the rest of them? Tell me how is it you learned of myself and Spartacus?" Duro tilts his head not even bothering to look for danger himself. 

"Hamilcar. He and Rhaskos are who informed me of Crixus joining the pair of you as well." He explains as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. Varro gives him a pointed look with a couple of hard blinks waiting. "What's your point?" Varro rolls his eyes with another shake of his head. Curls bouncing at the movement momentarily distracting Duro.

"Do you believe any of us informed them?" Varro tries again. Duro scrunches his face in confusion.

"No why would you?" Varro chuckles giving his shoulders a squeeze before stepping off. 

"You'll figure it out I'm sure. Now scurry off to your cell while I find my own spot to rest. There is a lot happening on the morrow and we all will want our sleep." Varro instructs hearing a small clatter above. Duro hesitates before nodding and heading off. Varro sighs with a small laugh before slipping off. Having given Acer his bed for the night he wasn't lying when he said he needed to find somewhere. He grins wickedly thinking how welcomed he would be in the former champions bed. Even as tired as the man might be from Naevia. He had a scolding to give after all. 

Chapter Text

Agron awaited with baited breath as the Syrian approached. Stopping here and there with his fucking book and the gaggle of women. It was curious and also genius that there were no male whores for purchase. What use would there be for them with so many able bodied Gladiators about. His skin tingles in anticipation as Donar strolls past his crowded cell to his own little hovel. The blond doesn't even spare him a glance. The smug cunt. Agron grins as his irritation spikes. He wonders how arrogant the man would be if Agron turned him away later tonight? Or just simply didn't go? It was an enticing thought. To tease the giant like that. 

But then he sees Varro stomping down the hall glaring at the back of Crixus' head and his stomach knots up. He didn't have enough friends or allies here to do something so bold so soon. And besides. His aching cock was more eager for this than he was willing to admit. With his height it has been an inhumane time since he was the submissive. As in well in truly stretched and filled. And with the next batch of recruits not scheduled to be purchased for another three to six months depending on how many die between now and then his options were severely limited. No he was just going to have to wait and be snarky and hard to get another time. 

"Agron and Duro!" Fuck could they be separate for one occasion? He has personal business to fucking discuss. Business he is hesitant for his brother to know the full extent of just yet. 

"Ashur." Duro responds politely. Agron rolls his eyes. "How much did we make?" He asks curiously. Ashur flips through his little tablet book thing tutting as he counts. 

"You my eager young friend have managed to earn five whole coins." Agron gives him a pat on the back pride for his brother momentarily distracting him from his own desires. "You may save it or spend it on whatever your heart desires that it can afford." Ashur spins his book about to show a bunch of words that only partially make sense. 

"Uuhh..." The brothers chorus. Ashur glances between them before chuckling and flipping it back. 

"A whore is three coins, and a vial of oil is one." He notes. "You could also get a private cell but that'll take all five coins. OR," he continues sounding rather devious, "you could get an additional blanket. Same quality but still with the winter months approaching one can never have enough blankets." Agron makes a face while Duro chews his lip in thought. 

"The blanket is five as well?" He ponders. Agron frowns looking at him. Ashur grins and nods. "And there will be games twice in this upcoming month?" Ashur quirks an eyebrow at him. 

"Indeed young friend. One with grave more importance than the other." Duro hums for a moment before nodding. 

"Then I shall have two vials of oil and save the other three coins." He concludes sounding pleased. Agron places a hand on his hip looking curiously at his brother. Ashur makes a couple of notes before digging in the little bag he has slung over his hip. 

"Here you are. Congratulations on your first purchase as a Gladiator. And also on being smarter than you appear." Agron bristles at the wink Ashur gives Duro with the end of that sentence but doesn't have a chance to say anything about it. "Agron my friend you have earned seven coins. How would you like to proceed?" Duro sputters for a moment while Agron stares dumbfounded. 

"How was this accomplished?" He blurts out like a fucking idiot. He could have just waited and asked Donar. The blond probably knows. Two whole more coins than Duro? Ashur laughs softly lowering the book down. 

"You have both become Gladiators. After today's payment the deal goes: you do not fight, you do not get paid." He informs them. "This is incentive and part of the prize of joining the honored brotherhood." Ashur continues to explain with a wave of his hand. "In regards to Agron earning slighty more than Duro here," He flips open his book glancing about, humming for a second before, "aha! You both would have recieved seven however Duro sending Donar to the medicus cost Dominus supplies and the chance to fight him in the upcoming games. Rhaskos will be sent in his place which is rather inconvinent." Duro opens his mouth, possibly to question or argue but Agron slaps a hand over it. He did not have time to wait for Duro's fucking nosey ass. 

"Understandable. How much was that private cell again?" Duro and Ashur look at him surprised. The Syrian's eyes flickering between the brothers as if trying to decided if they were quarlling or not. 

"Five." He reminds closing the book with a snap. Nodding Agron lowers his hand leaving Duro to gape at him. Ashur purses his lips letting the two of them have this moment as he turns to a guard to retireve the keys. 

"Very well, save the two extra coins and I shall take it." Duro makes a noise of disgust and confusion. 

"The fuck, you are just going to leave me and go do fuck all in that cell?" Agron grins brightly at the disgruntled attitude his brother has. Honestly this was almost as good as the promised sex. 

"Yes. Occasionally I would like some time to myself brother." Not entirely a load of horse shit but mostly. Duro sputters as Ashur unlocks their cell and motions Agron out. "Enjoy your night brother!" Agron gleefully departs following Ashur down the hall. 

Donar was not wrong. It took nearly three minutes to find their way down here. Tucked away with no other views of the inside, and a tiny wooden door that was nearly the same color as the stone surrounding it. If one did not know it was there they would have missed it. Ashur unlocks the door swinging it wide open and side stepping with a oily smirk. Agron nods his thanks glad that the two of them weren't sharing any words. That he wasn't asking any questions and just letting this be. Although the feeling of the Syrian knowing something he doesn't was strong and relatively unnerving. Perhaps he knows what Agron was planning? Shaking his head he steps inside and shuts the door behind him. It was surprising to see that it locked from the inside as well. Although he guesses the outside lock was a different mechanism. 

It wasn't a large room but it wasn't cramped either. Damp was a word and Agron makes quick work of lighting the candles as a result. There weren't all that many but their position made them rather bright. Looking at the back wall behind the, well he thinks that's the bed, he notices it was almost slimy. He wonders if perhaps this room was directly under the bath in the villa. Or perhaps that pool thing he's heard about up there. Either way, now that all eight candles were lit he was aware of the slight chill in the air. He doubts that any sort of warmth reaches this room and was curious on if it was popular during the drought. Would certainly explain that broken thing in the corner. Nodding to himself he fiddles with his hands and subligaria for a moment unsure on what to do while he waits. Donar never did tell him a specific time. 

Agron paces a little before laying down on the pitiful excuse of a bed. It really was just a bunch of wooden planks with a blanket and what looks like it used to be a sack of grain but now it held a couple dozen feathers that he guesses is supposed to be a pillow. He sighs heavily covering his eyes. This was stupid. Agron felt like a complete fool for agreeing to this. Asshole was probably laughing it up with Rhaskos and the other Gaul's about the angry brother being the desperate one. He should have saved his money! Buying his and Duro's freedom is supposed to be his one and only goal! Yet here he was wasting precious coins on a private cell. And for what? Another man's joke. Glaring into his hands Agron pushes away the tears of embarrassment. Ignores the churning in his stomach and tries to see a positive side to this humiliation. 

The door handle jiggles making him sit straight up. 

Heart pounding he scrambles off the bed. He hates how badly his hand was shaking as he unlocks the door. Yet he couldn't deny the wave of relief he feels when on the other side stood a mildly annoyed looking Donar. One eyebrow raised and a hand on his hip. Agron suddenly feels a little guilty for doubting him. 

"The fuck are you standing around for? Let me the fuck in before we are discovered you moron." He hisses shoving Agron in the middle of his chest and stepping inside swinging the door shut behind him. He's not one hundred percent sure but he thinks Crixus and Varro were scuttling about as well. 

"It stands your own fault for being late you fucking bastard." Agron snaps right on back not even feeling remotely angry despite showing all the signs of it. He couldn't help it. The joy of not being toyed with and now the prospect of a good fuck was just too good to be true. 

"Oh excuse me I hadn't realized you were this impatient for a cock up your ass. Next time I'll simply knock out Leviticus and Tyronius instead of waiting on them to fuck off." Donar sneers with a jerk off motion. Agron blushes a little before folding his arms. 

"Well why did you have to wait? You stand the better Gladiator, the better fighter. What purpose is there in giving a shit about those two fucks?" He tries to keep the pout out of his voice. But the tilt of Donar's head tells him he heard it. The tension in the room thickening and changing from hostile in an instant. Agron swallows thickly chewing his cheek and not looking directly at the blond. 

"Impatient is not the proper term is it?" Agron grimaces a little shifting from foot to foot. "Aaagron?" He drags out his name like a gravelly sirens call. Agron sighs before looking up at him a small scowl on his bright red face. "I asked you a question." He reminds taking a step forward. Agron doesn't think he could remember how to breathe let alone think of a fucking answer with the way Donar was looking at him. Fuck he doesn't think anyone's ever looked at him like that before. 

"I er, the proper-" His heart skips a beat as Donar crowds his space. "Go fuck yourself how about that?" He gasps in a panic. Donar chuckles darkly grazing his teeth along Agron's collar bone. 

"Were you worried?" He murmurs running a hand from Agron's face down to his hip. "Did you think that after our conversation today I wouldn't show?" Agron twitches closing his eyes as his skin turns a darker shade of red. "Tut, have some faith in your fellow Gladiators." He slides a finger under the waist band of Agron's subligarium, tracing along the width of it from left to right and back again. "And in me." He whispers against Agron's skin drawing out a soft sound of want from him. 

"Fuck but I don't-" Agron grits his teeth while Donar glances up at him curiously. "I don't know-" He groans sounding aggravated. Donar nods taking a step back. Calmly undoing his own clothing with a passive face. 

"I understand. You hold issues with trusting others. For whatever reason." Agron frowns watching him for a moment. Before his subligaria could drop he reaches forward grabbing Agron by the chin and pulling flush against him. Agron gives a small shout of surprise at the unexpected action hands slapping themselves to Donar's shoulders without thought. The sound nearly masking the clatter of Donar's clothes falling about his ankles. 

"The fuck are you-mhrph!" Donar interrupts him, crashing their mouths together at last. The two moan in sync, Donar's hand moving from Agron's chin to the back of his neck. His free hand moving to Agron's lower back guiding the way they grind against one another. And for a moment the two of them stand there locked together tasting one another and simply gripping tight. Agron's heart thuds almost painfully against his chest. They pull apart only for air as Donar guides them back to the wall. Kicking the last of his own clothes to the unknown. Hands shifting and pulling as if trying to touch all of Agron all at once and still have them chest to chest. 

Donar slides a leg between his thighs letting the younger grind against his thick thigh, bitting Agron's lower lip as his hands work to remove him of his modesty. His cock twitches with growing interest. The cold of the room doing little to detire this at all. Agron moans throwing his head back eyes clamped shut as Donar moves lower. Open mouthed kisses trailing down to his throat. Nipping here and there before moving back up. 

"Open your eyes." He commands in a hushed whisper. "And look at what you've done to me." Eyes flying wide Agron chokes on air at his words. Stunned and more turned on than he's ever been in his life, he does as he's told. He's not sure why he's surprised to see the fully erect cock jutted against his own hip. Mushroom crown glistening with precum. A sure sign of his desire. "You need never be concerned for my desire of you." Donar treasures him breathlessly. "You've been driving me insane since the second you stepped foot onto the sands." He admits digging his thumb into the V of Agron's hip.

"Donar, I- shit..." Agron absolutely had no idea what to say to that. Knew that Donar had been watching him for a while but damn. It was hot and alluring and damned near romantic. He shakes his head tossing any ideas of romance off the cliff. They stood gladiators. He couldn't have time for that. "And yet you wish for me to beg?" He attempts to tease. Donar gives him a hard look. As if to tell him this was no time for humor of any sort. 

"I waited as patiently as I could, and even took the opportunity when it was presented after you fucked the Thracian." Agron blanches looking horrified. 

"How the fuck do you- I did no such-" He tries to switch his outburst midway through realizing he should probably deny it before confessing out right. Fuck if Spartacus finds out that even one Gladiator outside his little circle knows then he was never going to trust Agron. And he knows deep in his bones that Spartacus' trust was the main key to survival. Donar rolls his eyes making little circles on Agron's cock head taking his breath away. 

"First of all, it isn't as if you two were quiet. Stone walls echo." Agron grimaces and suddenly worries about if anyone was going to hear the two of them. "I am sure you recall the night of Segovax's crucification vividly." He nods trying not to let the thought of the castrated Gaul lessen his erection. He then makes a face remembering how loud Varro and Spartacus had been. The entire fucking ludus heard them. And they were across the sands. "And secondly Rhaskos and Hamilcar and Acer are a bunch of fucking women, They love to gossip and thus know every dirty fucking secret this Ludus and the villa above hold." He explains stepping back to go over to a little bag he had deposited on the broken wooden table drawer thing in the corner. 

"What do you mean all?" He questions tilting his head. Agron really tries to keep his eyes off the taller man's ass and legs but it was something he failed at. Oddly enough, even though Donar was not as well defined as some of the other Gladiators, and definitely not as much as Crixus or Spartacus, he couldn't help the way his hand trails down to his cock to relieve some of the pressure as he ends up openly staring. There was just something about this man that made his blood thrum.

"Juno's tit here we go again with your flapping fucking tongue." Donar groans looking up at the ceiling throwing his hands up. "Would you prefer we sit on the bed and trade fucking stories or would you rather I'd bend you over and make you forget your fucking name?" He asks turning around. Agron and Donar freeze when he does. Both eyes widening as they realize what Agron was doing. 

"Uhm..." He says mid stroke of his cock. Donar fights a smirk placing a hand on his hip. 

"Perhaps impatient stands the correct term after all." He muses eyes darkening with desire as he bites his lip. Giving a small hum of appreciation. "Don't stop now." He instructs with a wave of his hand. Agron flushes dropping his own suddenly unsure on what to do with his hands. 

"You're the one who walked away." Agron grumbles wishing he didn't enjoy the look on Donar's face as much as he did. "Jabbering on about Rhaskos and Hamilcar." Donar nods grabbing the back of Agron's neck and pressing their foreheads together. 

"Apologies for answering your fucking questions." He chuckles pressing a quick but firm kiss against him. "Now sit on the bed and let's see if you can suck my cock half as good as you can a guards." Agron blanches his stomach dropping. 

"Fuck you know about that too?!" Donar tsks his tongue unimpressed. 

"Did I not just fucking say those two cunts know everything?" He snorts with a point. "Should you shut up for five minutes I can make you relax and then perhaps after I will fill your head with all the sordid nasty things people do here but until then stay fucking focused." He huffs sounding a little exasperated. Agron gives a small grin sliding past him to sit on the bed as he was told. 

"Why the bed?" Donar gives him a warning look that just makes his grin widen and his dimples deepen. The blond sighs before, as carefully as he could, running a hand through Agron's mess of hair. 

"Because you mouthy bitch," Agron opens his mouth offended, "I give a shit about you and wish you to be comfortable and enjoy every second of this." Oh well. How fucking considerate. Agron licks his lips looking between Donar's face and the cock in front of him. Slowly and not breaking eye contact with the blond Agron opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue. His own cock jerks at the harsh intake of breath from above him. "Fuck but aren't you a pretty sight?" Agron flushes never once in his life has anyone called him pretty. Terrified about the way his heart flipped and his cock leaked he grabs Donar by the base and swallows him quickly. "Jupiter'sfuckingcock!" Donar shouts grabbing both sides of Agron's face. 

Squeezing his eyes shut Agron tries to simply just focus on this instead of what was happening to himself. The way Donar's cock stretched his lips, nearly painful just the way he likes them to while sucking cock. The salty nearly sweet taste. Agron keens hearing Donar grunting and panting above him, fingers gripping him tightly as if to hold on for dear life. Which just swells his ego in the best way. He flicks and lavishes his tongue along the shaft, across the slit, coating the entire thing in as much drool as he could. Burying his nose into the short curly hair and instinctively inhaling deeply. Trying to breathe more of the musky smell that was purely Donar, a thing he has never known before this moment and yet feels as if he's missed it for a lifetime. Greedily the hand not pumping Donar's cock in time with his bobbing head, grabs at the man's thigh and squeezing. He nearly whimpers feeling the hard muscle flex under his touch. Honestly it was nasty, the way he slurped excess drool simply because it now held the same flavor of the man he was sucking off. He hears Donar curse under his breath before he was pushed off. A wet 'pop' sound keeping his anger and disappointment at bay. 

"I wasn't finished." He complains feeling his own neglected hard on twitch a little in annoyance. Donar takes a few gulping breaths looking at Agron as if he was a mystery. 

"Were you going to cum untouched simply by swallowing my cock?" He asks incredulously. Agron blushes a little at the very thought. Perhaps with enough build up he could but,

"No but I was determined to have you cumming down my throat." Donar makes a slightly pained noise before pinning Agron to the bed. Crushing his wrists in his grip. 

"Fuck you have no idea what you do to me." He murmurs against Agron's lips. The younger grins a little, flicking his tongue out teasingly. 

"What can I say you taste good." He shrugs. Donar hums pulling a vial out of seemingly nowhere and popping it open with his teeth. 

"And later we can determine if you do too. But for now," Agron watches hungrily as Donar pours the liquid over two fingers, "turn around so I can stretch that needy little hole of yours." Agron's mouth goes dry as he nods. Fumbling a little in his haste to do as he was told. It had been years since he was stretched let alone fucked and though he was loathed to admit it, he was near desperate to have the sensation again. "Good boy." Donar praises rubbing his lower back comfortingly. Agron bites his lip fighting a moan. 

"Fuuck the gods." He gasps when Donar rubs the wet pads of his fingers against his exposed anus. The tingling it was already sending through his body held the promise of more and Agron arches a little to encourage it. Knowing he probably looked ridiculous with his height and having his ass up in the air like he did. Yet Donar makes a noise that sounds like longing taking away all nervousness the second it appeared. 

"You got that fucking right." Dona whispers more to himself than Agron. Tapping and pushing, relaxing the muscles until he starts prodding. Pushing one carefully down to the second knuckle before letting the other sink on in beside it. Panting heavily Agron grips the edge of the bed unable to recall a time he's ever been more eager and willing. He doesn't think he was this turned on watching Spartacus and Varro tag team Crixus for fucks sakes. "So fucking tight, you're going to be so good around my cock." Agron whimpers out right at that. Pushing backwards trying to beg for more without the humiliation of using words. Donar gives a squeeze to a nearby cheek as he complies. As if they could communicate without speaking. He gasps when the sensitive and highly neglected bundle of nerves of his was found skillfully fast. Teased and assaulted Donar switches between scissoring his fingers and just fucking Agron with them. Seeming to never stop pressing into that oh so needy spot. 

"Fuck Donar please, I can't-" He practically sobs feeling his orgasm building. Abdomen pulled tight. Donar shushes him, easing his hand back and moving to behind him. Both hands on hips he leans down gently biting Agron's shoulder. He shivers rocking in place seeking any sort of friction. His body humming with unfulfilled need. 

"Worry not, I won't ever leave you like this." Donar whispers groaning as he slowly breaches. "For long." Agron cries out as Donar pushes further inside of him. Even with preparation and oil, there was still a mild burn. And his mind was reeling with how badly he longed for it. The way Donar's cock filled him was as perfect as a fucking snowflake in the dead of winter. Agron whines rolling his hips. "Fuck but you were made for my cock weren't you?" Donar groans arching giving short thrusts for a moment. He couldn't fucking respond. Words completely failed him as he bucks and rocks. Urging Donar to set a faster, harsher pace. Because yes, in this moment he felt as if there was nothing more he was meant to do in life than to be fucked by this man. 

The two of them were quickly matching one another. Donar seeming to read Agron's desires before he could even fully understand them. Giving his ass a hard slap before wrapping a large arm around his chest and yanking him up. Burying his face into Agron's neck and watching as he reaches down to cup the neglected, weeping cock. Stroking and squeezing, pumping and jerking it as if he did this every fucking day. Gasping and groaning they move together. Agron nearly bouncing in his lap, supported by the muscular thighs and sturdy chest. As much as he wanted to he couldn't explain let alone question the tear that rolls down his face at the security of this man, pounding into him. He could feel Donar's cock throb as his own climax was building. He tries to voice it, give warning, but only pitiful sounds slipped past his lips. Donar nods against him and Agron understood that Donar was close too. 

"Fuck." The two of them shout at the same time. Agron spilling over Donar's talented fingers, feeling Donar do the same inside of him. The two of them slam to a stop, Agron clutching what he could reach of Donar, and the hold the blond has on him near bruising. Panting and slightly unsteady the two sink fully onto the bed staying connected. 

"Fuck the gods." Donar pants trying to get his breathing back under control. Agron nods staring wide eyed at the wall. He's never felt anything like that before. Discreetly he wipes the tear from his face, under the guise of sweat from his brow. His hands were still shaking and his heart felt as if it would never slow down again.

"I believe I just did." He chuckles glancing over his shoulder. Donar gives him a look before grinning and the two of them share a laugh. Agron feeling his heart sore at the sound. His smile doesn't even falter as he winces with the removal of the cock from his ass. 

"You are fucking ridiculous." Donar reprimands with a fond smile. Agron shrugs watching Donar gather supplies to clean them up. 

"How long did it take you to aquire these?" He questions. Donar glances between them and him before walking over with a cloth. 

"A month. Two games. I won nearly twenty denari in each. Spent ten on the satchel, then four on the cloth," He explains holding it up, "I then stock piled oil." He informs with a proud smirk. Agron beams reaching up and planting a kiss to him. Donar hums cupping his face as he does. 

"Now any more fucking questions you nosey shit? Or are we going to get some much needed sleep?" Agron blinks at him. 

"You are going to risk discovery and spend the entire night with me?" He asks in disbelief. Donar tilts his head with a raised eyebrow. 

"Well it will make fucking you once more tonight and then again in the morning much easier." He explains. Agron grins scooting over and taking the cloth from him. 

"Then hand that over and hurry the fuck up!" He laughs excitedly. The thought of sleeping and then waking up next to Donar sending his heart into over drive. If there was ever a silver fucking lining to being captured and being brought to this hovel it was meeting this wonderful man. 

Chapter Text

Spartacus gives Crixus a warning glare before turning to look at Varro. He was a little emotionally rung out, but he still wanted to do this. Fuck why would he not? The two other times he topped Varro he failed to mention to Crixus earlier and the blond let him leave it out. Perhaps he was ashamed or maybe he simply did not wish for Crixus to feel left out. Either way it was not his choice to make and he would rather die than make Varro feel uncomfortable. Let alone hurt him. There was so much as stake and he was a little lost on how to start this. Which was crazy considering he was usually so cock sure and happy to take charge of any given situation. His stomach knots up thinking about the other night with Ilithyia and then Agron. 

"I will not be having his sloppy fucking seconds." Crixus snorts undoing his subligaria. Spartacus sputters watching Varro strip as well. 

"There is no fucking way you're having him before me!" Spartacus nearly snarls fumbling in his rush to get undressed. Varro chuckles settling onto the bed, looking far more relaxed than a man with a cock that hard should. Just seeing it standing proud made Spartacus' mouth water. 

"It matters not who is first or second. The both of you will have a turn so we can determine once and for all who's cock I prefer." The Roman counters sounding as steady as ever. Spartacus licks his lips eyes trailing over the man, his hand unconscious stroking his own cock as he does. Crixus gives a hum of appreciation as he does nearly the same thing. Running a hand down Spartacus' spine rather than jerking himself. He gives Spartacus' shoulder a squeeze moving past him to kneel on the edge of the bed between Varro's ankles. 

"Perhaps not, but I would still rather enjoy you without having his spunk as lubrication." Crixus murmurs. Varro chuckles reaching up and pulling Crixus down for a kiss. The Gaul moans softly shifting closer. 

"The fuck happened to you?" Spartacus suddenly blurts out ruining the mood. Crixus and Varro give him two different dirty looks. Until they notice Spartacus inspecting Crixus' ass. Crixus flushes sitting up and shoving Spartacus closer to Varro's head. The blond was unhelpful as he simply burst out laughing. "You look as if you've been fucking stoned what the fuck?" He continues panicking. "Was this Domina?" His blood momentarily boils thinking about how he was going to shove that ugly blonde wig down her throat for harming Crixus in such a way. 

"No you fucking shit! Mind your fucking business, it's nothing." Crixus growls through his teeth. Varro clutching his stomach tears streaming down his face with his continued amusement. 

"Nothing? Crixus that's a whole ass hand-" Spartacus stops mid sentence. Eyes snapping from Crixus' backside to his eyes as realization crashes over him. A muscle in Crixus' jaw flexes violently as Varro cackles a bit more. "Oh." He whispers straightening his shoulders. 

"If you like your cock where it is I suggest you shut the fuck up and speak of what you think you know to noone." Crixus threatens with a jab of his finger to Spartacus' chest. "And you can shut the fuck up before I ram cock in ass without any oil." Crixus adds smacking Varro's knees. Varro's laughter subsides to a soft chuckle. 

"Apologies, I had simply forgotten that there was bruising. Is it truly that bad?" He chortles sitting up on his elbows. Crixus rolls his eyes. 

"Nothing worse than what my backside looked as a recruit." Honestly the amount of times Barca sent him crashing to the ground or smacked him around with that fucking spear was embarrassing. Worth it but still. He used to walk with a limp simply because of how hard he landed. He vaguely wonders if Varro or Spartacus'ever looked like that. 

"Then why don't we make it so?" Spartacus suggests with a bite to his lip. Crixus glares at him while Varro grabs Spartacus' wrist. 

"Let the Gaul's body recover fully from something before we do more damage to it." He suggests. They both recognize when the Thracian starts to pout. His skewered send of justice being challenged. "Besides the two of you are supposed to be focused on my ass are you not?" Varro teases turning the conversation back around. Crixus plucks a vial of oil from the notch he sees in the wall, mind reeling with the possibilities of what Gannicus might have used the hole to hide. Was it oil as well? Did he used to fuck his fist when no whores were available? If not for the curly blond in front of him Crixus would have been distracted for the rest of the night. "Wherever your mind has wondered off to bring it back here you cunt." Varro's instructions cut through all the fantasies flashing through his imagination. 

"Apologies. I was simply debating on how to fuck you." He lies gruffly. Varro gives him a look that tells him he sees right through it, but doesn't press the matter. Luckily. 

"I thought we discussed this; I'm fucking Varro first." Spartacus argues grabbing the oil from Crixus' hand. 

"I do not see you between his thighs." Crixus snaps snatching it right on back. Varro groans his head falling backwards. 

"Fuck the gods would you two be on the same page for fucking once? Jupiters cock this isn't difficult and the way you two are prattling about is softening my cock." He chides them. Spartacus and Crixus grimace glancing down at it. Varro glances between the two of them before sighing heavily. "Crixus gets to go first but each of you has to clean up after the other." He announces. Spartacus pouts slightly while Crixus shrugs. 

"Reasonable enough." Crixus shrugs popping the vial open and coating two fingers heavily. 

"With your mouths." Varro finishes with a decisive nod. Spartacus' head snaps up and Crixus nearly drops the oil. 

"Ex. Plain." Crixus growls his cock at odds with his thoughts. It was thickening quickly and he was mentally screaming at the very idea. Varro shrugs at him, his dimples shining as brightly as his eyes with the perverted mischief he was thinking of. 

"When you finish, Spartacus shall eat your cum out of my ass and then you shall do the same when he finds his own release." He explains as if he was discussing the weather. Crixus sputters nearly falling on his ass in his haste to back away from the Roman. Spartacus' eyes widen comically and his mouth drops down to his chest. 

"The fuck did you just say?!" He exclaims. Varro scowls at the pair of them. 

"Lower fucking voice unless you want us to be discovered!" He hisses sitting up a little more. "You two forget this is your punishment for past transgressions." Varro snaps looking between the two. Crixus' mouth snaps shut while Spartacus takes over the sputtering. 

"Past trans- you can not be fucking serious." Varro raises an eyebrow at him while Crixus places his hands on his hips. "Have we not been punished enough throughout this entire evening?" He asks with a wave of his hand. As if pouring out his heart was the worst thing to do. Crixus fidgets a little having thought the same thing. Varro scoffs. 

"Jupiter's cock no." He grins standing up and cornering the Thracian, bracing his hands on either side of his head against the wall. Crixus swallows thickly wondering if he and Gannicus looked anywhere close to the level of attractive that these two do right now. Secretly he hopes so and statistically he believes it to be true. At the very least in the Celt's case. "I know how much the Gaul can take, and I now I want to learn how much you can take oh Bringer of Rain." Crixus tilts his head understanding that in some way this was a power move. Or a struggle. He's not entirely sure which but knows that this has something to do with Varro making it clear that in the bedroom at least; he was in charge. 

"This is truly what you desire then?" Spartacus whispers staring up at him completely enraptured. Varro nods running a finger down Spartacus' cheek. 

"Presently? Yes." Varro murmurs leaning down. Spartacus nods before sagging against the wall. 

"Then I believe you are fixing to kiss the wrong champion." He pouts making Varro's grin widen. Crixus ignores the mild blush suddenly upon his cheeks and straightens his shoulders. Damn right he is. "And what is it exactly am I to be doing while he's ramming you?" He snips a little bit of his rebellious nature coming back into play for a moment. Varro runs a hand through Spartacus' hair comfortingly. 

"To me? Whatever you wish. To him?" Crixus holds his breath not sure what answer he was hoping for but knows not to expect a single thing when it comes to Varro. The man has more plans than Batiatus. "Nothing." Okay wait. 

"What?" He huffs. Spartacus looks bewildered at the blond. 

"You will have plenty stimulation fucking me so do not act as if you are to be sitting in a corner tied down and forced to watch." Varro snaps, as if insulted at the thought that he alone wouldn't be enough to finish Crixus. Spartacus blinks looking dazed for a moment before Varro smacks him upside his head. "And that is not happening any time soon so clear fucking head." Varro accuses somehow knowing exactly where Spartacus' imagination had gone. Although it was his own fault really. Painting such a pretty picture. Crixus scowls taking a step closer hands balled into fists. 

"You stand rather confident for a man begging for two different cocks to find their way into your ass." He snarls heart thudding against his ribs. He's not sure if it was in fear or excitement thinking about the scenario Varro described. Varro grabs his chin and slides their lips together for a moment. 

"I'm not begging. I'm demanding." Varro practically purrs guiding Crixus to the bed. Spartacus licks his lips watching the way the sink onto it. Varro expertly spreading his legs. How Crixus instinctively hooks one over his own thigh exposing Varro fully. Spartacus' breath hitches watching Crixus rub circles around his hole. Massaging and relaxing the muscles. It wasn't until he made eye contact with the blond that Varro leans up and crushes his mouth against the Gauls. Spartacus groans in sync with Varro when Crixus pushes a finger in down to the second knuckle. He suddenly has a sense of, well danger wasn't the correct term but he knows that Varro is up to something when he sees him whispering something to Crixus. 

"You are certain?" Crixus mutters. Varro chuckles biting the Gaul's lip for a moment. Crixus nods delving a second digit in preening at the moan he receives for his time. 

"I am allowed to touch am I not?" Spartacus pouts hating feeling left out. Varro grins wickedly at him while Crixus rolls his eyes. Spartacus was sure he would look more intimidating if his cock wasn't bobbing with how hard it stood. 

"As previously stated. Come here you needy little fuck." Varro coos with a crook of his finger. Spartacus sighs in relief, clamoring over the two of them for the little sliver of bed that was available between them and the wall. His eyes roaming across the expanse of Varro's chest as he nestles on down. Crixus pauses in his task to raise an eyebrow at him. Varro snorts slightly. "And you wonder why he calls you rabbit." Spartacus gives him a sarcastic smile before ghosting their lips together. 

"I give no shits on what he calls me. All I am concerned with is if he can grasp cock long enough to fuck you, or if he was going to need assistance in doing so." Spartacus huffs. Crixus glares darkly at him as he works Varro open a little more. 

"You should be more concerned on if you're going to enjoy the taste of my cum on your tongue." Crixus snaps on back. Varro groans grabbing Spartacus by the back of the neck. 

"Fuck the gods, shut the fuck up! You two are supposed to be fucking me and yet all you can do is squabble! This is exactly why the pair of you are going to eat my ass!" He exclaims in frustration. Honestly he was getting annoyed with them. The three of them were naked and fully erect and what do they do? Piss about like a couple of old women. Aside from mumbled apologies neither of them speak. Opting to do as told and focus on Varro and his needs. 

Varro hums in approval at the feel of the thick cock head pressing against his entrance. Sphincter muscles hardly resisting after being so thoroughly prepped. Crixus rolls his hips only having to pull back a few times before he was able to fully push into the Roman. A shaky gasp escaping him as he does. Blinking he watches Spartacus trace a finger across the well defined lines on Varro's abdomen.  He starts with a careful pace knowing that Varro isn't used to being the bottom. It was more restraint than he thought he had, having to begin slowly. Being encased as he was in this new tight heat made him practically dizzy. 

"Fuck Varro," He groans back bowing as he moves. "Your ass is almost as perfect for my cock as the rabbits." He murmurs. Spartacus shoots him a rude gesture but otherwise doesn't respond. Opting to map out Varro's muscles with his tongue instead of his index finger. Crixus grunts with effort following the movements. Seeing Spartacus give little nips and bites here and there. Sucking tiny little claim marks that could be excused and training injuries if so questioned. He ignores the small wave of jealousy that rolls through him, knowing that without asking Lucretia he would never stand so maimed. And voicing this desire to her was something he does not think he has the bravado for. 

A new thought occurs to him, throwing his rhythm to shit as his cock jerks. Varro keens arching up into the Gaul's movements. From this angle Crixus can see the way his stomach cave in while Spartacus nips at it. Fuck it was hot to watch. Crixus groans digging his fingers into Varro's hips and thighs trying to stave off the building pressure. Angling himself better and mercilessly abusing that sensitive nub within the Roman. Hearing the quick shout from Varro made it more difficult than he thought. But it was too soon. The pace he has built up hardly having that skin slapping sound. But the coil in his lower belly was already threatening to release and he wasn't sure on how to stop it. 

"Crixus." Varro gasps. He gives a start when a hand wraps around his wrist. He was reassured by a few murmurs from the blond and he lets him guide him. Their hands wrapping around Varro's aching cock interlocking their fingers as they do. "Crixus you don't have to make this last longer than it needs to. Just let it all happen. You feel so fucking good inside me Crixus." Varro moans loudly, but then he leans up to whisper hotly in the Gaul's ear. "And I know you'll feel so fucking good riding my cock." Crixus' thrusts become sporadic as the mental image is burned into his skull. The possibilities and the absolute certainty that Varro spoke of made him nearly lose it. He can feel his balls tighten up against his body, his climax threatening to consume him. Crixus groans, holding back long enough to feel Varro start to convulse around him, keening as hot liquid spilling over his knuckles and adding a lubrication to the way they continue to pump Varro's cock. 

"Fuck." Crixus keens hips snapping a few more times before he comes to a slamming halt. Spartacus shifts out of their way and while he assists in the two of them relaxing onto the bed it occurs to Crixus that this was the quietest he's ever heard Spartacus in one of their sexual exploits. He blinks dumbly at the Thracian noticing a plethora more marks sucked into Varro's skin and some rather deep crescent marks in the man's bicep. Something he plans on questioning once his breathing wasn't so damned ragged. He shivers with sensitivity as he pulls out. His legs only slightly shaking from having stayed in the one position for too long. 

"Move." Spartacus commands with a small shove. Crixus couldn't even find the strength to be angry as he stares at the way Spartacus bends over his thighs. Swooping down to start lapping and slurping at the cum dribbling out of Varro's hole. 

"Jupiters cock!" Varro yelps with a jump. The noises the Thracian was making were down right pervers. Crixus unable to tear his eyes off of the way Spartacus' tongue works and his own cock gives a mild stir at the way he adds a finger. Sucking at the slightly puckered hole as if he couldn't hear the desperate whines of the blond above him. Crixus' mouth opens and closes a bit like a fish out of water seeing Spartacus even shake his head back and forth basically nuzzling his face against Varro, catching every last drop of Crixus' climax as if he was being paid for it. 

"Fuck the gods you would have made an impressive whore." Crixus states awestruck. Varro bucks at the way Spartacus gives a last lingering, suction fueled kiss to the used entrance. Gasping lightly Spartacus sits up with a roll of his shoulders and an arch of his back. Using his thumb to sassily wipe the corners of his mouth, nothing but spit having gathered there. 

"Perhaps, but I would rather choose my partners than have them buy my affections." Spartacus counters swinging a leg over so he was sitting half on top of Crixus and half on the bed. Varro curses squeezing his eyes shut unsure on whether he wants to tell them to shut up again for simply pull Spartacus into him. Both was sounding good right about now. "Watch and learn, and I will show you how to really make him scream." Spartacus informs breathlessly. Crixus opens his mouth to argue but the shout from Varro cuts him off. Having just been fucked, Spartacus was able to push his leaking cock in without any resistance. Rocking his hips and pulling Varro's thighs apart he doesn't hesitate to start ramming. It had been a while since he was the top and Spartacus groans in relief at the welcoming heat.

Crixus carefully steps off the bed watching the two of them intently for a moment before he sees Varro staring at him. The blond nods and Crixus smirks slightly. Spartacus thought he was so fucking smart, and yet Varro could predict almost every move the little rabbit was going to make. And being angled like this, bending Varro in half was just what the blond had expected and planned for. Crixus shakes his head hardly believing it but here they were. The way Spartacus was fucking into him, loudly and apparently thoroughly enjoyable if the grunts and moans from Varro were any indication, it had him with his own hips propped up. Ass slightly lifted in the air and the perfect target for Crixus to land a hard smack. 

"Fuck!" Varro yelps at the same time Spartacus gives a wordless shout. Panting, and completely startled Spartacus glances over his shoulder. "How about a warning Crixus? Damn it." He gasps with a small laugh.

"Apologies, I am simply doing as instructed." Crixus shrugs landing another solid blow to Spartacus' cheeks. The Thracian gasps, the force of it rocking him into Varro at a delicious angle. 

"In-intructed? I thought we were not allowed to tou-AAH!" His questioning interrupted by a loud thwack. Varro moans throwing his head back. Fuck this was working better than he had planned. His spent cock already back to half mast. And the way Spartacus was fucking into him with the occasional jolt from Crixus hitting him made him wonder if he could cum without it being fully erect again. 

"Things change, and besides." Varro gives him a slightly malicious look, "I told you I wanted to see how much you could take." Spartacus moans with the next hit. Crixus hardly waiting a breath between blows. The sound echoing around them and making his thoughts scatter.

"I-fuck, I can take whatever- jupiters cock- Crixus can throw at me." Spartacus proclaims voice quivering as bad as his arms were as he continued to support himself. Varro hums in thought, arching and giving a squeeze of his muscles. 

"Perhaps alone, but accompanied with this?" He rolls his hips reaching up to pull at Spartacus' hair just the way he knows the Thracian likes it. "I don't think you stand a chance Champion." He mutters mouthing at Spartacus' jaw. There was a couple of quick hits that made almost concerning sounds in their wake. 

"Fuck the gods, Varro I-" Varro nips his earlobe with a chuckle. 

"Come on Spartacus, don't you want to see him eating your cum out of me?" He asks quietly giving Crixus a heated stare. One that the Gaul misses as he was too distracted with the way Spartacus' backside ripple under each hit. The dimples in his lower back more prominent everytime he thrusts into Varro and it was all rather enticing. His cock twitching with renewed interest as he recalls which ass was better made for it. He now understands Varro's dilemma, mesmerized by the way Spartacus' skin turns red and then pink, under his touch. There was even a small welt on the underside from where he had given an experimental hit that had Spartacus jumping. 

"Oh fuck, Varro I can't- fuck, Varro." He whimpers clinging to the blond as his hips stutter, a few extra jerks with the last few smacks of Crixus' palm. Crixus and Varro both groan as he goes still. Biting into Varro's neck right where it meets his shoulder Crixus licks his lips watching a shudder ripple through him. Shoulder blades prominent with the movement. 

"Damn Spartacus." Crixus whispers helping him roll over so he could collapse onto the bed. The Thracian gives a smirk eyes closed and chest heaving. 

"Eat bitch." He chuckles with a point. Varro grimaces as Spartacus grabs one of his thighs and pulls his legs apart. Crixus rolls his eyes getting back down on his knees. It was odd how this was something he was so used to being forced to do, but now that it was more of a willing thing, he was mildly nervous. However, Spartacus made him yell from this, then he certainly was. Crixus chuckles realizing everything he and Spartacus do eventually somehow turned into a competition. And this was one he was going to win. 

"Oh fuck." Varro keens grabbing Crixus' head as he begins attacking the abused anus with his tongue. Licking and devouring quickly and expertly, He's a little surprised on how different Spartacus' seed tastes. He wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that he was pullin it out of Varro or not. There was a pang of loss when he thinks about how he was going to be unable to ask Barca. He moans at the way Varro's nails scratch at his scalp bringing his mind back to the task at hand. Because even with Barca and Pietros gone, he has Varro and Spartacus right here with him now. 

"Fuck the gods." He hears some slight awe in Spartacus' voice and he feels a little smug at the way Varro's body arches up against him. Feeling the way he shakes tells him more than the broken sound from the Roman that he was able to bring him to completion. Arrogantly he pulls back with a wet, nasty pop wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"That is how you eat a man's ass." He smirks with a wink at the Thracian. Spartacus swallows thickly using two fingers to spread Varro's cum about, as it puddled across his pelvis and lower stomach. 

"I concede that in that regard you are the more talented." Spartacus whispers moving in and dragging his tongue across the mess on Varro's torso. Crixus' eyes widen as he watches him. Hand twitching with the way Spartacus was twisted leaving his ass in the air. From this position he could see very light bruising and he was curious on how much it would take to make it darker. 

"Fuck the both of you are good with your mouths who the fuck cares?" Varro whines his body rolling to follow Spartacus' tongue. Crixus grins at the same time Spartacus does. 

"We do." They chorus. Varro groans covering his eyes with an arm. 

"You two will be the fucking death of me." He sighs laying still for a moment. Crixus and Spartacus each beam at him before he sits with with a shake of his head. Curls bouncing about. "For now let us all go get some sleep." Crixus notices the way Spartacus' shoulders fall and he was going to ask what the matter was but Varro cups the Thracian's cheek and gives him a firm kiss. "One day if you ask Dominus." Crixus tilts his head trying to figure out what the fuck they were talking about. 

"But why-"

"You know why. Now stop bitching. We will literally see you in a few hours." Varro huffs standing and offering a hand to Crixus. He takes it and the two of them dress while Spartacus pouts from the bed. Sitting with his ankles crossed and making Crixus worry. "The next time you are summoned simply ask and I am sure Batiatus will not have a good enough reason to say no to the Champion of Capua." Varro teases giving Spartacus a kiss to the forehead. Spartacus nods and gives a little wave as Varro and Crixus slip out. 

Silently the two dash across the sands and make it to the halls before Crixus speaks. 

"The fuck was his problem?" He whispers as they peer around corners. Varro glances down at him. 

"Hmm? Oh he wishes for me to stay the night but as we do not have permission to share a cell from Batiatus then I fear any consequences that may be born from a reckless action." Crixus nods understanding. It was one of the many reasons why he Barca and Pietros never risked it. In that aspect Batiatus was at least reasonable. Barca having only asked once for Pietros to share his cell before he was able to confirm it with Ashur in that stupid book of his. He can't imagine how much love and desire he'd have to have for one person alone to risk such a thing. Even him and Naevia never spend more than an hour or two locked in each other's embrace. He hums as they part ways for the night, Varro stealing a quick kiss before he does. The type of love that had to exist for that to happen, he wonders if he would ever feel it. 

A small part of him reminds him that had Gannicus asked him to stay he would have. 

Chapter Text

Her stomach was roiling with disgust as she steps into the water. Even murdering Licinia did not leave her feeling as sick as this plan of hers was. But she could see based off the nerves on his face that it was going to work. She was going to get this child wrapped around her finger and have the House of Batiatus fall to ruin. Without their precious Thracian there would be none but the fucking Gaul to be their champion. And with his injuries he would never rise to the former glories he held. He would be old news and the interest of the crowd would fall. They would go back into debt and fade into the depths of history. Leaving Ilithyia out of it. Freeing her from Lucretia's snake like grip. 

"Are you frightened?" She asks straddling his boney hips. Iliythia thinks she might throw up. This felt so wrong and twisted. It makes her wonder if this was how Seppia felt. Everyone knows the relationship she and her brother have. But this was far worse. Seppius at least wasn't rail thin and staring up at her like a scarred puppy. 

"N-no." Numerous responds unconvincingly. Iliythia smirks with a confidence she doesn't feel. She cups his face noting the amount of baby fat that was still there. His skin softer than her own. It was gross. 

"It's alright if you are." Ilithyia coos mockingly reaching between their wet bodies and grabbing his cock. 

And being absolutely confused when it was still soft. Perhaps he was more nervous than she had anticipated. And if he was too jittery to perform then this wasn't going to work and she'd be trapped in this horrendous place forever. 

"Uh I um..." Numerous stutters not able to look her in the eye. Iliythia raises an eyebrow shifting so she was sitting next to him. 

"Perhaps we start out a little slower?" If this was his first time then maybe he just needed the chance to build up to it. Numerous gives her a fearful expression but doesn't stop her from pressing their lips together. It made her want to throw up but with how unresponsive he and his cock were being her pride was starting to make an appearance. With a small frown she pulls back looking into the clear water and the limp appendage in her grip. "Is there something the matter?" She questions trying to put a bit of laughter in her voice. His face goes red and he frowns down at his cock as if begging it to rise. If the bastards cock was broken then her plan was going up in flames already. "Do you not desire me?" Ilithyia asks in the same tone she once asked Segovax if he desired freedom. 

"N-no no! I -I mean well, I yes, it's um..." His face was beat red and Ilithyia removes her hand studying him quizzically. She's seen the passion in his eyes when watching the games. Had thought she'd seen his cock be stiff and alert through his robes while seeing the carnage. Adrenaline fueling is desires and being turned on just like-

"Do you prefer men?" Ilithyia blurts out tactlessly. Numerous sputters, splashing a little in his haste to back away.

"Wha- what? N-no! Never I, pfft, cock? Wh-who said that I- they're liars!" Ilithyia blinks fighting a smile her hand covering her heart watching him flounder about. It was adorable and the relief she felt crashing through her was almost as good as an orgasm. She giggles a little before composing herself. 

"There stands nothing wrong with it Numerous." For fucks sake what did the boy think men did while away at war? Did he think they brought enough whores in followers camp to satisfy an entire legion? That would be absurd. Her smile falters seeing his shoulders sag. They lived in a society where liking cock was not frowned upon so his reaction was confusing. 

"There is if your father expects an heir." Oh. "A grandchild to carry on the legacy he is passing down to me." Numerous mumbles miserably. Ilithyia nods recalling when she was a child hearing her father complain about the only benefit to a daughter was marrying her off for political gain. The fact that he discovered her over hearing this was one of the reasons why he doted on her, and one of the reasons she was adamant about marrying for love. 

"Well, this is your day is it not?" Ilithyia offers playing with one of the petals in the water. Numerous frowns looking up at her worriedly. "Perhaps, I can arrange a way for you to enjoy what you desire without the fear of your father finding out." It would be easy enough to keep his father away. It had been part of her plan in the first place. Numerous brightens up a little but then grimaces. 

"Woul-wouldn't Batiatus find out?" Ilithyia rolls her eyes. Ply the man with coin and he'd bend over for the boy himself. 

"Not at all. Trust me, I have my ways." Ilithyia coos with a small slap to his arm. Numerous shifts a little but nods. Even from here she could see his cock stir with interest. The possibility of having another man's hands upon him, an alluring thought. One she understands a great deal. "Fabulous. You wait here, I shall return presently." Ilithyia bounds out of the bath highly elated. She wasn't going to have to fuck the child to get what she wanted! Oh this was such a wonderful turn of events! She barely bothered getting dressed as she flounces down the stone steps. Careful to not trip as that would be disastrous on so many levels. The guard gives her a confused look but when she tells him she was looking for Doctore he shrugs and walks off. 

"Domina?" She beams hearing the confused, but calm voice. Oh it would have been wonderful if he had been born a Roman. His deep soothing voice was one of the richest she's ever heard. 

"Doctore just the man I wanted to see." He gives a respectful nod at her, patiently waiting to see what she could possibly need this close to party time. And while she did not have a lot of time to plan this, Ilithyia did know exactly how she wished for this to go. "I was wondering if I could borrow the youngest but disease free gladiator you have." As expected he looked confused and mildly concerned. But after a moment, he nods again. 

"Wait here please." She's sure the fact that she was the wife of the Legatus was the only reason he said please. But that was fine. All she needed was one gladiator and then this whole house could get fucked. It was less than five minutes later, but Ilithyia knows every second she was away from Numerous that his nerves were growing. That they were closer to him backing out. But at long last Oenomaus came back into sight. With an admittedly attractive gladiator. Numidian, bald and with a rather serious face. "Tychos. Less than twenty summers." 

"Oh he's perfect." Ilithyia cheers clapping her hands together quickly. "Gratitude. He shall be back before the festivities." She informs him earning another respectful nod from the Doctore. The Gladiator this, Tychos hesitates for a moment before following her through the gate. With the look on his face she gathers that this was his first time doing so. Which was curious. Maybe there was an age limit to Batiatus' parties when it came to his Gladiators? Numerous was certainly the youngest person she's ever seen in this house. And this was a party specifically for him. Not the standard type of entertainment that the Lanista has become infamous for. "I imagine you have questions. Feel free to ask before we get to the baths." She offers with a wave of her hand. Tychos pauses for a second, having to take the steps two at a time to catch back up. 

"What do you require me to do?" He asks, his voice not as deep as she would have thought. Although that was probably a good thing. No need to scare Numerous with the most manly and rugged male that she could find. It was why she requested someone close to his age. Well, as close as she could possibly find at such short notice. 

"Are you aware of the party your Dominus is planning for tonight?" Ilithyia answers his question with one of her own. He nods at her, momentarily forgetting to keep his gaze down cast. Ilithyia grins, feeling so much like her old self again it was making her dizzy. They reach marble and from here she could see the steps where Licinia's brains were bashed against. Ilithyia freezes staring in horror at them. After a second of silence Tychos clears his throat loudly. Ilithyia shakes her head with a small jump. "Right, yes well, you are to service the guest of honor." Ilithyia explains guiding him towards the baths. "For as long as he desires or until there is no more time to waste." There was still a few hours before guests were to start arriving. There was a lot a couple could do with some privacy. Tychos glances at her before nodding. Whether he's done stuff like this before or not was irrelevant. Clearly he knows how to follow command and had no plans of being difficult or disobedient. Grinning again, Ilithyia peaks in. Seeing Numerous still huddled in the corner, steam curling up from the water meaning he wasn't shaking from being cold. Lovely. 

"Ilithyia!" He gasps noticing her. She giggles stepping in, signaling Tychos to wait a moment. "I-I-I had begun to think..." His concern trails off and Ilithyia gives a fake pout. 

"Did I not tell you to place trust in me?" He shifts looking uncomfortable. "This House offers a rather wide selection and it was not easy picking the very best for you." Numerous blushes looking everywhere but here. "However, I have done just that." With a wave of her hand Tychos steps into view. The water reflecting light about and accentuating the well defined muscles and the contrast of the Gladiator's dark skin and Numerous' pale complexion. "I'll be keeping watch. Have fun." Ilithyia instructs with a pat to Tychos' pectoral as she skips off a little. 

Tychos opens and closes his fist for a moment. Unsure what to do now and waiting for instructions from the magistrates son. The little cunt was staring at him in a mix of terror and awe. It was a nice change from indifference or annoyance, but it didn't give him any direction. He wishes he had a chance to talk to Sophus before coming up here. His friend had never been in this position either, but the shorter man was friendlier with Crixus than he was and would surely have some sort of advice. Tychos shifts from foot to foot, trying to be patient. Although he supposes he would be a higher level Gladiator if he held the desired level of patience that he was attempting to show. Since he rubs the back of his neck after a moment and speaks. 

"Dominus, um, would you like me to join you?" He was here to service the man after all. He uses the word loosely. Possibly only in the terms of this was a male that the Romans considered grown. But Tychos knows there was a lot more to being such than just age. He himself has felt grown since before this little shit was born so. Numerous jumps a little as if he had forgotten that this was a person with a voice and could move. A common trait of Romans so he was at least raised completely Tychos notes with a slight bitterness. Maybe it was best that Sophus wasn't here. The man had a short temper when it came to this sort of disrespect. 

"Oh, uh, yes of course. Str-stri-strip and um, and uh, sit next to me!" It was strange to have a Roman seem so timid and nervous. And this one even. Tychos recalls seeing him on the sands with Spartacus. Bravely peering over the cliff and not flinching when Crixus was beating the fuck out of Duro. Grimacing and having the understanding that the life of a Gladiator was far harder and more difficult than he had imagined but otherwise seeming fearless and purely excited and interested. He and Sophus had joked that the kid wouldn't last half a minute against, Ashur let alone a full day doing what they did. 

"Dominus." Tychos nods making quick work of his subligaria, reasoning that at the very least he was getting an extra bath out of this. The sand sticking to his skin was starting to itch his lower back and it took everything in him to not moan at the warm water seeping into his aching muscles. During the non-winter months, the water below wasn't cold but it wasn't heated either. This felt fucking amazing and he has to fight to not sink down to his shoulders and close his eyes. Keeping track of the way Numerous' eyes were locked on his cock and the way his was rising quickly. "What would you have me do?" Tychos asks after having Numerous staring at him became uncomfortable again. 

"Oh, um... Can- can I touch you?" Numerous asks nervously. Tycho tilts his head studying the young man. He was an odd mix of superiority and timid pleaser. 

"You stand Dominus." He reminds with a slightly amused smile. "You may do whatever you wish with me." Numerous flushes a pretty pink and Tychos was actually sad he stood so young and well Roman. To reassure him of his position, Tychos scoots closer letting a large arm slide behind Numerous' slim frame. He hopes that he wouldn't actually have to fuck him. He might accidentally break. Bones as fragile as the birds Barca used to keep.  

He remains still. Keeping his muscles relaxed until Numerous' finger tips touched them. Flexing wherever the soft, water pruned pads landed. Tychos was breathing evenly but could tell that the Roman was panting. Eyes blown with desire. And he had hardly made it past his chest and shoulders. When his hand dipped in the water to trail down his arm, Tychos pulled it up so Numerous could watch how his fingers danced along his bicep and down a vein leading to his wrist and then over his rough palm. He smiles softly to not startle him as the younger swallows thickly, bravely plunging his hand into the water to traced over the defined abdomen, hesitating, taking a deep breath before shakily stroking two fingers along the length of Tychos' cock. The gladiator glances towards the door and he both was and wasn't surprised to see Ilithyia peering in. The Roman woman had been turning the Ludus on its head for the past few months, and especially the last couple of weeks when she was out of her head. He always took her for the perverted type. And this sort of solidified it. Not completely since the look on her face was more of a crazy person than a horny one, but that was far from the point. 

"Yours is so thick." Numerous breaths out bringing Tychos' attention back to him. His cock has hardly stirred at the meager stimulation, so if he thought this was thick. Tychos represses a chuckle as best as he could. "Is there something humorous about that?" Numerous ponders with a slight frown. It would probably be bad if he hurt the Roman's ego. And it wasn't like the boy's cock was small, it was rather average for someone of his skin color. Nearly cresting the water and thicker than the wrist that it pairs with. If he ended up being a top to someone, he wouldn't disappoint. 

"Not at all Dominus, I was simply curious on if there was something you wished for me to do to you." A good enough excuse and a way to take the focus off of Tychos' cock for a bit. Numerous freezes. Eyes wide and slowly looking up to Tychos' face. He was starting to wonder if the Roman had ever been with another person before in his life. Which could either make this really easy or extremely difficult. It was impossible to guess what command would be directed towards him with the way Numerous was gawking. But he was mentally preparing for everything. 

"Kiss me." And yet he was still caught off guard. Tychos blinks at him stunned by such a simple and innocent request. He was picturing sucking Numerous' cock, eating his ass, or bending him over. Even folding him in half or having Numerous do anything of the sort to him in a show of dominance. But Tychos nods and cups his face with both hands. Pulling him in and slotting their lips together tenderly. Because with him being told to do something so soft he was determined to treat it the same. He wonders if this was how Barca felt towards Pietros and he was a little sad that he was never going to get the chance to ask either of them. Not that he was overly close with either of those two while they were around but still. 

Numerous moans, grabbing onto Tychos' wrists. Nails digging in slightly and he was a little embarrassed about how much the Roman seemed to be enjoying this. How he was shaking as Tychos adds a little more pressure to their kiss. Tilting his head to the side and guiding Numerous' in the opposite direction. He lets a hand card into the damp locks and the other settling on the base of the Roman's neck. Numerous whimpers against him and Tychos uses the opportunity to slip his tongue across his lower lip, encouraging him to open up. It worked, obviously. He might not have as many lovers as the Undefeated Gaul, but he's fucked a few people in his life. The younger tasted of grapes and meats that Tychos would never get the chance to indulge in himself. So he teases and leads Numerous' tongue into his mouth so he could suck the lingering flavors for his own enjoyment. He pays no mind to the way Numerous shivers, but he does pull back at the broken groan that fills the air between them. Blinking he glances down, raising an eyebrow at the white wispy liquid swirling between the two of them. It was difficult to believe but with the proof right here in front of him he couldn't deny that Numerous just came from Tychos' kiss. 

"Dominus?" He breathes out the question, once more unsure on what to do next. 

"Knock, knock." The two of them flinch at the sudden cheerful female voice. Tychos' lips thin as he releases Numerous and slides backwards a little, creating some space. "I hate to interrupt, but some guests have started arriving and I thought you might like the chance to dress before anyone comes looking for you." Ilithyia informs with a fox like grin on her face. Numerous, bright red, nods his agrement, fumbling over his words again. Tchos stands and exits the bath quickly, not having to wait for instructions when it came to this. For now the boy was done with him and he was clearly going to want to dress without Ilithyia standing there. "I'll return him below, and who knows, maybe next time you visit you can have an extended private moment with him, hmm?" Ilithyia suggests patting Tychos' shoulder as he dresses. Numerous doesn't look her in the eye but mumbles something under his breath. The two were quiet as they went back below. Why Ilithyia actually insisted on making sure he not only reached the gate but went through it was beyond him. At least until she grabbed his arm keeping him in place for a second. 

"Domina?" Ilithyia pats his forearm before letting go. It was strange to have expected her grip to be claw like and it be the opposite. Nearly kind even if it was firm. 

"I would not have anyone learn of this." She instructs moving until they had eye contact. "For the sake of his pride and sanity. We wouldn't want him to become embarrassed now would we?" He chooses to believe she means with how fast Numerous finished and not the fact that it was with a slave. So he nods his agreement and lets her kiss his cheek before flouncing off. Out of the Roman women he knew of she was by far the strangest. Shaking his head he heads back towards the sand knowing he wasn't one of the Gladiators that were chosen to be on display up above and thus would be expected to finish out the days training. 

Ilithyia tries to conceal her excitement over this turn of events. Everything today was going her way and it would only be a matter of time before she would be free, forever, from Lucretia and her serpents grip. It made her heart race, but now that she was alone she could hear it. Licinia's laughter in the back of her mind. Having her look around each corner, terrified of seeing her face. Beautiful and deformed because of Ilithyia's actions. Shaking her head, she pops up at the baths again in time for Numerous to finish getting dressed. 

"Gratitude." He murmurs sheepishly. Ilithyia beams grabbing his arm. 

"Oh please, what are friends for?" Numerous smiles at her and it was such a relief to have a male friend that did not wish to sleep with her that she was almost disappointed about the fact. Might have been if he stood older and more toned. They walk a little bit before she hums. "I know Batiatus has it planned for Spartacus to spar with Crixus for your main event." Numerous brightens up his boyish excitement making another appearance. 

"I know, it's going to be amazing! Crixus is the only one who has defeated Spartacus in the past." Ilithyia refrains from rolling her eyes, but only barely. 

"Right, but everyone saw that." She muses as if in thought. Numerous frowns a little. "I've been watching them all train and well, considering Crixus has hardly recovered from his injuries, shouldn't Spartacus be paired with someone more on par with his current skill levels?" Ilithyia questions tapping her chin as she pretends to think. Numerous chews his cheek before nodding. 

"That is true. He fights well with Varro," Numerous notes making Ilithyia sends a prayer of thanks up to the gods. "Do you think the two would make for a good show?" Ilithyia beams at him. 

"Varro is who he trains with on a daily basis when not training the newer gladiators! I think it would be a fun little exhibition." She giggles. Numerous tilts his head. 

"Little?" Ilithyia hums glancing up at him. "I-I don't want anything about this night to appear as such." She wonders if this has something to do with the impressive difference in sizes of his cock and Tychos'. "What do you think we should do to make it more grandiose?" Ilithyia shifts her mouth from side to side, brows furrowed. Making a show of coming up with a solution. 

"Oh! Having it end in blood is always a favorite of the crowd! It's certainly how I like the fights in the arena to end, isn't the same for you?" There was a pang of guilt knowing that it was more than likely going to be Varro to lose. To die. And all the man was guilty of was being the source of Spartacus' happiness and sanity. Her stomach churns wondering if she would even bat an eye had the man not fucked her senseless. Sometimes she worries about being a horrible person, like Licinia or Lucretia. But the longer she stayed here the worse she was going to become and this was just the stepping stone of getting her back to Rome, permanently. To never have to see this stupid boy, or step foot into this haunted house ever again. Numerous brightens up again at her suggestion. And she has to endure the next fifteen minutes of him hurriedly talking about what a great idea it was and how even though Varro stood the lesser Gladiator if he was always sparring with Spartacus then he was going to last longer than two minutes. Luckily he spots his friends and she was able to slip off. Circling the growing crowd and appearing at Lucretia's elbow as if she hasn't had the chance to interact with him at all. This was going to be a long but extremely important night. And she needed to keep her head. As difficult as that was going to be. 

Chapter Text

Fear was a familiar feeling by now. And his heart was pounding in his chest as he was shoved across the hot sands. Body still aching and sore from the night before. Wrists aching as the shackles on them were heated by the blazing sun, rough from years of use and grating against his skin.  Not that any of that mattered now. They were getting closer to the cliff and part of him worries that perhaps Batiatus has simply had enough. That he was just going to have Spartacus thrown of the edge and be done with it. And if that were the case who was going to rescue Sura? The sun was baking his skin and the salt of his sweat hitting his freshly scabbed cuts burned. His heart was pounding in his chest each step closer they took, and every time he attempted to glance behind him or slow down, the guard on his right grabbed his arm painfully and gave Spartacus another shove. The last one hard enough to knock him to the ground. Hands scraping against the sandy stone ledge in an attempt to catch himself. 

Spartacus' eyes widen and he couldn't get his breathing to slow down. Staring at the bottom of the cliff has fear clenching his throat and gasping a little for air, hard puffs each time was the only thing keeping him from completely freaking out. A trick Varro taught him now that he recalls. Fuck was that dried blood? Were those bones? Fuck the gods they really have thrown people off of this damned thing before! And it stood to reason that he was next! 

He flinches a little when a guard yanks him by his shoulders, forcing him to roll over. Yet relief floods him when he spots Batiatus striding forward. The sun was blinding him, but he knows that if he could talk to the man, apologize for underestimating that stupid fucking Gaul then they could move past this. Spartacus knows the man is upset. Could even hear it in the way he walks up. And it was actually concerning that he had Doctore clear the sands for this talk. Just after morning meal and not allowing the rest of the men to begin training just yet was odd. Denying Spartacus food was not. 

Although stepping on his groin was unnecessary. 

Spartacus groans and instinctively curls a little, halfway to reaching up and shoving the pain off before he was able to stop himself. Groaning loudly as it happens and letting his head thunk backwards against the rocks to squint up at the man. He was mostly shadowed but if he shifted in the right way he would be blocking the sun from blinding Spartacus. 

"Do you think me a fool?" Batiatus questions leaning down putting one hand on his hip and the other on his left thigh. Adding to the pressure and making him grimace for a second. 

"No Dominus." He speaks dutifully. Mostly because they were directly on the edge. He understands that so far his luck has held fast, but at the moment it was more of a fifty/fifty chance that Batiatus was going to kick him off. 

"Yet you dishonor me." His voice was slightly hoarse with emotion and Spartacus knows that wasn't going to bode well for him. In some shape or form at least. "An agreement reached! An oath sworn," Batiatus waves his hand as he talks making the Thracian's nerves all the worse. "you would submit to gladiatorial training." He needed no reminder. "Call me master." Spartacus shakes a little trying to will his cock to somehow escape being crushed under the heavy shoe that was grinding down. Hearing more than seeing Batiatus speak through gritted teeth has him peaking at him. "Attend to the rules." He adds with his top lip curled in frustration. Another wave of his hand, but the foot was blessedly removed at last. "In return I would search for your precious wife." He relaxed too soon and loudly groans in pain at the hard shove his crotch was given. "But your haste, bested you." Spartacus nearly grimaces knowing there was a lot more to come before he was able to get them back on track. "Defying Doctore," Spoken as though it was a large offense, "Maneuvering to usurp Gneaus to face Crixus in the arena." There was a bit of disdain in the way the Gual's name was said, but if Spartacus was able to 'usurp' so easily then Gneaus would have fucking died so there he saved the retiarius  fighter. The man was fucking welcome. "Your first contest." Spartacus wonders if Batiatus was actually this loud or if it was because of the echo off the cliff wall. "With Crixus." He whispers that last part with a little smirk and a jerky movement. As though tormented by Crixus' very existence. "The Champion  of fucking Capua!" Both lips were curled now and if not for the obvious frown, being able to see each of Batiatus' white teeth could be misconstrued as a smile. 

"I realize the mistake in it." He defends having the ability to admit when he has made a mistake. Spartacus blinks giving a quick glance around, he could have sworn he heard Sura laughing just now. 

"Mistake?!" He scoffs startling Spartacus. They stare at each other for a split second before Batiatus groans throwing his head back, rubbing the top of his head eyes squeezed shut. The epitome of frustration. "Fuck," He curses throwing his hands down knees buckling for a second. ""You had the crowd!" It almost sounded as though he was attempting to not scream even as he points at Spartacus. The Thracian swallows thickly still not entirely sure what the crowd had to do with a fight that was won or not. Batiatus kneels down and the fact that he was getting in his face makes Spartacus close his eyes, doing what he could to shut out his fears. "You survived execution." Here they fucking go again with this weird retelling of what was apparently Spartacus' fucking legend. "Against four of Solonius' men!" He was there, he remembers well. He's pretty sure there was still a lump on the back of his head from the hit he took. It didn't hurt anymore unlike the bruises and cuts from Crixus yesterday but still/ He turns his head to the side unsure what to do with his hands, trying to subtly brush some of the grainy sand from his chest. "Your name was on every tongue!" Spartacus lulls his skull back in Batiatus' direction, getting the gist that his story being told was an appeal for Batiatus' ludus specifically. "Now? After your showing with Crixus, it is spoken of with contempt." Similar to how he just spoke the Gaul's name, but that wasn't Spartacus' business. Batiatus has his brows furrowed and lips pulled so tightly there was actually a few less wrinkles than normal, it also made the veins in his neck stick out, further proof of his rage. "Your little 'mistake' makes reunion with your wife problematic!" He emphasizes leaning closer, a bit of spit flying as he talks through his teeth. 

But Spartacus was of a one track mind. 

"You have knowledge of her?" Surely he wouldn't be waving this carrot in his face if he didn't! Right? For a moment his heart stops seeing the way Batiatus shakes his head. But once it rolls he just knows it was in disbelief. His eyes were glued to the way Batiatus' gazed over the landscape behind him, biting his lip, clearly attempting to muster up all of the patience that he could. 

"The Syrian Glaber sold her to was last noted headed North." His head jerks in the direction and it was all Spartacus could do to stop himself from grabbing the man's arm. "We've yet to divine their destination." But they had a direction! They had a lead! Meaning she was in reach!

"You must keep searching for her!" He implores sitting up a little, the back of his knuckles brushing against Batiatus' arm. The man scoffs with another little shake of his head. 

"You shit on honorable agreements and press for fresh demands?" His voice continued to lower as he spoke, leaning further in. Shifting his position just slightly while a new vein appears across his forehead. "Tell me Thracian, how will you pay for her release if found?" They were uncomfortably close, Spartacus could smell the wine and fruit on Batiatus' breath, and he does what he could to lean back further into the rocks for any amount of distance. It was also a stupid question. He was a gladiator now was he not? "Hm? Her transport?" Spartacus closes his eyes when Batiatus shoves him a little, the itch to fight, the instinct to shove punch or even throw him off was getting difficult to resist. But for Sura's safety he must. "Do you shoot magic coins out of your ass?" Fucking Romans he swears, always so dramatic. "If so squat and produce!" He snaps adjusting again giving Spartacus a once over filled with irritation, now bracketing both arms on either side of the Thracian, blocking him in. 

"I shall fight in the arena my winnings-" He talks faster and louder with each word, knowing the importance of them.

"No one wishes to see you fight!" Batiatus interrupts him, his words echoing in Spartacus' head like a bad dream. Another little head shake with the tiniest of smirks. "The crowds favor, like the wind is fleeting." But they like to see Gladiator fights! It didn't make any sense to him why their opinion over one man fighting for his life over another would make a difference! "Their interest in you has blown out." Spartacus makes a face as he listens. It boggled his mind that it would have. Batiatus scoffs again pushing himself up, with a quick motion to the guards who quickly and with far more force than he believed necessary; pulled him to his feet. He was panting, due to both the heat and his concern for Sura. 

"There must be a way for me to fight!" He insists holding up his fists and jangling the chains that bind him as purposefully as possible. All the while Batiatus was dusting sand off his hands. 

"Only one." The Roman looked mildly disgusted and for a split second, Spartacus was fearful that it might be some sort of perversion. Varro told him about the poor slave girl he was forced to ram into, twice, just a couple of nights ago. His heart gives a squeeze, thinking about his new friend. A good man who deserved far better than he was being given at the moment. "In a place where you needn't follow rules, because none exist." Batiatus' eyes flickered over Spartacus, as though determining his current wounds and what needed to be done about them. Spartacus squints a little, glad for the dramatic pause so he could catch his breath. Even if it means Batiatus taking a, slightly intimidating step forward. "The pits of the underworld." Well no that sounded not good at all. "Fight there and survive and you will fill both our hands with coin. And-" rather unnecessary to focus on the cut on his lip but alright. "You may yet feel your wife's touch again." There was something akin to pity in Batiatus' eyes as he lifts a hand, stroking the side of Spartacus' cheek almost gently with it. Cupping the Thracian's cheek before giving a rough shove. "Send him to Barca and Ashur." He instructs the guards turning on his heel and headed off. 

Spartacus winces as he was pulled again. The heat from the sun making the burning sand all the worse, and certainly not helping with the heavy shackles. If this was the conversation they needed to have, then perhaps they should have just started it in whatever room cell thing he was being taken to now! Grumbling under his breath about the mind of a Roman making no sense he trudges on. Wondering if he will be able to see Varro prior to his departure. He wanted to wish the curly blond luck in the upcoming days. . He curses a little when stumbling over the threshold and a guard nearly sends him tumbling back to the ground with how hard he pushed him. 

"He's yours for now." The guard informs meeting the Beast of Carthage and the Cripple in the hallway. Ashur nods respectfully, but Barca just motions to the cuffs and waits impatiently for them to be taken off. It was a small comfort, making Spartacus wonder if Barca was being kinder than normal due to the mark that they both bare. Although the thought was fleeting when the bastard throws Spartacus into a nearby room, manhandling him over to a stone bed thing and knocking him down onto it with a loud grunt. His skull thuds painfully against it. Groaning Spartacus cradles the side of his head, glancing up at Ashur. 

The Syrian looked too damned happy for Spartacus' comfort. Tossing some sort of ashy substance across his body. The cloud of dust making Spartacus turn his head and close his eyes, doing what he could to keep it from getting in them. He knows Barca was standing by. Not sure what the purpose of the Beast was just yet as it seems Ashur would be in charge of getting Spartacus all dusted up, dressed up or whatever it was he's doing to prepare Spartacus for the pits. He almost delicately trails some darker powder along Spartacus' waist band, pausing in his task and sighing in sync with the Thracian. The sound has him peak and he sees sympathy reflected back at him. 

But then the bastard was fingering Sura's sash and all thoughts were lost. He sits up jabbing Ashur in the neck with his elbow while throwing the arm with the band down quickly. Yanking it out of his dirty Syrian hands. He shoved a little harder than he means to, but with Ashur resisting, he couldn't be blamed for the Syrian stumbling backwards into the iron bars separating this room with the next. Barca was overly excited to leap in, trapping Spartacus' arms with his own. Laughing as he does. Glancing over at Ashur who was leaning heavily against the wall. Spartacus follows his gaze and was a little confused to see a bit of rage in the Beasts eyes. As though actually upset that the cripple got hurt. 

"Thracian bitch." Ashur snips in a small pout. Barca was still laughing until they all heard Batiatus. 

"Barca release." And instantaneously, like an obedient attack dog, the Beast does. The smile falling from his face and all eagerness for anything seeming to die out. As though each time he blindly follows a command a small part of him dies. Spartacus' heart breaks for him a little, but it still was no cause for anyone to touch Sura's band. Just as he was re-tightening it while Barca stands, arms folding and Ashur limps closer once more Batiatus hits him with devastating news. "I think your wife's binding should remain here." Spartacus' blood runs cold at the very thought, his breathing still not returned to normal with the altercation. "Where you're going you might lose it, along with an arm." Batiatus informs with an inclination of his head and a face that Spartacus took as a mix between pity, regret and disgust. His hand extends and for a brief moment Spartacus debates on resisting. Yet there was something about the grin that Barca shoots towards Ashur that makes him think this was not the fight he wished to end his life on. Especially with the almost sexual tension it held. It could be why Ashur hadn't looked up. Still 'fixing' his clothes from being thrown. Spartacus sighs heavily and instead of arguing he just fumbles over the knot for a second before following the silent command of handing it over. Batiatus gives Barca a look and a jerk of his head before turning on his heel once more. "Finish preparing him."

Ashur was standing over him again, all traces of kindness and sorrow gone from his eyes. More dirt, and ash, and black coal like powder was tossed against his skin. Rubbed and smeared as though he were being painted. Barca says nothing while he waits next to the door. An unnerving thing to have, and especially since Spartacus can see the way he was burning holes into Ashur's skull. The desire to break words nearly a corporal thing. The second Ashur was finished Barca takes a menacing step forward grabbing the front of his robes. 

"Stay Thracian." Barca barks not looking at him. "Or else find yourself over the fucking cliff." Spartacus nods watching Ashur being drug out, stumbling over his words and his bad leg as they go. Whatever task they had to do next must be of grave importance, or at least he had thought as much until he could see the door to the next room being swung open and Ashur falling backwards into it. Spartacus lifts his head just a little to be able to see what he could. Barca stalking forward eyes blazing as he backs Ashur into a corner. Half of the Carthaginian was blocked by the stone wall, as was all of Ashur, but Spartacus could hear well enough. 

"Apologies I-"

"Are weak and pathetic!" Barca hisses interrupting what was sure to be a well prepared speech. "You have the mark of the brother hood, you have actually fought and won in the fucking arena! And you let a pathetic rabbit best you?" There was some stuttering from Ashur that Spartacus couldn't make out. But he didn't really care about that. Hearing Barca chastise Ashur as though he actually cared about the Syrian was highly interesting considering from what he's seen Barca is Crixus' best friend and Ashur is nobodies friend. 

"He surprised me and I-" There was a smack sound and a small yelp making Spartacus flinch. 

"Do I not already do enough to keep the rest of the fucking brotherhood off of your back? Huh?" Spartacus' eyes widen hearing and seeing Barca undoing his belt, shoving his subligarium to his thighs. The stone wall still being in the way, but Spartacus having been here long enough to know exactly what the man's cock looks like. At least flaccid. Was it currently hard? Half mast? Why was it out in the first place? What was he doing? Wasn't he sleeping with Pietros?!

"You do! You do friend and I graciously appreciate- gyuk!" Barca's knees have bent a little with the choking sound, shoulders hunched and a deranged gleam in his eyes that sends a shiver of fear down Spartacus' spine. 

"Now I have to add rescuing you from the fucking Thracian to my list?" There was some gargled noises while Spartacus stares in horror, seeing the way Barca's hips rocked. Violently, too rough for anyone on the receiving end to be enjoying it.  "Got me all fucking riled up for a fight for nothing." He pants grinning manically down at his victim.  He doesn't know what to do, to think. Any moment someone, either one of those two or some guards will be coming to collect him to go to these pit things. Does he tell Varro? Does he tell Batiatus? Will he survive to speak of this to anyone? Should he?! "Mhr, fuck!" Barca suddenly groans his back arching, showing off his ass and slim waist so well that Spartacus almost forgets he was actively assaulting someone. The Beast pants for a few seconds before pulling backwards. The gruff coughing and wheezing from Ashur has Spartacus shaking his head and forcing himself to look at the ceiling. Pretending as if he saw and heard nothing. He has more important matters to occupy his thoughts other than if two slaves were fucking or not. ... Right?

A guard appears after some time and as he expected, shackles him right back on up. At least he was given a pitiful excuse for shoes. Meaning they were in fact leaving the Ludus as he had thought. Where and for how long still remained a mystery. These so called Pits were probably nothing more than another arena. He's survived every time he has taken the sands and expects this to be no different. He couldn't afford it to be anyways. Needs to get the money to be able to save Sura. Barca and Ashur round the corner, neither looking worse for ware. Ashur thumbing the corner of his mouth but that was all the indication given that anything happened at all. The Beast's face remained passive as he guides the small group towards the lanai and the training sands. Making sure Spartacus was one step in front of him, making sure he did not attempt anything apparently. 

The sun was nearly blinding, but more so with the way it glistens off of golden skin and curls. Spartacus slows down and nearly stops when he spots Varro. Sparring with the fucking Gaul of all people and looking as amazing as ever. Toned body perfectly defined and reminding the Thracian that while it has been months since he last laid in the most intimate of terms with his wife, it has also been a few years since he has had a male lover. And perhaps, it was time to start that again. Although he should run it by Sura first of course. Meaning more than ever he needed to get to these pits and overcome this newest hurdle that yes his hubris might have more than likely have caused. Barca gives him a rough shove on his lower back that makes him want to slow down even more. 

"Keep moving you fuck!" He snaps with a harder push, angling them onto the sand and near the entrance of the gates. Next to Kerza who was dressed up and splattered in what Spartacus is sure was a similar fashion to himself. Seems he was not fast enough for Barca's liking, since when they reached the little wall, Spartacus was forcibly turned around and the shove on his shoulders was bruising. He's sure that if Barca thought of him as anything other than a useless rabbit he would have been spat on before the man walks off to the side to await Ashur and Batiatus. He thinks the smack upside Kerza's head was highly uncalled for as well. He can tell that the fugitivus was nervous. Sitting on the balls of his feet and bouncing a little. His breath unsteady and he keeps glancing over at the other Gladiators. Just missing each time Hamilcar turns to look at them over his shoulder. 

"Tell me I don't look like I have been shit from a boar's ass like you." He tries to break the awkward silence. Spartacus glancing around before giving Kerza a quick encouraging look. Kerza gives him a once over the lack of hope in his eyes rather discouraging. 

"I am not dying in the pits." Kerza mutters lowering his head for a split second. He then throws his shoulder and gives a small head butt to the wall behind them with a harsh grunt. "I'll show these fucking cunts my cock was forged in Vulcan's flame!" Spartacus opens his mouth to try and give support or to calm him down and tell him to be reasonable, he's not entirely sure which. "I will fuck them all!" He shouts gaining the attention from Doctore as he stands eager and ready. The Numidian giving a small nod, as though to tell Kerza that was the correct attitude to have. 

Unfortunately he also gained the attention of Barca who smacks him upside the head again. 

"Shut the fuck up." The Beast huffs with an eye roll. Spartacus sighs and shakes his head. Perhaps what he witnessed earlier could be used to gain the upper hand on Barca, and at the very least get the man to stop bullying him. He stands ready to say something when Ashur and Batiatus appear. Both appearing more serious than Spartacus recalls seeing them. 

"They stand ready?" Batiatus questions earning a nod from those barring the mark. "Good. Let us head on out then. The faster we do this the faster it is over. For all of us." This place must truly be terrible if he was acting like this. 

The hike down was as uneventful as ever. Batiatus talking to Ashur and Barca, making a comment about Lucretia and something to do with Barca's cock that was met with unsure and hesitant laughter. Ashur and Batiatus whispering while Barca keeps Kerza and Spartacus moving. Kerza continuing to swear up and down that he was not going to die in the fucking pits. That he has the mark of the brotherhood and will prove that he earned it. And Spartacus feeling continuously as though there was something, someone just over his shoulder. Each time he looked of course there was nobody there and he gained another curse or push from Barca as a result of slowing them down. 

They wound through the streets, noting this way and that, people lurking in the shadows. Or families rushing to be inside in time for dinner or bed. The market painfully and obviously empty. Closed up for the night. The City of Capua now a haunting memory of how it stands during the day, with the arena being the daunting shadow enveloping those unfortunate enough to be close. The monument of death and Spartacus' shame passed without much more than a second glance as they continue their journey. On the outskirts they come across a building that seemed to have been built upside down. In a horrid state of disrepair and a small bit of light coming from it were the only other noticeable details from the outside. There was a quick moment when Ashur swipes Kerza and Spartacus free of their chains, discreetly placing them within his robes, clearly intent on replacing them after the fights. When Batiatus knocks on the door Spartacus half expects it to fall in. But a gruff voice was heard and Batiatus mutters something close to the wood and it was swung open. 

"The fuck?" Spartacus whispers to himself squinting. Barca flicks the back of his head and shoves him forward after the other three. The inside was just as confusing as the outside. Wooden steps went over beams with a little awning as though for shade despite the roof over head. A glance over the edge showing a little square of sand that reminded him so much of the training sands they used back at the Ludus. Just covered in more blood. With chains and hooks dangling from the tall ceiling and pits of fire carved into the stone walls that illuminated the place. From what he could see there was a strange black spiral thing that held a naked woman in it, her arms above her head put on full display but she seemed either passed out or dead. There was already a large crowd clamoring and howling below, and Spartacus could see a pair of men grappling desperately, yelling in pain and effort. 

"Come, Kerza is up next and then Thracian you are to follow." Spartacus nods while Kerza grunts still attempting to show no fear even though the color drains from his face. As they descend Spartacus notes about three different doors all leading to the gods only know where. Batiatus guiding them towards a cell at the bottom of the flight they were on and motioning to a guard. The amor was unlike anything Spartacus has ever seen before, made of leather and spikes doing little in the actual ways of protection he would have guessed. But the intimidation made it hard to dispute. 

"Good luck you mad fuck." Kerza hisses at him when the door shuts. Sighing and nodding Spartacus goes to sit, content to wait patiently and horribly reminded of the first time he was brought to the arena. At the very least he is no longer wearing shackles. Still, the vibrations of the crowd's stomping and yelling with excitement did little to keep his stomach from twisting with unpleasant memories. Watching his friends bodies be dragged back one by one, being forced to witness Drenis be killed for entertainment? It brought a sour taste to his mouth. 

"Witness! The Captive Beasts!" Spartacus grimaces hearing the well he has no idea what they call whoever was in charge here, but he hears the man shout. Thracian dog he has been called multiple times, but he has never felt more as the rabbit Crixus compares him to. His shoulders roll forward at the thought of the Gaul. "....with blood!" Fuck Romans liked a speech. No matter fucking what, there was always someone giving a damned speech before a fight. It was ridiculous. "Behold! Ixion!" The crowd roars with pleasure and Spartacus at least knows the name of the man who stands favored in such a horrid place. "Behold! Kerza!" A lot of booing. Spartacus' heart goes out to the man. Doing nothing more than to try to stay alive. Poor bastard more than likely was going to die, no matter the amount of fire he claims his cock was forged in.  "Or CURSE THEM with empty hands!" Curse them with what? Spartacus bites his tongue knowing he should have been paying attention instead of lost in thoughts. 

"Good luck brother." He mutters knowing it is what he should have said and what Crixus would. Bastard was all about the fucking brotherhood after all. There were some words shouted that he had no idea what they meant, and the crowds approval for whatever they do mean. Whatever was spoken next must have been the start of the fight, although Spartacus couldn't make out what it was over the cheering. 

What he does hear is Kerza and this Ixion shouting. Could hear the wind whistle as weapons of some sort cut through the air. An occasional thunk of wood against flesh. And a hard familiar thud of a body hitting the sand. His heart was pounding and he prays to gods he doesn't believe in that his fellow Gladiator made it out alive. Because if Kerza could, then certainly so could Spartacus. Right? From where he was sitting he could see the back of Batiatus' head. His fist against a stone pillar and muttering words he couldn't make out. He sees blood flying and more shouting, less from Kerza now the fact and sight making his heart sink. More rapid horrid sounds and Spartacus knows this was going to be a short fight. He could swear he hears a woman shout:

"Take his fucking cock off and through it!" But Batiatus' angry growl draws his attention more. Spartacus swallows thickly his hands beginning to sweat. He had barely survived the arena against Solonius' men. Failed to defeat Crixus. What if this was not a fight he could win? What would happen to Sura? Or even his friend Varro? The beating and shouting continues, renewed with vigor and Spartacus leans his head back with a little shake. Just because Kerza failed does not mean he would too. There was a final loud ringing hit and the sound of blood splattering. Once the crowd let out a collective 'Yeah!' Spartacus closes his eyes and silently says goodbye to the fugitivus. 

"Shit!" Spartacus glances up seeing Batiatus turn around, his suspicions confirmed with one quick curse from his Dominus. With Barca blocking his view it was difficult to make out the expression on the man's face but Spartacus knows it had to be unfiltered rage. Whatever it was Ashur says to him though stops Batiatus from coming closer to Spartacus. In face the man turns around. 

If he held any interest in the conversation that was being had he might have paid a little attention. Instead he was just opening and closing his fists. Trying to will his breathing to stay under control and to not panic. Batiatus saved him in the arena the other night. Yet something tells him there would be no saving anyone here. No stopping the fight for any reason at all. Spartacus will be well and truly fucked if he does not win. Meaning Sura would be too. And he just couldn't allow that to happen. He must win. No matter the cost. Whoever Batiatus was, must have been someone threatening him. Considering Barca and Ashur both stepped forward to flank him. Not that it mattered. 

"Ixion! Victor!" The declaration at last made.

"You wanna face me?!" Spartacus' stomach clenches hearing the mocking shout. He has no time to dwell of course. The guard loudly unbolting his cell. Spartacus standing quickly at the sound and movement. He takes a nervous step forward with a cautious glance at the guard. The man either impatient or just cruel, reaches in and yanks the Thracian out faster. Guiding him forward by the elbow until Spartacus was in front of him. Distractedly he glances at the trio he arrived with, and past them to see another black snake coil thing, with a relatively thin man hanging from this one, cock hard even as the rest of him was limp eyes dead and unblinking, adding to the mystery on whether or not he was alive. Glancing right ended up making his empty stomach nearly expel itself.

Ixion, he presumes. Covered in blood wearing some horrific human leather face maske, and holding up a slab of meat as he walks. Spartacus gasps when he passes, clearly able to read the 'Fugitivus' tattoo across the forehead of Kerza's face. Blood streaming from the, surprisingly well carved eye holes, as though they were tears. The man was huge, and bulky making Spartacus readily understand why the Roman held no chance. Especially if that giant hammer thing that was being drug off the ground was Ixion's weapon. 

Directly across from him stood Batiatus, looking frustrated and disappointed, Barca, who was huffing and seemed unimpressed, tucking his thumbs into his subligaria, and a disgusted looking Ashur who was stroking his growing beard. Side eyeing Ixion in a manner akin to checking his shoe to see what he stepped in. Batiatus sighs meeting Spartacus' gaze and stepping forward Barca on his heels.

"May the gods fare you better Thracian." Batiatus visibly swallows turning his gaze forward, the strain in his neck revealing the tension he held. "For both our sakes." That seemed to be said more to himself than to Spartacus. So he doesn't give an answer. He simply steps forward to where the Pit Master was waiting. A body that looked fairly mangled, strung upside down on the far other side of him. Spartacus isn't sure if the fact that Batiatus and them went up the stairs meant they had faith or not, but he strangely would have preferred them to stay down there with him. 

"Witness the Captive Beasts!" Spartacus nearly rolls his eyes again, doing what he could to study his opponent. The man stepping up on the other side of the little raised platform. Smirking as though he wore more than just a leather scarf thing with strings covering his body and subligaria and a weird leather mask. He was either grimacing or grinning it was difficult to tell with the way his jaw was jutted out. "Quenching our thirst with blood! Set to die in the pits!" The crowd cheers and Spartacus, wide eyed, looks towards the ground. If he does at the very least Crixus' fuck ass would be happy. "Payment for their offensive births!" If Kerza wasn't Roman he would have said that was racist. Offensive was a bit harsh. He glances back over to see his opponent still staring at him making him highly uncomfortable. "Let death ascend anew!" Poetic. There was that at least. "Behold, Myrmex!" Wasn't that a Greek goddess of insects or something? Fuck were there any Grecian Gladiators he could ask should he make it out of this? Either way he chants Myrmex's name several times in his head, to be sure to properly mourn the man. "Behold, Spartacus!" Myrmex was received far better than he was. Batiatus was right. Contempt was what his name was spoken with. How embarrassing. Did someone just say he fights like a whore? Ouch. "What weapons, shall the gods bless them with?" Oh that earlier line makes much more sense now, wait was he going to say it again? Does he say the same damned thing before every- "Or curse them with empty hands?!" He does alright that had to get annoying. Especially if the fights were short. "Choose your fate!" Spartacus' head snaps to a woman breaking through the crowd. As anointed with their 'outfit' as the Pit master. A large snack collar covering her throat and having lots of dangling chains across her collar bone. Her nipples covered by gold circles with a small bar connecting the two of them. Her 'skirt' a lesser form of the necklaces she wore with a rather small erect cock curling from the dark patch between her thighs. Yet the shocking feature was the gold band that was in place of her left hand. Having her be the one forced to carry a bowl of bones forward checked out in terms of cruelty. Her pretty face showing no fear, nor resentment nor anger and Spartacus found himself unable to tear his gaze from her rather impressive ass as she turns and struts off. 

Oddly enough he was thinking of Crixus again.

When he forces his attention back he sees that Myrmex has already selected a bone from the bowl and wonders if he needed to wait for permission or to just dive in as well. 

"Myrmex draws," What looks like part of a hip bone to Spartacus, "SPHAIRAI!" Which was fucking what? Myrmex drops the bone back in the bone and from the corner of his eyes Spartacus watches him turn to one of the guards standing behind them and fixate something onto his knuckles. Bands of leather with sharp spikes attached. Not good. He was given a pointed look and Spartacus reaches in the bowl to pull out a small bone with sharp edges. Could be a shoulder blade, but he glances at the Pit master questioningly. "Spartacus draws; CAESTUS!" Was that a person? It sounded like a fucking name. He dutifully turns and accepts the weapons handed to him. Brass looking gloves that fit over his knuckles and nothing more. Meaning they were at least attempting to make this a fair-ish fight. His weapons not being that different than his opponents, but with a decided disadvantage to keep things interesting. It was better than nothing though, and more than anything Spartacus was confidant in his abilities in a fist fight. "We have! But a single rule!" Could the man just finish a sentence? "Only one survives!" Why was he waving his fists like that? This crowd needed no extra hyping! Spartacus turns a little away, holding his knuckles up to his face and whispering under his breath. Hoping to make it out of this alive so he could see Sura again. "Mongrel! On Mongrel!" Better than him being a rabbit fed to a mongrel he guesses. 

It was actually rather civil. They way they were lead to the sands. Guided almost. No harsh words, or demeaning sneers not from the guards anyways. His opponent wasn't scowling at him looking ready to eat him alive. He felt almost respected. Which was strange. Especially with the crowd so close and screaming the most violent and wild demands. Spartacus was worried if they might get injured. And half of them were already covered in blood so how was anyone to notice if they did? Spartacus sighs keeping his eyes on Myrmex and deciding there were pros and cons to both the pits and the arena. And as of right this second he was unsure on which one he preferred. 

Then of course Myrmex brings the spikes up to his lips and digs in with much more force than Spartacus thinks is necessary just to draw blood. Spartacus watches in mild horror at the obvious pain the man was putting himself through, wondering how it was the gladiators back at the Ludus would not have shown so much weakness. Before he could delve too far into his own thoughts, the blood was spit at him and Myrmex was lunching forward, fist raised high ready to strike. 

Spartacus leans back eyes wide, arms shoving more air than the arm he was aiming at. Immediately he ducks avoiding another attempted blow. Pathetically he tries one of his own, Myrmex easily countering by smacking Spartacus' left arm, leaving him open for a big right hook. He misses and Myrmex wraps their arms together, slinging one over Spartacus' shoulders and dragging him in for a head butt. It was all so quick and so sudden, Spartacus had no time to think and his instincts were being fought, he wanted to flee not fight, wanted to go crawling back to the Ludus and beg Oenomaus to teach him everything he knows so he could escape this place. Only a few seconds difference but he now knows he absolutely prefers the arena!

Blood spills from his nose with the second head butt, Spartacus doing what he could to grapple. To stay holding on and upright. There was a ringing in his ears and his vision was already blurry. The pain in his face making his lip curl in displeasure. He's backed against the wall, using all of his strength to keep from actually touching it, knowing that being cornered like this was bad enough. Myrmex then sends both their hands flying up, making Spartacus lose his hold on the man. There was only a split second where he had a chance! He could kick or punch, but the split second was gone as fast as it came. Getting sliced by the jagged spikes on the back of Myrmex's knuckles has his knees buckling. The force of the hit making Spartacus land heavily on them and his opponent takes advantage, kneeing him in the face, with Spartacus almost unable to bring his arm up to block the full force of the hit. 

He bets Crixus would be laughing at him. 

Spartacus tries to gather his thoughts and keep the stupid Gaul from them. Dazed he barely scratches at the hand roughly cupping the side of his face and pulling his hair. Fuck, Varro would tell him what to do, how to get out of this fucking mess. How and why Spartacus thinks this he is unsure. Just glances up, when the hand on him shifts to start choking him, in time to see Myrmex lifting his fist high. Earning loud cheers from the crowd. For a moment he thinks the man is going to punch him upside the head. Panic rises in him once more when instead he carefully brings the spikes low, aiming, right at Spartacus' fucking eye! Grunting and groaning his free hand grabs Myrmex's wrist, brows furrowed in distress and pushing with all of his might while suddenly fighting to breathe. He gives a small shout of effort and when Myrmex pulls back to throw a jab, Spartacus leans out of the way, feeling the vibrations in the wood behind him when the fist hit it. Shocked he almost doesn't raise his arm to shield his head when another slashing motion was brought down on it. He knows he needs to get the fuck out of the corner. To get back on his feet! He just has no idea what to do! There were so many options and he was unsure on which one would work! Which would bring success and therefore his life?

Now the bitch was kicking. 

Spartacus coughs when the first one connects with his ribs, making him jolt. The second hitting his elbow as arms were flung up to protect his skull and organs again. His whole arm going numb with the contact. Only for the fucker to stomp on his shoulder. Not giving Spartacus a chance to breath, recover or anything like that. The blood was rushing in his ears and Spartacus clutches at the sand beneath him for a brief moment. Knowing that he was probably going to die here. Far from his beloved wife. His new kind friend and any sort of stupid false ideals of honor and glory. 

"DO SOMETHING!" He hears Batiatus shout suddenly. Eyes snapping open and realizing his life was not the only one at stake. If the House of Batiatus fell to ruin, then Sura would never be saved! And if he dies? Batiatus wouldn't have a reason to either! Plus how would Varro pay off his debts? His wife and his child would they starve?

Oh fuck the gods and Barca was watching. 

The fucking Beast of Carthage was going to tell Crixus everything! And there was no fucking way he was going to let the stupid fucking Gaul think that he died cowering in a corner! He might have underestimated the man once but it was not going to happen again. And if Spartacus desired to live to see the day, to show Sura that he could beat that pompous arrogant fuck then Batiatus was right. He needed to do something.

Panting, unsure on what result it would bring, Spartacus grabs the leg that Myrmex was standing on. Knocking him to the ground as he rolls. Flinging himself forward and away from the fucking wall with a pain gasp. He had intended to grab the man's arm but he missed. And so on his hands and knees he grits his teeth and forces himself to his feet at the same time Myrmex was. Spartacus nursing his injured shoulder and making sure his back was no longer against or even facing the wooden beam. Myrmex doesn't hesitate to take the two steps forward and try a swiping back hand. Spartacus manages to dodge it, there was a secondary attack with the other hand that grazes his chest. Spartacus catches the next hit, his bicep erupting in pain, joining the sharp throbs from the rest of his scratches and aches from his bruises. Spartacus grabs the wrist from his arm and uses it to uppercut Myrmex as hard as he could. 

The shout of pain and small spurt of blood was encouraging. So Spartacus kept doing it. Crying out each time he shoves the spikes into Myrmex's skin. Getting his face, his neck, the hand that he brought up to try and block a hit. The two of them walking a little since each blow has them taking a step. They spin a bit when there were a couple of spiked jabs to Spartacus' ribs and side, even as he keeps a hold of Myrmex's hand. To get it to stop he throws the wrist he has control of harder into his opponents chin. Thrice more before the bastard throws off one of Spartacus' hands. But it hits a chain and the Thracian snatches it. Relieved that it had a hook attached to it, using the sharp edge to push Myrmex's attempt of grabbing it away and in a desperate move he shoves the damned thing into the already bleeding area shouting with effort as he does. Blood was pouring out like a fucking fountain and even over the crowd he could hear Batiatus' cheering. Myrmex sags to his knees and Spartacus drops him. Letting the hook hold him there and he stumbles back to the center of the sands. Panting and gasping for air and in pain. 

"Spartacus! VICTOR!" Spartacus nearly wipes his eyes before he remembers how much blood and sand was on his knuckles and just stands there for a second. His legs shaking and he allows himself to squat down, fighting the instinct to cover his head and just simply brings his knuckles to his mouth, watching the flames burn. A guard appears suddenly, and guides him to his feet. The crowd cheering and clamoring for more blood as he was lead back to the cell he was in. A bowl of water was waiting for him and before he could get excited over the possibility of a drink, a rag was dropped in it. 

"It's not water." He flinches at the sound of Barca's voice. Doesn't dare turn around though as he picks up the cloth, understanding this was some form of cleaning. More than likely for his wounds more than anything. 

"When do we leave?" Spartacus whispers instead of acknowledging the statement. "Gyah!" He yelps when pressing the wet fabric against his still bleeding side. Barca chuckles cruely stepping in and supporting the Thracian long enough for him to sit down. 

"It's a disinfectant. The burning means it's working." Spartacus grimaces breathing heavily through his nose. "As for leaving? You're fighting again tonight. After that I do not know." Spartacus whimpers hanging his head. Again? Another round of this? "Be a man and suck it the fuck up. This is your own fault." Spartacus nods tears forming in his eyes anyways. Just because he knows his own mistake lead him down this path did not mean he had to be over joyed about the outcome. 

"I will do what I must." 

The next fight was not nearly as bad. Since he knew what to expect at the very least. He does not recall the poor bastards name. Nor does he intend to for any other opponent he has in the pits. They were all just stepping stones. In the way of him getting back to his wife. This time he was gifted daggers and while he ended up with a cut on his shoulder due to the bastard being able to spin out of the way of Spartacus' onslaught of an attack, he still managed to gut the man like a fish. Much to the delight of the crowd. And even more blessedly, Batiatus seemed to have decided to not push his luck for the evening. When he was lead back to the cell again, Dominus, Ashur and Barca were waiting for him. 

"You have fought well. Come, you need rest. For tomorrow." His shoulders sag as Barca shoves him towards the door. Scowling as usual but strangely there was not as much fury or disdain behind it. Ashur smirks as they limp up the stairs together and when they were out in the streets Batiatus rolls his shoulders, counting his coin and speaking delightedly with Barca about how this was the right choice. Ashur leans in close as they make their way back towards the Ludus. Spartacus' stomach twisting remembering that Kerza's body was still below. That they had left the Ludus as a group of five. And now there were four. 

"You were rather impressive Thracian." Spartacus makes a face looking at him. Ashur, although his voice smooth and spoken low, directly at Spartacus, he was not looking at him. Eyes glued to Barca. The memory of this afternoon has a small blush creep on Spartacus' face and he glances at the Beast of Carthage. Who was now glaring daggers at the Syrian. Was this a game between the two of them? Was Pietros part of it?

"Impressive? That was nothing of the sort. Simply brutal and barbaric." Ashur rolls his eyes with a distracted, 'uh-huh.' Barca's gaze has turned and it seems so has they Syrian's interest in Spartacus. The rest of the walk was made in silence. 

It was strange coming through the gates so late. The other night when coming back from the games was after dark, but there were still some Gladiators awake, even some still training. Tonight however, Ashur was instructed to go wake the Medicus so Spartacus could be treated. He feels bad about that, but his everything was hurting, aching and throbbing with pain. Each scratch more painful than the last and he knows if he is not attended to then he could get an infection. Something he couldn't afford to have. 

As expected the man was in a mood, so Spartacus does not dare to argue with instructions. Where to sit, where to turn. He grits his teeth watching over his shoulder as the cut, or gash as he was told, gets sewn up. The last few were the worst and Spartacus' face scrunches in pain. Fighting tears and doing what he could to not make a single noise. Two guards continued to stand watch, Barca and Ashur gone, disappeared from side and sight the second the gates closed behind them. In what felt like an extremely practiced motion. He knows the Syrian fetched the Medicus, but he was not here when Spartacus arrived. Making his curiosity grow. He was simply too tired to ask any questions right now. Even as Medicus steps away to do gods knows what, he knows that if not for the chill creeping up his spine he would be struggling to keep his eyes open. His arm felt numb for a moment and he flexes it to give it some blood flow. Spartacus looks up and suddenly a warmth over takes his right side. A familiar feeling, of love and lust. Tender and beautiful. Sura was with him. Of that he was sure. Could almost feel her breath in his ear as she speaks. 

"You're hurt." She states sounding displeased. She usually was when he became injured for whatever reason. 

"I'm alright." He assures her, putting as much tenacity in his voice as he could.

"You push yourself too far." She warns, the barely held back emotion breaking through her facade of anger. His heart swells at her concern for him. 

"And yet I live." There was a small bit of disdain in his voice. The same could not be said for Kerza. It wasn't fair that two men trained by the same teacher, under went the same tests, and only one returns. Sura scoffs and he could almost see her smirking and folding her arms. 

"For how long?" Sarcasm laced her voice and oh how Spartacus missed her. Every part. His heart aches wishing he could simply cup her face and give her reassurances. 

"As long as it takes." He tells her instead, still unblinking at the wall. Watching the fire light dance with the shadows feeling her eyes upon him. 

"Then kill them all." She instructs, irritation and real anger fueling her words.

A sharp pain shoots through his shoulder and he glances to where it was coming from. Sura's voice, presence, warmth, gone in the same instant. Medicus glancing up at him from where he was finishing setting the stitches, warily. Spartacus makes a face and rolls his neck to the side and then up at the ceiling. Sighing heavily. He knows the man must think him insane. But he knows his wife. Her soul, her essence. And her strong connection to the gods and the spirits. She has visited his dreams before, and he has no reason to believe that she was not somehow, in someway speaking to him now. 

It took several more minutes before Medicus declares he was good enough to go rest. Which was wonderous news since he felt as though he was about to keel over. A pair of guards who have been standing by the door come and half carry, half drag him off. Forcing him through a quick bath that did little more than change his subligaria to a less dirty towel before they went deeper into the bowels. Going down a small set of winding steps, the lower parts of the Ludus being used to combat the heat and the drought. He could hear some moaning and skin slapping bouncing off the walls, which was not unusual. But as they round the corner he was surprised by who he saw. 

The cell directly to his left held no wall, just iron bars. And bent over on his knees on what looked more like a bench than a bed was Pietros. Half dressed and being rammed by a fully naked Barca. A slow and steady pace being used, but with a rough force that the Egyptian slave seemed to enjoy. Even slapping his hand across what he could reach of Barca's thigh. Spartacus' eyes widen a little, having thought Pietros would be a little more private in regards to where he became intimate. The hand Barca has on the back of Pietros' neck tightens keeping him from looking up as he had been attempting to do. No doubt curious as to who was passing by. The smile on his face intriguing Spartacus as to the skill Barca must have with his cock, and the glare he receives from the Beast did little to discourage the curiosity. 

Thankfully the guards continue pushing him along. Seeming uncomfortable with the scene they have been forced to witness. Around two more corners a large cell door was unlocked. Inside was nearly a third of the brotherhood. Close together but thanks to the heat doing what they could to not actually touch each other more than necessary. His heart sores spotting Varro sitting up. Woken by the clanging of metal and the grunting of Spartacus being shoved unceremoniously inside. He doesn't even have the strength or energy to catch himself. Just lets his body thump onto the floor, close to his Roman friend. 

"You live." He states sounding mildly surprised even in his whispering. Spartacus nearly scoffs as he pushes himself up. "I told you he would!" Varro speaks over his shoulder as more gladiators are roused by the light commotion. Hamilcar he notices was rising to his feet, eyes nearly blazing. Spartacus grabs the bars to at least make it to a crouched position. Doing what he could to not pass out right then and there. 

"What of Kerza?" The Phoenician asks making Spartacus' heart break for the man. He truly saw Kerza as a friend, as a brother. And now here he was, Spartacus, a man that none but Varro seem to even tolerate, having to give him such dire news. He bows his head tightening his grip on the bars as much as he could. 

"Fallen." He admits fiddling with the grout for a moment as Hamilcar steps forward. "Never to rise whole." Spartacus adds with a quick glance up as he shifts to crawl to the wall, letting his shoulders and skull lean against it, in a similar fashion that the bald one on the other side of Varro, he thinks is named Sophos was laying. 

"This is where Gladiators sleep." Hamilcar stresses eyes filling with tears. Spartacus wants to argue that he should tell the guards that, and if that truly was his fucking issue then why bother asking about Kerza? Did he think that they were separated for some fucking reason? Dumbass. "Not dogs." He adds with a small shake of his head and a heavy sigh.

"Hold your tongue." Varro snips still trying to whisper. Spartacus looks between the two of them confused. He knows he wasn't a friend of Hamilcar's but he didn't think he did anything to incur the man's wrath. 

"He stays." Hamilcar states, staring unblinking at Spartacus, chest nearly heaving with emotion, "He wakes beside Kerza in the afterlife." In the morning Spartacus was going to have to inform the man that he was not the one who killed Kerza. It might be where the hostility was coming from. But he held no energy to defend himself. He was simply struggling to stay awake. Although he had a point. Spartacus no longer stood gladiator and should probably be put in a different cell so he would not continue disturbing their peace. Waking Varro in the middle of the night was certainly not something he wished to do. Varro needed his rest, he had training in the morning. 

However without hesitation, Varro stands. Slowly, and intimidatingly. Spartacus pausing in his efforts to sit up and get a little comfier to watch. The height difference was startling between the Roman and Phoenician. Hamilcar having to tilt his head up to meet Varro's gaze. Spartacus has no idea what the look on his friends face was, but it must have been threatening enough. Because only after a couple of seconds does Hamilcar back down. Still unblinking, turning and going back to the pitiful sleep roll he had come from. He wishes he could smile at the man, to even give gratitude. But when Varro drops back to the ground facing him, he does not see all of the hostile looks he receives. 

 "Spartacus, pay no mind to those inbred fucks." He implores keeping eye contact s much as he could with Spartacus doing a few slow blinks. 

"They speak the truth." He notes seeing a few he has yet to learn the names of give a curious glance at that. "I am no longer a Gladiator." He lulls his head to the side for a moment. Strange how that made him a little sad, considering how much he didn't wish to become one in the first place. Perhaps it was just his pride that was hurt. 

"You are still a man." Varro insists. Flashes of the fights he partook in tonight run through his mind and Spartacus gives Varro a sad look. 

"Am I?" He didn't feel like one. Not cut up and torn apart like he was. Not after fighting like how he did. 

"One deserving respect." He said it with conviction but then there was a small huff as he gives Spartacus' injuries a once over. "Though I'll grant the pits could force Jupiter himself to doubt his cock." The amount of certainty in his voice made Spartacus wonder, to worry. Kerza spoke of the pits without fear, as though everything he heard about them was just that. Word of mouth. But Varro?

"What do you know of the pits?" He ponders. Hoping his friend had not tried to fight in them before becoming a Gladiator for money. 

"Too much." There was self loathing across his face. A haunted expression roaming through his eyes. "I wagered coin there at a time." He's not sure which was worse.

"You were of the crowd? Howling for blood?" Spartacus couldn't believe it. Not his kind friend. The very same who just defended him against Hamilcar. Yet he drops his gaze and Spartacus can see Varro's hands clench. 

"Pride does not follow the statement." It was either at the height of his gambling or towards the end, Spartacus wagers that much. Spartacus sighs, letting his eyes close, which was a terrible fucking idea. Lids heavy and the blanket of sleep clawing at the edges of his consciousness. But he tries to stay awake, to listen, to learn. "These fights Spartacus, they're," Varro pauses as if trying to think of the right thing to say. "They're different from the arena." He's figured that out for himself funnily enough. "I've seen them twist the mind." He gets that. The whole place, the entire night hadn't felt real except for the pain. Time seemed different and it was just... insanity. Spartacus blinks a few more times feeling the strength leave him. "Turning men into beasts." Mongrels, Barca held the title of Beast. He wonders if he'll have the chance to say any of this tomorrow. "Their senses... flown." Varro adds sounding vaguely fearful, Spartacus thinks he's nodding. But he really enjoys listening to Varro talk. The man has such a wonderfully soothing voice. Even when sounding like he was retelling a nightmare. But he could no longer open his eyes, and he's pretty sure that he hears Varro say "Sleep then." An order Spartacus has absolutely zero issues with following. Something warm and firm touches his lips but Spartacus just sighs and continues to let himself fall into nothingness. 

The morning came too soon. Being dragged out when the rest of the Gladiators were woken. Doors thrown open and taken off to the side. Varro gives him an encouraging smile but Spartacus was just trying to wake up. His fucking bones hurt. There was no fight in him as the guards dragged him towards the benches. He knows he was going back to the pits tonight and would rather not waste his strength on guards. Fuck he was content to let them half carry him to the end of the hall. A third meeting them there and shoving a bowl into his hands. It was the same thing that he ate as a Gladiator, simply less. Didn't matter. He wouldn't have energy to eat more than this anyways. He could hear Doctore instructing the others and only half pays attention to it. 

Then he is escorted out to the sands, and instead of waiting in the shade by the gate like he and Kerza had been yesterday he was forced to plop down on a wooden beam. Made to watch Oenomaus gather the brotherhood around and start pairing them up to fight in a circle. One by one they challenged each other. Varro doing exceptionally well against a Numidian that Spartacus thinks was named Liscus. He felt a little smug when Hamilcar gets his ass whooped by Gneaus. That was Gneaus right? Yes it was okay. Spartacus nods to himself instead of paying attention to what Doctore was saying. Until he hears his name. 

"....Or risk tumbling after Spartacus into the pits." He looks up making a face at Oenomaus. He truly did not think that was called for. Would he have included Kerza in that little speech had the man survived? Rude. That was what it was down right rude. Truly Varro was the only decent fucking person in this whole place. The only one who wasn't laughing. Fucking Barca nudges Crixus with their humors! Bastards. "The man is no base humor to be laughed at." Ha ha they got told off by Doctore. Fuck he was tired. "He is a tale of caution." Wasn't that the fucking truth. Spartacus does another quick glance, feeling like a child being scolded by their parent. His stomach churns seeing the disappointment in Oenomaus' gaze. He hated it. And hated himself even more, especially with his thoughts from yesterday. Wanting to beg the man for help indeed. "Ponder on that, while you fill your bellies." Damn was it midday meal already? Where had the time gone? No wonder he was so hot and thirsty. "Eat!" Oenomaus barks before walking off the sands. 

Spartacus knows that the Gladiators were instructed to not interact with him. That he had picked up on earlier during breakfast. But for Varro to give him a sad look and then keep walking? That hurt. Spartacus stays seated though. Not having been told he could eat or drink, he simply stares off the edge of the cliff. Wondering which direction Sura was in. There was so many. Was she well fed? Did she have enough water? Was she being mistreated? His stomach churns with the unanswered questions. And the high probability that the answers were not pleasant. He was surprised to see Pietros approaching. A small bowl and a cup in hand. 

"A little porridge and some water." Okay so Pietros and Varro were the only two decent people in this place. Spartacus blinks up at him bewilderd by this random act of kindness. The beautiful smile he was graced with and the small blush that accompanied it. "It's just a sip, but you know with the drought" Spartacus nervously casts his gaze over to Barca. Standing next to Crixus and attention now shifted onto the pair of them. Ashur just on the other side of a pillar, leaning against it looking as though he was waiting for something. 

"Pietros!" The Beast calls out making the house slave look over his shoulder. Spartacus is relieved to see a lack of anger or anything of the sort directed towards them. Meaning Barca was not mad at either of them. He would hate for Pietros' kindness towards him to cause strife in the man's life. There was a flash of worry and then slight disappointment in Pietros' face when Barca instructs, "Get away from him." But he sets the dishes down and Spartacus meets his eyes.

"Thank you." He whispers earnestly. Pietros gives a soft smile before rushing off. Sharing a look with Crixus and Barca for a second before continuing on further into the Ludus. Whatever was said, has the two of them laughing, with Ashur joining in as he limps in front of them. Spartacus rolls his eyes not close enough to hear what they were saying, and really could fucking care less. Pietros deserved better. That much he was certain. 

So he eats in peace and minds his business. Couldn't help but turn and see what was going on when he hears Ashur scream and grunt in pain. Being thrown to the ground by Crixus. Barca's hands going to his hips looking down at the Syrian with an unreadable expression. Instead of stepping over the man, Barca walks around Crixus and starts walking a little away pinching his nose. Whatever Ashur said not received well since Crixus kicks him as Barca silently leads him away. Spartacus watches intently as they stop a bit in front of him. Barca continuously glancing his way. 

"Barca! See to Spartacus." Batiatus' voice rings over the balcony drawing his attention. Food finished and water hardly touched he feels his heart sink. "I want him ready to fight before the sun falls." Dominus instructs placing a hand on the railing and turning towards the Thracian. 

"Yes Dominus!" Spartacus and Batiatus nod at each other as Barca shouts his reply and steps away from Crixus. Spartacus meets Batiatus' eyes and he could feel his heart sink. Knowing that it was going to be another long night, and that his chance at peace and drink was over. Each step that Barca took only dampening his spirits further. When the man was right in front of him, blocking his view of their Dominus does Spartacus look up at him warily. "Rise dog." He commands. To Spartacus he sounded almost bored. Even before enough time could pass to say that Spartacus hesitates, Barca gives a quick bend to his knees and knocks the cup out of the Thracians hands. "More death awaits." Spartacus sighs, eyes closed and head tilted to the side for a second. Forcing himself to listen and hear the small note of pity in the Carthaginian's voice. 

Although, Spartacus has a petty streak, and his self preservation. His strength was being saved and he lets Barca yank him up and drag him back to the same cell as yesterday. It might look to the others as though he wasn't fighting back, but having Barca almost have to carry him was worth all the cursing and pushing. Crixus he notes gives him a suspicious glance, but Varro gave him a pitying one and that mattered more. He was unsurprised to see Ashur there waiting for them. The small urn of ash, powder charcoal whatever it was they used on him; at the ready. 

"Ah, I see you made it." Ashur chuckles, acting like he wasn't on his back a few minutes ago like a great mother goddess turtle. "I had begun to wonder." His voice dipped making Spartacus uncomfortable, and once more while he was talking to Spartacus his gaze shifts to Barca. Spartacus follows this and see's the Beast's eye twitching. 

"Enough with the fucking small talk you piece of shit. Just hurry up. Dominus is waiting." No he wasn't, but it was as good of an excuse as any to have Ashur's face falter from the slick easy grin it normally was to one of serious and concern. 

"Rid him of his fucking shackles." Ashur instructs a nearby guard. He was given a dirty look but did so quickly. Letting the iron drop nearly catching Spartacus' toes. He dances out of the way and to his surprise Barca and Ashur round on the man. "Watch it you stupid cunt!"

"The fuck are you doing you inbred fuck?" Huh a popular insult, fair enough. The guard snorts at them and folds his arm, but Barca and Ashur take a step forward blocking Spartacus from sight. If he was in a better frame of mind, let alone bit of health he might have taken the chance to run. But Sura needed to be saved, so that would not be happening for an extremely long time. 

"Something the matter slaves? I did what you wanted." The guard sneers. Spartacus has to lean over Barca's shoulder to see Ashur throw his arm over the man's chest to keep him from lunging. 

"Yes and nearly damaging the only source of income that this Ludus has for the month." The Syrian notes, voice laced with the sarcasm he has come to be known for. "Brilliant plan, I am sure Dominus would loove to hear your thought process on that." Barca chuckles darkly taking half a step back, enough to allow Ashur to drop his arm. Spartacus feels a grim satisfaction seeing the color drain out of the man's face. 

"Hurry up you fucks." The guard mutters before turning and headed back into the hall. Barca and Ashur give each other smirks. For a fraction of a second there was a softness to the Syrian's gaze and an almost fond tone to the look in Barca's eyes. And then Barca blinks and smacks Ashur upside the head. 

"You heard him. Hurry up." Ashur rolls his eyes and turns to Spartacus. 

"Sit down asshole." He grumbles. Spartacus does, but mostly because he knew that Barca would just make him if he didn't comply. 

The process was quicker this time around. As though Ashur knew how he wanted Spartacus to look instead of just playing around and testing. Treating it like some sort of cultus. At one point he thinks he heard the Syrian humming. Rubbing the powder into his chest and smirking as he made sure to get every inch of Spartacus' torso. It was strange but he kept quiet. Rolling his eyes or shifting in discomfort here and there but otherwise did nothing to fuss either. And when he was done, Barca instructed him to wait where he was. The pair of them leaving, this time not going directly into the room next door, but into the unknown. Spartacus' stomach twists thinking of what they might be, could be, and probably were doing. And how kind Pietros was to Spartacus, and how he had been getting fucked by Barca the night before. He should say something. Tell the Egyptian. Pietros deserved to know! 

But the pair were back hurriedly, Ashur righting his robes and fixing his hair and Barca was dragging Spartacus up and out the door. So he didn't even get the chance to decide. 

Like yesterday they met Batiatus by the gate, and trudged their way down the hill. Ashur and Barca listening and giving 'yes Dominus' responses to something Batiatus said here and there. The sun sets just as it did yesterday. Or perhaps not, Spartacus muses. Yesterday it set on Kerza's life. Maybe today since it didn't have the fugitivus, it would set with Spartacus' instead. It wouldn't help Sura and he needed to keep reminding himself of this fact. It was the only thing keeping him going. He told her yesterday that it would be soon. But how soon was 'soon'? A month? Four? A year? He needed to make each one of the matches tonight as quick as possible. For her sake, not his. It was his fault she was in this mess, and he needed to make it right. 

It was the same as before. Walking through the door and time seemed to melt away. Day or night it was impossible to tell. But the Pit Master stood ready and the crowd was already clamoring. Spartacus grimaces remembering what Varro told him last night. That at one point he had been a part of it. He tries to imagine his curly haired friend, with the friendly smile and deep dimple standing among the rest of them. Probably wearing a tan tunic, covered in blood that had been splattered onto him. But, Spartacus just couldn't. It seemed so out of character. Perhaps he had been as desperate for coin as Batiatus currently was. 

Reminding him of another reason as to why this needed to be done. Varro needed the coin. Locking his jaw he basically stomps down the stairs behind Barca. Getting a strange look from Batiatus when he does but Spartacus doesn't say anything. Just impatiently waits, burning holes into the Pit Master with how hard he was staring. Not that it had any affect on making the current match go faster but still. It made him feel better. Like he wasn't just standing there helplessly while Barca and Ashur whispered behind his back. The Syrian only able to make little snippet comments that Spartacus couldn't hear since he was running back and forth making bets for Batiatus here and there. And then finally, the loser's body was dragged off. The sands cleared and the pit master giving his stupid little speech.

"Witness the captive beasts!" Spartacus is shoved forward and he was introduced. "Mongrel on mongrel!" Spartacus rolls his eyes tuning him out, not knowing how many damned times he was going to have to listen to this tonight. He doesn't even bother remembering the name of the next man. But he does pay close attention to the weapon he was given. A chain with two heavy metal spheres on either end. Those were going to fucking hurt. He also takes note of the man's physique. Honestly he was built like Gneaus. But with a bit more hair. Although that might have been some ash powder like Spartacus has covered across his body, he was decorated with tattoos, splattered here and there, but the one on his chest had to be fake since it was running meaning he was unsure on the rest of them. There was nothing of real note there otherwise. "Spartacus draws!" Swallowing thickly he picks up a bone, that looks vaguely like an eye socket damn what did the Pit Master call it? Before he could question it he was handed a galdius! A real fucking sword! This was good news he knew how to use this! Although against his opponents weapon that was going to be a little tricky.  

He didn't even get a chance to step into the sands. His opponent, reaching over the platform and grabbing him. Throwing Spartacus into the mini arena. Cursing under his breath, Spartacus gives a quick jab, feeling the bones in the man's nose break under his knuckles even as Spartacus' arm was squeezed painfully. His opponent tosses him away, able to dodge another punch by sending Spartacus spinning around and having Spartacus' back face the wooden beam. A thing he learned yesterday not to have happen. Spartacus gives him a dirty look as he manages to stay on his feet. Stalking around making sure their positions were switched. One hand firmly on the handle of his blade, the other outstretched to hopefully block or catch or something. 

The man gives a threatening shout that does nothing but has Spartacus bouncing on his toes. In a flash one of the iron balls was sent flying towards Spartacus' face. He barely manages to pull back enough to have it miss. The wind of the attack stunning him enough that he freezes for one second too late. The bald fighter spinning quickly and ending up whacking Spartacus in the cheek and upside the with a ball in one shot. It sent him spiraling, having to throw his hand out to catch himself on the stone pillar near the fire. The heat of it reminding him of training days. Baking in the sun side by side with Varro and doing anything to prove Crixus' fuck ass wrong and get to Sura. 

Breathing deeply he rights himself, turning with a large swing of his sword. One of the positions Oenomaus ingrained into his brain. It did block a hit from his opponent, but the bastard was using the iron as gloves. Easily getting an opening and taking it. Hitting Spartacus hard in the ribs with a right hook. Twice. Spartacus cries out in pain and shifts to block a third, but it was a feint that he fell for and gets his sword arm punched hard. It went numb and distracted him from the two hit combo that his ribs took. He's pretty sure one of them cracked. An upper cut sends him stumbling backwards, and he would have caught himself if not for the bastard being under handed and throwing one of those fucking balls into the back of his knee. He ends up on his back as quickly as any training day. 

But with a yelp he dodges the next it. The bald man using his weapon as a whip and thanks to Doctore, Spartacus knows exactly when to lift his shoulder to get out of the way. Unlike Doctore, the man wasn't as fast. Didn't make him slow though. And as soon as he noticed that he kept missing, stomps on Spartacus' ribs. But Spartacus takes his chance, rolling faster than he ever has in his life, and leaping to his feet while swinging his sword wildly. It clings and clangs against the chain as he was blocked. Despite the force he was using with each move. Somehow he left himself another opening and is punished for it by a metal ball to the face. He stumbles backwards again, dizzy and ears ringing so bad his vision was blurred. 

FUck this shit. 

Spartacus turns around with a scowl, turning his sword just at the right second and catching the chain this time. His knuckles screaming at him when they each get slapped with the back of a ball as they're wrapped around the blade. But he yanks quickly, pulling it from the fucker's grip and then throwing it right back at him. Faster than he was ready for making him drop it. Leaving Spartacus free to go back to slashing through the air. His opponent was a quick learner, and all but copied Spartacus' tactic. Grabbing his wrist, practically crushing it in his grip and getting punched, both in the elbow and the face. Spartacus slips his wrist free as he steps backwards. And just as he was recovering he was lifted by the back of his thighs. His opponent grunting and screaming in effort and he lifts the Thracian into the air. One of Spartacus' arms gets slung over the bald man's shoulder, both of his legs held together in one arm as he was slammed into the ground. He nearly smirks though, knowing this was a horrible mistake for the poor bastard. 

As soon as they hit the sand, Spartacus was rolling them. It didn't work as well as he thought since they kept rolling. The man was stronger than he looked and was able to throw Spartacus off of him with one hand. The second his fingers touched wood, Spartacus' temper burns to life. A true glare on his face as he snaps his head around, Spartacus stands giving a quick jab to one side of his face then the other. Open palm shots that he's seen Crixus use in spars before. He lets all of his anger and frustration out on the next hit, having sand, blood and ash fly off their skin. Too much force was put into it and he falters for a bit. Hitting his knees before quickly getting back up, chasing the bald fighter across the way. 

Spartacus doesn't let up. Hitting him here and there and then landing another direct hit to the cunt's nose just as his back had slammed against the stone pillar. Quite suddenly, the Thracian recalls there were no rules, so he doesn't hesitate to knee the fucker in the balls. Grappling him around and when he got a jab to the ribs threw him into the crowd, knocking two people to the ground in the process. Not that Spartacus cared. He had a second to breathe, to think. Fist fighting seemed to be working against him so it was for the best that he kept doing it. And when his opponent was on his feet, pushed back onto the sands, Spartacus throws a punch. Which was easily dodged and a large forearm catches him by the throat sending him hurtling back down onto the ground. Meaning he was wrong. It wasn't fist fighting that was working. It was cheap shots and rolling around. It worked yesterday. So, similar to last night Spartacus wraps himself around his opponents legs and rolls. Knocking him to the ground with him. 

Yet this backfired almost immediately. Somehow in the tangle of limbs, Spartacus' arm got trapped between both of his legs, wrist held tightly and was being pulled painfully. He rolls his eyes at himself for thinking the same trick could work twice. If he wasn't so worried about being strangled by the heavy calf covering his throat his concern would lie with his shoulder being torn from it's socket. His already hurt rib being squished. Spartacus tries to sit up, scowling and grunting with effort, but he was just thrown back down. Furious with his current situation, Spartacus with all his strengths lifts his trapped arm. Able to use the force of it getting pulled back down to free it and elbow the balls of his assailant. 

As expected there was a collective 'ooh' and the bald fighter curls, holding his injured testicles and releasing Spartacus. Still furious, Spartacus wastes no time. Scrambling to straddle the man, continuing to use his weight as an advantage. Not caring that the other weighed more than him. He wasn't going to let another opportunity be wasted. Digging his thumbs into the man's eyeballs he suddenly finds it mildly ironic that he pulled what he thinks was an eye socket. Since that was how this fucker was going to die. Spartacus hears a strange annoyed yell leave his own mouth when the man tries to desperately choke Spartacus. To shove him off or slap his face. Until instinct took over and he was clawing at Spartacus' hands. Screaming in pain even as blood was starting to spurt horrifically, his thumbs catching each eyeball and only pulling back when a wave of disgust shudders through him with the sensation of the texture of it under his nails. The two of them rolling once more and Spartacus wrapping his legs around his waist, and putting him int a choke hold. Screaming and straining with effort until he hears and feels a sickening crack of the man's neck braking. Over the approving roar of the crowd he could hear Batiatus shouting at the top of his lungs.

"That's how you send a dog to the afterlife!" Struggling to breathe with dead weight on him, Spartacus shoves the now dead body off of him, getting to his feet and letting himself take a deep breath. Head aimed at the ceiling heart still pounding. The ringing in his ears lessened at the very least. 

"Spartacus!" The Pit Master didn't have to sound so fucking surprised. "VICTOR!" Hurray for him. He turns around to look at the cheering crowd and gives a questioning grunt as he shoots his fist into the air. He pants a little, gulping trying to regain control over his unsteady feet. Someone moves to the side catching his gaze and Spartacus' mouth drops spotting Sura. Standing against the wall, watching in horror. Crying openly. Before he could even blink she was gone. He drops his arm and luckily two guards catch him as his knees give out. Leading him away to await the next fight. 

"Spartacus has no soul." Batiatus was randomly telling Ashur as Spartacus was brought before him. "It resides resides in the heart of another." Ashur was well aware of Spartacus' wife and telling him this made no sense to the Thracian. Although he doesn't get the chance to ask because Batiatus gives him a proud look and states, "Prepare yourself," There goes the smidgen of hope he had that this was going to be a one fight night. "You fight Mytilus next." Fucking who? And why does Barca give him a pitying look while Ashur grins. Teeth shining brightly in the firelight. It didn't matter who it was, because Spartacus was going to defeat them. He must, to get to Sura. To help wipe her tears. Kiss them away and let her know that everything was going to be alright. 

Mytilus turned out to be a fucking bastard though. 

Spartacus having been cursed with empty hands as the Pit Master tells it, but Mytilus was gifted a sword. One that after getting slapped around, thrown down, and sliced a couple of times, Spartacus was able to rid him of. Aiming for the man's ankles and getting him onto the ground as quickly as possible. A splot of red impairing his vision in his left eye, he scream dramatically with his full chest as he uses both hands to stab the sword through Mytilus' throat, right on the pulse point. A fountain of thick blood coating him. Making him wish more than ever that this was Crixus, or better, Glaber. Either death would have prevented his being here. In this horrid place. 

There was another match after that. But Spartacus got hit in the head and knocked into a stone pillar and honestly doesn't remember half of it. He's pretty sure he bit someone and can't be sure if it was his opponent or not. After that though Batiatus was content to call it a night. Laughing and grinning the whole way back. Telling Barca that this was one of the best idea's he's had so far. Not seeming to pay attention to the fact that the Beast of Carthage was half carrying half dragging the Thracian up the hill. Spartacus blinking dumbly at Ashur who was squinting at him, or more accurately his injuries. 

"Uhm, Dominus...?" Ashur questions as they make it through the gate. Batiatus waves him off though. 

"See him to the medicus and then a bath." He states dismissively. Ashur clears his throat with a nod. 

"Of course sir, but um, perhaps some food as well?" Batiatus makes a face turning to glance at him. But something must have shown on Spartacus' face because he rolls his eyes and gives a nod of permission. The thought of something to eat perked him up and Spartacus took a step of his own as a result. 

"Medicus first." Batiatus calls over his shoulder as he heads up into the villa. Spartacus pouts being shoved in by Barca while Ashur scurries off, hopefully to get his food. 

"Fuck the gods, do you know how to dodge?" Medicus grumbles spotting Spartacus. The Thracian gives him a sheepish look being sure to stay quiet as the man worked. His mind focused currently on one thing and one thing only. 

The loud growling of his stomach. 

Something that makes itself known just as Ashur was stepping back into view. The Syrian chuckles sympathetically and hands Spartacus a small plate. Not bothering to tell him to eat slow, or even apologies for the small amount that was there. It was real food! Not the stuff that Euclid feeds the Gladiators. A slice of bread some fruit and even a tiny sliver of meat! True there wasn't much of any of it but still. It was food. And Spartacus scarfs it down hardly chewing any of it. 

"Now he really needs a bath." Ashur scoffs almost sounding fond.

"Then gather some guards and leave me be you simple fuck." Barca snaps at him storming down the hall presumably to go find Pietros. Ashur strokes his beard watching him go making Spartacus uneasy again. 

"Get him to the baths and then into a cell so he can rest." Ashur mutters passing a guard. The man gives him a look of contempt and without glancing up Ashur adds, "Unless you wish to complain about Dominus' commands of course." He smirks and pats the guard's chest as he walks off but otherwise says nothing. Spartacus sets the plate aside and gives a wary glance to the now pissed off guard. He knows there wasn't a lot holding them back from turning their wrath and frustrations onto the weaker and more vulnerable Gladiators and slaves. Fuck the gods it might be the sole reason Pietros puts up with Barca now that he thinks about it. But the man seems to be a professional which was lucky for him. 

Now that he's eaten Spartacus feels much more awake than before. And he was rather eager for the bath. Doesn't even fight with the guard when pulled to standing and lead to get clean. The only problem is when he was left alone, all there was too do as he scrapes the dirt and blood off of himself was to reflect on the events of the past couple of evenings. He sits in front of the main basin after getting the majority of the grime off, his elbow on his thigh, knuckles pressed against his lips. His free hand was loosely fiddling with the strigil. 

"Only one survives!" That's what the pit master would always scream. He scoffs getting a large bit on his thigh, feeling rather as though neither men had made it out of the pits tonight. The crowd screaming and hollering still echoing in his mind. Spartacus pauses again. Both hands clasped in front of his face a small wave of nausea hitting him vividly recalling the texture of eyeballs under his thumbs. He holds the strigil up above his face, and the position suddenly has him realize he could have done the same with the sword. 

Hating hindsight he places his palms over both his eyes with a soft cry. He was starting to shake still hearing the pit master make his announcements. 

"Mongrel on Mongrel!" Treated them no better than animals. Probably why the acted like them. Spartacus sits up letting his hands fall, one running over his face and wiping his mouth still feeling blood stuck in the stubble that was his beard. He looks to his right remembering how shocked everyone had looked when he beat Mytilus. Or how ridiculous the bald fighter before him had looked when Spartacus elbowed him in the nuts. A small, rather mad laugh slips past his lips thinking of how badly he'd be whipped let alone yelled at by Oenomaus if he ever did that during training or a match in the arena. "Spartacus!" Yeah it would be said with a lot more anger not just the surprise tone Pit master spoke in. "Victor!" Spartacus glances up, having thought he heard someone approach, but there was nothing and no one. As always. 

A wave of hopelessness tries to wash over him. The sight of Sura crying hitting him all over again. Strigil still in hand he presses the bottom of his palms to his forehead with a tiny shout. 

"No!" It was more to himself than anything. To remind him to not allow the despair to swallow him whole. He couldn't just start sobbing in the baths! He drops his hands with a deep breath, the tears stinging his eyes. The red rimmed left hurting more than before now. He pants a little but notices the torches flicker. The light shift and the familiar warmth of his wife joins his side. 

"How much longer?" She asks, warm breath tickling his ear." He wishes he has a solid answer for her. A definitive date. "How much blood until we're free?" She said we and it was a thing he yearned for, but not something he believed could be again. Not if he wished to end her suffering quickly. 

"Soon." Spartacus tells her instead of any of his thoughts. Knowing that they would just upset her, and after everything, everything he has put her through, he would not aid in her distress any more than he had to. "I promise you." Because he has never broken a promise to his wife yet. 

"Just the thought of holding you-" She gives a shuddering sigh that makes his cock twitch, "feeling you against me." He closes his eyes feeling her fingers land on his shoulder. Missing her touch more than he could bare. He doesn't think he's ever gone so long without it since meeting her. "It's the only thing that keeps my heart beating." She confesses breaking his. Spartacus' face scrunches in pain, hating hearing how sad she was. And a small part of him wishing there was more about him that she missed than just being intertwined together. But he understands, she's told him on many occasions how she feels closer to the gods when they were so intimately locked.

"You look like shit." A strong male voice jolts him out of his depressing thoughts. He opens his eyes, rather relieved to see Varro standing in front of him. Although what he was holding was curious. The small cloth clutched in his grip slightly outstretched as though offering it to the Thracian. 

"I've endured worse." None come to mind at the moment but he'd say that hit Glaber gave him upon capture was right up there. Varro carefully sits on the bench opposite him, never breaking eye contact. 

"What man could?" he was still speaking softly but there was a slight teasing tone to his voice that Spartacus truly appreciates. "And still count himself of this world?" There was the tiniest of smirks that nearly has Spartacus returning it. 

"This world." Sura speaks in his ear again, surprising him over the fact that she hasn't left his side yet. "All it holds is suffering." He wanted to argue with her, but Spartacus has no idea what she was currently going through and knew that it was probably fare worse than what he was dealing with. 

"It will end one day." He tries reassuring her instead. "And we will be reunited." He adds as she caresses his shoulder. 

"As gladiators?" Varro questions, clearly confused. Spartacus forgot he couldn't see nor hear Sura, meaning he has no clue that Spartacus wasn't speaking to him. And if he tries to clarify then the Thracian will look like a mad man. He opens his mouth searching for an explanation better than that. "A welcomed thought." Seems they didn't have one and were going with that. 

"One that keeps me from the grasp of the afterlife." Spartacus adds, he was really telling it to Sura, but it wasn't exactly a lie in terms of Varro either. The man was a good friend. He looked so sad at the moment, which didn't make sense to Spartacus, nor the thick and visible swallow he does. 

"Your condition speaks to its encroachment." He points out. Blue eyes hard and determined. Varro opens the little fabric bundle in his hand exposing what looks to be an unburied fetus. "Mandrake root." Oh now that he says it, Spartacus can tell it's a plant root. "Acquired from Ashur." First of all that was so sweet of Varro, secondly, that was so stupid of Varro. Using money that should be going to his debts for Spartacus. And thirdly, when did the Syrian find the fucking time? He was with Spartacus almost all day! Did he run and get it during one of Spartacus' matches? What the fuck? "Chewed to numb the pain." Varro informs him leaning in a little as though explaining to a child. And his heart warms at the thought, but the pain was literally the only thing keeping him awake right now. The energy he gained after eating gone once he was cleaned. 

"Take it." Sura tries to tell him. He gives a little shake of his head.

"I can't." He sighs glancing both at Sura from the corner of his eye and then back to Varro. "I need what remains of my senses to save you." He informs Sura, once more forgetting that Varro has no clue that she was there. But fully aware that he was losing his mind. 

"Save me from what?" Varro asks, still keeping his voice low and soft. "Spartacus?" He implores. The second he does, Sura's warmth disappears. As though she was letting him focus on Varro instead. Spartacus looks up at him feeling a little more relaxed now that he won't have to explain to Varro about being able to speak with his wife. 

"Your offer is well received." He states pointing with the strigil. "Even in the turning away of it." Spartacus sighs letting his head fall to the side. Varro sighs folding it back up and offering his hand instead. 

"At least let me aid you to bed?" Varro seemed nervous about the question. As though unsure on if Spartacus would reject this as well. But he smiles warmly up at his friend instead. 

"Gratitude. I doubt I could navigate the Ludus at the moment." He chuckles. Varro gives him a soft laugh pulling him to his feet and letting Spartacus use him for support. 

"Worry not. I shall remain the sane one and you shall remain the mad fuck." They laugh lightly as Varro helps him, following a guard who appeared and motioned them to follow. "Besides you should not bath alone. It is unsafe." They were lead to a small cell towards the back of the Ludus, upstairs where it was still hot as Apollo's asshole but still. Varro helps him onto the wooden bed that was there, both of them ignoring the broken little side table chest thing in the corner. "Rest well Thracian. Hopefully tomorrow this will all be over for you." Spartacus snorts. 

"Only if Batiatus has settled enough of his debts." He falls asleep quickly after Varro leaves. But it was a strange sleep. The emptiness he had fallen into the night before not consuming him this time. For a moment he feels weightless. As though he was being gently carried. The wood he was on seemed to melt away into stone. 

He wakes up hearing hurried footsteps and wonders just how out of it he was last night. Spartacus blinks looking around, seeing that instead of a corner cell he was in a center one, on the floor not a bed at all. A couple of guards him through the halls. For some reason the Gladiators were still in their cells. Each one of them yelling at him as though members of the crowd from the pits. 

"Send him back to the pits!" Someone shouted. Spartacus looks to where the voice came from and could swear that was Byzo.

"He's not a fucking gladiator!" A different man yells sounding so much like Drenis that Spartacus' heart hurt a little. 

"Spartacus!" He nearly stumbles into the outstretched hand of Varro. Holding out the mandrake root that he really would love to take, but the guards were pulling him too fast for him to even get the chance to tell him. 

"I'll fuck him up!" He hears someone that vaguely sounds like a mix between Crixus and Barca say. 

"Here take it!" Varro was trying to tell him. "Spartacus!" They rounded a corner despite Spartacus resisting and he spots Batiatus standing in the middle of the hallway. The training sands behind him proving that it was still the middle of the night. As soon as he sees Dominus the rest of the Gladiators fall silent. As though they knew he was there too all of a sudden. 

"You have fought well Spartacus." Batiatus seemed almost sad. "The gods reward you." It was strange to be suspicious, but the man seemed guilty. Remorseful almost. Batiatus leads him out onto the lanai and he spots someone standing near the cliff edge. "The promise is kept." Batiatus states with a motion. He glances just to make sure he had permission and when Batiatus nods he rushes out onto the sands. Hardly able to believe his luck. Heart pounding and tears welling up in his eyes. 

"Sura." He gasps when close. She turns around and when he sees it was her, truly her, he falls to his knees in front of her. Wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face into her stomach. Sura clings to his skull kissing the top of his head before pulling back a little. Tears streaming down her face even as he runs his hands up and down her back. 

"I will always be with you." She tells him. Not looking as relieved as he felt to be reunited at last. "Even in death." She adds while thunder cracks in the background. Lightening flashes as the winds start whipping around them, the drought clearly about to be at an end. "The rains are coming." Sura points out while he keeps his face in between her breasts. Inhaling her sent and kissing the smooth porcelain skin he has longed for. She cups his neck forcing him to pull back and look up at her. "Save me." What? "Before they wash everything away."

"Sura," He begs when she takes a few steps closer to the cliffs. Her hands slipping from his just like they did when Glaber took her from him. More lightening illuminates the sky and the rains begin. Except he notices as they droplets splatter across her face that the rain was blood. 

"No." He whispers. He hates seeing her covered in blood. Watching helpless as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, arms outstretched, palms open. They were both soaked, drenched, covered in it and a scream rips itself from his throat. "NO!"

Spartacus' eyes pop open in the same cell from his dream. Making him question whether or not this was where Varro had brought him last night or not. It didn't matter though. A guard was opening the door and pointing down the hall. Spartacus rolls and crawls to his feet. Not wasting his time or energy with words. Simply trudging off to the preparation room. He doesn't stop for food, or go wait in the sands like yesterday. Just sits on the wooden, bench, bed, table thing that was there. He needed the time to think. To debate and decipher what his dream last night could have possibly meant. 

Was it just that? A dream? When it involved Sura, usually the answer was no. So what did she mean? Before the rains come and wash everything away? Was Batiatus truly going to reward him for fighting well? Did he have news of Sura currently? The gods often were cryptic even with his wife. And the tasks the ask always impossible or at least nearly. What in his dream told him how long he had until the rains? Was it the amount of people he saw? The lightening strikes? Did they represent days, weeks, months or years? Why did the whole thing smell like honied wine and fire?

After a little while Ashur meets him and begins the preparations. Not questioning his presence, not making any sly comments. Just having an overall solemn sense of duty. Spartacus doesn't question him. But he watches, quietly as Pietros comes and brings another little urn. The two of them giving different levels of dirty looks before the house slave slips back out the door again. He was quickly replaced by Barca walking in. A small bit of sweat on him, telling Spartacus that there was some training put in for the Beast of Carthage today. 

"Not so much fight in him now, is there?" Ashur mocks as Barca takes the seat next to Spartacus. A hiss escapes him when Barca grabs Spartacus' chin turning his head towards the taller Gladiator. Inspecting him like a prize horse. The only thing keeping him from swinging was the mild respect he could see in the Carthaginian's eyes.

"He saves his fury for the pits." Spartacus takes a couple of deep breaths decided that was probably a good idea. "A place you wouldn't last a fucking breath." Was Barca complimenting Spartacus or simply insulting Ashur? The Syrian opens his mouth either to defend himself or give a quip in return, but they were interrupted.

"Spartacus." Batiatus' voice catches their attention. Barca lets his hand fall and Spartacus jerks his face out of the sweaty palm looking at their Dominus head on. "You've fought well." Barca leaves his side as Batiatus steps closer. "The gods may yet reward you." It was almost exactly what the man said in his dream. So much so that he half hoped and expected to see Sura standing behind the Roman. 

"The gods." Spartacus sighs realizing exactly what his dream was. And what he needed to do to precure his wife's safety. "They came to me last night. In a dream." He understands the disbelieving look from Ashur. When Sura first told him about the gods speaking to her, he didn't believe it either. But then she kept being right about everything and he had to accept it. 

"What did they show you?" It was startling, at least a little, to realize that Batiatus had complete faith that yes the gods did come to him last night in a dream. That they had something to share. He doesn't question it, certainly does not call Spartacus crazy, or having gone mad with the heat or the pits. True faith in his well former Gladiator. His slave. It was a little comforting. 

"The truth." He gasps the corners of his mouth curling upwards a little. "Your profit from my blood ends tonight." In the pits at least. Batiatus takes a harsh breath getting a little closer. 

"Refuse to fight and I will cease my attempts to find your wife." He instantly snaps, unsurprisingly. It felt nice to have the upper hand, even if it was just knowledge. No wonder Sura was always grinning. Spartacus chuckles, elation easing the pain in his eyes a little. Tears well up in his eyes as he looks up at Batiatus. 

"I have to save her." He lifts his chin a bit more, his heart thudding in his chest. "Before the rains come." Spartacus hadn't expected the slap from Dominus, but it was firm and has him turning away with a light gasp. Apparently his patience has ended because Batiatus grabs the back of his neck and his face tightly. Holding his cheeks, squeezing them together painfully and making his lips purse. 

"Give way to your meaning you mad fuck." Oh there it was. Not outright saying he was crazy nor disagreeing about the intel. Just that Spartacus was mad. Spartacus was panting as Batiatus leans in, keeping his hands on his knees. Their eyes locked and both blazing with emotion. He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his fear at bay. 

"The odds remain high in my favor?" He questions. It was such a quick shift, meaning the profit was good but with so many people betting that he'll live the gain wasn't as high as a few days ago. Strangely Batiatus glances over at Ashur, as though not having looked at the numbers himself at all. Ashur nods while Spartacus stares at Batiatus in mild disbelief. Exactly how much was the Syrian in charge of anyways?! Batiatus gives a firm nod. 

"Still." Spartacus glances at Ashur mind still reeling with this new found information. Not that it matters. Once his eyes locked back with Batiatus' again.

"Then bet everything you have against me." Batiatus gives a small squint, with only a fraction of a second pause before he grasps what Spartacus was saying. 

"You would die in the pits? Willingly to see my fortunes rise?" There was utter confusion on his face, completely understandable. 

"Yes." Spartacus admits breathlessly. "If you will hold to wrest my wife from the Syrian with a piece of it." He ends in a whisper. Nothing against Ashur with the amount of disdain he put into the race. But knowing that Sura was in the hands of one left a bad taste in his mouth. Batiatus makes a face. 

"What's to keep me to this bargain once your blood is spilt?" His brows were furrowed and lip slightly curled, making him wonder when was the last time someone put their complete faith and trust into this man. For him to not believe readily that someone had it? Honestly it was a little sad. 

"Honor." Spartacus states easily. Nearly laughing with the tiny smirk that Batiatus had falls hard. The doubt and worry that flashes across Dominus' face has Spartacus add; "And the promise of vengeance from the afterlife, if you betray it." Batiatus stands up straight. His mouth drawn in a hard frown. The vein in his neck threatening to return. He swallows thickly giving a quick glance off to the side as he does before giving a small nod. 

"The deal is struck." Spartacus' heart lifts thinking of Sura being safe and sound, but his stomach twists into knots again. Fear making him curl his toes as Batiatus leans back down. Talking through clenched teeth. "Make it appear a sincere fight." He implores. The two of them sharing a quick nod as Spartacus' shoulders sag. Shockingly Batiatus gives him a firm, and friendly head butt. Grinning brightly for a second before it fades to something akin to a proud smile. He stands upright again licking his lips. "Finish preparing him." He speaks louder than before, clearly talking to Ashur and Barca. Spartacus takes a few deep breaths squaring his shoulders watching Batiatus leave. 

In a few short hours he will be dead. With the knowledge that Sura will be saved and they will be reunited in the afterlife. With her connection to the gods he will probably be able to see her even before she joins him there. A comforting thought as Ashur smears powder across his torso. And as they have the past couple of days, once Spartacus was ready, he and Barca disappeared down into the halls. From where he was sitting he could see out onto the sands. Only flashes but still. Saw Pietros run back and forth with gear, or swords or water. Caught glimpses of Varro, each one making his heart hurt with how much he was going to miss his friend. Could hear Crixus give his little dramatic shouts and yells with whatever move he just did. A thing he realizes that he was actually going to miss as well. In a weird way the Gaul has grown on him. 

Ashur and Barca reappear as quickly as they had left. Ashur wiping the corner of his mouth again and Barca scowling. Seemingly twice as furious as when they left. Spartacus doesn't question them. If he hadn't on the first day what would be the point in doing so now? He was going to die soon enough. His eye twitches wondering if the knowledge would make Glaber happy. Pompous bastard. There was a warm spot on his shoulder and Spartacus smiles as he steps out of the room following the Beast of Carthage instead of being pushed or shoved by him. Knowing it was Sura, sending her love and encouragement. 

The now familiar walk down was met with a lot more, well... content than the past few days. Spartacus watching the sky instead of those around him. Letting the setting sun warm his skin and the sight of the distant hills fill his sight. He wishes there was some grass or flowers for him to smell on their way, considering he will never have the chance again but that didn't matter now. The burning torches they pass will have to do. He struggles for a moment, in the debate on whether or not to force his smile to go away or not. If it made him seem overly confident that could help, but it also might put doubt and suspicion in people's mind and they might challenge the fight about being rigged. Which it was. 

But Ashur nudges him and Barca smacks him upside the head as they get closer, so he decides it's probably best to continue seeming the frightened Thracian. And on some level he was. He did not wish for death. Would much rather feel the warmth of Sura's touch against his skin. To taste her kiss upon his lips. To listen to her breath in his ear, chanting his name. His name. Not Spartacus. Yet, if Spartacus had to die for her to live? Then let the man die. 

"Remember. Make it seem real." Batiatus chides before giving the special knock. One that should Spartacus be living his life would probably haunt him for the rest of his days. But he nods forcing his shoulders to sag and keeping his face pointed down. Like usual there was already a match going on, and Spartacus starts to wonder when the pits opens and when it closes. They were always here after it begins, and leave before the Pit Master. Was there two of them? Did this madness span throughout the day and well into the night? Or was it the other way around? 

There were mild cheers and some people patting Spartacus on the back as they fight their way down the stairs. Spartacus dragging his feet and making himself look as lost and hopeless as ever. Hoping that the way he stumbles into his awaiting cell seemed numb. His heart starts to race and for the first time since realizing what he needed to do, what had to be done, tears spring into his eyes. Fear creeping its way up his spine. Did death hurt? Here, probably. How would it happen? Would it be sudden? Would it be slow? What weapon was going to deal the final blow, or was his neck going to get crushed under someone's fists? Was his skull going to be bashed in? 

Spartacus swallows the lump in his throat feeling smaller than ever. He wanted Varro, he was shocked to realize. He longed for the curly blond hair to bounce around as the Roman shakes his head affectionately with a tiny smirk. Telling Spartacus he was being ridiculous and that he would survive. That he was too stubborn to die. His heart breaks a little when he remembers that he didn't get the chance to say goodbye. And now he'll never see him again. Never wrap his arms around those broad shoulders and mention how much his friendship has meant to him. 

He'll just have to let Sura tell him. 

Spartacus smiles thinking of the two of them meeting. Sura was going to adore him, and maybe go life with Aurelia and Varro's son while Varro finished paying off his debts! That was a highly comforting thought.

Barca appears suddenly. His face as stern and dour as normal. But it was normally the pit guards that collect him for the matches. And he could still hear screaming along with the sound of flesh being torn into. Curious he stands and goes over to the door. The Beast of Carthage glances around once, eyes bouncing from place to place, pausing on Ashur and Batiatus when he spots them in the crowd. He then turns towards Spartacus a muscle in his jaw working furiously. 

"You're in luck Thracian." Spartacus tilts his head, feeling as though this was possibly a turning point in their relationship. A shame since it was at the end of Spartacus' life. "You fight Ixion." Who? Spartacus scrunches up his face and Barca slowly starts chuckling. A grin splitting his face as he rolls his eyes. "Fuck the gods, you've been hit in the head too many times haven't you, you stupid cunt?" That wasn't fair. Considering it was true. 

"Perhaps." He mutters instead jutting his chin forward. Barca shakes his head laughing some more. 

"Ixion is the face carver who killed Kerza you stupid shit." Oh. OH! Spartacus straightens up, feeling the color drain from his face as a cold sweat breaks across his brow. Barca pats the door and walks off with a nod. Having done, whatever it was he came here to do. Was this information supposed to comfort Spartacus? Scare him? Why inform him? Spartacus settles back down for a moment realizing that the Beast was right though. With it being Ixion, the pits version of a champion? He was lucky. Because it'll be easier to make it look like a real fight with that man. Nobody would blame Spartacus for losing to him. He already bested a Gladiator from the House of Batiatus. What's one more?

His knees shake a little when the guards open the door a while later. It sounded almost like two fights were fought while he waited. Spartacus takes a few deep breaths to try and calm his nerves. This is what the gods wanted him to do. And as Sura once said; who was he to defy the gods? As a non-believer he really didn't have an answer for her. Now however he knows she was right. He rises, watching the door open as though time has slowed. The creaking of the hinges seem to be louder than normal. His legs felt as though they were weighed down as he forces one foot in front of the other. Two guards flanking him quickly. 

Spartacus steps forward. Looking this way and that. Knowing these faces were the last he was going to see. The dirty, blood covered, sweaty, crowd. Clamoring for gore. There was a shady man glaring at Batiatus, but Spartacus pays him no mind. Not with Barca back at his Dominus' side. Ashur he spots conversing with someone. More than likely placing the bet. Curiously that clay tablet he normally has clutched in hand was missing. Could the Syrian really recall the names and numbers without it? Were the pits legal? Pushing these thoughts from his mind, with a small scrunch of his face, Spartacus straightens his shoulders and marches past a group of drunks. One guard now in front and the other placing a hand on Spartacus' shoulder, either to steady him or keep him from fleeing he wasn't sure. He takes up his now normal post on the left of the Pit Master. Seeing Ixion from the corner of his eye. The same woman as the past few nights comes up. Giving the Pit Master the same look as always as she places the pot thing down in front of him. Spartacus finds it far easier to keep his eyes off of her than it was the first time he was here. 

"Behold!" What no fucking speech? Joy, he finally gets his wish to not hear it again. This was not exactly what he meant when asking for it but still. The fact that he was just jumping into it told him this was indeed something like a champion's match. "Spartacus!" The crowd cheers, oblivious to the disapproving look the Thracian gives them. "Behold! Ixion!"  Spartacus glances over and something similar to rage, more like indignant anger coils in his stomach seeing Kerza's face so crudely chained on like a mask. Spartacus fights a grimace, hoping that he would be dead before Ixion started carving off his face. The pain of it probably unbearable. He eyes Batiatus across the room, now rejoined by Ashur as Pit Master continues on. "What weapons," What was he doing with his hands was the better question. "Shall the gods bless them with?" If he could just please keep his hands at his sides like the fighters were that would help Spartacus' nerves. "Or curse them" Spartacus resists the urge to finish the sentence for him. "With empty hands?" Been there done that. "Choose your fate!" He commands a bit of spit flying as he yells at Ixion. 

Without hesitating, Ixion reaches into the pot thing and pulls out what looks like part of a skull. A disgusting and horrible thought suddenly occurs to Spartacus. That these were the bones of past men. And it could be that this was Kerza! He knows they kept bodies upside down to drain the blood. And at first he thought it was for decoration. But now he isn't so sure. Unlike in the arena he has no idea where the dead go here. Although he was about to find out. 

"Ixion draws: bipennis!" He draws what? Spartacus clenches his jaw doing what he could to keep his face as neutral as possible. All humor leaving him as soon as Ixion snatches two battle axes from the weapons master. Holding them up high crossing each other with a loud growl. He's glad he decided to die today. Because he so was going to. It was both daunting and impressive to see the two axes become one, an interesting tool to say the least. Spartacus waits until the Pit Master nods at him before taking his pick. The bones in here all larger than they have been all week. He keeps his gaze on Ixion, not trusting that he won't attack the second Spartacus had his weapon. A strange vertical thing was pulled, chipped and jagged so much that Spartacus couldn't even fathom what part of the body this came from. "Spartacus draws: SICA!" He thinks he knows what that is actually. He tosses the bone back and retakes his place. 

His weapon was handed to him handle first. Spartacus frowns as he takes it. It was heavy. More like a broad sword than a normal gladius. The end of it however was wrapped with leather and two wooden spikes coming out of it, one of them curved making a furca sort of thing. He wonders exactly how this would be used should he be trying to survive. It weighed nearly as much as he did! 

"We have but a single rule!" Yeah he's pretty sure everyone here was well aware of it. "Only one survives!" What would they do if the fighters ended up killing each other though? One succumbing to their wounds after the other is dead? Or dying at the same time? What then? "Mongrel! On mongrel!" Oh there was part of his missing speech. "Till Charon arrives!" Why did he elongate Charon's name? Spartacus sighs shifting a little and looking around, glad at the very least that after tonight he was never going to have to deal with the Pit Master's over the top antics again. 

He waits until Ixion steps on to the sands before following him. Walking past the cheering crowd. Resigned to his fate. He hates that he has to be standing with his back towards the wooden beam, but with his goal being his death that was probably fitting. His eyes meet his opponents and it was simply strange. Seeing a friendly face, so marred and covering that of his killer. Something sour hits the back of his throat, thinking about how the face of the man who's going to kill him was Kerza. Fuck Crixus would laugh himself to death if he knew. And Barca was going to tell him. Disgusting. 

But it will save Sura's life so there was that. 

Spartacus locks his jaw as he takes his stance. Using the curved end of the blade as a secondary handle. Holding it up as a sort of a shield. The moment he does this was the exact second Ixion strikes. Spartacus was able to knock that axe down and out of the way but has to skip over the second one with a distressed yelp. He leans backwards with another one, heart pounding with fear and adrenaline. It was going to take actual skill and brains to keep himself alive long enough to make it look authentic. Ixion was on him quickly, and Spartacus barely manages to duck as both fucking axes were swung at him. Clanging against the stone wall loudly. Taking a chunk out of it as they do. Spartacus leaps up, spinning around him and slicing across his lower back as he escapes the corner. 

Ixion screams in pain, falling to his knees long enough for Spartacus to create some space between them. Then he was standing again. Snarling at the Thracian like he pissed in his porridge. He lifts both axes high above his head bringing them together as one and yells loudly as he brings them down. Slicing through the air noisily. Spartacus uses his weapon to block, catching the edges of the axes and forcing them behind Ixion's back, pulling them chest to chest and trapping them together briefly. It was scaring him how easy this was being. That perhaps it was going to be more difficult than he thought to make his death look unplanned. Aggravated at this and insulted on Kerza's behalf Spartacus head butts him blood spurting from his mouth and nose, letting him go and the pair of them stumbling backwards. Still irritated Spartacus puts more force than before into the next swing of his weapon, slicing across the top of Ixion's chest, splattering the nearby audience with his blood. This has to be a tactic. Perhaps luring Spartacus onto a false sense of security? Surely it couldn't be this easy to defeat the man. Was he trying to throw the match as well? Did he have a similar deal or bet going on with someone else? 

Spartacus takes a couple of steps backwards, creating some space between them. Ixion's back now against the wood and Spartacus' towards the fire. Ixion slashes through the air and Spartacus blocks it easily. The cling of the metal clashing echoing in his ears for a moment. Ixion growls and snarls like a wild boar as he charges forward again. Spartacus holds up his weapon but lets the downward slice have him release the curved side of it. He could tell that Ixion put all of his strength into the blow. And Spartacus' mouth drops in surprise, feeling the vibrations through the blade. He's had a harder hit from fucking Rhaskos before. Indignation runs through his blood and Spartacus takes the obvious opening he was presented. Using the butt of the handle to jab him in the ribs. Knocking him backwards with a second one and having to force himself to try and go high to give Ixion an opportunity. 

One that the fucking yelling goat takes. Catching Spartacus in the middle with the solid front of the axe making him double over for a moment. Scowling as he has to turn and block a predicted hit. Their weapons lock for a second and Spartacus was surprised by a sucker punch. Knocking his head to the side and sending blood spitting. The irony taste filling his mouth was preferred to sand at the very least. He was unprepared for the sensation of his blade being yanked from his fingers. Seeing the damned thing sent flying to the other side of the sand pit. He barely has time to recover before his feet were swept out from under him. Sending him flying to the ground with a shout and landing with a hard thud. His skull was pounding and there was a ringing in his ears, both sensations ignored. 

He knows it was too soon to die. But with the way he was bitch slapped by the broad side of the combined axes, one for each cheek, it felt a little out of his control. His right eye spilling some blood and momentarily impairing his vision. He foolishly gets a reprise as Ixion turns away. Raising both hands and his weapon in the wait with a cheer towards the crowd. Did he not pay attention the other matches Spartacus had been in? Clearly a split second was all it took against the Thracian. The man was lucky he was planning on dying. Honestly. Oenomaus and Crixus would eat this moron for breakfast. 

Panting and at least catching his breath, Spartacus looks into the crowd. Locking eyes with Batiatus and gaining a small nod. Whether that meant to keep fighting or go ahead and die he was unsure. But movement catches his attention and he spots the same man from before. Still glaring at Batiatus, paying no mind to the match at all. And brandishing a dagger. Aimed straight at Batiatus! Panic bubbles in his chest, because if he was dead then there would be no one to search for Sura! Nobody to free her from the shackles of Rome! The man takes a step forward and Spartacus sits up yelling.

"Nooo!" Lucky for him, Barca had been watching the match intently, and therefore the Thracian. Saw his eyes and knew exactly where to turn to. Jabbing the would be assailant in the throat while Ashur was being shoved forward. The three of them in a flurry of movement. Trying to get as much space between Batiatus and the attacker as possible. Spartacus watches in terror seeing blood spew from the Beast of Carthage's forearm. He wanted to keep watching, to make sure that Batiatus was safe! But Ixion continues his yelling and decides now was a good fucking time to charge forward. 

Cursing under his breath he rolls out of the way. The double axes hitting the sand, sending it flying. The impact on the ground was hard enough that Ixion drops his fucking weapon, stumbling backwards again. Oblivious to the fight that was happening in the crowd. Spartacus doing his best to keep his eyes on it. He feels a mild sense of relief as he sees Barca break the man's arm. It was short lived as he sees more movement. Snapping his attention to the opposite side, Spartacus spots a second assassin. Charging towards Batiatus. Ashur gets shoved to the ground and his heart stops as Batiatus just manages to dodge what would have been a fatal blow. Blood spurting from his side sending Spartacus further into a panic. 

Hopping slightly and keeping the crouched position he's made it to for a moment, Spartacus snatches up the dropped axe feeling torn. His mind unbalanced as he looks around. If he doesn't save Batiatus then there would be no one to save Sura. But if Spartacus makes it out of the pits alive, then the deal would be broken! But if Batiatus died then it wouldn't matter if Spartacus did or not because there wouldn't be anyone to save Sura! He stands slowly, seeing Batiatus fall down with the assassin raising his blade high. Just as Ixion decided to roar and charge forward like a drunken goat. Aiming carefully, Spartacus swings with as much force as he could muster. Slicing Ixion's throat, and having no time to even look at the body as it falls to the ground. Having to use all of his strength to throw the axe into the crowd. It hits its mark, landing in the middle of the attacker's back and sending him crumbling to the floor. Batiatus stands, he and Spartacus panting heavily and making eye contact. His heart breaks realizing what he's done. He could see the rage on Batiatus' face from here. Tears were welling up in Spartacus' eyes and every limb felt like honey. 

"Spartacus!" Oh fuck the gods don't say it. Don't say it. "VICTOR!" Pit master's voice bounces off the walls followed by an obnoxious roar of the crowd. Spartacus falls to his knees, the palms of his hands digging into his temples as he begins to cry. Hot tears burning his eyes as they roll down. A pair of pit guards come and drag him back to his cell. Which was a little confusing and hopeful at the same time. Was Batiatus going to just fight him again and try to win all of his money back in one go? Was Spartacus going to be here all night? Fighting the amount he has the past three in one? That was a terrifying though. He could hear another fight starting, the Pit Master working on his next speech.

"Spartacus." He looks up from his kneeled position, bottom lip trembling. Ashur was on the other side of the door looking mildly annoyed. "We will return for you shortly." Spartacus blinks once before a new, more desperate panic settles in his stomach. Terrified he launches himself at the door, grabbing the bars and watching horrified as Batiatus limps up the stairs, a trail of blood following him. Barca carrying the assassin he killed and Ashur dragging the one Spartacus stopped. 

"No." He whispers realizing they were leaving him. Literally leaving him to die in the pits! "NO!" He shouts again slapping at the bars. Fear welling inside him as he sees the door shut behind the Syrian. Screaming he kicks at the door, punching the walls. Doing nothing but hurting himself. Gripping his skull he screams in despair as he falls to his knees after what felt like an eternity. More tears spilling the salt of them stinging as they do. He could hear the next match happening, or maybe it was in his mind. The screaming, the howling, the pounding. The sound of flesh being carved or split open, of bones being broken and shattered.

Above all else he couldn't stay here. Sura needed to be saved true. But here? The pits? No, he needed to get out. To claw his way up those stairs, or even scale the fucking wall. The edges of his mind were becoming unraveled and the shadows were starting to whisper. He was already stained by this place and he knows that without a break, without the return to the ludus for sleep and medicus that he wasn't going to make it. 

"Spartacus." He flinches, turning to see both Barca and Ashur standing in the open doorway. The pair of them wearing expressions mixed with pity and curiosity. "Let's move dog, it's time to go home." With a broken whimper Spartacus rushes forward. Never having been happier to see them. Pathetically he snatches a bit of Ashur's sleeve, holding onto it like a child. But he didn't care. Ignores the questioning look the Syrian gives him. Blessedly though he leaves it. Lets Spartacus hold onto him as they limp up the stairs. 

"I do believe the pits have broken him." Ashur notes, talking as though Spartacus wasn't practically on his back. Barca snorts. 

"It is the unknown that has made him like this." Spartacus thinks they're both right but he wasn't going to tell them. Not when he was nearly shaking as they stepped foot onto solid ground. "Once he learns Dominus' decision he will be right as fucking rain. Set to annoy and hinder once more." Barca gives them both a little shove. Ashur huffs brushing Spartacus' hand off of him as they start walking. Grabbing a broom that was leaning against the wall. 

"Batiatus? Dominus? Is he-" Spartacus questions watching as Ashur brushes drag marks off the ground. No doubt the body he was pulling. A pang of sympathy hits him realizing that Ashur had to literally drag the body all the way up the cliff. 

"He is physically fine. Simply furious." Ashur answers dismissively. Spartacus' shoulders sag at the news. This means he could argue his case. Beg Batiatus to still search for Sura. He'd work as a regular house slave, or go back to being a gladiator maybe? He'd lick the floors of the villa clean if it meant rescuing Sura. Bend over for Batiatus or fuck any of his deranged house guests. Become a fucking whore if need be he doesn't care. He will do anything to save his wife. He saved Batiatus, that had to count for something. Didn't it?

"Dominus orders you to the medicus and then he wishes to talk." Barca informs giving him a shove. "So move, that way you may receive the answers you seek." Barca tells him. Spartacus nods doing his best to hurry but his legs felt weak. Honestly he was rather surprised that he was standing. His right eye swelling a little and it hurt less to just keep it closed. 

He receives no visit from Sura during his medicus visit. Medicus doing his normal fussing and tsking. Warning Spartacus that if he does not learn how to dodge then he wasn't going to continue sewing him up. A load of horse shit considering he would have to patch up and stitch whomever Batiatus ordered him to but whatever. There wasn't any real heat behind it so Spartacus imagines the man was just tired. He would have enjoyed hearing Sura's voice though. Feeling her warmth. But it was cold and the silence was rather deafening. 

"You will sleep here tonight. I am not so certain one of these wounds wont send you to fever." Medicus instructs. Spartacus nods, a little relieved since he knows he will be safe here. There was an unspoken rule, no fighting in the Medicus. 

Spartacus sits alone for a moment after the man leaves. Debating on going to the baths or not. But he knows Barca said Batiatus wished to talk. He just needed it to happen sooner rather than later. He could feel it, his sanity slipping. Knows that perhaps some rest will help but also the Beast of Carthage was right. He needed to know what was next. It was literally driving him crazy to not. And he longed for sleep.

"Spartacus." Hearing Oenomaus' voice was surprising. Spartacus glances over his shoulder, hardly believing it was real. But seeing his silhouette standing in the doorway it was hard to deny. "Batiatus summons you." Thank the gods. He can argue his case. 

The pair walk onto the sands together. Spotting Batiatus on the edge of the cliff staring up at the fool moon. A sword slung over his shoulder as he waits. He's clearly had a bath and changed clothes. Meaning yes he was properly medically attended. Clear on making a full recovery if his presence meant anything. He wasn't making Spartacus wait and for that he was grateful. Although perhaps he's been called out here so Batiatus can just kill him an kick his lifeless body off the cliff and be done with him once and for all. When they get to arms length Oenomaus stops Spartacus with the end of his whip pressed against his chest. Continuing forward to the opposite side of Dominus when he follows the silent command.

"My wife thinks you are cursed by the gods." Cursed? Him? He didn't say. Batiatus turns his attention from the heavens to Spartacus' face with a small squint. "I'm inclined to agree." Spartacus gives a small scoff. 

"You'll find no argument." He mutters. Although to be fair, his life did not seem cursed until he met Legatus Glaber, so perhaps someone should take that into account. 

"The rational course would be to end your miserable life," He gives a quick point with the sword, "before it further infects mine." Infects? It was his understanding that Batiatus willingly offered to purchase the Thracian and was in debt long before he stepped foot into the Ludus. Claiming he was the source of Batiatus' problems was a bit drastic. Another point with the sword. 

"A promise was made." Spartacus reminds. "You would find Sura."

"If you died in the pits." Batiatus takes a step forward with his pointing this time. "Yet here you stand, alive." His lips were thin as he speaks but there didn't seem to be a lot of anger behind his words. 

"As do you." Spartacus points out, feeling no joy with the statement. Batiatus gives a scoff while nodding. 

"Promise is kept." He states suddenly, shocking Spartacus. There was a slight sag to Batiatus' shoulders, almost in relief. Still staring unblinking at the Thracian. "I will continue the search for her." As much relief as he feels in the announcement, Spartacus looks down at the sword warily. Truly scared that he was going to have to go back to the pits tomorrow. Batiatus holds up the sword handle, letting Sura's binding be exposed dramatically. Spartacus gasps, hands shaking as he takes it. "You saved my life. Gods or not a debt demands repayment." A thing all those Batiatus owed money to would agree he's sure. Spartacus gazes upon him a bit like a wounded puppy, taking the entire sword and not just the fabric. It was heavier than he remembered. "He's to rejoin the gladiators as soon as he is able." Oenomaus nods, the two of them acting as though Spartacus' heart wasn't leaping for joy. 

Neither of them say another word as they walk off. Although there was something almost like pride in the way Doctore looks at him as he passes. Licking his dry lips he turns and watches them go. Knowing there would be many in the brotherhood who dislike this decision. But he couldn't care about what the men think. He needed to focus on training. To learn from his mistakes and not get ahead of himself like last time. He will endure whatever humiliation came his way, so long as he could save Sura. 

And remain out of the pits. 

Shivering he trudges back to the medicus. Leaving the sword and binding off to the side. His bones felt tired. His mind still teetering between sanity and not. He guesses medicus was right and this was a fever making an attempt. Shivering and shaking he lays down on the wooden table. Exhaustion seeping through him, he could hear footsteps approach, but he also could hear Sura. Beckoning, luring, encouraging him to rest. To close his eyes and join her. To come to her, to save her. Before the rains. And besides it could only be medicus coming to check in on him. Everyone else in the brotherhood was already in their cells fast asleep. Spartacus almost smirks imagining the rage on Crixus' face in the morning when he learns of Spartacus' return.

"Before the rains." He whispers to himself as he falls asleep. 

Chapter Text

"But why don't the others like Spartacus as champion?" Duro ponders as he and Agron continue sparring. The days training so close to coming to a pause so they could eat, but his head was still filled with so many questions. His brother, dutiful fuck that he was, sighs heavily and blocks another hit. It was so frustrating to still be paired with him, but after what happened he was forced to start with the man every day and hope that he's done enough to spar with literally anyone else after lunch. If he was lucky enough for it to happen, Agron usually ended up paired with Spartacus and that normally brightens his brother's day. 

"I do not know. You'd have to ask them." Duro's frown deepens as he glances around. Stomach twisting uncomfortably when he sees Donar dragging logs. The only training Medicus has cleared him for since having his skull nearly bashed open. By Duro fuck he still feels so bad about that. And hasn't even had the chance to apologize to the man since Agron wont let him anywhere near him! Whether to protect Duro or Donar he was unsure but never could get a straight answer from his brother. 

"Okay but Crixus seems a little... hostile?" It was the best term he could come up with. Despite being the most gorgeous man Duro has ever laid eyes on, he wasn't blind to the man's actions. He was rude to the recruits but as soon as they had the brand he was civil. Almost friendly. Although he has yet to see the man on the sands so who knows. "It simply boggles the mind is all." He states. Agron rolls his eyes also spotting Donar. 

"Perhaps you should focus on more important tasks, such as making up for you blunder that caused injury to a man who is far from hostile." Duro makes a mocking type of face and gets his legs swiped as a result. Cursing and spitting up sand after he lands the brothers stiffen at the crack of the whip. 

"Duro!" Grimacing he glances up from his place on the ground. Resisting the urge to shake his head like a dog to remove the sand that was starting to itch his sensitive scalp. 

"Yes Doctore?" He smiles weakly, almost hopefully. Oenomaus however was looking his usual stern self. No room for error. 

"You fall to distraction amongst conversation with Agron." His brother bristles as his name was stated as a curse. "After midday meal you will pair with Hamilcar and see if you fair better." He nods and waits until Doctore's back is turned and the man announces midday meal to stand. It was still extremely difficult to get a read on the man. Normally Duro was quick to learn someone's preferences and desires, secreted or otherwise. Yet with Oenomaus it still remained a mystery. However he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was basically on par with Hamilcar and therefore had a chance at winning today! Even ending up on the ground he somehow did something right!

"So?" Agron slaps him upside the head as they walk towards the lanai. Duro makes a near yelping sound, not helping the rapidly popular nickname Crixus has assigned him. 'Pup'. Which was another curiosity to him. Why have one at all. And why that one? Why did it make the other Gladiators nudge each other playfully and give the former Champion a near leer. 

"So what? I have attempted to give apologies, and you-"

"Apologies in the forms of words and actions on the sands not presenting throat nor ass for fucking!" Agron snips grabbing his brother's arm. Duro huffs still not seeing what the problem was. What better way to show someone that there was regret than to swallow their cock or bounce on it? Or both? He is not blind, Donar is of a form, nothing to the standards of Crixus of course, hell even paling in comparison to Spartacus and Varro in his opinion. But his brother seemed oddly protective of the man he claimed not to give a shit about, so he has yet to give apologies. 

"Then you break words with the man. I intend to have my questions answered." Duro pouts taking his food and waltzing off. Agron reaches out for him but Duro slips away from him in a move he really wished he had done earlier to avoid one of the last smacks to the ribs he had managed to obtain from his brother's wooden sword. He's sure it would have worked. 

"Wha- hey!" Paying no mind to his brother Duro quickly shovels his food, trying to ignore the gritty texture. Especially since it looked all soft and slimy and he still has yet to be brave enough to ask what it was. It was food and for now that was all that mattered. In that regard at least. With every other question that burned in his mind though? He knew exactly where to go to obtain the answers he sought. 

"Doctore!" He calls out rounding a corner. The man was currently walking away from the kitchen and Duro bets that Oenomaus more than likely eats better than the rest of the brotherhood due to his status. 

"Duro? Is there something a miss?" It was reassuring that he wasn't shooed away, let alone ordered to go do something else. So Duro shakes his head and smiles brightly. 

"Mh-nh. No sir, I just had some questions and thought that as Doctore you were the best person to seek out." Nervousness twists his gut, threatening to spill the pitiful lunch he just scarfed onto the floor. Oemomaus stares at him for a good long while. And after his eyes flickered to the brand on Duro's arms, dark eyes soften and his whole demeanor seems to deflate a little. 

"And what pray tell is it you are wishing to learn?" His whole face lights up with the permission. His mind was swimming with new and old questions, eager to have them answered at fucking last. 

"So much." He grins falling into step when Doctore motions him. "How come it wasn't you facing Theokeles instead of Crixus and Spartacus?" Oenomaus blanches at the blurted out question. Lips thing and hands fold behind his back clutching each palm tightly. 

"I stand Doctore, no longer a Gladiator. My days of blood and glory have past and the crowd no longer desires to chant my name. Yours however are just beginning. Train hard and soon the roar of the crowd will echo yours and your brother's names." Duro nods resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Fame and glory was not something he sought out. "My honor, to this Ludus, myself and my loved ones now comes in the form of training the rest of you." 

"Does that mean when one of us dies that Gladiator is dishonoring you?" His head tilts as he asks doing nothing to dissuade the 'pup' nickname. Oenomaus gives a startled expression before his face softens once more. 

"That all depends on how they die. If it is honorably in the arena, fighting to the death? Then no. But if it happens due to own foolish actions, such as goofing off or underestimating someone or breaking the rules, then yes." Duro nods

"Like Segovax?" He ponders earning a nod in return. They round a corner and Duro has to speed up to be able to keep up with him. 

"But why do the men dislike Spartacus so much? Why do you?!" He adds remembering how often he has heard Oenomaus talk about Crixus being a true champion to the other Gaul's. Oenomaus chuckles a little peering into corners and empty cells as they pass. Duro wonders if he should ask about Doctore spotting himself and Agron a couple of weeks ago outside of Crixus' cell, and what else the man might have seen. 

"Crixus was chosen as champion after my best friend was granted freedom." Duro's eyes widen in shock. "He took the role extremely seriously and has done everything he can to bring honor to the name, this Ludus and his predecessor." 

"And Spartacus?" Oenomaus rolls his eyes looking almost fond of the thought of the Thracian. 

"Has already attempted escape once and has on multiple occasions verbally pissed and shit on the traditions and purposes of being a Gladiator. Has expressed numerous times that he believes any in the profession to be pitiful broken willed slaves and that fighting in the arena was a punishment and not something to aspire to." Duro chews his cheek as he walks. He knows that in some cases it is indeed a punishment. Slaves and criminals sent to be executed and the only glory found was by their executioner. 

"How is he still alive, let alone champion if he attempted escape?" He could understand prior to, but from what he knows of their Dominus, it was not something that would be tolerated. If an attempt on Spartacus' life was met with crucifixion Duro has no idea what would happen should one attempt and fail at escaping. Oenomaus sighs heavily, the pair of them stopping at a intersection. The baths to the right, the lanai to the left and private cells straight ahead. Even though each hall was clearly empty, Duro couldn't help but feel as though they were being watched.  

"His wife died. Killed in transit by bandits." Oenomaus informs his shoulders sagging. Duro's eyes widen. A wife? 

"Wife as in, like .... a woman?" Oenomaus blinks at the ground a couple of times before looking up at him completely bewildered. If he knew what Duro knew about the Thracian then perhaps he wouldn't be staring at the Rhine as if he has lost his fucking head. Oenomaus opens and closes his mouth for a moment before nodding with a hum. 

"Yes. His female, woman wife. Died in his arms upon her arrival and he no longer had a reason to leave these walls. No further purpose nor desire to." Duro nods again thinking of Varro and the way Spartacus smiles at the Roman. And Duro bets he knows what purpose the Thracian has to stay. He wonders if he could place actual money on that. 

"Right, but why does Crixus hate him so much? If not for Spartacus, he would be dead right?" Oenomaus makes a face that was half amused and half annoyed. 

"More of the other way around. Even injured Crixus managed to provide the distraction needed for Spartacus to deal the finishing blow." Oenomaus explains. 

"Oooh." Duro sighs thinking quickly. This was the first he was hearing of it. Meaning Crixus was not receiving the credit he deserved. If he was in the Gaul's shoes he would be pretty put out over the whole ordeal too. Being the one injured but also the one saving the Thracian's life and getting none of the honor and glory. Yeah he'd be a little hostile too. "Why does he call me 'pup'? And why is that such a big deal to the rest of them?" Oenomaus rolls his eyes and sighs heavily as they turn right. There was a small echo of a shout from this direction and Duro worries about what they might come across. Let alone who. 

"It is a term for recruits or new gladiators who are doing poorly despite having potential." Duro's eyes widen and his heart starts pounding. Crixus thinks he has potential? "Crixus was called it for many months when he first started. The Beast of Carthage anointing him with the title." Duro has heard little of the man but he sends a silent thank you to whoever that was for doing so. 

"So... he gave me his old nickname?" He tries his best to not sound too excited over that fact. It was too good to be true! Did this mean that Crixus doesn't actually hate him? "So he likes me?" He blurts out all but bouncing on his feet. Oenomaus gives him a look as he peaks into the baths. Spotting nothing but Ashur in the corner removing some sweat and sand from his injured leg, probably having been knocked down earlier as happens so often. 

"That is a strong word, but yes he gave you his old nickname and does not detest you as he seems to do your brother." Duro picks up his pace again as Oenomaus does the same. Midday meal nearly over and Doctore having to get back to business. He does not have to wonder as to why Crixus doesn't like his brother. Agron has on more than one occasion vocalized his support of Spartacus as champion and routinely says 'fucking Gaul's' in the most disappointed and demeaning way possible. It was starting to annoy Duro even, he could only imagine what those from Gaulia actually felt. 

"Well how come everyone picks on Ashur?" Oenomaus glances at the ceiling while Duro squints at him. The only real insight he has gotten about Doctore was that he had a best friend who used to be a gladiator and that he feels sorry for Spartacus' loss. 

"He is a deceitful dishonorable little shit who does not care for loyalties so long as he makes it out ahead and alive. He'd betray his own brother given the chance." Duro's eyes widen at this, having thought Ashur held the brotherhood in extremely high esteem and was loyal to Batiatus to a fault. Perhaps the man was a good actor. He has heard some bad things about Syrians and it seems that the rest of the Gladiators hold these beliefs to heart. Perhaps he and his brother should stay away from him. 

"So why does he reside in the Ludus and not the villa if he does not stand Gladiator?" Oenomaus' eye twitches as they walk but Duro pays it no mind. He has questions after all.

"He was a Gladiator. Due to his injuries that were his own fault he no longer stands such, but bearing the mark of the brotherhood means until such time our Dominus deems otherwise, he resides here. It also aids in Dominus' ability to keep track of his Gladiator's health and preferences, giving the men a chance to order goods and services needed or desired to keep them well satisfied and not so restless." That made zero sense aside from Batiatus keeping tabs on the men. Did this mean that Dominus knew who was fucking who? 

"How does that work?" Duro blinks innocently up at him as Oenomaus sighs. The light from the sun highlighting his features making Duro wonder who was fucking Doctore. Because they were lucky as all sin. 

"At the end of the month, such as today, Ashur comes around informs the men what coin they have amassed in the past month, and give them the options on what to purchase. It is a job that Dominus' personal slave used to attend but when Ashur became cripple and we learned he can read, write and do basic math, Dominus put the task to him to keep him useful." Duro nods his mind racing with all of the possibilities of things to be purchased. Was that where Varro got that strap thingy? The plug he saw be pulled from Spartacus? That tantalizing blue ribbon that was blazed around Crixus'-

"How is he allowed to make such purchases? Does he run them all by Batiatus?" There was an eyebrow and Duro fumbles over his words for a moment his cock twitching slightly with the energy from Oenomaus. "Does Dominus know what each Gladiator is buying? Doe he have to approve of them?" Oenomaus nods again his eyebrow going back down causing relief to thrum through Duro. Because that was approval mother fuckers! 

"Ashur keeps note of all purchases in a clay tablet that he keeps on his person at all times. It is also where he keeps track of all of the bets being made, the wagers and such. Dominus is only informed when the purchase could be considered dangerous. As far as approval goes, that depends on the object as well. A gladiator can not simply purchase a Gladius, but other more personal items Dominus leaves to my and Ashur's discretion." 

"Yours?!" Duro yelps eyes going wide. Oenomaus nods his lips thinning just slightly. "You know of everyone's-"

"I know everything." Doctore cuts him off just as they were about to return to the benches. Locking eyes with Duro, jaw locked and shoulders straight. Duro curls in on himself a little with a sheepish grin.

"Which is why I came to you with questions." He tries to ease the tension. Doctore's face continues to be unamused. So, Duro clears his throat rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah-heh, ahem so erm your best friend? What was he like? What was his name?" Oenomaus blinks and a flash of a smile passes across his face. 

"He was... unique. Cocky, determined, and the best fighter this Ludus has ever seen." Duro nods noting that physical description has been left out. So he either did not find his best friend attractive, or men in general. A shame but not something Duro hasn't worked with before. 

"And?" He encourages. "What was his name?" Oenomaus glances around, which was an odd thing to do in Duro's opinion but then smiles down at him. 

"Gannicus." Duro's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he looks forward, glancing around the Lanai curiously. 

"Sounds Celtic. Is that a Gaul or...?" Oenomaus shakes his head squinting at the young Rhine He was suddenly seeming stiff, and twitchy. An odd reaction to a name he has never heard before. 

"Simply Celtic. Although he holds no delusions of pride in his birth land. Knows at the very least that being a Gladiator is who he is. Freed or not." Duro nods quickly licking his lips and humming. His fingers fidgeting in a near alarming rate. 

"Do you see Agron? I swear I left him here." Oenomaus sweeps his gaze around and with the noticed missing Donar can only guess as to where Duro's brother has disappeared to. "Gratitude for the information Doctore. Apologies if I kept you from anything! I'll locate my brother and then pair up with Hamilcar as you instructed!" Oenomaus opens his mouth to ask Duro what the fuck has gotten into him, but he flees. Literally flees. Interesting and worrisome. 

Duro tries to keep the smile on his face as he barrels back into the bowels of the Ludus. Glancing this way and that for his brother. They needed to talk. To discuss something extremely important and to make sure that Doctore never finds out. Because Duro has literally no idea what the man would do if he did. Would he be proud? Would he be mad? Is he still in contact with-? Oh fuck the gods what if he wrote to him and then he showed up?! What then?! His whole body deflates a little when he spots Agron headed back towards the benches. Seeming to be lost in thought. 

Deep thought since his brother flinches when Duro grabs his arm. 

"Where the fuck did you go?!" He demands out of breath, studying the taller to see what he could have possibly been getting into. Sighing Agron shoves him off, Duro letting him since they were back to the sands. 

"I am allowed a moment of fucking peace without you brother." He snaps while Duro notes, trying to ignore Spartacus' and Varro's heated stares. Perhaps they knew where Agron went and he needed to ask them during dinner. The crack of the whip draws all their attention.

"Gladiators, attend!" Oenamous barks signaling the end of midday meal and the second part of their training. Duro gives his brother a pointed look, one that says that they have things to discuss. But then hustles back into his training gear and meets up with Hamilcar. 

"So." The Phoenician starts as they dodge each other's attacks. "Why bombard Oenomaus with questions?" Duro tilts his head barely missing a strike to Hamilcar's side. 

"I was curious and desired answers. What is it to you?" He defends with a small huff. Arms flailing for a second as he jumps over a swipe to his feet. 

"Why not come to me? Or Rhaskos?" Duro blinks dumbly, giving a small cry of pain when he stood still too long and got hit in the arm." 

"Ah fucking shit." He growls a little using his shield to bash Hamilcar's block out of the way and slicing through the air only missing by an inch. "Why would I come to you? Let alone Rhaskos?" Sure Rhaskos explained to Varro why Segovax was castrated and then crucified. But that was a one time thing. How was he supposed to know that Rhaskos knows everything the same way Oenomaus does based off of one interaction. And one that wasn't even directed towards Duro. 

"Because we know far more than Doctore does in regards to the happenings of the Gladiators and slaves under the House of Batiatus." Hamilcar teases. Duro tilts his head missing the soft look Crixus gives him from the lanai. But does see him scowl and storm off after shaking his head. 

"Such as what?" Duro cautiously asks. Hamilcar grins rolling out of the way of a hit and groaning in frustration as Duro does the same. 

"Such as Ashur baiting you and your brother to go spy on Spartacus, Crixus and their pet Roman." Duro's eyes widen. 

"You-"

"Know about the marble toys, know about the three of them being a thing, and I can even tell you that while Crixus and Spartacus fucked first, Varro and Spartacus became a thing prior to that." Duro barely manages to have their swords clash, wood thumping loudly and both of their biceps bulging impressively. 

"How were they a thing first if Spartacus and Crixus fucked first?" Duro ponders not being able to understand the logic of it. Hamilcar chuckles darkly tangling their legs together. Yet he was unable to dislodge his own fast enough and instead of just sending the Rhine crashing to the ground, they both go tumbling down. Cursing and thwacking each other with swords and shields.

"Fuck. Ugh. Because Varro became attached, protective, and in front of many of us, stole kisses when he thought no one was looking." Duro's opens his mouth in surprise, only to start coughing and gagging on sand. The two of them making it to their knees muscles and joints sore. 

"Hamilcar! Duro!" They both wince at their names being snapped followed by a quick crack of the whip. 

"Yes Doctore?" They chorus looking up. Duro grinning sheepishly. 

"Hamilcar pair with Agron." Hamilcar grimaces glancing over at Agron who was working the pallus. "Duro." He flinches still halfway to standing. "Get on the beam and practice your balance while swinging your sword." Duro looks over at it, knowing that Tyronius normally uses it and is unsurprised to see the man hopping down, following Lydon to the shade for some water. 

"Yes Doctore." Hamilcar mumbles dragging his feet over to the elder Rhine. Duro gulps dusting off. His balance was shit unless it was riding a cock!

"Y-yes Doctore." Oenomaus nods and walks off. At the very least, Duro knows that Crixus has disappeared more than likely for a couple of hours, and therefore would not be present for him to make a fool out of himself in front of. Can't say the same for his brother and the others though. Although, knowing that Hamilcar holds a lot of information was useful. Perhaps during dinner he would sit next to the Phoenician and obtain some more answers. To learn what they know and use it to his advantage. 

Or at least get fucking laid. 

Chapter Text

He wanted to feel bad about Varro's loss. Knew that money was tight and it was an issue. Whatever the reason he gambled away the money earned, he seemed determined to get it back. A thing that he admired about his friend. And he knows he was using Varro as a distraction against his heart ache over Sura. In so many different ways. He really should just be trying to get him back on track. To stop letting his cock think for him. He was still being eaten alive over the guilt he had for accepting Pietros' advances and then letting Gneaus paw at him and bruise him up the way he has. He's made up his mind though. And now was as good as a time as any to tell Varro that he can't keep fucking him. That he was going to spar with Gneaus and beat him bloody so he could claim the Egyptian. Protect him like he failed to protect Sura. It was the only thing he could think of to assuage his guilt. Considering Crixus was Barca's friend before the Beast left he wonders if the Gaul would have issue with Spartacus and Pietros becoming lovers. Swallowing what he believes was a chunk of meat he gathers the courage to tell all of this to Varro now that Rabanus has finally gotten the fuck up and left, but he doesn't get the chance. 

"It seems Pietros has lost control of his flock." For whatever reason the statement sent ice cold fear through his veins. Spartacus looks up from his bowl at Varro, spotting the way his friend's gaze was locked onto something behind the Thracian. Eyes widening he turns around, spotting feathers and a couple of lose pigeons. The cooing and flapping of wings suddenly reaching his ears, sounding vaguely like warning bells. 

He doesn't speak. Just stands fast enough for the bench to scrape loudly against the stone. Spartacus sees the way Varro glances upwards but he doesn't care. He knows the Roman would be right behind him. Just as concerned. Perhaps a little less but he was still following him into the bowels anyways. Shutting the door so no more of the birds could get away. Spartacus wonders if that would raise a concern for any other Gladiator, or even Doctore. The door was normally only shut he was told, during a true storm or during the night during a heat wave. Most of the drought for instance it had been when the sun set. 

Trepidation. That was what currently pounds through Spartacus' veins. Every step down the now familiar hallway has his heart pounding harder. His stomach was in uncomfortable knots that he has not felt since the pits. Seeing all the feathers, and the scattered birds makes his throat tighten. It felt a little surreal. Knowing Varro was directly behind him, yet feeling alone. A cold chill hitting the air and he was tempted to turn, thinking he saw Barca for a fraction of a second passing him on that last corner. Time seemed to slow down around him. Seeing the half opened cell door did little to calm his racing heart. 

"Pietros?" He calls out hesitantly. Afraid of what he was going to find. The door feeling twice as heavy as he pushes it open. 

And his fears are realized when they were greeted with the sight of the Egyptian's body dangling from the ceiling. Lips blue with death and throat purple with the strain of the cord that was there. Spartacus stands in shock, eyes widen and lips parted. Not even the heat coming off of Varro directly behind him brought any comfort. For once again he was too late. His heart seizes wondering how long he has been like this, and if last night when Spartacus last spoke to him was the last words Pietros ever spoke? The last words he ever heard were from Spartacus, defending Barca's actions? 

"The boy has freed himself." Varro states, sounding regretful and solemn. Spartacus tries to tear his gaze away, only spotting the crate he must have leapt from and looking back up again. He was starting to hyperventilate. Varro takes a deep breath before gently pushing Spartacus to the side. "I'll get him down, you get the guards so they can notify Batiatus." Spartacus nods, his head spinning slightly. He stumbles backwards a little, his pitiful lunch threatens to find its way to the floor as he watches Varro unravel the cord. A thing he knows will haunt his nightmares. Panting he starts his walk back towards the sands. "Spartacus. Spartacus. Jupiter's cock." He could hear Varro cursing as he walks. 

The sun was as hot as ever. Like the drought never ended. His throat was just as tight. A ringing in his ears. He had hoped the fresh air, that the open space would be enough to help clear his head and calm him down. Wanted to go straight to Oenomaus and tell him what they had found. But there was a hard yell and he looks over in time to see Gnaeus kicking Rhaskos in the gut and sending him flying. 

White hot rage fills his veins. Heart pounding, teeth grinding he could feel his anger clouding his minding. Losing Sura, that was his fault. But he had little control over that. He can admit to that. Pietros? He came to him for help, and what did Spartacus do? Use him and discard him like he was nothing more than a simple whore. Let Gneaus abuse him. He knew what was happening and instead of doing a damned thing about it? He simply continued wallowing in his own misery. And now? Now Pietros was gone from this world. Because of him. And because of that fucking net wielding bastard. Before he knew it, he's taken three steps forward. The amount of pain and anguish he was in driving him mad.

"GnAEUS!" He screams getting closer. His voice sounded distorted and distant even to his own ears. Gnaeus stops his onslaught, looking up when his name was bellowed. When their eyes locked Spartacus could feel the strain in his legs as they speed up. Not caring that the fucker was now braced and prepared for it, he still tackles him as hard as he could. Knocking them both to the ground loudly the trident dropped almost instantly. 

Spartacus doesn't let him recover, the grunt from their landing barely escaping Gnaeus' throat before Spartacus slugs him in the face. Not enough blood splattering the sand to calm the Thracian's mind. He bashes a couple of more times not caring that this no longer stood a fair fight. Hadn't cared from the start. Gnaeus' lack of ability to defend or block felt justified, deserved. Spartacus shouts as his fist connects again, but was unprepared for the sudden punch to the gut he receives. Curling over Gnaeus' shoulder his skin crawling as Gnaeus takes advantage of this split second and grabbing Spartacus' right arm to keep him from hitting him again. 

"Enough!" Hearing Doctore's shout doesn't automatically stop them. Gneaus cocking his arm back and delivering a hard right hook send Spartacus flying off of him. The two roll apart and Spartacus stays still for a moment, tears welling in his eyes both from the pain in his face and his heart. Although the sound of Oenomaus' approach keeps him from trying to get at the Dacian again. "What is this foolishness?" He demands as the two stumble to their feet unraveling his whip as he does. Spartacus giving his dirtiest look possible to Gnaeus while doing a quick shake of his head to get the world to stop spinning.

"Pietros." He gasps, still panting to regain his breath. "The boy took his own life." Spartacus speaks up knowing just how many in the brotherhood, Doctore included who liked and respected the Egyptian. He doesn't need to say it was Gnaeus' fault. Even the piece of shit in front of him has a flash of guilt run across his face and his shoulders sag a little. It calmed Spartacus down enough that his fists unclench. Everyone around him know that Pietros did what he did to get away from Gnaeus. So he does not speak it out loud. Does not give that power to the waste of space and just scoffs as he starts walking off. Intending to go to the medicus to ask Crixus if he would have done the same thing or just bashed his brains in killing him and be done with it. 

"He will be missed." Spartacus pauses, his heart starting to thud again. Anger and fear over what this lowlife could possibly have to say. "Especially his lips around my cock." Something vile was crawling its way up the Thracian's spine as he slowly turns. The words processing slowly and as soon as the register, he snarls slapping the quickly raised hand out of the way and instead of just jabbing him in the throat, Spartacus grabs him by it and uses it to throw him over the edge of the cliff. The scream echoing off the rocks as more than one person shouts in surprise or the word 'NO!' for various reasons. 

Before he could watch Gnaeus' skull splatter across the rocks the whip was at his throat. Yanking him backwards and Oenomaus was screaming in his face. Varro charging forward and pleading, reminding about the up coming games and guards rushing forward, and up the stairs as well. Spartacus chokes and gasps as the pressure around his neck is lessened but Doctore was barking for the guards to take him away. Fear momentarily replaces his anger and despair, unsure on how Batiatus would react to the news that his only Retiarius  user now laid dead at the bottom of the cliff. But then he realized, he did not care what happened to him and they could always train someone else to use a fucking net and trident. He winces slightly as the chains were attached to his wrists. The same cell he was taken to the first time Glaber came by just to mock him not doing anything to help him try and remember how he was supposed to act. 

But the waiting did help him clear his head a little. Trying to see it from Batiatus' side. A man who probably did not know the horrible things Gnaeus was doing to poor Pietros. Was unaware of the way the house slave came practically crawling for help. And certainly was clueless about the fact that Spartacus used him for a quick mindless fuck. So could not fully grasp the severity of the situation. Wouldn't comprehend the amount of guilt and grief Spartacus feels. Having failed to save Pietros, being too late again to save an innocent life who made the world around them a much better place. 

It seemed an eternity before Batiatus came to him. Spartacus doing everything he could to keep his breathing even. He listens to Oenomaus explain what and why everything happened. Keeps his eyes down casted while Doctore was dismissed and Batiatus paces around the cell for a little bit. Spartacus was ready for the ranting, the raving, the yelling. He wonders if he should have told Varro to put money on getting hit. Because he was sure that would happen too. Finally, Batiatus takes a deep breath turning to face him. His top lip nearly disappearing with how tightly it was curling with rage. 

"This morning," Spartacus glances at him, wondering if he would see things the same way the Thracian did. "I boasted the top Retiarius in all of Capua!" The man hardly stops ranting long enough to breathe. "Now I posses nothing more than bones and brains scattered upon rocks!" Each word brought Batiatus closer and his arms stretched out further. Spartacus actually appreciates the fact that Batiatus was attempting not to shout and curse at him. A thing that must be done with enormous restraint considering past interactions they have had with one another. And it's not that Spartacus doesn't understand his dilemma. It was going to take time energy and money to train a new Retiarius, and that takes something from the Ludus' bag of tricks for a little while. But in his opinion, Pietros mattered far more than Gnaeus did. 

"Apologies." He offers still. 

"FUCK YOUR APOLOGIES!" Batiatus screams almost as soon as the word had left Spartacus' lips. A little bit of spit flying and a now familiar vein appearing in his throat, although barely. Something Spartacus takes as a good sign. Or at least one that means this wasn't emotionally personal and that all Gnaeus was to him was a Retiarius and that if he stood Murmillo or Thraex then he would not be so upset. Batiatus makes a motion as if to step away but quickly changes his mind and instead points at the ground at Spartacus' feet while the Thracian stares at him. Not as fearfully as he would have simply a month ago, but still a little wary. "I will have return of the value lost!" He figured as much. Not like he was actually doing anything with his winnings now that Sura was dead. Although he had been thinking about purchasing some oil, not that Batiatus needed to know that. "The price of the man will be subtracted from your winnings until the remainder is balanced." Shouldn't take too long. A primus or two? Surely Gnaeus could not have been worth the purse that he won defeating Theokeles. He doesn't think there was anything left from that but it certainly was not the point. Yet something about the fact that he hadn't even mentioned Pietros irritated him. How much was to be taken from the winnings to balance his worth?

"As you see fit, Dominus." He breathes out with a little more sass than he had intended and it sounded a bit more like a question. Probably the only thing that saves him right this second. Batiatus' face scrunches in confusion and he gives a small shake of his head. 

"All of this for what?" He squints at Spartacus, lip curling again, sounding lost as though he could not wrap his mind around the most basic thing. "He was nothing." Spartacus' heart lurches. "Shit from a whore!" His throat was tight thinking of how brightly Pietros' eyes shone when he smiled at someone. How even to Gnaeus, while Barca was still around, his first instinct was kindness. Eager to help, to assist whomever needed it. Always running around gathering things that any Gladiator asked him to obtain. And what did they all do the second Barca was gone? Turn a blind eye to Pietros' needs, his distress. 

And Spartacus stood the worst of them all for what he did to the Egyptian. 

"He was a man." A better one than Spartacus was. "His life had worth." Batiatus should understand that shouldn't he? Tears were stinging the corners of his eyes as he tries to get the Roman to understand. 

"Half a coin at most!" Batiatus scoffs. Spartacus' stomach clenches painfully as if punched. "Gnaeus was a Gladiator!" Batiatus' voice echoed a little also trying to get his point across. But Pietros could have been to if Batiatus had let him. And he was basically Oenomaus' assistant! That should count for something! Besides all of that he was a good fucking person! A delicate thing that deserved as much love and kindness as he gave. "Years of training, each mounting to an exorbitant cost!" He does a harsh little point again that jerks his shoulder as he emphasizes this. Always circling back to the money as though nothing else mattered. "That is true worth!" Batiatus spits almost literally. Spartacus watches him, rather sadly. A large part of him pities his Dominus for not seeing the people under his care as people. A small part of him pities Gnaeus to. He will not be mourned by any one. Not even his Dominus. Who valued him as nothing more than an orifice for coin to flow through. And for Spartacus' next words. 

"He did not deserve to live." Spartacus tells him calmly. Believing the statement with every fiber of his being. Knowing that had Gnaeus died or not been born at all? Pietros would still be with them. Batiatus stares at him shell shocked for a full five seconds before scowling and banging his fist against Spartacus' already injured temple. Sending him to his knees with a loud cry of pain. He expected a hit, just not there, let alone like that. 

"I alone decides who live!" Tell that to Pietros. Better tell that to the fucking bandits who killed Sura. Spartacus sighs as he sinks onto his ass, letting Batiatus continue growling at him. Hunching over to continue to be in the Thracian's face. "Not you! Not a fucking slave." Because at the end of the day, Gladiator or not, that is what he was. Nothing more. Spartacus grimaces as more spit goes flying. He stays where he was on the ground, finding it easier than standing right now and figuring with the mood Batiatus was in, it should be the right choice. "Argh!" Spartacus watches him stand up right as he spins wiping his mouth and nose before glaring down at him. "My generosity has been boundless." But throwing it back in his face makes it feel like a manipulation. Spartacus gives him a side eye as Batiatus stoops down pointing a finger in his face again. "Yet you defy my still!" Killing Theokeles was not done out of defiance but alright. They study one another for a second as Batiatus crouches, Spartacus could see the gears in his mind turning as he chews his bottom lip. "Mercato's games are upon us." Spartacus closes his eyes in exasperation. He had almost forgotten about those with Pietros' death. "I expect you to fight as a loyal Roman." Kiss his ass. "Or die as a Thracian." He stares at the wall for a second thinking about his options, and the benefits of either. "See him to the medicus." He hears Batiatus command. 

Fuck now he has to talk to fucking Crixus. 

Chapter Text

He's not sure if he has been through worse. Sure the pits, recruit training, the arena, it was all horrible awful and brutal. Losing Sura and Pietros? Devastating for different reasons. Sura more so but that was not the point. Being tortured like this by Varro? It was literally causing him to go insane. He hadn't slept at all last night. Each position he attempted shifted the damned plug. He had been terrified to eat because of what might happen. It's been nearly twenty-four hours since he's gained it, and his cock was so painfully over stimulated he thought he might die. Because even though he tried fucking his own fist last night, it did little to ease the pressure. And training?! Dodging those who were finishing setting up the scaffolding that the Rhines would be using this evening for their test? Jumping and rolling around, watching Varro be covered in sweat with the sun glistening off of his well toned muscles? 

No something had to be done. 

He groans in both pleasure and frustration when he turns too fast. Looking across the sands at Crixus. The true cause of this fucking nightmare. Bastard all of a sudden has to decide to consider Spartacus part of his precious fucking brotherhood and save his life? And honestly, Spartacus could have handled it. A few more seconds and he would have done... well something to save himself. He's sure. He survived the pits for four fucking days did he not? Or was it three? Fuck he couldn't even remember it was such a daze. And a slew of memories he tries to forget. Either way he never asked for the Gaul's help! But Varro was so certain that Spartacus needed to show some gratitude?! It boggled his mind. The three of them shared one intimate, and truly erotic moment together and all of a sudden the Roman believes they should be friends? Civil? 

Sure Crixus and Spartacus had a few more heated moments, although he is still unclear of the first one. And yes even he has heard the other Gladiators talking about how Crixus seems to be hiding in the medicus, or at least haunting the halls rather than interacting with anyone. Maybe that was because he felt unappreciated in the saving of Spartacus. Maybe. But that certainly wasn't the Thracian's problem nor fault! If he wasn't confident enough in his own actions then he needed to not do anything. To just quietly sit back and fade into the shadows. 

Spartacus grimaces watching Crixus stare longingly at the scaffolding. Knows how much he was dying to get back to training. The man's whole life was the arena, the brotherhood. Sword and shield being his only joy. And without Barca or Pietros around, nobody else seems to be seeking him out. Sure the others were friendly when he was present. Interacted with him when they saw him. But he recalls vividly how the Beast of Carthage or the house slave would run or walk up to him, chase him down when he was in a mood. Check in on him and all sorts of things. Granted knowing that they were all three in a relationship of sorts made it make a lot more sense but still. Now he was alone. Probably for the first time since coming to this Ludus, or at the very least the first time in a few years. And he had trusted Spartacus and Varro with the knowledge of the Marble and Lucretia. Perhaps that was an opening? An olive branch? A cry for help and attention? 

Running a hand over his face he scans the crowd spotting Varro. Who was laughing with Acer. To Spartacus it looked as though the Hispanian was flirting but then again he's seen Lydon look like that with a lot of the other members of the Brotherhood so that could just be the man's face. Doesn't mean he likes it though. And when the Roman glances over at Spartacus with a cheeky grin and a wink he knows what he has to do. Something he truly does not wish to. 

Swallow his fucking pride and give gratitude to the Gaul. 

There was a clank noise catching his attention. Spartacus hisses when he turns too fast again but blinks at, who he thinks is named Rabanus cursing at the Rhines who were tasked with assisting set up the scaffolding. The older was scowling but staying silent, and the younger was holding up his hands and giving a nervous laugh clearly giving apologies. Seeing the pair has his eyebrow raising slowly. True he could give his thanks to Crixus. A thing he does not desire to do. But that does not mean that there couldn't be a reward. 

The fucking plug being removed being the first. However, Spartacus licks his lips eyes trailing up the taller Rhine's body slowly. Long powerful legs supporting the beautifully defined torso and even with a scowl on his face those green eyes were just so inviting. Nodding to himself Spartacus carefully heads over to Varro, his mind racing with so many different possibilities. Sure Varro might be upset at first, but once his mind was opened, then Spartacus is sure he would be on board. After all there really hasn't been anything that Varro has refused him. This stupid fucking plug aside. 

He stops for a second, blinking at the blond. A small, soft smile falling on his face. Varro really was a great friend, such a good man. He truly hopes that one day he could prove to him that love was what filled Spartacus' heart when even thinking of the man. How while Sura was the sun, Varro was the moon. His new reason to live. And while teasing the man and having them explore different sexual experiences together was fun, Spartacus couldn't get enough of the curly haired Roman. 

Someone shoulders past him and Spartacus nearly yelps with how the plug was shoved against his prostate. Lightening shooting through his already overstimulated body making him clench his fists and teeth. Once more reminded as to why he has decided to give Varro a counter offer. Jerk deserved some discomfort of his fucking own after the absolute shit show that has been the past four fucking days for Spartacus. 

Varro continues helping break down the balance beam when Oenomaus instructs Lydon to come over and assist. He doesn't really need it, but he knows the Hispanian needs more muscle training, and this was more than likely Doctore's way of making it happen. He was relatively excited for this evening. Having watched the Rhines he has faith that they would both past the test. And should he win this bet that will be enough extra coin to buy some more oil for him and Spartacus. They were going to need it. Since he's ninety percent sure that when he pulls his stubborn head from ass and give Crixus the gratitude the man deserves, then that plug was probably going to go over the cliff. He's not the only one who has noticed that Spartacus was jumpy and extra sweaty and flushed today. If not for Varro having found Doctore that morning and telling him that he and Spartacus were close to figuring out their differences and to simply trust him then the medicus might have found the 'problem' and fixed it. 

"Wow Varro, you're really strong." Lydon suddenly chimes in making Varro frown down at him. He hasn't given the man too much thought. Learned that a few months ago he and Tyronius got into a huge fight and were no longer a true item. Fucking from time to time yes, but no longer the loving and cute pair they were prior to the end of the drought. He reminded Varro of a butch version of Pietros actually. Curly dark hair, although kept short, darker skin and a medium build with less defined muscles than his own. The man was a jack of trades and there was talk of him replacing Gneaus as the retiarius user. Varro doesn't think they have had an actual one on one conversation before though. 

"Uhm... thank you?" He chuckles lifting the last of the beam back into it's storage section near the gates. "What's happening?" Varro asks taking a step back as Lydon takes a step forward. Eyes hooded and looking ready to eat Varro alive. 

"What? Can't a man give another man a compliment?" Varro squints at him. Since Segovax's attempt on Spartacus' life, or at least the couple of hours Varro spent in his cell after, the rest of the brotherhood has acted, spoken to and about the pair as though they were together. So why Lydon was now here openly flirting with him was an absolute mystery. 

"Sure, of course. Um... I just don't recall ever encouraging one from you. I thought you were sleeping with-"

"I'll sleep with whomever the fuck I wish to thanks." Lydon snips suddenly. Varro blinks at him before Lydon clears his throat and gives a pretty laugh. "Come on, don't tell me you and the Thracian are exclusive?" He's not entirely sure what they were to be honest but he knows that if Spartacus catches him fucking anyone that wasn't Crixus it might break his trust and make him upset, and hurting the man was the last thing he wanted. 

"Maybe. I-" He tilts his head noticing Lydon's eyes flickering over towards the Lanai. Varro follows his gaze and spots Tyronius. Glaring at the pair of them as Rhaskos tries to get his attention. "Ah." He gets it now. 

"Ah?" Lydon chuckles leaning in with his hands behind his back. "What's 'ah' Varro?" His name was said as a purr and Varro lets out a true laugh. Glancing over at Spartacus as he does and winking when he sees the Thracian pouting in his direction. He can't even chide Lydon for his games since he was sort of doing the same thing. And above all Varro does his best to not be a hypocrite. 

"I just figured out what you're doing is all, and I have to say I approve of the idea, but am not willing to participate." He runs a hand through his hair with a small shake of his head. And he only approves of the results more than anything. 

"What I'm doing? The fuck does that mean?" Lydon half snips half laughs. His temper quickly rising. Varro grins at him hearing Spartacus storming over. The Hispanian not the only one with a short wick. Varro wonders how much of this does Spartacus know or understand, although he's not entirely sure if the Thracian knows Lydon's name! The man was horrible with them. Asked Varro multiple times what he was and explained why after the second time but it wasn't long after that when Spartacus got it. 

"I might not have been here overly long, but I am well aware of you and Tyronius." That was a rather dark scowl. 

"There is no me and Tyronius." Varro licks his lips while nodding, letting Spartacus sling his arm around his shoulders as he gets close enough. Having to stretch and nearly stand on the tips of his toes to do so. "But it seems as though it is you and the Thracian." 

"Champion." Spartacus huffs, in an uncharacteristic show of authority. Damn he was adorable. 

"Apologies." The Hispanian states the sarcasm unmistakable. "I meant no offense. Just offering another body to add to the fun." He adds holding his hands up. Spartacus scrunches his face in confusion. Twice as when Varro chuckles glancing behind them. 

"Your offer is not needed Acer." Spartacus snaps. Varro hangs his head while the smaller Gladiator blinks rapidly, staring at Spartacus as though he has grown a second head. 

"Lydon." Varro mutters. Spartacus tilts his head looking at him. "His name is Lydon you dumb fuck." There was a bubble of laughter in the way Varro tells him, but it does nothing to stop Spartacus' ears from turning pink or his face from grimacing in regret. 

"Apologies." He nods at Lydon. The fury from the man almost intimidating. 

"You're a fucking terrible Champion." Lydon half shouts pointing directly in Spartacus' face. "I look forward to the day when Crixus regains his title by lopping your fucking head off!" Varro grabs Spartacus' arm to stop him from retaliating, let alone keeping him from challenging Lydon as the man storms off, kicking up sand and dirt behind him as he goes. 

"Pay him no mind. As really you deserved that." Spartacus huffs a little rubbing the back of his neck. He knows that, but it's not really his fault for getting the two of them mixed up. He's never heard the name Lydon before in his fucking life! How was he to know? 

"If he stands Lydon then who stands Acer?" He blurts out instead of verbally taking responsibility for the mix up. Apologies had already been given, there was no further need to kiss the ass of the insulted Gladiator. Varro gives a frustrated groan, unable to keep the grin off his face as he does. Spartacus smiles brightly watching him. Debating once again on whether or not to add his stipulation. 

"The little Gaul." Varro states hands on hips. Spartacus scans the crowd of Gladiators and nervously points to one. Varro smacks him upside his head and the jolt has Spartacus yelp with the way the toy presses into him. "Shit, apologies." His laughter did not go unnoticed. "But um, no you idiot. That's Liscus." Spartacus makes a face pointing to a blond,

"I thought that was Liscus." Varro shakes his head with a heavy sigh. 

"No, that's Plenus." Spartacus looks up at him nose wrinkled in absolute confusion. He jabs his finger at the Greek sitting next to him. 

"But isn't his name Plenusmannus?" Varro laughs doubling over making it rather difficult for Spartacus' frown to stay in place. And for those around them to ignore the pair. They were receiving dirty and curious looks from the brotherhood and Oenomaus shoots them a disapproving glare. Just because training ended early today so the recruits could do their test doesn't mean he thinks they should be having too much fun, and all were aware of this mindset. 

"What are you, high?" There was a disapproving look and Varro takes pity. "No you fool." Varro chuckles motioning Spartacus to walk, knowing they were going to want to be positioned closer to the cliff edge so they could talk while the Rhines fought. It would be easier to watch too. Unlike with their tests this was happening earlier in the day so dinner could be served after not before. Meaning there wasn't going to be a large crowd huddled under the Lanai. Spartacus wonders if it is due to the fact that there were only the two Rhines and not a group of four to keep track of. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that it wasn't a full moon tonight like it had been with them. "That is Mannus he and Plenus are lovers which is why you never see them far from each other's side. Just as Fortis and Liscus." Spartacus chews his lip looking back over at them. Liscus was surrounded by the rest of the Gauls, as he always seemed to be. His confusion must have shown on his face because Varro rolls his eyes hard enough that his skull follows the motion. 

"Fortis staaaaands....." He trails off eyes flickering over the group. 

"The tall Numidian with the braids." Spartacus bounces his head back and forth between the two similar looking men. Varro sighs heavily knowing he shall never attempt to make the man pick Crixus and Liscus apart in a crowd. Let alone Rabanus, Rhaskos, or Fulco. It wasn't just names that the Thracian struggled with that was for sure. "The one closer to Liscus. He's sitting." Spartacus jerks a little, physically taken aback. 

"The giant?" Giant was... well no the man was over six feet. By far their tallest Gladiator so yeah that was fitting. He was normally slouched or hunched over since his lover was so much shorter than he was, but still. He kept more to himself and stayed in the background so it was easy to forget his height. Much like Donar, Varro realizes suddenly. 

"Yes. Congratulations, you are learning the names of men you have known and sparred with for over a year." Spartacus gives him a dirty look, unable to put too much heat behind it. Not with the way the plug was impairing his thought process. It was difficult to think when the only thing he wanted to do was jump Varro and demand the damned thing be removed. 

"Hardy har har, you're hilarious." Spartacus rolls his eyes folding his arms in an obvious pout. Varro grins down at him, noticing the tension in his shoulders and back, the slight shaking of his legs as he stands. Rigidly, impatiently waiting for the rest of the brotherhood to show up as they finish with the scaffolding. A small crowd already forming. Crixus on the far side of it, his stomach still wrapped in light bandages. It was about time to change those, but he knows the Gaul prefers doing so after the baths. Due to Spartacus' refusal to give gratitude Crixus has been avoiding the Thracian, unfortunately this means he's also been avoiding Varro. Which was actually a little upsetting. Since they're little tryst with the marble, he and the Gaul have been on relatively good terms. And even before the battle with Theokeles, he and Crixus didn't disagree about much, just his treatment of the recruits and Spartacus after the mark was earned. 

"You know what would be even funnier?" Varro teases leaning closer. Spartacus gives him a wary look. "Not giving gratitude to Crixus and having to keep that little toy in for another day." A cold sweat breaks out across his skin. He knows that look in his friend's eyes. The man was dead serious. 

"I'll give him my gratitude." Spartacus tsks, the sound raising one of Varro's brows. "If," There was a roll of the eyes,

"If, the fuck do you mean if? You're already stretched and plugged, what the fuck do you think happens if you do not give the Gaul a quick thank you huh?" He snaps, having to drop his voice to a harsh whisper as more and more of the brotherhood gather around, waiting for Batiatus to appear on the balcony to give Oenomaus the signal to start the test. Varro was actually a little curious on who the opponents will be, and which Rhine is going to go first. 

"I also went three days being in the dark with your plan and suffering-"

"Suffering?" Varro cuts him off with a laugh. "You call spending one day threatening me, another day attempting to seduce me, and ending up in the medicus due to acting a fool, and then out right sucking my cock but denying release, you suffering?" He was grinning but Spartacus could see the mild rage in his eyes. It was almost funny. Making him wonder if this was how Varro felt about him the last few days. But he softens his own smile and pats Varro on the shoulder. 

"I was going to say, suffering without you by my side, and in my bed." There was a small blush spreading across the Roman's face, but his expression was almost unreadable. 

"I am forever at your side, and on your side." Varro tells him a muscle in his jaw jumping. "My Champion." He adds affectionately nudging Spartacus with his elbow. The Thracian gasps gripping his arms tightly. He waits patiently while Spartacus gets himself back together, highly amused by this situation. "So, what is your 'if' then?" He questions as Spartacus gives himself a small mental shake.

"I was hoping we could, perhaps add the Rhines." Varro tilts his head and Spartacus shrugs. "I am unsure on how you fared the past three nights, but sleep did not come easy and...." Spartacus shifts a little, biting his lip and regretting the sudden movement, "I missed you." Varro blinks at him looking stunned.

"What do the Rhines have to do with this?" Spartacus shrugs looking at the ground. 

"Distractions and such." Varro gives a small chuckle cupping the back of Spartacus' neck and making him look up. 

"I thought that was what the Gaul was for." Spartacus scoffs with a smirk leaning into Varro's touch. He disliked being at odds with the man and would much rather they just spend all of their time together. A loud laugh catches his attention and his eyes too quickly find Crixus through the crowd. He really hated being at odds off the sands with either of them he was coming to realize. 

"Yes but perhaps he is of a mood, or with Lucretia." Varro hums following Spartacus' gaze. 

"Or you and I are in a mood and avoiding each other for three days?" He teases. Spartacus laughs shoving him off. It was so nice to be able to joke and play around with him again. 

"Or something like that yes." They beam at one another when the rest of the brotherhood emerges. Scattering around the sands and some along the edge of the lanai. Varro glances up and spots Batiatus and Lucretia coming out onto the balcony. Domina taking a reclining position on a chaise. 

"I suppose you making more friends would not be such a terrible idea. And it seems the two of them could use some." Spartacus brightens up at Varro's words. The hope and mischief in those blue eyes made the Roman's heart ache. 

"Doctore." All heads turn up towards Batiatus. "Begin." He instructs with a wave. With how much money Ashur informed the rest of them, (under duress) that was spent on this newest batch, and having the Rhines be the last two out of the group, one would think he would be a little more invested in if they lived or died during this test. Varro knows Spartacus was making him a lot of money but for fucks sake. 

"So, we shall question them one at a time?" Varro questions spotting the two in question towards the front of the crowd. Spartacus grins at him with a nudge and a nod. Varro follows his gaze, spotting Donar staring at Agron intensely, and then closer to Oenomaus, Crixus who was watching Duro as though mesmerized. 

"Perhaps we should do so as quickly as possible. Before they are claimed by others." Varro chuckles with a nod licking his lips. Thinking of the plans he has for the Gaul later this evening, and the hopeful plans he has should Spartacus pull head from fucking ass, he worries a little that the Rhines would cause an issue. Meaning he needed to get everyone situated and on the same page quickly. Spartacus nods eyes flickering between Donar and Agron as the elder was called forward first. Varro leans in to whisper in his ear. "Could always use someone to stuff your ass while I'm filling Crixus'." Spartacus scoffs just as Hamilcar was announced to be the opponent. "What? Can't be the Gaul. His cock would be too busy shutting you up." Spartacus flushes a little before smacking him gently in the chest. 

"Let us focus on one thing at a time. We shall gage the reactions from the pair of them, and then after dinner I shall-"

"Finally give deserved gratitude?" Varro cuts him off with as much sass as he could muster. Spartacus rolls his eyes but nods. 

"Yes, though I still do not feel it is justly deserved, I will give gratitude to Crixus for saving my life." Varro hums running a hand down Spartacus' spine, rubbing his lower back as Agron yells, furious about having received a small cut from the Phoenician. 

"Very well. Then afterwards I shall remove the plug." Spartacus nods. 

"Damned right you fucking will." He huffs straightening his shoulders. He thinks he'd lose his mind if he had to be stuck with this thing for another day let alone a minute more than it was going to take to suffer through the rest of the next two hours.