Work Text:
Gladiator Slash: The Beginning
by Melinda
Maximus, dirty and weary from the battle, walked his steed, Argento, to the stalls which housed the horses before and after the battles. The black stallion and man walked as one, moving gracefully over the muddy ground. Maximus loved his horse and always took special care of him. He talked quietly to the animal, congratulating the beast for a job well done.
As Maximus approached the stall opening he noticed a lean figure standing by one of the horses already being housed. He had not seen this young man earlier, before the battle. At the approaching sound of Maximus and the horse, the man looked up. He was no older than eighteen or nineteen, Maximus guessed. The young man had striking blue eyes surrounded by pale brown lashes. His hair was dark brown, long and shaggy around the face, giving the face an even more youthful appearance. But it was his mouth that Maximus' eyes were drawn to. The mouth was small and full with a beauty mark on the upper left side of his lips. The area around the mouth and chin were covered in a light dusting of brown hair, but because of his youth he didn't have much of a beard.
Maximus felt a response growing in his loins and was shocked. He hadn't had any desire for male or female companionship since his marriage to his wife. He didn't trust this feeling, sensing some fear at this old but new emotion. He had always had a steel grip over his desires, never allowing them to interfere with the work that lay ahead. He worked hard at being the dutiful husband and stayed faithful to his wife, not out of love, but because Maximus had no desire to look for a mate, even if it was just temporary. Keeping his lust at bay has kept his senses honed to a sharp edge. Besides, he had decided sex and lust was mostly a waste of time, so having these urges come upon him all of a sudden was just a little scary, but exciting, too.
"Who are you?" Maximus asked roughly, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. The young man looked Maximus in the eyes, not daring to look away.
"My name is Quentin. I'm taking care of the horses at the moment." Quentin spoke with an accent but his dialect was perfect. Maximus wondered where he must have come from.
"Why are you here? Who gave you this job?" Maximus asked quietly, but before Quentin could answer, Quintus approached the stalls. Maximus wondered why Quentin stepped away from the opening of the stalls with loathing in his eyes. It was then Maximus saw the bruises on the young man's neck. Maximus, hearing someone approach, turned and saw Quintus. He saw fear and guilt cross over Quintus' face, and knew that he must have been the cause of the bruises.
"Did you do this?" Maximus almost yelled, feeling the rage boiling up in side of him. He reached into the stalls and grabbed Quentin by the arm and practically drug him out. Maximus let go of his horse, who stepped a few paces away from the men, sensing his master's anger. With Quentin now in full view, Maximus reached up and gently lifted Quentin's chin to expose the bruises in the shape of hands and fingers. Quintus backed away from Maximus, knowing that he was not in a very good position if he had to fight him. Quentin tried to struggle out of Maximus' grasp, but he wasn't letting go. Maximus could feel his anger coming to the surface, watching Quintus retreat to a safe distance.
"Maximus, look it got carried away...he's my slave and he decided that he didn't have to listen to me. All I was doing was teaching him a lesson. He..." Quintus trailed off, realizing that Maximus had let Quentin go and was striding towards him. Maximus reached out and grabbed Quintus before he could get away. He had Quintus by the throat and shoved him against the side of the make shift stalls.
"What did I tell you about hurting boys, Quintus?" Maximus growled low, his face against Quintus'. Quintus tried to get out of Maximus' stronghold he had on him, but it was no use. He could feel the fear rising in him and without warning piss started running down his leg. Maximus looked down with disgust and then kneed him hard in the groin, once, twice and was getting ready to do it a third time when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked around wildly to see who was touching him and he saw Quentin take a step back but didn't remove his hand from his arm. Maximus shook his head trying to get refocused. He looked at Quintus again then released him. Quintus sunk to the ground, holding his groin and vomiting from the pain.
"Leave him...he's not worth it." Quentin spoke softly, seeing the pain lying underneath the surface of Maximus' anger. Maximus bent down and jerked Quintus' head up out of his own vomit.
"You come near him, I'll kill you! The boy is mine, now! You've been warned." Maximus spat these words to Quintus. He moved away from the crying man and retrieved his horse to take to the stall. Quentin looked at Quintus laying there in pain and felt nothing for the man who had held him down and raped him last night. He turned around and watched Maximus lead his horse in to the stall and followed him. Maximus removed the armor from his horse and started brushing and drying the animal off, trying to regain his composure. He had not lost his temper like that in years, and wondered why this boy was bringing such strong emotion out of him.
Quentin went over to the oats and filled a bucket for Maximus' horse. Moving slowly towards the animal so as not to frighten him, Quentin held his hand out for the stallion to get acquainted with him. He was a magnificent beast and suited the General well, Quentin thought. Argento leaned his head close to Quentin and started sniffing the outstretched hand he was offering. Quentin gently rubbed the horse's nose, while Maximus watched this scene closely.
"You must be able to speak with animals, the way Argento allowed you to come near him so fast. My horse doesn't take kindly to strangers or for anyone, besides me, for that matter." Maximus spoke quietly. Quentin smiled at Maximus but wondered what this man was going to do with him now. Quentin understood how things worked in this world. If he was one man's slave then he could easily be claimed by another as a slave. He didn't know what to expect after witnessing what he had just seen, but he knew that this giant of a man had just claimed him from Quintus. He wondered if he was going to have to fight this man as he had Quintus. The thought frightened him, knowing that if he had lost the battle, so painfully, to Quintus last night, then judging by the size of the General, who was twice the size of Quintus, this battle was already lost.
Maximus, sensing the young man's uncertainty, spoke,
"I'm not sure what to do with you...I know that if you stay here, Quintus could get his courage back and come after you, so you're not safe here." Maximus hesitated, thinking, what the hell was he doing. He didn't need a slave or man servant, but felt obligated to take care of this boy. Also he felt something stirring him that he was hesitant to just let die. He wanted to explore these new emotions more thoroughly when he had some quiet time to himself.
"Come with me." Maximus spoke as a man who was used to having his orders followed. Quentin didn't like the sounds of this order but felt going with Maximus would be a lot safer then staying here. He was sure that Quintus would come back for him and he didn't think he could fight him off a second time and survive. Quentin put the pail of oats down for the horse and followed Maximus outside. Maximus started walking swiftly towards his tent and Quentin had to run to keep up with him.
They walked across the camp to a very large tent set off slightly from the other smaller tents that housed the soldiers. Maximus opened the tent flap and stood back to allow Quentin to step in before him. He followed afterwards and shut the flap. The tent was warm and smelled of leather and jasmine. It was big enough to have sectioned off rooms and from the back area of the tent a man came towards Maximus. The man was slightly taller then the General, but was small and muscular. Quentin saw several scars across this man's face and wondered what had happened to him. He had the urge to reach out and touch the scars but controlled himself.
"Cicero, this is...Quentin." Maximus seemed a little uncomfortable with the pronunciation of his name. He knew his name was not a common name. Cicero nodded towards the guest then looked back at Maximus, awaiting instructions.
"He belonged to Quintus." Maximus spit this sentence out and winced when he saw the fear and pain come over Cicero's face. Those emotions were gone in a flash and was replaced by compassion as Cicero once again looked at Quentin with new interest.
"Please take care of him. I have to show my presence at this function tonight in honor of the Emperor and the war we just won. I'll be back as soon as I can." Maximus spoke respectfully to Cicero, looked at Quentin one more time, then turned and left the tent abruptly.
Cicero turned and looked Quentin up and down and wondered about the interest Maximus was showing towards this young man. The look, which had crossed the General's face when he looked at the boy, had been of pure naked desire, and Cicero wondered if Maximus even knew that he was already hooked on this young one.
He understood Maximus' need to save the young man from Quintus, but to invite him into his private domain was extremely unusual. The General had been known to rescue people, especially slaves, since Maximus abhorred the notion of ownership of another human being. But he had never gotten attached to them. He had always tried to find them a better home or work in the army, legitimate work so that they could be free.
Matter of fact, Cicero had never seen Maximus show any emotion other than friendship or compassion for others. This included his own wife, whom Cicero knew Maximus loved, but that there was not that burning, heated passion that came when two people were "in" love. He doubted if Maximus had ever felt that kind of passion before in his life. Maximus had shut himself off from every emotion there was, except rage and anger, which he used in battle, and compassion he used outside of battle for his men and the people he held dear to him. He even showed compassion for the soldiers of the countries he fought against. But passion and desire, Cicero had never seen, not since that fateful night long ago. This was something different. Perhaps Maximus was waking up from a very long sleep. Perhaps Maximus' passion for Rome and his only son would soon include this beautiful young one standing here. Cicero shook himself from his reverie remembering his guest.
"Come, let's have a look at you and see what you need." Cicero spoke quietly while gently leading Quentin further into the tent.
Quentin could feel fear coming up and pushed it down. He couldn't show any fear. He had to find a way to get away from this place before he got sucked in and couldn't leave.
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