by Lydia Pax
“No,” she said, pointing at his obvious hardness beneath his loin cloth. “I want that. I want you. Now.”
“But you just…didn’t you?”
“I did.” She smiled, almost leisurely. Her hands tugged at his cloth. “But that means I’m more ready than ever. Give it to me, Lucius. It’s mine and I want it.”
It felt impossible to refuse, and he had no desire to in the first place. Her entrance was slick, and his cock was as ready as it had ever felt in his life.
Their joining was hot, simple, and sure. He drove all the way up to the hilt in his first thrust—a good gladiator to his core—both of them gasping at the sudden ease of the movement.
The contortions of her lovely face as he backed out and thrust in again were hypnotizing to watch. He lasted for minutes more than he thought he would have otherwise, all to see her face contort like that again and again.
His hands marveled across her warrior body. The scars across her back from a lifetime of hardship had never been ugly to him. Now they were beautiful, a landscape of unique, warm flesh held just for him. Lucius had always been unable to help himself from biting during lovemaking. Now he bit her shoulders where her tattoos made their beautiful pattern, giving her his own possessive mark.
But over time, with thrust after thrust, his composure began to slip. He’d never had sex like this before. Never so passionate, so pure—so focused entirely on his partner. Her hips drove upward to meet his every thrust, urging his release onward to its inevitable climax.
“Oh,” he grunted, pushing urgently. “Gwenn. I’m going to…I have to…”
“On my belly. Please.”
He nodded against her neck. They were both in agreement there. Just in time, with a great shuddering of his hips, he emptied out onto her belly, spreading out his seed there on her eager torso.
She made it clear with her hands that she enjoyed the sticky, pleasant warmth there very much.
Many moments passed and he thought that perhaps they were done speaking with one another. His mind emptied of all cares, all worries. His last partner had ever been Porcia—for years now, that was how it had been—and so he had forgotten about the sweet reward of relaxation after a lovemaking well done.
Free association took a deep hold of his brain, leading him from one thought to another. Images of Gwenn led to the arena led to sands led to the city of his birth led to large bowls of pasta arranged on anniversaries, so big that he felt he could drown in them.
Her touch woke him. He realized, after a moment, that she had been nudging and touching him for several seconds now.
“What about this one?” She drew a finger across his back.
There was a long scar there from his spine to his right butt cheek. That blow had almost killed him. It had been against a murmillo. It had been against…
Gods.
The reality of what just happened sank in for him.
“Just some fighter,” he said, pulling her arm across him. He could have tonight, at least—tonight, and no more. “Go to sleep.”
Chapter 36
Hours later, Lucius still had not slept. He did his best at pretending. Gwenn was wrapped in his arms still, holding him as tight as she could. Her embrace was bliss, if bittersweet.
As hard as any knowledge he’d ever had—and Lucius had killed men for years, had known the ends of their lives at his fingers—was knowing that he did not deserve her.
Outside, cicadas sang their song. Their merry chorus irked him.
To have an insect’s brain, to be oblivious, blameless…wouldn’t that be something?
He would tell her, he realized. He would have to—there was no way around it. He closed his eyes, trying as best he could to treasure the last few moments alone with this beautiful, amazing creature.
She trusted him. She had placed her whole into him. It felt amazing. But he did not think he could move forward in his life with even one single more deception. Not after what they had been through.
It had been lies that had gotten him into the hole where he was at with the drink. Lies that had allowed him to hide from his friends, to tell himself that they didn’t matter, that being free of wine didn’t matter, that his life didn’t matter, that honesty and friendship and honor didn’t matter.
But all of those things mattered—or at least, they mattered to him. And he did not want to piss them all away again because he wasn’t strong enough to tell the truth to this woman who he loved.
Loved?
Was that the way of it? Was that even possible?
He tried to shake the idea—loving Gwenn, loving the daughter of a man he’d slain in the arena. But it was stuck now, that idea. It gnawed into the base of his skull, drumming there like a mad tribesman calling for battle.
Lucius loved Gwenn.
He loved her for her fire. For her spirit. For her exuberance and her passion. Unleashed now, the reasons would not stop. He loved her for her ability to listen to him. He loved how she could talk sense. He loved how she saw sense and made it work in her life.
He loved her in all these ways, and she would never, ever be with him. Because what woman could or would after what he had done?
She would never be with him because he had killed her father in the arena—because he was commanded to kill or be killed himself by a terrible crowd stirred to a bloody frenzy by the display he gave them in the sands.
As morning came closer, she still had not stirred. He could not bring himself to wake her to tell her the news. He would tell her, he would.
He just did not wish to ruin her peaceful sleep by his own hand.
It was easy to imagine her point of view in such a time. She had won her first fight in the arena, overcoming incredible odds to do so. She swore the solemn oath of the gladiator, forever attaching herself to her brothers and sisters-in-arms in House Varinius. And on top of all of that, her steadily-improving bond with her trainer had culminated in a night of unrelentingly hot lovemaking.
What he would tell her would be devastating. The realization hit him slowly that there would never be a good time for the news—and with that realization came the certainty that he had known that all along.
He had kept the information to himself not to hide from her, but to protect her. He did not want her to train, knowing he had done what he did, because she might have trained less hard. Training less hard meant death in the arena, and that he could not tolerate.
But there would not be a better time than now—right after a victory, when she would not have a fight for perhaps another month or more. Maybe she could use her hate for him, mold it into something during training to keep herself alive on the sands…that would be good, wouldn’t it?
So long as she lived.
He could bear her hating him so long as she lived.
Lucius sat up, scheduling the decision. He would visit the toilet and empty himself, wake up his mind a little. And then he would return and tell her the truth.
The toilet was not far. The guards said nothing to him. A doctore went where he pleased on the grounds, beyond suspicion until he had earned it.
He stopped for water at the trough on his way back, wanting his words to be clear. Often in the mornings, his voice was gravelly until he had said a few sentences and had some water to wet his throat. As he drank, the front gates to the ludus opened.
He turned with some surprise—it was early in the morning after all—and the surprise heightened when he saw Porcia entering. Her bodyguards, Karro and Brutillus, accompanied her with torches in their hands. She looked rather harried.
“And now you’re waiting for me.” She put a hand to her face. “Wonderful. What is it, Lucius?”
“Good morning, Domina,” he said, trying to smile.
“Are you to berate me for enjoying my winnings of the day?” She sounded a bit drunk. “What is it to you if I might have bought a princess?”
“No concern of mine, Domina.”
“That’s right!” She tittered. “A prince
ss from Armenia, can you imagine it? Sold as a slave because her family angered the wrong Roman ambassador. She’ll be here within the week. Oh, the parties will be absolutely throbbing with jealousy. I can’t wait. Congratulate me, Lucius.”
“Congratulations, Domina.”
He knew, as soon as he said it, that his tone was a mistake. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude. But building up the requisite amount of caring for Porcia’s perceived coup was just beyond him that particular morning.
Slowly, her smile faded. The familiar look of her disdain returned, marring the loveliness of her face. She examined him, guiding the torch of a guard over his face. The pain in his expression must have been obvious, though she mistook the reason.
“What is it, Lucius? I expect you want to complain about the gladiatrices receiving the oath, as some others have?” She sniffed. “Don’t trouble yourself. It’s theirs to earn, and they earned it. I’ll tell you what I told that stubborn Otho, when someone wins in the arena it is a sacred thing. He and I had the most awful fight about it, but only because he’s such a stubborn ass. We must honor the Gods with their victory, and if we fail to do that—”
“I do not disagree with you, Domina. I am glad they took the oath. I agree that they deserved it.”
“Then…” she sniffed again. Her nose came close, and the sniffs continued. “Oh. Oh, I see.”
“Do you?”
“You’ve been sleeping with someone. Who? Is it Sabiana? She favors me in her looks. I suspect you miss my embrace. But…hmm. Gwenn?” Her expression turned to one of cold delight. “I see. Artemis and Orion. I should have guessed. Very clever, you picking that name for her.”
“Thank you, Domina.”
“But in my recollection of the myth, Artemis remained a virgin, did she not?”
He supposed someone was going to figure that out eventually.
“Myths are strange things, Domina, with a great many meanings.”
“Perhaps you might consider me your personal Demeter. I shall have to find a scorpion, then, to strike you down.”
Lucius’s voice was as pained as the rest of him now. “I don’t think that necessary, Porcia.”
“I don’t care what you think necessary, slave.” She snapped to her bodyguards. “This slave is outside of his cell before training hours are to begin. Correct him.”
All protests fell on deaf ears, and the guards dragged Lucius back to his cell.
Chapter 37
“You’ve become a fine addition to this ludus, Gwenn.”
Porcia had called her into her office early in the day—right at the start of training, in fact. Technically, Gwenn had the day off—and perhaps longer, depending on how quickly the wound on her shoulder felt.
“Thank you, Domina.”
They sat across from one another now, with Porcia behind her desk. Her bodyguards flanked her as ever. Karro seemed to have some affliction was sticking to his lungs, and every few moments he had to excuse himself to cough in the atrium.
There were a great many other things Gwenn would have preferred doing right then. Training, for example. And if not that, then sliding her lips against Lucius’s for the rest of her life.
Not for the first time that day, she wondered if she loved him. Certainly, she loved several things about him. His easy humor. His openness with her. His drive to help others. Gwenn would have been dead in the arena if not for his belief in her skill—his dedication to making her better.
But Porcia’s presence demanded attention on Porcia, and it was better not to drift.
“There are a great many privileges associated with victory that winners such as yourself can come to enjoy.” Porcia poured a glass of wine for Gwenn. “And to expect. Have a drink.”
“No, thank you, Domina.”
Porcia raised an eyebrow. “You dislike my wine? You have not even tasted it.”
Gwenn had to be careful here. Porcia was a very particular woman. It seemed perhaps half of Puteoli knew of her gambling—or at least, that’s the way Kav put it, who was always talking close with Iunius. The eunuch, with his many contacts, was their line of information from the outside. From Kav speaking with him, and Kav never quieting regardless of the situation, Gwenn had learned much about the ludus where she lived.
Porcia was vain even in her surroundings. The many bronze and gold plates on the walls, along with metal and marble renditions of their family line posted on small pillars all throughout the domus, were evidence of that. But, that love for spending had not extended to the ludus itself. Living and training conditions for the gladiators were poorer than they needed to be, and they did not receive enough gladiators on a regular basis to bounce back should House Varinius suffer substantial losses at an unlucky series of games.
“There is a horrific allergy in my family line with drinking. Every man or woman that begins to drink breaks out in heavy fighting and horrible dancing.”
Which was only to say the least. But the gentle joke seemed to put the point across, and Porcia shrugged and added the wine to her own glass.
“Very well. I expect you are a very able dancer when drunk. You certainly danced your way through danger yesterday.”
“I wouldn’t know, Domina. I have studiously avoided any opportunities for intoxication.”
Porcia sniffed. “A shame, that. It’s difficult to tell how honest people are being with you if you don’t see them under the influence of a little libation.” She smiled. “Take Lucius, for example. Our Orion. Have you seen him drunk?”
“A little. I prefer him sober.”
Something Porcia said just stuck out to her. It was difficult to know which part. Libation? Honesty? What was she getting at? And yet there was something there…
“Honesty is important to me, Gwenn. I will tell it to you straight. I want there to be no secrets between myself and the fighters under my roof. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Domina.”
“And so, is there anything you should like to tell me about yourself?”
“I…” Gwenn struggled. “I am not sure what you are looking for, Domina. But I assure you, I am not keeping any secrets.”
“No?” Porcia’s smile was almost wolf-like now. “And what of your father? Is he not worthy of mention?”
“I…” It dawned on her slowly. “I apologize, Domina.” The submission was new to her. She did her best. But now that she had fought in the arena, she did not want to risk Porcia’s wrath and have that glory taken away. “I did not think him worthy of mention unless I did something of note. You found his name on the Wall of Turmedites?”
“Not me personally, no. But after your performance yesterday, I had some feelers put out. Word travels fast.”
“I did not want to bring him up to you and have you think I was interested in shorting my duty somehow. I want to fight. I don’t wish for any coddling.”
Porcia nodded. “I can see that. And does Lucius know who your father was?”
“I told him. Many weeks past.”
“I see. And how long have you been sleeping with him?”
Gwenn felt her skin flush quickly. She turned from Porcia’s gaze. It felt cold and incriminating.
“You needn’t be so shy, dear. It’s no problem. Slaves sleep with one another all the time.”
“I…we…it was just last night. That we did it.”
She almost said “began,” but that had a heavier implication that she wished to throw out in front of Porcia. Word had traveled to her, and she knew the two of them had slept together in the past. It would not be an easy life, having her Domina as an enemy.
“I see.” Porcia nodded sagely. She re-positioned herself so that she sat on a stool directly across from Gwenn. “Yes, that makes sense. You needed some time to recover in the meanwhile, I understand. But your passions were too great to be held back by such ill fortunes.”
“To recover, Domina?”
“From what Lucius told you.” Shock appeared on Porcia’s face—whether feigned for
effect or truly there, Gwenn could not say. “He did tell you, didn’t he? The great and mighty Orion didn’t tell you the truth straight away?”
Orion. That’s what had bugged her from before. She knew that name. She knew it well. That was…
That was the name of…
“Lucius didn’t tell you he killed your father, and then he slept with you? Oh my.” Porcia tsked. “Oh my, Gwenn. That must be quite a blow.”
She put a hand on Gwenn’s. Gwenn stood up and withdrew as if a spider had crawled across her skin. She clung to the wall, trying to make herself small. Suddenly there was nothing so important in the world as being small, as being not there, as simply not existing in that time and space where those words had ruptured across her thoughts and blown her world away.
Porcia smirked and glided back to her desk.
“Yes, well.” She shook her head. “Isn’t that a shame?”
Chapter 38
Porcia had Gwenn sequestered somewhere for the entirety of the day, and it drove Lucius mad wondering what was happening.
He trained with the women, appropriately celebrating with a lighter practice, not so hard on the discipline. Half of their last few hours of sparring were spent running instead, which was the norm in the ludus for the day after a good showing at the arena.
A bad showing at the arena meant training for two days straight, usually without any sort of breakfast or dinner in between. As if losing was some kind of vapor in the system, Murus and the other doctores would train their gladiators until there was nothing left in their bodies but hunger and the dull ache of obedience.
After dinner, finally, Lucius caught sight of her. She plainly saw him, but walked straight past the mess hall and into the cell blocks.
Running, he caught up with her quick, touching her on the arm. She shoved him away—and Lucius immediately knew that she knew. He did not know how, but it was clear enough.
Still, he tried anyway. He’d been practicing his speech all day.
“Gwenn,” he started. “I need to talk to you about something critical.”