Spartans: When A Boy Loves a Man (Chp. 3)

Note: Spacing is wonky. I apologize.

Spartans: When A Boy Loves a Man

Part III

“I don’ think he likes me.”

“Don’t be silly, Arwan. He likes you fine.”

“He looks at me with resentment. He hates me.”

“Arwan…”

“No,” Arwan sighed. The two of them were in the bathhouse after Cole had scurried off to his lessons. “I’m your slave. I know my place, but he thinks that there’s more to us then that.”

“Arwan,” Sirius turned in the water, taking the cloth from his servant’s hand, and tossing it aside. “You are more then that. You’re my best friend.”

“That doesn’t change my position, Sirius.” Arwan shook his head. “Turn back around. You’re covered in dirt. You’re like a child, when will you grow up?”

Sirius barked with laughter but complied, turning around again, “Sorry Mama.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Arwan resisted the urge to pinch him, scrubbing harder at Sirius’s back. “Tell me about your boy. I’ll be seeing a lot of him, I take it?”

“I am his mentor,” Sirius shrugged.

“Mentor?” The word sounded foreign on Arwan’s tongue. “What is a mentor?”

Sirius thought for a moment, deciding how to explain it to his friend, “Boys need a guiding hand. So, they go under the wing of an older solider, and we teach them how to be great warriors and men. We are like their surrogate fathers.”

“But you have sex with this boy.”

Sirius nodded, “Yes, I do.”

“Then, you aren’t his father. You’re his lover.”

“In a way,” Sirius nodded.

“I don’t understand,” Arwan shook his head. “Was that the kind of relationship you had with Argus?”

Sirius pursed his lips. He hadn’t talked about his own mentor since his death a few months before. He had mourned and moved on. He hadn’t wanted to talk about his mentor, a person who had meant more to him then life itself.

“When I was younger, I did. Argus didn’t focus on the sexual aspect of our relationship for long though. He taught me what I needed to know, and that was it.”

“But that isn’t your plan with this boy, is it?”

“I’ve admired this boy for a long time, Arwan. I would like to have a deeper relationship with him. Please, don’t judge me because of that.”

“Is that what he wants?”

Arwan was quiet, and he finished scrubbing the dirt away from Sirius’s back and shoulders. “Alright, you’re clean. Get out of the water.” He stood up, tossing the damp cloth into a laundry bin along the wall. He moved towards the tray he had set out earlier, and picked up a fresh towel. He started patting Sirius down with it, drying him off. Sirius looked down at the top of his head, setting his hands on Arwan’s shoulders for balance.

“Arwan?”

“Hmm?” Arwan didn’t look up at him, moving away again to pick up a bottle of oil.

“Arwan,” Sirius stopped him, lifting his face up. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” Arwan shook his head.

Sirius nodded, “Alright, go on then.”

Arwan went back to work, coating Sirius’s skin in a thin layer of the oil that made his skin so glossy. Sirius let him move him the way he wanted, much like a little doll. He liked the way Arwan’s fingers felt, stroking across his stomach. As the dark haired servant moved behind him, he had to suppress the groan that threatened to leave his throat. Arwan seemed completely unaware of the effect he had as he continued to just go about his work.

“Arwan?”

“Hmm?”

“Stop that for just a moment,” Sirius turned round. Arwan lifted his oil-coated hands, little beads of which started to run down his wrists. Sirius drank him in for a moment before leaning forward and kissing him. Arwan’s eyes widened, and he used the back of his hands to push on Sirius’s shoulders.

“I’ve told you before, that’s not allowed. Do you want to get me killed?”

“Don’t be such a worrier. We’re the only ones here.” Sirius rolled his eyes. He grabbed a hold of Arwan’s roughly made shirt, pulling him forward. “I like the way your hands feel on me.”

“You’re just a pervert,” Arwan replied coolly. “Let me finish, you have other duties to attend to today you know.”

Sirius sighed, but obliged him. Arwan always got mad at him when he tried to peak his interest. He wasn’t sure if it was because he really wasn’t interested, or if it was because he actually was. Either way, their little game had been going on for years, and Sirius didn’t personally see the harm in it so long as no one found out.

“What did Xenos want?” Arwan changed the subject as he finished with his oil. He wiped his hands on a cloth before picking up the fresh set of clothes, moving to fasten them around Sirius’s waist.

“Xenos has a problem with my mentoring Cole. I wouldn’t worry about it. The ephors as a whole believe it is a good match. Xenos is just jealous that the boy didn’t ask him. He tends to be, as you say, a pervert.”

Arwan hummed in understanding, fastening the last bit of cloth, “Alright, you’re all ready. Go on about your business.”

“Arwan,” Sirus turned, putting his hands on Arwan’s shoulders. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

“I can’t very well stop you, now can I?” Arwan raised an eyebrow.

“Are you angry with me, because I took you away from your home?”

Arwan furrowed his eyebrows, “Why do you ask such a question?”

Sirius brushed his thumbs over Arwan’s high cheeks, “I’m sorry I ruined your life, Arwan.”

“You didn’t ruin my life,” Arwan shook his head. “You saved me.”

Sirius smiled, and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I love you, Arwan.”

Arwan looked at him confused, not understanding the Greek. He sighed, pushing Sirius’s hands away. He didn’t ask him to repeat it, he had a feeling he didn’t want to know, “You have things to do.”

Sirius nodded, watching Arwan move away from him to clean up. He shook his head after a moment and left him to his work.

--The Past—

The entire encampment was surrounded in a heavy layer of dust. Arwan’s eyes watered and and his ears pounded. He knew that his battalion was no match for these monsters –these Spartans. Death cries could be heard from every angle –and here he was. A coward with his hands over his ears, tears in his eyes, and bleeding from more wounds then he could count. But he was alive.

“You! Are you alive?”

Arwan knew he would regret it the second after he realized he had turned towards the foreign voice. The warrior in front of him was marred in dirt and was bleeding profusely from a spear head still lodged in his arm. Arwan’s eyes widened, and the man looked at his shoulder.

“Just a scratch,” He held out his hand. “Come on. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Arwan stared at him, and the man sighed again, thrusting his hand out further. Hesitantly, he took it, and allowed the strange man to help him to his feet. Arwan was struck by how gentle he was, even nursing the injury, and the fact that they were on opposing sides. The battle was over. Spartans were the clear winners, but they just kept coming in droves, slaughtering until all of the Persian soldiers were gone. Arwan’s back felt wet with blood as the man pulled him up to his chest, holding him close as they stumbled through the field.

Arwan saw very few survivors from his troop. He averted his eyes as he saw them mowed down, desecrated for no other reason than to leave no survivors.

“Who is this?” The voice as gruff and came from behind. The man who was still holding him so tightly turned slightly.

“Not sure, I haven’t gotten around to asking,” His voice was cool.

“You should kill him.” Arwan’s eyes widened. Had this man taken him from his hiding place only to kill him like the rest of his people? If there was one Greek word that he recognized it was “kill”, and he certainly didn’t want to be referred to in the same sentence.

“I am not going to kill him. He’s mine.” The arm came tighter around his shoulders, and Arwan groaned as his savior’s grip tightened around his bruised chest. The new pressure on his broken rib wasn’t that pleasant either. The man looked down, and loosened his grip when he saw Arwan’s discomfort. He turned to address the second stranger. “—He’s pretty, I think he’ll make a good servant.”

The other man laughed, loud and barbaric. He clapped Arwan’s rescuer on his good shoulder, “—As you will, Sirius. You should probably go get that shoulder taken care of.”

“It’s just a scratch. I want to get him cleaned up first.”

“Just don’t let it go too long, you’re risking infection.”

“I’ll be fine.”

In a moment, Arwan and the man were moving again towards a group of shabby tents. Sirius pushed him in front of him, and they were almost immediately parted, but not before he heard him say, “Take care of him –you hurt him and I’ll see personally to your death.”

Arwan stole a glance over his shoulder as he was pushed towards the other side of the tent. The medic that taken him seemed preoccupied, tearing away the last remains of his clothes, and started cleaning his wounds. Arwan couldn’t stop the groan as he was pushed back on the cot, and the medics fingers felt for the broken rib.

“Weak,” the medic rolled his eyes. Arwan cursed at him, and the medic laughed. Arwan let his head roll to the side, trying to ignore the cruel hands that worked across his body. He watched the stoic man across the room not even flinch as another physician pushed the spear head the rest of the way through his shoulder, yanking it out the backside. He could practically feel the sting as ointment was poured over the impressive wound…and yet nothing crossed the man’s face. He laughed at a joke, but he never swore or flinched as his shoulder was bandaged

His attention was brought back to himself as the medic pulled him off his back. Thin pieces of fabric were wound across his stomach to brace the rib, and another person had appeared from somewhere and had started to wash away the dried blood from a few of his other wounds. He felt a needle stitching up a gash in his head. Their hands were rough –he could tell that they didn’t care about him. They probably didn’t even know why they were being made to fix him up while others of their own countrymen were being made to sit and suffer.

“How is he?”

“Well, he’s not dying,” The medic sounded annoyed. “You really know how to pick out the runts of the litter, don’t you, Sirius?”

“Don’t judge me, Jason,” Sirius prodded him in the side.

“Anyway, a better question is, how are you? You came in here with half a spear in your shoulder.”

“Just a scratch,” Sirius shrugged. “Are you almost finished with him?”

“Yes, just a few more stitches. –Don’t do anything strenuous with him. He’s got a broken rib –and there may be something wrong with his arm. He seemed to be favoring it when you brought him in.”

“He’ll be safe with me,” Sirius caught Arwan’s eye. He blushed red, and looked down at his filthy hands.

“Here, take him,” the physician prodded Arwan off of his cot. “Take him to the river in a couple of hours and give him a bath. Careful of the stitches –come and get some supplies and you can wrap his rib again later.”

“I will,” Sirius put an arm around his waist again, leading him out of the din of the tent. He turned to address him for the first time, “Are you hungry? …Food?” Arwan looked at him wide eyed, still not understanding until Sirius made eating motions with his hands, looking exasperated. Arwan nodded, and Sirius sighed, relieved at the understanding, and steered him towards a smoking area, filled with the battered and bruised, but jovial.

“What’s this? Pick yourself up a rugrat, Sirius?” The man dolling out of the food looked amused, splattering hot stew into two bowls, passing them to Sirius. “He doesn’t look to well –don’t get your heart set on him making it through the night.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Sirius muttered. He snitched a piece of bread from the end of the table, pushing Arwan gently towards an unoccupied area of the Spartan camp. Once they had settled on the ground, he pushed a bowl of the hot stew into Arwan’s hands along with half of the stolen bread. Arwan ate slowly, dunking his bread into his bowl. Sirius was less careful, drinking directly from the bowl, not caring at all for manners. When he had finished, he watched Arwan eat, picking out the pieces of meat and vegetables with his fingers.

“What’s your name?” Sirius finally asked as the final dregs were being lifted from the bowl with the last piece of Arwan’s spongy bread. Arwan raised an eyebrow and Sirius repeated himself. “What’s your name –I’m Sirius,” he tapped his chest. “Who are you?” He tapped Arwan’s shoulder.

“Arwan,” he finally said. He had considered giving him a fake name, but he decided it would probably not be in his best interest –he had the sinking feeling he would be spending a lot of time with this Spartan.

“Do you speak any Greek, Arwan?”

Arwan shrugged, “Little, few words.”

“Well, Arwan, I’m taking you as a prisoner. Do you understand?”

Arwan shrugged.

“You’re mine now,” Sirius stood up, tugging on Arwan’s arm, pulling him up against him. “Slave –do you know that word?”

“Slave,” Arwan repeated. He knew exactly what it meant, and it felt dirty on his tongue.

“Yes.” Sirius nodded. “Arwan, Sirius’s slave.” He tipped Arwan’s face up under the chin with his thumb. His lips pressed against Arwan’s and while his eyes drifted slightly closed while the Persian’s flew open wider, shocked. His first instinct was to push him away, but then the fear of being killed for rejected filled his body. His fingers were pressed against Sirius’s chest, and flexed –torn between putting up with the kiss or fleeing. Before he could even decide, the kiss had ended and Sirius’s arm had wrapped around his waist again. “Come, I think you need rest.”

Arwan followed along like a lost puppy, Sirius’s fingers linking with his as he pulled him through more of the encampment. Spartans turned to stare, and some said hello to his captor. He gave them brief nods, and his grip on Arwan’s hand tightened. Even though they had spent less than an hour together, Arwan could tell this man was a force to be reckoned with. And oddly enough, he felt safe with him –safe with the enemy.

“Lay down,” Sirius pushed him towards a pallet along the wall of the stuffy tent. The tent was mostly empty except for a few wounded soldiers –mostly young men. Arwan sat down on the pallet Sirius had indicated. Then he watched him pull a nearby pallet closer to his.

Sirius let out a sigh of relief, stretching out on the pallet. Arwan watched him close his eyes for a few minutes. He realized he was being watched and opened one eye to stare back. He let out a more annoyed sigh, and reached out to tug Arwan down next to him, against his right side. Arwan was surprised at how relaxed Sirius seemed, and he wished he could be so calm and peaceful in this encampment of men he had been instructed to kill…

“You look better,” Sirius had been watching him sleep. He hadn’t even noticed he had fallen asleep, but he did feel a little better. His stomach was still full from the stew, and the throbbing in his head had mostly subsided. The only thing that still ached was his rib.

“Do you want to take a bath? …The River. Get clean?” Sirius’s voice brought him back.

Arwan nodded –another word he understood. Clean. And he desperately wanted to feel clean. Even though they had scrubbed him down at the medic tent, he was still caked with blood and dirt.

“C’mon then,” Sirius pushed himself to his feet with his good arm before holding out his hand to Arwan. Arwan took his hand without a second though. He was growing accustomed to following him around like a child.

Arwan’s eyes widened as Sirius began to disrobe on the short beach to the river. There were a few other Spartans around, horse-playing in the water, a reward for a battle well-won.

“Well, c’mon. Take your clothes off,” Sirius stepped towards him, already nude. Arwan thrust his hands away as he started to try and undo the fabric around his waist. “Arwan, you can’t get clean like that.”

Arwan swore at him, pushing Sirius’s hands away as he tried a second time, “No!”

“Why not?” Sirius looked quizzical. “You have something funny down there?” He tried one last time and was rewarded with a swift kick to the shin. He put his hands up in surrender. “Alright! Come in when you’re ready then,” he turned his back on him, wading into the water.

Arwan waited on the beach for a few minutes before slowly making his way towards the edge of the water. He knelt in the cold, wet sand and scrubbed at his arms and face with wet hands. The water felt good against his skin and even though he wasn’t getting as clean as he would have liked, it was definitely an improvement. He dunked his head into the water, scrubbing out his hair, careful of the stitches in the gash on his head.

“You are horrible,” Sirius reappeared at his side, dripping wet but clean. “You need to learn to listen.” Arwan ignored him, which wasn’t hard because he didn’t really understand what he was saying anyway. “Oy,” Sirius tapped him, “are you listening to me?” He sounded annoyed, and Arwan raised an eyebrow at him, continuing to scrub at his skin. Sirius sighed, “Forget it, this is pointless. I should have just killed you and saved myself the trouble.”

Arwan’s eyes widened again, and he fell backwards onto his butt in the water, crawling backwards away from Sirius. He knew there was no chance for an escape. He was in the middle of the Spartan camp. Any survivors from his own army where already being slaughtered or forced into conditions worse then he could ever dream.

“I’m not going to!” Sirius stepped towards him. “Melodramatic much?” He reached out to touch him, and Arwan’s hands came over his head, protecting his face. His knees pulled up against his chest, pulling his body into a ball. His eyes squeezed shut and he waited for the blow –would Sirius beat him to death? Would he gather a weapon and run him through? Would he drag him towards the river and drown him?

“Arwan!” Sirius’s hands were on his wrists, pulling him away from his head. “I’m not going to hurt you! Arwan…” Sirius grunted as an un-aimed fist came down on his injured shoulder. “Shit…we have to do something about his language barrier.” He pulled a very stiff and inflexible Arwan up to his feet. Arwan kept his gaze down, jerking his head out of Sirius’s hands as he tried to get him to look at him. Sirius was determined though, jerking his head up to look at him. Arwan tried to avoid looking him in the eye but the pressure on his jaw made him change his mind. Sirius’s eyes struck him as being very blue and they bore down into him.

“I will not hurt you,” Sirius shook his head.

“No kill?” Arwan whispered.

“No kill,” Sirius confirmed.

Arwan let himself breathe a sigh of relief, and Sirius laughed shaking his head, “C’mon –you’re all wet now. Let’s get you dry clothes.” Sirius pressed his lips to Arwan’s softly for the second time that day. But this time, Arwan had no second guessing about trying to push him away. He let it run its course, trying not to look flabbergasted when it ended.