Chapter Text
Nasir wakes slowly, pulled from dreams with nagging feeling he's not suppose to be asleep. Shifting a little, he can feel that he is completely naked, chain having been removed from around neck and stomach. The blankets and furs dragging deliciously soft across his hips and thighs, teasing along his cock. He is surprised he isn't sweating under such coverings when Agron burns hotter than fire when sleeping. It must be still dark out, as their is faint laughter from outside but no clashing of swords or shouting of orders.
Last Nasir can recall is Agron carrying him into the room, kissing him dizzy as they both stripped. Yet, when Nasir reaches out hand for him, he touches only cold sheets.
"Agron?"
Blinking eyes, Nasir groans as throbbing in head makes stomach turn. Surely he did not succumb to drink that much to cause sickness. Lifting hand to hair, fingers meet thick bandaged wrapped around crown of head and across temples. Confused, Nasir trails touch along it, feeling crust upon back of skull. Fingertips come away sticky with dried blood.
"Agron?!"
Panic sets in as Nasir tries to push himself up on his elbows, vision swimming. Strangled voice alerts Duro, who is sleeping on floor next to bed. He sits up quickly, curls a mess on top of head. Duro instantly begins to make soothing noises, reaching out hand to press Nasir back onto bed.
"It's okay, little brother." Duro sits on edge of bed. "You are safe."
"Duro?" Nasir blinks rapidly, trying to clear gaze enough to see the other man, "Where is Agron? Why am I bleeding? What has happened?"
"Hush. Rest for moment and I will tell you all." Duro brushes Nasir's hair from his face. "Do not tax yourself."
Duro's warm hands soothe Nasir into relaxing into the blankets, easing them up around his bare shoulders. The German is unsure of how much Nasir can remember, nor if he is yet full of mind to stand or comprehend. Nasir continues to blink until he can see, noting that Duro has a split lip and bruised cheek. Heart begins to pound in chest again, fearful of what has caused such damages.
"Was it Romans?" Nasir asks gently, reaching to touch Duro's cheek, “Have we been attacked? I do not recall.”
"No," Duro shakes his head, lighting candles beside bed, "I was too slow on retreat from brother's rage."
"Agron did this to you?" Nasir tries to sit up again, only to have Duro push him back down.
"It was accident. He was taken by rage at your injury." Duro shrugs. "Medicus nearly suffered blow."
"I do not recall-" Nasir starts, confused with throbbing head aiding.
"Agron's shouts brought Spartacus and self to room," Duro begins, spinning cup of wine in hand nervously.
"You were-" Duro chokes a little, glancing at the Syrian, "Agron was holding you on floor. There was so much blood. I thought at first you had done it to self. You were so upset at party."
"It is not first time I have been thrown to floor by powerful man." Nasir sighs, rubbing hand across eyes, “nor bled because of it.”
"Spartacus tried to move you," Duro goes on, "to put you upon bed, but Agron wouldn't let him touch you. Others were in the hall. Someone went to get the medicus."
Duro swallows tightly, taking sip of wine to ease next words. He wishes he could erase brother's face from memory, the desperate green eyes over flowing with tears, the way his naked body curled around Nasir's as if lion protecting cub. Duro has feared for Agron many times, but he has never been afraid of him before.
"He wouldn't stop screaming, Nasir. He was covered in blood as if crazed beast. I tried to talk reason to him, for him to see you would be alright. It was simple cut caused by sharp stone edge. I have never seen that look in his eye, not even when sword is covered in Roman blood."
Nasir glances around the room, tabling laying in splitters upon floor. The amphora of wine that Agron had brought with him when first entering room shattered upon stones. Curtains that once covered door are torn in center, leaving them in tatters. Nasir flinches when he sees the blood stain leading up to where he rests.
"Medicus wasn't sure if blood would stop," Duro sighs heavily, "It took five men to remove him from room. Even Crixus had to come to aid."
"What prompted this? It was simple enough injury, was it not?" Nasir asks, the need to go find Agron and soothe pain first thought to mind.
"You-" Duro closes eyes, tugging on his hair with one hand, "You kept talking the whole time to him. But-"
The German pauses, seeming to choke on next words. Nasir shifts, reaching out hand to cover Duro's. He squeezes gently, reassuring the Syrian he's okay.
"You lost sense from confusion." Duro murmurs. "You kept calling him dominus. You kept asking for forgiveness."
Nasir's mouth dries at confession. He can only imagine what effect his words would have upon Agron, such passionate man. How can he blame Agron for this when fault solely lies upon his shoulders? Had he not overreacted about Aodhan, had he held more self control, had he kept tongue to teeth and refrained from showing jealousy.
"Where is he?"
Duro's uneasy glance has Nasir sitting up, shoving the other man's hands away. He is not child to be coddled to breast.
"Duro, where is he?"
"He is kept in room in basement, locked away to prevent harm to others," Duro says quickly, frantically trying to keep Nasir within confines of bed.
"What?" Nasir's shout rings loud and echoing in small room.
"He was crazed and wouldn't listen to reason! We feared for safety of others and self."
"So you lock him in cell as if slave?"
Duro's hands plant on Nasir's shoulders, keeping him sitting in bed. His eyes are wild as he aims to follow orders and keep Nasir to bed rest. Agron's and Nasir's love is force to be reckoned with, irrational and biting but enough to rival any god's power. Duro can only stand by in awe as Nasir rips head wrapping off.
"Spartacus commanded me to stay beside you," Duro pleas, "You are not well enough to stand."
"How am I to lay in our bed knowing Agron is locked away as if monster?" Nasir snarls, keeping blankets around him as he attempts to stand. Head swimming, he stumbles and braces hand on Duro's shoulder.
"Calm yourself, Nasir."
Voice in doorway has both men turning to see Spartacus. He is still in full armor, and appears undamaged from Agron's apparently eager attempt at to cause harm to all who stood in way. His cool command has Nasir pausing in his attempt.
"Spartacus-" Nasir begins, turning in circle to face rebel leader, ready to make plea.
"I will take you to him, considering injury is not as grave as first believed, but first, matters need to be decided upon." Spartacus pulls curtain closed behind him.
Nasir takes cup of wine from Duro's hand, unconcerned about look thrown his way as he drains it. If Spartacus wishes to discuss event, it can not mean good news for neither Agron or Nasir.
"Explain to me," the rebel leader begins, crossing arms over chest, "what madness has taken both you and Agron?"
"I-" Nasir gulps, hating the disappoint in Spartacus' eyes, "I do not know what you speak of. Injury was accident. Agron took anger too far. You know he becomes irrational and taken with passion at times."
"That is all? Green eyed stare does not turn upon Celtic boy that aims to win Agron's favor?"
“Aodhan should be removed from fucking camp!” Duro hisses, stepping closer to Nasir, “He causes mess when he is suppose to learn sword to be of fucking use.”
“Duro!” Nasir hisses, elbowing him hard in the side, “Hold tongue!”
Nasir can feel his face burning with blush, dropping eyes to floor. He knows he's been acting like child, but how could he not be when prompted to do so? Aodhan gets under his skin, causes frustration unlike anyone else Nasir has known in rebellion.
“Apologies.”
"Regardless, we are at war, Nasir. Rome breathes upon our neck and I will not have two of my best gladiators fighting because of bruised feelings. Agron will not listen to reason. As his better half, I turn to you to soothe this matter."
Spartacus moves towards Nasir, reaching out to grasp neck in brotherly manner. The smaller man can't bring himself to raise eyes, knowing the disappointment will be written in Spartacus'. Pulling him close, the gladiator lowers his voice to whisper in Nasir's ear.
"You both have injuries that were not sustained by sword or spear. Agron is not man to see things that do not directly stand in path. Take him to your bed and see such distrust and pain put behind you. Boy is but troublesome youth that has been set to task away from you both.”
“Yes, Spartacus.” Nasir nods quickly, biting his lip in shame of actions.
“I can not run this rebellion without you."
Spartacus' words bring warmth to Nasir's chest, pulling small smile upon lips. He will do anything for this man, regardless of what he asks. Nasir nods quickly, head still twinging with pain. Spartacus grins, patting Nasir's cheek. He does not want to cause such strain on Spartacus, man who freed him from harsh bonds of slavery, who allowed Agron and Nasir to have first meeting upon villa's steps.
"Come, I will take you to him." Spartacus turns before looking over shoulder. "Duro, retire to your room. You have served your purpose well and will be rewarded for it."
Duro pats his chest with fist, nodding tightly. He gives Nasir a tender look, tugging a strand of his hair affectionately. Nasir pats his arm, before pulling blanket covering around himself, following Spartacus out of the room. With one German mollified, Nasir turns attentions to bigger task of soothing Agron.
His bare feet lightly pad across villa's floor as he moves towards the basement, mind desperately racing with thoughts of beloved. He is unsure of the state Agron will be in, both body and mind. He knows that the rebel leader wouldn't let harm intentionally come to Agron, not by rebel's hands, but Crixus would not have problem soothing Agron with fists.
Spartacus lends hand when Nasir stumbles, leading him down into dark hallway after dark hallway until they reach narrow steps. Path leads them through dark alcove before coming to stand in front of rows of doors. Spartacus pauses moment to light candle, coming to stop before large wooden door.
"I will make my leave after I open the door," Spartacus murmurs, producing key from cloak and opening door with a loud click.
Stepping inside doorway, Nasir's chest is filled with sudden, furious pain at sight before him. Agron is sitting in corner, knees drawn to chest with elbows resting on them, staring at ground. Someone has been kind enough to provide him subligaria, though it is dirty. Nasir can feel tears crowding eyes upon noticing the blood, his blood, is now dried upon Agron's palms, though it is clear the gladiator tried to pick it off.
"Agron?" Nasir whispers, pulling makeshift blanket cloak around himself.
The man glances up, brilliant green eyes nearly unrecognizable as they appear swollen from tears. A sizeable bruise has formed on his cheek, though that appears to be worst of damage. He seems uncertain if sight before him is real.
Nasir freezes only for moment before rushing forward and dropping to knees between Agron's legs. He grasps the gladiator's face in tender hands, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. Agron allows it, dropping his own kisses on Nasir's jaw when he can reach.
"Apologies. Apologies. Apologies," Agron chants, gripping Nasir's arms and pulling him back slightly, "I am a fool. A fool to be punished for such thoughtless actions."
"Hush," Nasir soothes, resting forehead to Agron's, "I am one to offer apologies. I caused such offense. I was jealous. I was not worthy of your attentions. I-"
Agron cuts him off with a kiss, pressing his lips firmly over Nasir's. They are only simple presses, Agron curling his fingers along Nasir's sharp jaw, holding his head in place as he teasingly licks but does not push in the other's mouth. Nasir is sure he could stay forever like this, regardless of the cold basement or that his knees grow tired from kneeling on hard stones.
"Are you badly injured?" Agron asks, pulling away to stroke lovingly at Nasir's face.
"Is but scratch," Nasir murmurs back, pressing as close to Agron as possible, smoothing his thumb under Agron's swollen eyes, "I am fine. It was accident."
"Yet way you callled for your dominus was not." Agron's eyes drop, fingers moving to trace where Nasir's slave collar would have lain.
"I was lost in thought when mind should have been on you," Nasir confesses, resting hands on Agron's chest, "It is difficult sometimes to separte past life with life of freedom. It is not that I do not desire you, but fact that I am new to what desire is."
"Do you know what you desire?" Agron's searching eyes trace the Syrian's face, afraid of answer.
"I desire you, in all things."
"There is no one," Agron begins, lifting Nasir's jaw up to look him in the eyes, "that I desire above you. No one."
Agron reaches inside of blanket to caress Nasir's back, making noise of surprise to find the Syrian still completely bare under coverings. Nasir whimpers at heated touch, falling forward to rest head against Agron's neck, scratching at his sides. Agron knows he would willingly lay down his life for this man, let the Romans decend upon him if only to keep Nasir safe and away from danger. Agron wonders how he could be so blind then to not see what other's gaze had done to him, what festering wound had Aodhan ripped open?
"You are covered in blood and I fear I can no longer stay upon knees on hard floor," Nasir pulls away to pick up candle off floor. Agron watches silently as the man stands, pulling blanket shut with bashful gaze.
"Come, hayati, I would have us return to our bed."
"Has Spartacus allowed such command?" Agron asks softly, making no comment yet on Nasir's use of Syrian tongue.
"I doubt the Bringer of Rain could stand in my way when intent is to heal wounds with rest and flesh." Nasir's grin is cheeky, making him appear younger. Agron has not seen such look in days and aches to have it remain.
Standing slowly, he wraps sure arm around Nasir, trying not to notice dried blood in his hair. His stomach still twists from actions, knowing he is guilty of many a thing. He will apologize in morning, make ammends and play whipped boy until he is forgiven. For now, sights are set upon pleasing his little Syrian, and smoothing over wounds to healing state.
They make their way through the villa silently, late hour having seen most rebels already to slumber. Nasir holds the candle in unwavering hand, pausing every few steps to leave a kiss somewhere on Agron, a few to his face, a few to his chest, one exceptionally wet one low on his stomach. Agron returns the caresses, tracing shoulders and chin,
Finally they enter their room, Nasir placing candle on small stand by bed, leaving it close enough to warm small bowl of oil. When he turns, Agron has paused in front of blood stain, staring at it with wide and unblinking eyes.
"We will wash stones in morning," Nasir murmurs, stepping up onto bed. He kicks a few pillows up towards the head of it, eyes not leaving the gladiator.
Blinking, Agron turns to Nasir with a small, if not humbled smile. He knows he is lucky to even remain in the Syrian's presence after such spectacle he caused earlier. Yet, as Nasir drops blanket and once again reveals naked flesh, Agron forgets for moment what has transpired between them earlier.
"Come," Nasir sits upon bed, pulling bowl of water and rag towards him.
Agron sheds subligaria, letting fabric pool on floor. He feels bare, more than just lack of cloth, raw in only the way Nasir can make him feel. As if there are parts inside of him that only Nasir can see. Agron's gaze stays on Nasir's soft face as he folds his long legs, sitting before Nasir, knees brushing.
With tender, thin fingers, Nasir takes one of Agron's hands into his own, rubbing cloth along his knuckles. The dried blood comes away with a smear of red, but the younger man doesn't flinch. After so long in rebellion, sight of blood does nothing to him. He simply continues on, caressing evidence of violence off of Agron's hands.
The gladiator feels emotion settling thick and choking in the back of his throat, need to hold Nasir close and protect him forcing his hands to begin to tremble. Nasir notices, looking up through his eyelashes at the other, concern furrowing his brow.
"Agron-"
Question is cut short as Agron leans forward, brushing piece of hair behind the Syrian's ear. Nasir raises his head a little, biting bottom lip as their gazes meet, unwavering. He feels the heat from it, the scalding gaze that is Agron's green eyes, but this feeling inside his chest is something he's never felt before. Agron traces a fingertip along his cheekbone, so close he can feel the other's breath on his face, smell the metallic hint of blood. Agron's trembling hands tip his chin up a little before kissing Nasir with gentleness Agron wasn't aware he possessed.
Moment stretches as Nasir makes a soft whimper, shifting up to run his hands through Agron's hair, twisting the soft ones at nape of neck. Blindly, the other man pushes bowl of water onto floor, pressing weight on to Nasir slightly, aiming to push him back onto pillows.
The Syrian pulls away, panting harshly as kisses intensified to catch breath. He doesn't move far from Agron, only unfolds legs to stretch before him, laying back against pillows. Hiss of pain pauses moment though as Nasir reaches towards back of head.
"Your wound," Agron mumbles, helping Nasir to sit up again, "does it still bleed?"
"No," Nasir shakes head slightly, though wincing with movement, "is only tender to touch. I will seek pleasure on top of you."
Agron lets Nasir press on his shoulders, allowing the other man to guide him back onto the bed. Nasir moves slowly on top of him, spreading thighs around Agron's waist, letting smile begin to grow in anticipation. Pulsing cocks rub together, Nasir hissing as precome slicks his way enough to thrust for tiny relief of friction. He knows this. He knows Agron's body. Mess of the day can certainly be forgotten and erased by loving embrace. Raising up on his elbows, Agron stares at the other with unabashed desire.
"How could anyone ever think they are in competition with you?" Agron muses, kissing Nasir's hip, tracing line to groin with tongue, "You stand above Adonis himself."
"Pretty words from someone who has yet to properly ready me for your cock," Nasir teases, drizzling oil from bowl onto Agron's stomach with giggle.
Sitting up, Agron lets the warm liquid run down his pelvis, catching some of his fingers. He eases them teasingly along Nasir's balls, rubbing at his perineum with strong caresses. A loud moan slips from Nasir, who throws his head back, long black hair spreading across his shoulder blades.
Agron wants to take, to hold Nasir up and fuck him until he cries and scratches and bites. He wants to rush this, wants to reinforce his ever lasting devotion to this little Syrian prince. Yet, Agron can't. Not tonight. Not with the way Nasir's eyes are sparking behind half lids, breath gasping sharply with every caress. This is not the time for fucking. This is something else, something more.
“You spoke to me in Syrian earlier,” Agron mentions, tracking a drop of sweat as it makes it's way down Nasir's chest.
“Did I?”
“Yes,” Agron leans up and tastes it with his tongue, “Say it again. I like the sound of it upon your lips.”
“Hayati,” Nasir smiles a little, “I remember from when I was little, my father use to call my mother such.”
“What does it mean?” Nasir ducks his head at the question, blush spreading across his cheeks.
“My life.”
Sliding a finger into him, Agron hushes Nasir's tiny, needy mews with his tongue inside mouth. His hair has come undone from braid, falling around his face, against Agron's, everywhere like ebony storm. Nibbling on Nasir's bottom lip, Agron sets easy rhythm with middle finger, tapping against Nasir's prostate every few strokes. He can feel the smaller man leaking against his stomach, and knows he is running out of time.
Adding another finger, Agron grasps Nasir's wrist in steady hand. The Syrian allows himself to be manhandled, dragging palm along Agron's oil slick stomach before wrapping around his shaft. Steady pace of his hand has Agron's own speeding up. Three fingers is just enough for easing of passage. Agron wants to spend more time, working fourth finger and maybe tip of thumb inside the Syrian's tight heat, but not tonight.
"Schatz," Panting against the other's mouth, Agron licks Nasir's tongue, getting his permission and plea in one word.
"Please!"
Removing fingers, Agron moves sure and steady hands to Nasir's hips, lifting him off bed. Nasir knows to hold still, spreading legs as wide as he can in such position. Agron should kiss Nasir, distract him from pain about to be inflicted, but he wishes only to see Nasir's wide eyed stare when cock finally breeches him. He is not disappointed.
Nasir's mouth falls open, pants sounding louder and faster as Agron lowers him, inch after inch breaching his tight body. Nails bite into Agron's shoulders as Nasir squirms, whimpering and hiding his face in the other's neck. Finally, Nasir is once again sitting in Agron's lap, ass against thighs.
Sure hands soothe along Nasir's trembling spine, easing tension out of muscles. It is not long before the younger man begins to move with intent, wrapping legs tightly around Agron's waist. The gladiator knows he's going to be the one doing all the work. The very few times they have taken it slow (usually in relief that the other is alive after battle or when both of them are too drunk to coordinate quick motion), Nasir melts as if made of clay under Agron's steady hands.
Grasping his waist once more, Agron begins to move the other up and down, fucking Nasir onto his cock as if younger man is boneless. Nasir rewards such efforts with little moans and cries into Agron's ear, nails dragging across his skin in tantalizing threats of broken flesh. He sucks on Agron's ear lobe, pulling back to press his warm and open mouth to the gladiator’s, tongue tracing each one of Agron's teeth.
Agron is lost in sensation, unsure how Nasir manages to stay like vice inside. After so many months of seeking pleasure within his body, Agron still finds it amazing that he must be stretched first. As for his own attentions, he seeks to kiss bruise every inch of Nasir's neck and chest. Biting along his collarbones, Agron sucks dark, violet marks against the golden tan skin, grinning when each one produces a curse from Nasir's mouth.
Arms bulging under quickening movement, Agron feels sweat pooling down his chest, easing the way for Nasir's cock to drag along his abs. The Syrian reaches for it with desperate fingers, but Agron swats away the effort, gripping in sure, tight strokes.
Tossing his head back again, Nasir braces hands on Agron's shoulders and rolls hips, changing angle slightly enough to have prostate be kisses by tip of Agron's cock. He gives loud, wavering moan, chasing the pleasure with more erratic movements of body, offsetting Agron's rhythm slightly. Change in angle has Agron gripping Nasir's ass instead, pulling it apart to accommodate more of his cock, and roughly lifting and lowering him.
Pressing his forehead against Agron's, Nasir's eyes flutter open to gaze into the other's. There is suffocating passion and lust within his green-brown eyes, but Agron also sees the love, the soft, tender emotion that has Nasir tracing shapes into his skin long after passion has cooled.
"I am close," Nasir gasps, cock leaking profusely all over Agron's fist.
"Find release, little man, and I will surely follow."
Nasir opens mouth to chastise Agron for nickname when sudden burst of pleasure rockets through him as Agron drops him roughly on his cock. With prostate being pressed so tightly against and Agron's fist moving rapidly, Nasir can do nothing but reach highest pleasure with shout turned whine of Agron's name.
The gladiator does not stop his movements though, becoming rougher with desire to reach own climax. He is sure he is leaving bruises on the other man's hips as he slams him down upon Agron's cock, body fluttering around the leaking flesh. He is only able to complete a handful more of thrusts though before his own release is upon him, holding Nasir tightly down into his lap.
They stay like that for some time, caressing flesh with the barest of fingertips, sharing soft kisses, and Agron's murmurs of sweet nothings and German into Nasir's ear. The Syrian is nearly asleep when Agron moves him.
"You will regret allowing me to sleep between your thighs in the morning."
Murmuring, Agron lifts Nasir gently off of him, laying the other man down upon his side. Nasir wants to reply, wants to disagree and tell Agron how desperately he needs the other man near him always, but stress of day and taxing act of passion have taken all his strength. It is no matter anyways, as Agron blows out candle and comes to curl body along Nasir's back, kissing back of skull.
- - -
Days pass without incident. Agron sulks around the first day, trying to appear small and pitiful to win back favor, allowing Duro to boss him around for whole afternoon in exchange for forgiveness. He also follows Nasir as if pup, refusing to let the Syrian out of his sight for more than few hours. Spartacus soothes the giant gladiator with sure pat on the arm, twinkling eyes giving away more than expression. Crixus avoids him, much to Agron's surprise, but Nasir is secretly convinced it's Naevia's doing. All seems to settle in camp, rebellion carrying on in plot to burn Rome to the ground.
Nasir doesn't set eyes upon Aodhan til nearly week after celebration party. He suspects it's Spartacus' doing, seeing as how he spots the boy clear on the other side of the villa than normal, helping to clean blood and dirt off recovered armor. It's not a favorable job, usually reserved to the youngest of boys, not yet able to grow beard or wield sword.
Nasir has to hide pleased smirk behind hand at sight of Aodhan's blond head bent over a shield covered with the insides of a Roman.
"You appear exceptionally pleased with yourself," Mira suddenly appears at elbow, holding bow in hand.
"I do not appear as such," Nasir smothers look by wiping at mouth, "I was sent to fetch extra swords for recruits. Spartacus will not let me aid in training until head wound has fully healed"
"And sight of lowered youth does not lift spirits?" Her knowing gaze has Nasir dropping his.
"It gladdens me to see him no longer on purpose of gaining Agron's heart," he corrects.
"I do not think he aimed to replace you in such manner, but perhaps through cock in ass?" Mira urges to make point known, and Nasir does not miss such.
"Speak if you bear knowledge on subject."
"Spartacus and I overheard conversation between Aodhan and other Celts. He aimed to secure status in rebellion by taking Agron to his bed."
Nasir's mind flashes to Chadara, beautiful and living, aiming to gain same at beginning of rebellion. She too was jealous of Nasir's position beside Agron. Would this youth also fall to Mira's arrows?
"His end goal was never allowed to full fruition. Agron and I have not parted ways."
"As all of the rebellion has heard as such," Mira teases, grin spreading across her face, "Agron making his devotion to you know - nightly, with sun rise, and sometimes in mid-afternoon in secluded hallways."
Nasir gives way to laughter, shoving companionably on Mira's shoulder. He knows the gladiator and himself may have been too loud on numerous occasions, and villa does echo. Yet, he can not deny he approves of the sudden surge in their intimate times together.
"Hold tongue. Agron simply grows bored with lack of battle recently. He burns with too much energy," Nasir explains, blush spreading along his cheeks.
"Oh, of course," Mira nods, lip curling, "I do not doubt all is to blame on man East of the Rhine. You are simply unable to deny his requests?"
Nasir thinks back to morning. Agron had still lain slumbering in barely risen sun's light when the Syrian had woken to find his own need pressed hard and hot against his stomach. Nasir could not wait, and would not see completion alone. He had taken Agron's cock in mouth, aiming to wake and coax other into pleasure.
"I am to purpose." Nasir steps around the woman, her laughter carrying in small space.
He doesn't particularly want to talk to Aodhan, knowing the boy will not be pleased with his company, but task is set to him to provide for able men. Besides, Nasir thinks, does competition for Agron's attention even exist? Did it ever? Clearly, Nasir won battle numerous times.
"I am in need of swords for training men," Nasir is unsure of how to greet the Celtic boy, and simply aims for end goal instead.
"Are you not able to see? I am set with task. Take some from supply." Aodhan does not lift his head, though snarl of lip shows he knows who stands before him.
"I ask for sharpened swords. Since you are cleaning retained armor, perhaps you would have better fucking knowledge of what can be used and what can't." Nasir tries to remain calm in face of annoyance, unwilling to start argument with rash youth.
"He will tire of you, you know?" Aodhan continues to drag stained cloth across bloody chest plate.
"What?" Nasir bristles under boy's words.
"Agron will tire of you, one day. You will grow old and uglier," Aodhan lifts his blond head, blue eyes glaring at Nasir, "Time will wrinkle your face, sag your body, and soon soften your cock to useless meat between chilled thighs. He will replace you with someone younger and more beautiful and you will be left alone to rot."
Nasir's skin grows hot, hairs prickling along neck and arms. He knows it is childish taunts spewed by youth to try and get reaction. After all, he has no real power over Nasir, and would be punished greatly for causing him physical harm as the Syrian stands unarmed. Yet, the gall of such words strikes Nasir hard in chest.
"You forget simple knowledge," Nasir crouches before the boy, bracing elbows on knees, "Every moment we are in rebellion against Rome, we fight against fate and the gods for our lives. Agron may not survive next battle. He could fall and your intentions would be lost. Time is not a matter when fighting for life."
Nasir has to swallow to keep dark thoughts from over crowding mind. The loss of Agron would be devastating to him, and Nasir is not sure if he could continue on his days without the German's shining eyes and wicked mouth. Heart would surely break and shrivel within chest.
"You also forget," Nasir continues, "as I age, so does Agron, and do you. If I am nothing but dim reflection of former self, you will be as well, as not many years separate us."
"You were means to an end," Aodhan hisses, "Body slave turned gladiator's lap pet! What worth do you have besides warming his bed and fetching weapons for Spartacus?"
Nasir licks lips slowly, idea coming to mind.
"If you desire Agron so greatly, we should have contest, but one fitting of such gladiator."
Recognition ghosts Aodhan's face and he pales slightly.
"You would have us take up swords against each other?"
"I purpose contest." Nasir grins, standing up to continue, "If you come out as victor, I will remove myself from Agron's side and bless your union. If I win, you will turn sights from Agron and set purpose to something useful within rebellion, whether it be sword or bread making."
"How am to know this is not simple plot to have Mira or Naevia stab me in back while I fight you?" Aodhan also stands, shielding sun from eyes as he stares at the other man. He has never had privilege to see him fight yet, but someone of that small of stature and that soft of face can not be that fierce with sword, can he?
"We shall have Spartacus judge. Surely there is no one more just and wise than Rebel King himself," Nasir supplies, mouth twisting into vicious smirk, "and Agron can watch, our honored guest, so in case you win, he will know about your form."
"You have armor. I will be ill equipped." Aodhan looks nervous, crossing arms.
"Take afternoon to look for fitting armor and sword. We meet on sands at sundown."
Nasir turns away from the boy, aiming to make for villa. Mira eyes him as he passes, biting on thumb nail, and shaking her head. He knows idea of contest to secure Agron's affection is pointless. Agron is no longer slave; he is not a prize to be taken. Still, Nasir would see this petty argument put to final rest.
- - -
"You're what?" Caiside drops basket of linen, turning to face the other male.
"I am to compete with Nasir using sword and shield," Aodhan shrugs, shifting through collected arm guards.
"Do you think that wise?" Caiside runs a hand through his red hair, tugging on the strands. Though bound by loyalty to homeland, he is unsure if Aodhan and himself hold any bond at all when it comes to sense.
"He is small and weak. I can best him," Aodhan replies confidently, shrugging shoulders, "What of it?"
"Small yes, but weak? Spartacus himself trained Nasir. He is Agron's," Caiside flounders over what to label it, knowing he is more important to the German than simple bedmate, "Do you really think he is without proper training?"
"He stands upon box shouting orders, but he is not practiced in it," Aodhan tightens straps of leather across his chest, eying the other boy.
"You know that to be true?" Caiside can not help being skeptical.
"You will regret lack of confidence when I stand victor."
Aodhan wacks sword through air, laughing as if child. Such task is simple enough, he is not even sure why Nasir would put him up to it. He could best the other easily. The Syrian is simply boy playing games.
"You do not listen to sense," Caiside shakes head, "and you pay for it. Whether it is by Nasir's sword or Roman's."
- - -
When Agron returns from raid of nearby villa, he finds brother and beloved standing in shared room conversing in hushed tones. Duro is finishing tightening shoulder guard across Nasir's back, fitting armor to his form. Nasir appears calm and collected, as always, running stone along swords edge.
"What is the meaning of this?" Agron asks, moving to table by door and pouring cup of wine.
"I am to compete with Aodhan upon courtyard soon." Nasir explains, not turning to meet the other's gaze. Duro does though, eyes meeting Agron's with a roll.
"To what purpose?" Draining the cup, Agron strides to stand before the pair, reaching for rag and water. He begins to remove blood from chin and neck, noticing Nasir's dark eyes are not lowered but raised to his in defiance.
"Surely, such a small matter, is no concern of yours. Rest and eat after such successful raid. I will return to our bed shortly for celebrate victory." Nasir smiles broadly, sheathing sword on hip.
"He means to fight Aodhan for you," Duro spits out, dodging Nasir's elbow easily.
"Fight for me?" Agron's eyebrows raise on forehead, "As if I am fucking Roman wife? What else must I do to prove loyalty to you, Nasir? Would you have me connect rope from my neck to yours?"
Nasir eases himself forward, hand landing closely to Agron's heart through the leather straps of his armor. He does not mean to upset the German, had foolish little brother's tongue kept still.
"I do not doubt nor do I question your affections are pure. Did Spartacus not tell us that each man has his worth? I aim only to show Aodhan that," Nasir's eyes raise to the others, showing pure devotion, "I would set Aodhan onto such path, away from thinking only duty in life is to warm bed of men in power."
"A thing he does not yet grasp?" Agron asks, tucking stray hair behind Nasir's ear.
"A thing I would have him learn," Nasir continues, "and I remember."
Agron does not think he will ever tire of Nasir's brilliance nor his unwavering strength. He had wondered over the past few days if all pain and wounds were soothed in the Syrian, and what else was required of Agron to make sure such never returned. Yet, here Nasir stands before him, more confident and strong than ever before.
"Such a feat I can not miss," Agron grins, kissing Nasir's forehead before clapping Duro roughly on the shoulder, "Come. I would watch sport."
They make their way out to villa's courtyard, Agron's fingers brushing Nasir's the whole way. Duro looks worried as they reach destination and it appears others in rebellion have heard of contest. They pack around the training field, holding amphoras and cups of wine, looking around excitedly. Nasir steps away from the German brothers with slight nod, unwilling to show weakness of emotion in light of so many eyes upon them. He does tug on the red strip of fabric around his wrist, eyes meeting Agron's for barest of moments to reconfirm he is doing this for Agron but also for personal honor.
"You do not fear for him?" Duro asks, following Agron to sit upon villa's steps.
"Fear for him? Why should I? Nasir is capable warrior. He threatened Spartacus' life on very first night of freedom," Agron takes offered cup of wine from Mira, giving his gratitude, "I know he is still a wild little dog. If I fear, I fear for Aodhan knowing Nasir's wrath."
Duro eyes his brother, noting the proud look in Agron's eye, the easy way he lounges back onto steps. Such confidence is surprising in Agron, man who doubts even the gods existence. Then again, Duro reasons, Nasir must have caused bigger impact than first thought when he claimed Agron's heart.
Spartacus comes to stand behind the brothers, nodding slightly in greeting. Aodhan has moved to stand before Nasir, and though Nasir gives slight bow of greeting, the youth turns head into crowd and laughs with someone there. Duro spares one last glance at his brother's face before keeping eyes trained on the two men. This fight will be worth watching. With raise of Spartacus' arm, the match begins.
Nasir stays low to ground, swiping out with sword to meet Aodhan's too rash thrust. The younger man is clearly fueled by anger and pride and swings sword widely and with little thought to block. Nasir gets a few quick, small cuts into the boy's thigh, drawing blood with feral hiss.
He does not cause pain to kill though. No, Nasir was trained by gladiators, trained how to play with his food before slaughtering. He will not best the boy easily and further hurt pride. Nasir seeks to make Aodhan believe he possesses some skill before striking.
They circle each other, though Nasir feels he is more on the defense than attack. Every time he aims to press forward, Aodhan swings again. It is as if shield is useless in hand. The clanging of swords mixes with the shouts and laughter of the crowd, filling the large courtyard with anthem of the games.
Aodhan gives way to shoving Nasir back, making bold thrusts that the Syrian blocks easily. He is nearly upon ring of onlookers though when Aodhan finally gets in first hit. Swipe of sword grazes Nasir's cheek, splitting skin in clean line. Blood pools across his jaw, but Nasir does not raise hand to check it, keeping eyes on the boy at all times.
The youth turns, eying crowd and raising sword as if victory is upon him. Nasir proceeds to make his attack. Keeping shield close to body, he shoves hilt of sword into Aodhan's back, knocking the boy off balance. He barely has time to turn before Nasir is once again bringing hilt down upon his chest. Aodhan staggers under the blow, not yet falling.
He makes futile attempt at last stab at Nasir, but fist to face has Aodhan fully dropping to his knees, blood splattering all over ground. With tip of sword pressed to now vulnerable neck, Nasir stands victor over the youth.
"Are you going to kill me?" Aodhan spits, blood spewing up the sword.
"No." Nasir shakes his head, "You are to gain purpose within rebellion. And keep sights away from those who do not wish for your attentions."
"I would not do the same for you!" Aodhan shouts, body shaking with anger as tears crowd his eyes.
"And that is where I found my worth, in not being like men like you. Not being a Roman," Nasir shakes his head, feeling pity for the boy, but nothing else.
He turns, dropping sword to dirt, and begins to make his way towards steps. Battle is over and won, yet Nasir can not seem to call it victory, only passing of knowledge from one lost boy to another. He lifts hand to wipe at cheek as both Agron and Duro move towards him, Agron's expression gleeful and proud. Nasir is nearly within arms reach when scream is heard from behind him.
He only has moment to turn and spot Aodhan running for him, sword extended. Lifting arm to shield his face, Nasir's breath is painfully forced from lungs as Duro's elbow connects with chest, forcing the Syrian into Agron. Next moment is all a blur as sound of splitting skin fills closest space and blood splatters around them.
When Nasir opens his eyes, all he can see is Aodhan's bloody face suspended at the end of Agron's sword, clutched in Duro's hand. The younger brother trembles as he releases it, the Celt falling back onto his knees. Blow is deadly, centered in middle of chest. He can only gurgle upon blood on lips before death greets him into stillness.
"He-" Duro's wide brown eyes turn to his brother, than to Nasir, "He was going to kill you. I didn't-I didn't mean to-"
"Hush Duro, it's alright. Nasir was unarmed. You saved his life."
Agron reaches out with steady hand to grip side of Duro's neck, pulling the man away from the bleeding Celt on the ground. He is unsure of what all had just transpired, having only had eyes on Nasir when Duro grabbed his sword. Still, he aims to give comfort to both, wrapping Nasir close to his chest as he taps foreheads with Duro.
Spartacus has made it to them by then, kneeling by Aodhan's body and lowering his eyelids. He looks grim, shaking his head as he takes around crowd, faces suspended in horror and shock. He can not seem to grasp how so many people can be flawed when it comes to freedom, and the freedom to not hurt those around you who also desire it.
"Remove body and dispose of it," Spartacus barks orders to a few men standing nearby.
"Bury him."
A voice from the crowd speaks out, Caiside coming into view. He appears grim but unsurprised by Aodhan's end.
"It was the way of his people."
Spartacus nods, motioning for the youth and surrounding rebels to take the boy. He pulls Agron's sword from Aodhan's chest first though, handing it back to the gladiator.
"Retire from sight. Spend tomorrow for rest."
Agron nods solemnly, gently pushing Duro towards villa. Nasir lingers for only moment, staring as Aodhan's body is lifted from dirt and carried off into crowd. He feels sudden sadness overcome him, at loss of boy but also loss of innocence. Things had seemed simpler when he was only made to serve one master's wishes. Now, with freedom, choices bombard him constantly. He is unsure if he made the right one in this.
"You have over come such state," Spartacus murmurs to Nasir, placing comforting hand on shoulder, "You are not to blame for the actions or blindness of others. Aodhan was welcomed to freedom with open arms. We can only train men as far as they are willing to be molded. If he could not see his own worth, then that is no fault of yours."
Nasir smiles softly, understanding the comfort in which Spartacus offers. Though hard, undefeated leader, Nasir can not see Spartacus as anything in these moments than lost father regained. He returns his gentle pat, turning to join Agron in doorway.
- - -
Later, away from prying eyes and within their room, Nasir pillows his head on Agron's chest and lets tears flow. Agron soothes the man with soft caresses of his hair and back, humming softly to him, not understanding what troubles him so much.
"Do not think me weak for shedding tears. I think of others as well," Nasir sniffles, wiping at eyes with side of hand.
"Tears not sign of weakness, but sign of strength in feeling something. Emotion makes you stronger. You are not responsible for the choices of others. You are only master of your path, Nasir," Agron kisses Nasir's forehead, "Chadara, Aodhan, and anyone else acts for selfish reasons and is struck down does not weigh on your shoulders."
"It is not that." Mumbling, Nasir pushes up on elbow to look into Agron's troubled, green eyes. "I could have stood in his place. I could have fought another for position of power. I did within dominus' villa. I treated you as such too. As if you were prize to boost me to heaven. Apologies."
Agron sighs deeply, brushing tangled curls from Nasir's face before holding it between calloused hands.
"You are not the man you were before, Nasir. You are not a pretty, silent body slave that is here within my bed to warm it. Yes, I was eager to be within your space because you were of soft features. I thought with my cock," Nasir giggles a little and Agron's heart soars, "That is not what keeps me beside you. Your bravery. Your strength. Your selflessness. Your heart has bound me so tightly to you that I fear if you leave for the afterlife, I will race you there."
"You speak bold words. How am I to know you won't grow tired of me?" Nasir asks, tracing leather cords on other's chest.
"I could not," Agron replies, fingers tangling in the other's hair, "You are it for me, my gift from troublesome gods."
"Mars favors you." Nasir looks up at Agron through his eyelashes.
"Does he now? And do you? What if you grow to love another warrior? Someone easy on the eyes and smile?" Agron guides Nasir closer, breathing words against his lips.
"I will stay by your side for eternity."
He seals the promise with a kiss.