Later That Night

Note: This is derived from a Version 4, Part F of Life Through Lenses (unposted as of yet). But I really liked it, so I decided to share.

Later That Night

“You sure you don’t want a ride home, Martin?” Ben had his hand placed possessively around Riley’s waist as they tried to coax Martin into a ride home. I’m sure they had some devious plans to get him into a provocative situation…from what I gathered, they were good at that sort of thing.

Martin shook his head, “No, no…I’ll walk.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ll take you home when you’re ready.” I looked up at Riley and Ben, silently pleading. “We’re just gonna talk. You guys can go home. I know we’ve all got homework to get done.”

“Okay, whatever,” Ben shrugged. His hand dipped into Riley’s front pocket and he kissed his temple. “Let’s get outta here then.”

“See you tomorrow,” Riley waved as they descended back up the steps.

“So…” I sat down on the edge of the coffee table, looking at Martin. He looked so cute and awkward. His jeans were a little loose, and his t-shirt was a little baggy. He had on a zip-up jacket that was about one size too big. His skin was a light tan color, like it had been awhile since he’d just been out in the sun for fun. His hair was a little messy, like he scrunched it in his fists when he was frustrated or something. “Do you want to talk more…or did you just want to go home? I don’t blame you for not accepting their ride. I know they can be a little…well…Ben-N-Riley.”

Martin shrugged, “I-I don’t mind staying…I mean, if you have homework, I can go, but…it’s not like I have anyone waiting for me at home.”

“What about your parents? Siblings?” I asked.

He shrugged, “My Dad died. My Mom goes out a lot, lets me fend for myself. I’m an only child.”

“Ah,” I nodded. “Finally, I know something about the mysterious Martin.”

He smiled softly, shaking his head, “I’m not that mysterious. I’m just quiet.”

“Why is that?”

“Just painfully shy.”

I got up, crossing the room. I hesitated for just a second before I ran my fingers through his hair, “So, is your hair like this all of the time, or do you put something in it to make it look like you’re frazzled all of the time?”

“I use a gel,” He admitted. “But I can never get it to go the way I want it, so I don’t know why I bother.”

“It’s cute,” I smiled. I wished that I had asked Ben and Riley for more pointers. I had the feeling that if I went with my gut on all of this, I would find myself knocked out on the floor, nursing a bloody nose or something…but I also figured that if I didn’t do something…we would never progress past a safe-friend zone.

“What are you doing?” He looked kind of worried as I let my fingers tug on the ends of his hair, making it spike up.

“Just playing with your hair,” I shrugged.

“You’re gonna get your hands all sticky,” He ducked his head away from my hands.

I shrugged, “Big deal. I’ve got a sink. I might even have some soap.”

“…Maybe I should go home,” He started to stand, and my fight-or-flight mechanism started to kick in.

“No!” I put a hand on his shoulder. “…You can’t yet. I mean…well, maybe I can help you out. I mean, you’re in a couple of classes that I took last year, so you know…if you need anything…”

He shrugged, “I’m actually doing okay.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause, I’d love to help you out.”

“No, really. I’m fine.”

“Because, I’m really just looking for a reason to get you to stay here,” I admitted. “Even if you don’t need the help, you could stay and do your homework here…maybe stay the night?”

“Stay the night?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “We can have like a sleep over… If you want, you can sleep down here on one of the couches –or I can sleep on one of the couches and you can sleep in my room…on my bed.”

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to suggest that we’re both adults here who can share a bed? That this is platonic, except it’s going to turn out that it isn’t and we’re going to end up fucking?” Martin asked. His bluntness surprised me.

I shook my head, “No, no of course not. I mean, have you seen my bed?” I gave a nervous laugh. “It’s really not made for two. I’m obviously not the slickest guy in town…I really should upgrade my mattress.”

He shook his head, “I’m sorry, that was…defensive. I’d like to stay.”

I smiled, “Okay. Awesome. Why don’t you grab your bag, and I’ll go get us some chips or something from the kitchen while I grab my stuff, and we can work down here?”

He nodded, “Okay.” He grabbed his backpack from the corner by the stairs while I jogged up the steps, trying to hold back my furious red face that was creepy up my neck.

“You look thrilled.” My Dad was just coming out of the living room as I leaned back against the door. “Your friends still here?”

“Just one of them,” I tried to calm down my face. “Is it okay if he stays the night?”

Dad shrugged, “Sure, I guess… This wouldn’t happen to be the one who was with you when Ben and Riley were up here, is it? Although, I can’t imagine the two of them parting ways for an evening, so…it’s silly of me to ask, right?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Lets put it this way, Son. Is there something you’d like to tell me?” He raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged, “Not particularly, no.” I knew I should probably be nervous…that I should probably just come clean with my Dad and tell him that I was having feelings for another boy. …My Dad had always been there for me, and I knew I could count on him to understand me, and what I was going through. He wasn’t judgmental, and I didn’t expect him to really say anything if I did tell him. But, I also felt like if I told him, then it would be permanent. And I wasn’t even sure how this thing with Martin was going to pan out. I just wanted to see how this shaped together before I committed to telling my dad I might be gay, or at least bi.

“Then okay,” He nodded, not pressing the issue. “Have fun. Don’t stay up too late, it’s a school night.”

“Of course not,” I shook my head. He nodded at me, his own personal way of saying ‘I love you, don’t get into trouble’ before exiting for the upstairs.

When I got downstairs, Martin was already laying on his stomach with a pillow tucked under him, with his history text book open in front of him. He had a pen tucked behind his ear, a pencil clenched between his teeth, and a highlighter in his hand.

“You are a serious studier, aren’t you?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

He looked up at me, opening his mouth to drop the pencil, and he plucked the pen from behind his ear, tossing it aside, “Oh, well…I like to be prepared, you know?”

“Right,” I nodded.

“No, really…the pen is for personal notes, the pencil is for book notes, in the margin so they can be erased, and the highlighter, is…well, for high lighting. I’m kind of…OCD, I guess. I like to keep things organized and neat.”

“So…” I sat down in front of him, picking up the pen. “If I…just kind of…” I pressed the tip against the corner of the page.

“Please don’t mark my text book…I tried really hard to get a non-shitty book when they were handed out, and this one is like almost new.”

I smiled, putting the pen back down, “You are a little OCD, aren’t you?”

“Well…when my Dad died, my Mom…went off the deep end a little bit. In fact, I’m not sure she’s even back in the shallow end yet, much less out of the pool. While she started sleeping around, I started cleaning, and organizing. My mom probably doesn’t know this, but when she’s not at home, I alphabetize the things in her room –like her books. First by author, then by title, then by date, then by character names, then by color…” He took a deep breath. “By publisher, by the number of times I know she’s read them.” He sighed, “And when I’ve organized them those seven ways, I do the list over again. So far, I’ve rearranged her bookshelves twenty-seven times –between those, I’ve rearranged her CD collection, her videos, even her magazines, by similar lists.”

“What about your stuff?” I asked. “Do you go all obsessive-compulsive over your collections?”

He shrugged, “I pretty much have my room the way that I want it. My books are in alphabetical order by title, my CDs are in order by band, and my movies are in order by the number of times I’ve watched them.”

“What movie have you watched the most?”

He turned crimson, and I was suddenly keyed into why Ben and Riley found the action so attractive. He really was painfully shy and oblivious. “I’m pretty sure it’s Beauty and the Beast.”

“Beauty and the Beast?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, the Disney version,” he shrugged. “I don’t watch a lot of movies lately. It was one of the first films I ever saw as a kid. My dad took me when it first came out into the theater, even though it was a romantic fairytale.” He smiled softly, “My Dad liked fairytales. He was especially fond of Hans Christian Anderson. He hated the Little Mermaid, because in the real story, the mermaid dies at the end. And in the Disney version, everyone has to end up happy of course, so she ends up with her prince, instead of dying for him.” I watched little smile on his face turn downwards, “That was a long time ago…but now, when I think about my Dad, I watch that movie. So…I’ve probably seen it a hundred times. I watched it a lot after he died.”

“How’d he die?” I asked. “I mean, not to pry, I’m just curious.”

Martin shrugged, “It’s not a big deal. You have every right to be curious... One minute, he was complaining about the headache of a lifetime at our annual Christmas party and the next I found myself sitting in a hospital waiting room, hearing that my Dad was dead because of an aneurism in his brain that no one knew that he had.” He looked up at me, and I wasn’t sure how to read his expression. Like…a lost puppy or something. His eyes were hurt, like there was something more to the story that he wasn’t ready to share yet.

“Are you okay? We can stop talking about it if you want…”

“No,” he shook his head. “I suppose I have to talk about it at some point. I’m sure if I went to a therapist, they would be telling me that I need to talk about it. That my family problems need to be brought out into the light, and I should be discussing them to see what the real root of all of my personal and social anxieties are.”

“Martin, really,” I shook my head. “We can stop.”

“I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean too, I was just going off on a rant. You can ignore me,” He shook his head, looking back down at his book. I watched him for a moment before I sat up on my knees.

“Martin.”

He looked up, “Nick.”

“I want to kiss you,” I admitted. “But, I don’t know if I should, you know, ask for permission or something…I mean, they always say in the movies and stuff that you should just do it, but is that something that they just say in movies? And if I’m not supposed to ask, I feel that I should at least give you a fair warning, since this is neither solicited nor enticed.” I watched him close his text book and bring himself up to my level.

“Is that all you want?” He asked. “Just to kiss me?”

“No,” I shook my head. “I’m ready to admit that I am more then willing to try many different things with you, a few of which probably require us to get naked…but I’d like to start with a kiss.”

“Would you,” He nodded.

“I would.”

“Then why are you just talking about it?” He pondered. “If you want to, why—“ I cut him off, pulling him across our pile of books and into my lap. His lips were tightly closed but after a moment, when the initial shock had subsided, his lips became less tense, and (dare I say?) he even kissed me back a little bit. It was like a fever had taken a hold of me. He slid back into his spot on top of his pillow, and I couldn’t help but feel like I wanted more. I stared at him, my hands itching to explore underneath the hem of his t-shirt; itching to unbutton his jeans and coax him into a raging hard-on.

“…Okay,” He nodded.

“Okay,” I nodded. My itchings would have to wait, I thought. I mean, what was I thinking? Accosting this guy in my basement… I had promised him we could be friends first, and see what happened from there. Never had I said that I was going to molest him on the same night we finally saw level ground… I was shaken from my thoughts as he pushed me back onto the floor.

“Martin,” I raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” he shook his head. “If you stop me now, I’m going to run from his house so fast…but, if you just bare with me for awhile. I might be okay.” His fingers flexed into the carpet and his mouth found mine again. I couldn’t help but smile against his lips, and I wrapped an arm around his waist. My lips were tugging my brain to focus on kissing him back, but the rest of my body was on red alert as his fingers started to trail my chest, and my groin was at full alert as his own impending hard-on brushed mine through our jeans. Never before in my entire life had I ever wanted to be naked so badly as I did when his hand slipped between my legs between kisses to stroke along the outline of my cock.

We just kissed for what seemed like a really long time. Our fingers felt each other through our clothes, but for me at least it wasn’t enough. I wanted to know what his skin felt like under my fingers. I wanted to know what it tasted like.

“Martin…” I pulled my lips from his, pressing them against his neck. “I want to…well, I want to step this up, and if you’re not ready, that’s cool with me. You just gotta slide back across your text book, and put that pencil back into your mouth, and we’ll pretend that we never lost our inhibitions….but if you’re game, I really…really, would like to do something more then kissing.”

“Like…more-more?”

“Some where between more and more-more,” I smiled. “I don’t, I mean I’m not ready to have sex with you, just yet. But, I do want to…you know. Go somewhere close.”

“Like what?” He asked. “Hand-job…blow job…frot? Dock?”

“What? You’re speaking Greek all of a sudden.”

“You don’t know what…frottage or docking is?” He furrowed his eyebrow. “Oh man…I just became a really big pervert, didn’t I?” He moved away.

“No, of course not! Just because I don’t know what something is...” I shrugged. “I’ll admit, I’m a little behind on…stuff.”

He shook his head, “Frotting is when you, well…rub your penises together. From what I gather it feels really good. Mess is minimal, unless you like messes. “

“And, what was it? Docking?” I couldn’t help but raise a quizzical eyebrow.

“Docking you can only do if… at least one of you is uncut. Like me,” he shrugged. “It’s when, you put the head of the penis under the foreskin of the other. If both partners are uncut, you can actually like…over lap it. Where, one pulls back to penetrate, and then pulls overtop of the other. Apparently it, also, feels really fantastic. It’s kind of, well, dangerous though, since you can’t really wear a condom or anything when you do it. Well, I suppose you could, but I’ve never seen it done that way. Porn shops and stuff actually sell like…a fake tube thing so that cut guys can simulate it too. However, sadly, I have never personally tried any of these things because I am…I am a flaming virgin who spends too much time on the internet watching amateur porn.” He shrugged, not making eye contact with me, like he had just told me something completely mortifying.

“You’re uncut?” My interest was piqued, and everything else he had just said kind of went in one ear and out the other.

He nodded, “Yeah. I am. A lot of people –girls, think it’s weird.”

“That’s stupid,” I shook my head. “I always wondered what it would be like if my parents hadn’t decided to snip it off of me. I mean, it’s really a decision that should be made by the kid later in life, right?”

“I would think so, but parents…what are you gonna do?”

I smiled, “You’re really a virgin?”

“Are you?” He raised an eyebrow, finally stealing a look my direction.

“I’ve had girlfriends,” I shrugged. “But I’ve never done anything with a boy before. So, I’m a gay virgin, but…not totally.”

“Well, then you’ve got one up on me,” he shrugged. “But…I think we should finish studying before we do anything else.” He gave me a brief smile before he slid back across his books. “Okay?”

I nodded, “Right. Studying.” I was pretty sure that I was flushing colors that would rival Martin’s best blushes. I felt really warm, like my body was overheating with all of the sexual frustration that was building up inside of me. Martin looked okay though. He brushed his hair out of his face, settling back down in front of his text book. I turned away from him to focus on my own books, to kind of remove the temptation that he was creating. We worked quietly for awhile, trying to ignore each other’s presence while we worked. I was relieved when he closed his text book and started packing them away.

“You done?” I asked. Stupid question, I chided myself.

“Yeah, for now. The rest will give me something to do in homeroom and study hall tomorrow. How about you?” He asked, zipping up his bag.

I looked at my Chemistry text and suddenly didn’t really care anymore, “You know…I’m done too.” I tossed the book up onto the chair, “I’ll do it later. It doesn’t really matter.”

Martin rolled his eyes, “You shouldn’t just blow off your school work like that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I shrugged. “I can think of plenty of things, just as worthwhile, to do.” I pushed my bag out of the way. “Plus, I’m curious to know what else you’ve picked up from the porn industry.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you know…you could just watch it yourself,” He shrugged. He looked nervous as I moved across the floor towards him, pressing my palms into the carpet on either side of him. I pressed my lips to his cheek. Then his jaw. Then finally to his lips. A few moments later, we found ourselves on the floor. Martin had a leg wrapped around my hips and my hands were skirting under the front of his shirt. I traced out the shape of his abs, and my thumbs brushed over his nipples. I felt him twitch underneath me and I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe we were…moving a little quickly. But, isn’t that what guys our age did? Moved quickly?

“Umm,” Martin pressed his palms to my chest. “Wait a second, you should know something.”

“What?” I asked. My eyes searched his face for a clue as to what he was going to tell me. I half expected him to tell me that he was…I don’t know, diseased, or had a coke habit. I wasn’t sure. He had already told me that he was a virgin, but I had assured him that I didn’t want to have sex with him tonight.

“When I said I was a virgin…I mean, that I’ve never really done…this before,” He shrugged. “I mean, I’ve never had a girlfriend, much less a boyfriend. In Morgan, I was kind of a loner. I…I want a real relationship the first time I mess around, you know what I mean? If that’s not what you want, I understand. I’m okay with that. I’m…used to it.”

“Used to what?”

“Not getting what I want.”

I smiled, shaking my head, “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“N-no…sort of.”

I leaned down, kissing him. My fingers tugged through his hair, and my thumbs pressed against the little spot behind his ears as I tilted his face up towards mine. After a few moments of soft, disturbingly tender kissing, I pulled away, “I’d love to be your boyfriend.” The corniness of the entire situation I found us in stabbed into my stomach, but I couldn’t help but feel kind of happy too.

He nodded, “Okay.”

“So…” I looked down, my fingers beginning to trail up his stomach again. “I take this to mean that, you want me to stop?” His t-shirt got pushed up over his stomach, and I thought it was cute how white his stomach was compared to the light brown of his arms and face.

“M-maybe,” He looked down past my face to watch my fingers trace the little smattering of a treasure trail he had going on. “I mean, you don’t have to stop, I just, I don’t think ‘normal’ couples do this kind of thing the first night they get together, you know?”

“Who says we have to be normal?”

“I want to be normal,” He shrugged.

I nodded, and stood up from the floor. I held out my hand to him, “Okay. Well, it’s getting to be kind of late. Do you want my bed or the couch?”

“Oh…” He took my hand, letting me up him up from the floor. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“Unless you really do want to share,” I raised an eyebrow. “The couch folds out. Plenty of room for two, if you’d prefer…and I’ve probably got some clothes upstairs you can borrow for the night. –Do you need to call home?”

He shook his head, “No, I doubt my Mom will notice…. I would appreciate a shower though. It’s not good to sleep with this crap in my hair.” He tugged on a curled tendril, coated in product.

“Sure,” I nodded. I took his hand in mine, tugging him towards the stairs. “It’s this way.”

I led him towards the bathroom and pointed him in the direction of a fresh towel before I escaped to my room for a bit. I left him a change of clothes, which I hoped wouldn’t be too big on him, on top of the sink once I was sure that he’d be in the shower. I had this uncontrollable urge to strip and join him, but I figured that would be a little too much. I told him to join me back downstairs when he was done, and I went to change myself. I had just unfolded the couch, and was pulling some extra blankets from the cupboard under the stairs when I heard the door open and tentative footsteps came down the steps.

“Hey,” I looked up at him while I unfolded a thicker fleece blanket over the thin one that graced the mattress while it was folded up. “If you want, you can grab an extra pillow. I know these throw ones aren’t that comfortable. They’re in the closet,” I nodded my head in the general direction of the space under the staircase.

He nodded, moving around behind me to grab a couple of extra pillows. I laid another blanket across the foot of the bed before moving to turn the TV on.

“I hope you don’t mind, I like some background noise while I fall asleep,” I explained. I moved to flip off the lights, except for the lights on the stairs. “Oh, yeah, I hope you’re OK with the safety lights. I can’t really turn them off.” I walked back to the pull-out and crawled between the sheets.

“They’re fine,” He came around to the other side of the bed, tossing down the pillows. I watched him tug on the bottom of his shirt before he slipped into the other side of the bed. It felt like there was this huge space between us that I wanted to get rid of. I turned away from him for a second to turn on the Sleep on the Television for twenty minutes, and set the alarm to wake us up at seven o’clock. I tossed the remote onto the floor, and shifted down under the covers, turning onto my side to face Martin.

“Comfortable?” I asked.

“I guess,” He nodded. He certainly didn’t look comfortable. It was like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. First he folded them against his chest, then he let them lay at his sides. Finally, he tucked them under the covers, shifting just a little onto his side.

“Are you…okay? If you’re not, I can go upstairs.”

He shifted his eyes over, “No, it’s fine.” He shifted further onto his side, “It’s kind of creepy down here with all the lights off and stuff, you know?”

I smiled, “Creepy?”

“Yeah, I mean, it is a basement.”

“You don’t like basements?”

He shrugged, “They’ve never really been my favorite places.”

I nodded and I shifted closer, putting a hand on his hip, “Well, I can assure you that my basement is not creepy. There are no creaks, no squeaks, no spiders, or rats. It is more of a rec room, then a basement.” I tilted his chin up just a little and pressed my mouth to his. I felt him, more then I heard him, groan a little in my mouth. After a few minutes, he pulled away, pressing the back of his hand to his reddened lips.

“Maybe we should go to sleep?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” I nodded. I shifted back to my side of the bed. After I had closed my eyes, I felt Martin shift closer to me and hesitantly wrap his arms around my waist. His head lay against my shoulder, and I couldn’t help but smile, and lift my hand to pull my fingers through his damp hair. By the time the TV flicked off, he had relaxed against me, and was breathing softly against my t-shirt. My fingers continued to pull lazily through his hair as I thought, all in all…tonight had been a pretty damn good night.

Spartans, Part 6

This popped into my head last night. Not sure if I'll continue on with it, or go a different direction that I've also been working on. Most likely, I'll mold the two together some how... Not smut, I swear!

Note: Arwan speaks “broken” Greek with the shop keeper, and Xander.

Spartans

The city was quiet, which in itself was kind of unusual. Training was going on in another part of town, but even the mid-morning market was particularly stoic. Arwan glanced around, almost nervous. No one had died…War wasn’t upon them. Why was it all so quiet?

“What’s the matter, dear?” The woman at the fruit stand caught his shifting look.

“Why so quiet?” Arwan asked. “No one die, right?”

She laughed, “No, no…just a quiet day, I guess. My husband may have said something about seeing some riders heading towards town, but it’s not like that would bring us any trouble. We are in Sparta, after all.” She laughed again, rather jovially.

Arwan nodded, continuing to fill his basket with fruit. He paid her with a few shinny coins, and went on his way. He wasn’t surprised to run into Helen who was sprinting away from home –obviously in some kind of a hurry.

“Arwan!” She grinned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, spinning him around with her as she slowed down from her run. “You’re just who I’ve been looking for!”

“Oh?” Arwan raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just so you know…there are riders coming towards town. They’re, well, they’re Persians. They’re nearly here. Sirius may be worried about you knowing them. He’ll want to see you before they get here.”

“Persia is a big place, Helen. I doubt that they are here for me,” Arwan shook his head. “But I have to go find your brother anyway. Even though the big doofus still isn’t talking to me.”

“He’ll get over it,” Helen shrugged. She hugged him again. “I best be off.” She kissed his cheek before continuing on her sprint.

Arwan continued with his morning shopping. The air was still eerily still, and it was making him uncomfortable. He did his morning routine as quickly as he could so he could go find Sirius and clear up and misconceptions they might have had.

“Oh, come to apologize have you?” Sirius looked up from where he was examining a broken sword hilt in the training encampment.

“No,” Arwan shook his head. “Helen told me there were Persian riders coming towards the city. She thought you might be concerned.”

Sirius looked up, raising an eyebrow, “Persian riders?”

“Yes.”

“Would they be here looking for you?” Sirius said the thing that was on everyone within earshot’s mind.

“I don’t think so,” Arwan shook his head. “As far as anyone knows, I’m dead. You well know I was the only survivor of that fight.”

“True enough,” Sirius nodded. “But that doesn’t mean there weren’t others. You hid pretty well, Arwan.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?”

Sirius shook his head, “If they’re here looking for you, they’ll have to come see me first. We’ll see what they want before we do anything about them.”

Arwan nodded. He paused for a moment to see if Sirius had anything more to say before turning to go. Sirius glanced up at his retreating figure, wanting to say more, but kept his mouth shut.

The group of four riders entered the town by mid-afternoon. They looked out of place, and obviously a little nervous. Sparta had its reputation for not being very open to visitors, which was true in a way. But Persian visitors had even more reason to be uncomfortable. Over five years ago, when their army had been desecrated by the Spartans. Since then, tension had remained high. The Persians recognized the Spartans as being more powerful, better organized, and unsympathetic. The Spartans had found the Persians to be sluggish, cowardly, and all-around low. It was easiest to say they didn’t get along together very well.

“What’s your business here?” The Ephors, the council of the King, were waiting to greet their visitors.

“I’m looking for my brother,” The sleek voice was surprisingly fluent. “I was told he might be here.”

“Oh really?” Xander, a very tall and regal looking man in his mid-thirties, spoke up. “And whom might your brother be?”

“His name is Arwan. He was in a battle against you five years ago. He never came home. But his body was never found either. The few survivors that made it back alive,” he spat, “said he was captured.”

“And even if your brother is here…what is your business with him.”

“Our parents have died. As well as our sister. He’s in for a large sum of money, as well as some land. I thought it would be appropriate for him to claim his inheritance, if he is still alive.”

The ephors turned to murmur together before Xander against addressed the newcomer, “Your brother is here, but we do not have the rights to allow you to him. You will have to seek out the warrior Sirius. He will be in the training barracks –but you cannot go there unaccompanied. Please, leave your horses to be fed and watered, and I will escort you to him. He will decide if you may see your brother.”

The men slid from their horses, and the bright-eyed Persian that had spoken, wasn’t shy about asking questions. “Who is this Sirius?”

“He is your brother’s master,” Xander explained. “Sirius saved him –Arwan will be the first to admit that.” He slid his eyes over to the strange man that walked beside him. “What is your name, Stranger?”

“My apologizes –I didn’t realize I hadn’t introduced myself,” The stranger shook his head. “I am Bast –my company is Atish, Cyrus, and Milad.” He introduced the bodies behind him, “I’m sorry –they don’t speak Greek. They simply came along for company, I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright. Your brother doesn’t really speak that much Greek either, but we’ve put up with him over the years.”

The walk was a short one. Sirius was surprised as the large group of foreigners, headed by Xander, that was headed towards him. He raised an eyebrow as they approached, setting aside the belt he had been working on repairing.

“What’s all this about, Xander?”

“This man,” he nodded towards Bast, “claims to be Arwan’s brother, Bast. He wishes to see him.”

Sirius tried not to show the panic that rose in his chest, on his face, “Oh really?”

“Yes,” Bast spoke for himself. “I realize my brother is a prisoner—“

“Your brother is not a prisoner,” Sirius stood up. “You know nothing of the life your brother has. You must be a younger brother, aren’t you?”

Bast looked taken aback, “Y-yes. But what does that have to do with anything?”

Sirius stepped closer, stabbing Bast in the chest with his finger, poking him backwards, “Your brother has never been my prisoner. I saved him from being killed by blood-thirsty soldiers from my own army. He is my servant, yes; my slave, yes; but never my prisoner.”

“Is there truly a difference?” Bast was not moved by Sirius’s speech. He turned his head away, ready, as Sirius lifted his hand to slap him. But Sirius stopped, shaking his head.

“You’re not worth the trouble,” he shook his head. “You can see Arwan if he has want to see you. But don’t cause any trouble. I will have no second thoughts about running you through.” Sirius’s hand went to the hilt of his sword on his hip for demonstration. “Xander –Arwan should be at home. You can take these visitors there… Keep an eye on them.”

“Of course, Sirius,” Xander nodded. “—Would you come this way then, please?”

Sirius watched their retreating forms. For the first time, he feel worry and fear creeping up into his chest. Two things that he hadn’t felt since he was a child.

“Xander?” Arwan opened the door to him. “Is Sirius all right?” A visit from a member of the Ephors was almost never good news. He looked up past Xander, into the faces of the Persians. His eyes widened and a grin opened on his face. “Bast!” He slipped through the door to hug his brother.

“I take it that he’ll see you,” Xander nodded. “Arwan –perhaps we could take this inside?”

“Ah, yes,” Arwan nodded, ushering them inside. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to find you,” Bast took a chair in the sitting area of the room that Arwan led them into. “ I have some sad news for you.”

“Oh?”

“Mother and Father passed away almost a year ago. Sareh too.”

Arwan nodded, “Ah. I understand.”

“Then you understand that you’re coming into a large amount of their fortune, as well as a large piece of land. You are the oldest son, Arwan.”

Arwan shook his head, “My life is here now, Bast. I can’t go home. Even if I wanted to, Sirius would never let me.”

“How do you know, have you ever asked?”

“Why would I leave this place?” Arwan countered. “I have a life here now.”

“You’re a slave, what kind of life is that?”

“It’s my life,” Arwan shrugged. “Did you ever to stop to think that I may enjoy it? There have been many perks to being Sirius’s servant. I live in this house almost all alone, I get to go out of my own accord, I have friends. I have duties. I have a purpose.”

“You’re a wife,” Bast spat.

“Maybe I am,” Arwan shrugged. “Even if I am, what’s wrong with being a wife? Sirius is a good man –anyone would be honored to be his wife.”

“I didn’t come all of this way to fight with you, Arwan. I came back here to take you home, and that is just what I will do.”

“I can’t just leave,” Arwan shook his head. “I would need Sirius’s permission, and he would never allow it. I’m telling you that right now.”

“What about your inheritance.”

“I guess it’s yours now,” Arwan shrugged. “I’m in no position to claim it.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say, Arwan,” Atish spoke up. He had been listening to the brother’s quarrel with interest. He reached up to brush a lock of Arwan’s hair out of his face. “You should claim what is yours. This Sirius person seems like a good man –surely he would allow you time to mourn for your parents. Time to go home, and claim what is yours. You could come back.”

“People always want to go home again, Atish,” Arwan looked up at his old friend. “But there will always be something there that is holding them back. If I go home, I may not come back here. There are too many things there that are going to grab hold of me and keep me. I would rather not chance it.”

“Like what?” Atish prodded. “Bast is your only family left. Your wife left our city without child. She miscarried shortly after you left. All she could think of was how disappointed you would be when you got back…but when you didn’t return with the others, she disappeared.”

A pang twisted in Arwan’s stomach. When he had left to go to war, his wife Neema had been pregnant. He hadn’t thought much about her over the years since he had been gone. She had been a marriage of convenience. Arranged by their parents, and brought up closely together. They had been good friends but lousy lovers. She always thought he should expect more from her, and he found that she tried too hard to please him, when he just wanted her to be herself.

But in truth, Arwan had always preferred his male childhood friend to Neema. Atish’s soft words were always more helpful then hers. Even after they had both married, Atish’s marriage much more successful then his, he was surprised to find that they still had time for one another.

“What about you, Atish? If I go home, would you let me leave again?” Arwan looked up into his bright blue eyes.

“If it was what you really wanted,” Atish nodded. “I would let you go.”

“How charming,” Bast spat. “You two are just as queer as ever.”

Atish smiled, wrapping his arms around Arwan’s shoulders, “Ah, well, your brother was my first love, Bast. I may be married with five children, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love him any less then I did back then.” He pressed a kiss to Arwan’s cheek. Xander cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow.

Arwan reluctantly pushed Atish away from him, “Ah, Sirius would no like that, right Xander?”

“No, I don’t think he would,” Xander confirmed. “But I won’t tell him –so long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“Ach, what does the Spartan say?” Atish asked, scratching his forehead.

“Sirius is rather…overprotective. I don’t think he would like you touching me in such a way,” Arwan shook his head. “I’m sorry, Atish.”

Atish shrugged, “It can’t be helped.”

“So, you won’t come home?” Bast brought them back to the reason they had come all the way to Sparta. “Not for anything?”

“Brother, even if I wanted...”

“Is his heart made of ice?” Bast bit. “What harm is there in at least asking?”

“Sirius and I are…we’re not very cordial with one another right now. We’ve been arguing for the last couple of weeks. If I ask him now… Well, he’ll take the request the wrong way. You came at a bad time for us.”

“What are you? His lover?”

Arwan raised an eyebrow, “What if I was?”

“Then maybe it would be best if you didn’t come home,” Bast shook his head.

“You come all this way to ask him home, but when I tell you I may have a male lover you disown me? That’s a little critical don’t you think, Bast?”

“It isn’t that you have a male lover. It’s that you would choose him over your own family. I’ve known about your perchance for men since we were adolescents. Your marriage was always a kind of sham. I am not in the least bit surprised that you would have chosen a man to fall in love with.”

“Who said I was in love with him?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Sirius takes care of me. But he wants things I can’t give him.”

“But you love him.”

“Maybe I do. It’s complicated.”

“Everything is complicated in love and war. That is why they are so similar.”

“I wish love was as simple as war,” Arwan shook his head.

“I concur.”

The group turned to look at the voice in the doorway. No one had noticed Sirius arrive, and a blush crept up Arwan’s face, hoping he hadn’t heard too much of their conversation.

“Sirius, what are you doing here?”

“I was concerned,” Sirius stepped into the room. “Apparently I had good reason.” He put a hand on Arwan’s shoulder. “I am sorry, but Arwan can’t go with you.”

“Why not? You said yourself he isn’t a prisoner here.”

“Because I need him,” Sirius’s fingers tightened on Arwan’s shoulder. “Even if I were to let him go, I have no guarantee that he would come back. And I simply cannot live without him.”

“Are you really such a child?” Bast countered.

Sirius nodded, “I am. And just like a child, I don’t like to share. It’s never been something that I am particularly good at,” He gave a pointed look at Atish, sizing him up. “I respect that you have a past with Arwan –you’re his brother and his friends. However, that part of Arwan’s life is over now.”

“Sirius,” Arwan looked up at him, concerned.

Sirius shifted his eyes to look down at him, “Arwan, do you want to go home?”

Arwan shrugged, shaking his head, “There’s nothing there for me.

“The hell there isn’t!” Bast shouted. “What about me? What about Atish? Are you going to push him aside too?”

Arwan looked up at Atish’s hurt expression. Slowly, he lifted Sirius’s hand from his shoulder, and stepped closer to his best friend, “You know that I love you, Atish. But, you have a good family. You don’t need me anymore.” He turned to his brother, his eyes trying to hide his sadness. “Even if I came home to stay –I’ve always been weak. I don’t have a right to burden the rest of you. Life here is hard sometimes, but I can handle my duties. Starting a brand new life back in Persia… It’s not possible for me.”

“Then I came all of this way for nothing,” Bast shook his head. “I am sorry for wasting your time.”

“It was good to see you,” Arwan touched his arm. “All of you.”

Bast shrugged off Arwan’s hand, stepping towards Sirius, “You had best take care of him. If I find out he’s been hurt in anyway, I won’t think twice about coming back here and slaughtering you.”

Sirius gave him a curt nod, “I understand. Before you go…you’re welcome to stay and visit. My house is open to you for as long as you would all like to stay –if Arwan would like to see to guests that is.” He looked down at Arwan. “Would you like them to stay for a few days?”

Arwan nodded, turning to his brother and friends, “Please, you don’t have to leave so soon. You must be tired from travelling. Stay and rest for a day or two before you go back.”

“No,” Bast shook his head. “We were delayed on our journey here, so we should get back as quickly as possible. Arwan, if you change your mind, you know where to go.” He got up from his chair, and beckoned his compatriots to follow him.

Xander stretched, getting up from his chair once they were gone, “Well, that was certainly exciting. I had best go and return their horses to them. Sorry for all of this trouble Sirius.”

“No trouble, Xander,” Sirius shook his head. “Thank you for not killing them on site.”

Xander gave him a soft smile, patting Sirius’s cheek, “What can I say, I have a soft spot for the Persian boys myself.”

Sirius waited for the man to leave, closing the door to the house behind him. Once they were gone, his arms wrapped around Arwan’s waist from behind and his chin rested on the top of his head. The two stood in the quiet room in silence, Arwan lifting a hand to touch Sirius’s wrists at his waist.

Finally, Sirius spoke up, “I’m sorry for the strain between us lately. I don’t even remember what we were fighting about.”

Arwan shrugged, “It’s alright.”

“I want to make it up to you,” Sirius pressed his lips against Arwan’s neck. “Will you let me? Please, let me.” Arwan hummed, turning his face away from Sirus’s lips as he kissed his neck.

“Not right now. Perhaps later.” He reached up to touch the top of Sirius’s head. “It has been a trying day. And I’ve been distracted from my usual chores.”

“To hell with your chores,” Sirius shook his head. “Right now, I want to confirm that you’re all mine.” He turned Arwan around in his arms, tipping his face up to kiss him. “You may come willingly or I will resort to force. The choice is yours.”

“Sirius,” Arwan smiled, shaking his head. “You don’t need to force me to do anything for you.”

Point of View

A local art magazine (Volume One) is doing their annual fiction contest. This is the piece I am thinking about submitting, but I'm not quite sure about it yet. So far, people have liked it.

Point of View

The wind whistles outside and the door slams loudly behind me. I am late and he’s upset. I know because of the number of text messages and voicemails on my phone –which finally buzzes to life after I plug it in to charge. I half expect him to come racing down the stairs, frantic with worry. But he hasn’t.

His footsteps are calm as he comes down the stairs, ducking under the over-hang. I look up at him, silent. He’s not my keeper –I’m my own person. He can’t be mad at me just because I’m an hour or so later then I said I would be.

“Where’ve you been?” He finally says, crossing his arms over his chest, after getting comfortable on the couch. “I called. I texted.”

“I see,” I wiggle my charging phone at him. “My battery died. I would have called. You don’t need to worry about me all the time, you know.”

“But I do have to worry, damn it!”

He’s mad. It’s understandable. I’ve been late like this a lot lately. Once I had been in an accident, and now all he could do was fret. He was the type of guy who would lock the person he loved in a tower if he was able. And I guess I had somehow ended up being that person.

“Look, I have things to do. I can’t be exactly here you want, or think I should be all the time.” I shake my head. “I was at work and then I picked up some groceries. The bags are in the car.” I don’t mean that to come out as a challenge to my word, but it seems like it comes out at as one.

He sighs, “Do you see the weather out there?” He gets up from the couch, crossing the room. His hands feel heavy against my hips as he pressed his forehead against mine.

“It’s raining,” I say.

“Yeah. For all I know, you could have been struck by lightning or who knows what else.”

“Paranoid much?”

“I just care about you; why do you chastise me for that?”

“Because sometimes, I think you care too much,” I break his hold on me. His hands fall to his sides. I turn away from him. I can’t look at him anymore.

Now I’m mad. He’s so fucking clingy all of the time. He’s not controlling, but he’s got this habit of neediness. It pisses me off.

I stalk back to the kitchen and open the fridge. It’s kind of bare and I remember that all of the groceries I just bought are still out in the car. I sigh and the fridge creaks as I close it, shaking slightly on its base.

“You want help carrying that stuff in?”

His voice is soft now. He knows he made me mad. He’s not sure why, but he’s trying to make up for it. I’m not going to let him, though.

“I didn’t need your help getting it into the car, so why would I need your help getting it out?”

I try to ignore the wince at the corner of his eyes. He probably things I don’t notice that it hurts him, but I do. It was kind of the point of saying it.

“Okay,” he nods. “I get it. I’ll just go back to work then.” He turns around and I hold back my sigh. I’ve always thought he looked damn fine from behind. I don’t call him back. I don’t need him. I don’t like feeling like I need him.

The rain hurts as it pelts against my bare face. My hair flies into my eyes and I brush it away only to have it back where it was a moment later. My trunk is filled with plastic bags. I load up my arms with as many as possible so I don’t have to make two trips. I fail miserably and have to come back out for the gallon of milk.

I hear him walking around upstairs. He is probably pacing while on the phone with a client. We keep the floor between us for a couple of hours. After putting the groceries away, I putz around downstairs. I fold the laundry that has been sitting in the living room for the last two days. I watch a little television. I poke our little hamster awake and watch him zoom around the room in his purple ball.

I hear the door to his office open upstairs and I can hear him talking.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, we’ll deal with it tomorrow. I’m going to sign out for the night, man. It’s getting late…” His laugh is intoxicating. “That prolly means you deserve a break. –Yeah, have a nice night.” The phone beeps and a minute later, he is taking heavy steps down the stairs.

“Folding socks?” He ducks under the overhang again.

It’s a stupid question. He just wants to hear my voice. I don’t reply, just keep my eyes trained on the TV. My hands are busy with the folding. He sighs heavily when he sees that I won’t be responding to him. He sits on an empty portion of the couch and takes a pile of socks from me to help.

“Are you going to be mad at me all night?”

“I was never mad at you,” I lie. “You were mad at me.”

“Is it wrong for me to worry about you,” he asks. He tosses a mated pair to a basket across the room. It misses and rolls across the floor. It stops short of where our hamster has paused to wash is face. “I don’t get your attitude lately.”

“You’re fucking clingy and it drives me nuts –that’s my fucking attitude lately.”

“You don’t have to yell at me. I’m sitting right next to you.” His face is turning red and I don’t really understand why. I tend to be a little robotic when it comes to feelings. That’s why I don’t understand how I found such a great guy like him. Not when I’m just a soulless idiot. He deserves someone better. Someone who isn’t me.

He doesn’t agree with me though. When we fight, he tells me I’m just looking for an excuse not to be with him. He tells me I don’t have the right to decide if I’m the one for him. He tells me that he loves me.

I tell him he’s full of shit and if he knew any better, he would just run away from me. As far, and as fast, as he could.

The couch shifts as he leans back against the arm. We’re out of socks except for a few straggler “lost-in-the-wash” singles that will turn up the next time one of us does laundry.

“You want to do something fun tonight?” He asks. He folds his hands behind his head, like his cranium us too big for his neck to support.

“What did you have in mind?” I bite. He does this when I’m mad at him, Suggests something fun. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn’t. But by the time we’re in bed, I’m not mad anymore.

“Arcade? You can take out all of your frustration on the gophers,” he teases.

The arcade does sound like fun…

“I don’t have any money. I just spent it all on groceries,” I turn away to idly watch the television again.

“Hello…who’s your sugar-daddy?”

“Baby, if I had a sugar daddy, I wouldn’t be here folding your stupid socks.” I throw one of the stragglers in his general direction. It lands haphazardly on his shoulder, and he brushes it away.

He sighs, “I’ll pay for the arcade. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t intend on paying. Now stop being a little bitch, go change out of your work clothes into something sort of slutty, and let’s go out.”

I look at him. I know he’s reconsidering what he has just said because of the way I am looking down at him. He starts to say something. Starts to say that he over-stepped his bounds. That I’m not a bitch. That I can dress however I like. But before he can, I nod.

“Okay, fine. Give me five minutes,” I get up, and hoist my clothes basket onto my hip. “Put hammy back in his cage.”

He watches me, his mouth slightly agape as I climb the stairs. I don’t look back at him.

Even through the bathroom door, I finally hear him move downstairs to do as I had directed. I take my time changing. No reason to make him think that I am doing this for him. I don’t dress as sluttish as he would probably have liked, but it’s enough to get a low whistle as I descend back down the stairs.

The arcade is loud when we walk in the door a while later. It is still raining heavily outside so it’s not busy as it might normally be, but it’s still busy enough. He goes to the counter and gets us tokens and puts fifty dollars on each of our gaming cards. I wonder where he gets all the cash he throws around.

“What do you want to play first?” He asks. His arm slides around my waist as we approach the games. I look around at all of the flashing lights and bright candy-like colors.

“Give me your tokens.” I’m not shy about reaching into his back pocket to take out a handful of the little gold coins.

“The token-slots? Really…”

“Easiest hundred tickets you can make, baby,” I tell him. I sit down in front of one of the machines. He shakes his head, kissing my cheek.

“I’m going to go play the claw machines. Back in a bit.”

I nod, watching the pile of gold coins fall into the slot. The tickets click as they begin their pile on the floor.

Half an hour later, I’ve only spent a fraction of his money, but I’ve won a few hundred tickets by now. I move to the redemption machine and put the tickets on my gaming card. I look around for him while I wait for the tickets to disappear back into the machine to be recycled.

I see him across the room, brushing off some girl trying to hit on him. She touches his arm and laughs, throwing off his concentration. I notice he’s got quite the pile of winnings from his claw machine –those are his favorite. He’ll present his toys to me later, like they were a breeze to win. But I know the truth. He works hard to uncover the item he really wants if necessary. The other winnings are just bonuses.

With my tickets redeemed, I make my way over to him, sliding my arm around his waist. He relaxes, knowing my touch across his back.

“Hey baby, win me something pretty?” I kiss his cheek as the machine dings, signifying a win. He turns to smile.

“I think I got some stuff you’ll like.” He kisses me back and his little friend, the flirt, looks surprised. Like a guy who hangs out in an arcade on a Tuesday night could never have a significant other. She scurries away like a cockroach after the lights have been turned on. “How’d you do?”

“About 500 tickets,” I shrug. “You want to play something with me? Free-throws or something?”

“Sure,” he nods. He takes my hand, linking my fingers with his.

I beat him twice, once very narrowly. We claim our tickets and move on to a trivia game which we fail at miserably. Then we try a couple of racing games and before we know it, we’ve only got a few dollars left on our gaming cards. Since we got there, I’ve forgotten that I was mad at him. I think he has too. I suggest we go to dinner before heading home and he agrees.

We leave the arcade and step back outside into the pouring rain. It doesn’t feel like it’s going to be letting up anytime soon, but it feels…different. Before we had left the house, it was heavy. Now it feels refreshing, even though it’s the same amount of rain.

We choose a restaurant close to the house. Not for any particular reason other then that we both like the food. But even the restaurant is quiet tonight. No one wants to chance the rain. We are obviously a pair of crazies.

It’s a little strange having the restaurant to ourselves, but it’s also kind of nice. We don’t have a problem hearing each other over the din. We apologize for earlier. He was just worried. I was just being an idiot. I thank him for a fun time. He thanks me for being so damn cute, and kisses me over the table. His foot presses against mine underneath the table.

Later when we’re in bed, I listen to him breath against the back of my neck. He’s not quite asleep yet. I can tell because of the grip he’s got on my t-shirt, his fist placed against my hip. He is relaxing, and his breath is beginning to slow. Once his hand has relaxed against my shirt, and his breath is coming in shallow beats, I know he is finally asleep.

It’s been a trying day. I’m glad that it’s over. My hand reaches up and touches his. In his sleep, his fingers tighten around mine, and I can’t stop my smile. Even though we have our problems…and we’ve been fighting a lot more then usual lately… As soon as he’s asleep next to me, with his hand resting across the stretch of skin my twisted t-shirt leaves uncovered, none of that matters. For a few moments before I drift off to sleep, I remember that I love him…and that’s why I stay.

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.