Marius sighed, eyeing the dishes on the table. “When did you eat last?”
There was a pause as he waited for the answer, seeing the young slave’s shoulders rise faster, panicking, but he answered, his voice barely audible. “Three days ago, dominus”
Marius froze...three days... his anger boiled slowly, but he didn’t say anything, just sat down and gestured the slave over to his feet. “Kneel.” As soon as he’d said it, the young man was on the floor next to him, waiting. Marius pulled the roasted chicken apart, pulling strands of meat off, and gently touched the slave’s shoulder. “Open your mouth.” He did, and Marius pushed a piece of meat in, watching him chew slowly, his shoulders trembling.
Marius kept at it, feeding him whilst he ate, making sure they ate slowly, not too much. He then poured a full cup of water and handed it to him. “Drink. Slowly.” He did, his hands shaking, and handed him the cup back. Marius saw that he was fighting his tears but didn’t comment.
Now what...He looked at the slave, slowly pondering, finally giving in. “I know your dominus told you that you’re mine for the night, but honestly, I’m too tired to do anything. Can you do a massage?”
The slave nodded, his voice a bit more assured. “Yes, dominus.”
Marius smiled. “Perfect. Let’s go to bed then and you can massage me... nothing else for now.”
The slave nodded and Marius walked to the bed, taking his tunic off, laying down on his stomach, sighing. The slave climbed up next to him and straddled his thighs, making him shift in discomfort, but he didn’t ask him to climb down. Marius heard the popping of the oil bottle and felt the slave’s warm hands on his shoulders, kneading, putting his weight into it and it felt divine, his hands gliding on his back, shoulders, massaging out the stress and pain, the strain from his trip, days, and days of riding. Marius had to admit, he was a talented masseur, and he sighed, content, half asleep already. The slave’s hands roamed all over his body, ending with his feet and Marius turned, his eyes closed, feeling his hands on his chest, slowly going to his abs.
He opened his eyes and watched the slave work his muscles, the dim glow of the candles lighting his face, his hair lightly on his forehead. He continued downwards and stopped over his cock, lifting his eyes into his, the first eye contact since they’d met, and Marius shook his head. “No, not now...”
The slave continued then, kneading his thighs and calves, his feet, and he was in heaven. He realized then he would not stop until asked to, so he spoke, his voice thick. “Just cover me and let’s sleep...” He did and Marius felt the bed move as the slave climbed down. Marius opened his eyes, wondering where he went as he could not see him.
He leant over the bed and his eyes grew wide when he saw the slave curled up on the marble floor next to the bed, his eyes closed. “What are you doing?”
In a flash, he was on his knees, his voice filled with fear. “Sleeping, dominus.”
“On the floor?!”
Marius hadn’t realized the anger in his voice, too stunned by what he had seen, and the slave stammered, unsure. “You said we should sleep... that’s where I sleep usually, dominus...”
Marius swallowed and realized he was freaking him out. He patted the bed, his voice strained. “Well, not tonight. Climb up, you’ll sleep with me.”
He obeyed, hesitating, not understanding at all what was happening. He lay down with a shaky breath and Marius pulled the covers on them, staying away from his body but feeling his heat under the sheets.Damn this whole thing!He fumed silently, watching the slave’s shoulders rise and fall. He didn’t move, possibly waiting. “I won’t touch you. I’m too tired. Just sleep.”
“Yes, dominus.”
Marius drifted off to sleep, not caring anymore, his whole body relaxed and pain free.
Marius woke with the sun at dawn, as if in his camp, and watched the slave quietly sense it and slip off the bed to kneel on the floor. He sighed and looked down at him. “You don’t have to kneel as soon as I’m up. Come here.”
He obeyed again, wordlessly, and knelt on the bed, waiting.
Marius looked at him, curious. “What’s your name?”
“Kyle, dominus.”
“You’re a Celt?”
“Yes, dominus.”
“Captured in war?”
“In a raid, dominus.”
“When?”
“Three years ago, dominus.”
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen, dominus.”
