fortis cadere, cedere non potest

[al_shairan]

Several years ago, when Flavius Sulpicius Allectus is a young man returning from serving as tribunus laticlavius in Parthia. Having been away from Excolo for three years, tonight he visits the house of his patron and friend, Potitus Icilius Tetricus Crassipes...

I stand in the atrium of Tetricus' house. It feels strange, almost stranger than my return to my own home. I spent so many evenings here that it was more a home to me in my late boyhood and early manhood than my own house, but it has been years since I have been here. It looks the same, and different, and I find I am nervous.

It is not a very manly thing, to feel this way, especially not for a returning soldier. I am in uniform - I have not been decommissioned yet, officially, and I also had the idea that Tetricus might like to see it before I put it away and seek out my next position as a quaestor. I think I am done with the army, but Tetricus got me there, and it might please him to see the cuirass and striped tunic I wore as tribune. And I have the sense that I look well in it, which should not really matter to me but somehow seems to. I am quite certain Tetricus and I have put our former relationship behind us. No man of his standing would want to continue - being with a man of my age in that way, and now I am no longer so very young I should not want it. The first few months in Parthia I found I did miss being in bed with him, but that faded as it should, as my own tastes changed and grew into manhood. I am not delighted now by the idea of lying back on a couch with a man on top of me. I had - other experiences in Parthia that showed me that. Those experiences were not altogether what one expects of an Excolan man, but I think I am in all other regards manly enough for people to turn a blind eye to it. What I found was that I missed him. Our friendship has grown in our absence from one another, which is strange. Perhaps it was easier to talk when he was not distracted by my beauty and I was not so shy of his status. It is easier, often, to be honest on the page. Or so I have found. We are friends now truly, I think, more than we were before. I hope that translates into everyday life. That alone must explain my nerves, surely.

Adjusting my helmet under my arm, I wait for the slave to return with Tetricus.

Comments

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

It is curious to me, when you are waiting for someone, how vague their face and form may become to you. There have been several callers today, and upon their arrival I have seen Allectus in each of them as they approached: is that him? Is that? And yet each of them resolved into himself - the youth bringing a message, the merchant of middle years come to settle an account - and I question how I could have thought that they were him.

And yet, when the slave tells me a visitor is here and I enter the atrium to see a soldier standing there, my first thought is that he must have brought a message from Al-

- and then I recognise him in the stranger, in the lines of the suntanned face. His hair has lightened, I think, irrelevantly, and then I am striding towards him (uneven as I am) and holding out my hands to grip his forearms.

"You are well come," I say. Has he grown taller? - no, it is only the new breadth of his shoulders, the shine of armour. He is a man in truth now, and I feel a small pang of loss even as I admire what he has become. What need will he have for me, now?

But it is a self-pitying thought, a weak thought, and I turn it away. "Well come indeed, my friend."

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

He enters the hall, his gait as familiar to me as his looks, and I am smiling as he crosses the room.

"You are well come," he says, and I am about to bow and thank him when he takes my arms.

I think the smile it surprises out of me must be very bright. He greets me as an equal - and true, we are in status if not yet in rank, but although I had hoped I was not sure things would be like this between us, the easy friendliness we found in our letters. I am still holding my helmet under my left arm, and so I can only grip his arm with my right hand, but his skin is warm under my hand and I feel a startling sort of happiness. I knew I could not go back to being his inferior, not if I wanted - but if he can see me as a man -

My thoughts are tangled, and I hardly hear what he says next.

"Thank you," I say, as he draws back. "Tetricus. It is very good to see you again."

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

His smile is - dazzling. It makes me smile in return - no, grin like a halfwit. I do not care. I have unburdened enough of my mind to him in our letters that I do not feel shame at my gladness. He smells of sweat and leather and metal, as if he had brought the sun's heat with him. The hand on my arm is strong and callused, and I feel a small shock at it; at the difference of it, I suppose.

"Thank you. Tetricus. It is very good to see you again."

He is truly glad, and I am relieved. Although in my mind I have pictured him as the youth he was, I have known that things must be different now. His beauty has not faded as he has grown, but only strengthened: a manly beauty, now. I cannot imagine being with him as I once was, the receptive parting of his thighs beneath me. It is too at odds with the man before me, and yet -

And yet we can have friendship, and may that not be a closer intimacy? A sharing of hearts, though not of flesh. There will be other boys; no other Allectus.

"Come," I say, and my throat is strangely tight, "I shall call for refreshments." I turn, and one of Calida's maids is peeking at him around the corner. She blushes when I beckon to her, but she comes, and I send her for wine. "See," I say cheerfully, "you disrupt my household with your new splendour."

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

He smiles back at me, and I do not think he has ever smiled at me quite like that. I am very aware of my own breathing, and I am almost disappointed when he breaks the moment.

"I shall call for refreshments."

A blushing girl scurries out, and Tetricus orders wine.

"See, you disrupt my household with your new splendour."

I laugh.

"Am I so splendid then?" I find myself pleased to be so described. It has hardly escaped my notice that I am a good looking man, but knowing Tetricus's tastes for boys, I am glad he does not seem disappointed with me. Not that it matters, of course, since he can hardly want me the way he has before. I, meanwhile, have realised I do want him; his touch was enough to tell me that. But the new desires I have would sit ill with him, I think.

I let him lead me to the dining room. We have spent many hours here together.

"I have fond memories of this room," I say, looking about me with a smile. "I have missed your parties." I take a cup of wine from the slave, and then she leaves us alone. I feel a nervous sort of excitement run through me. "What shall we drink to?" I ask.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

"Am I so splendid then?"

I laugh with him, enjoying his obvious pleasure in the thought. "The fathers of Excolo will have to watch their daughters. We must find you a wife soon, my friend, so they do not pine away with desire."

I am teasing him, as a friend may, but the thought gives me a curious pang. It is the swift passage of time, I think, that has brought him so fast from a boy to a man and soon to a husband and father, that makes me feel old. Such a melancholy thought for a joyous evening.

I tell the girl to leave the wine on the little round table in the dining room, and instruct that we are to be given peace. Many of the household will remember Allectus, and I do not want them dashing in here to peer at him all evening.

"I have missed your parties." It gives me a warm pleasure to hear him say so. "What shall we drink to?"

"They have been less without you, and what should we drink to but your success? Past, and yet to come. If you are not too modest, of course." It is strangely easy to tease at him like this. I lift my cup to him and drink; the wine is rich, warm and sweet.

"Come, recline with me. No, we need not send for a slave - I am sure I can assist you." I may not have experience of military matters (and he has come to know, I think, though I have never said so clearly, how that has smarted at me) but I can manage some buckles, I am sure.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"The fathers of Excolo will have to watch their daughters. We must find you a wife soon, my friend, so they do not pine away with desire."

I grin.

"I have begun to turn my mind to marriage," I say. "Though the ladies of Excolo may have to pine a while longer, for I have much to attend to before I can wed. But I will appreciate your guidance in my choice of a wife, as in all things." Guidance in my choice - it recognises both his role as mentor and my own independence. It is a more comfortable balance than I might expect.

"They have been less without you, and what should we drink to but your success? Past, and yet to come. If you are not too modest, of course."

"Only if we may drink to your own fortunes too," I say. "Is Calida well? And Dacia must be almost ready to get married," I tease. "What is she now, six?" We both drink, and I set my cup on the table.

"Come, recline with me. No, we need not send for a slave - I am sure I can assist you."

The idea gives me a thrill I am not dull enough to mistake, making memories of Parthia flare in me, but I keep them in check. Tetricus is merely making a friendly offer.

"Thank you," I say, and let him unfasten the clasps of my cuirass and lift it over my head. I can feel my pulse flickering in my throat, and I cannot help swallowing hard.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

He stands still to let me work, like a man with his body slave. It is a curious enough reversal of our roles that I may smile a little. The stylised muscles of his cuirass are cool under my hand, and I rub my fingers over them with brief curiosity.

When he is free of it the smell of his flesh is stronger, sweat and youthful health. The tunic beneath is is creased, and I smooth it across his chest with my hand.

"There," I say with a smile, "you are a civilised man again, instead of a soldier. Or nearly so. Let me - "

It is perhaps a curious impulse, kneeling to remove his greaves. But there is something ceremonial about the gesture that suits the moment, his return and his transition back to city life. His legs are strongly muscled, and I can feel an honest admiration and only a clean sort of envy.

Standing makes my heart beat harder than it should. Perhaps I am fatigued, and so I move to the couch and gesture him to accompany me. "Tell me, how do you find Excolo, now that you return to her? Are we much changed for your adventures?"

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Once. Never inside." His voice is ragged, and I almost swallow my tongue. He sounds humiliated and aroused, and I want it - Jove, I want it so very much. This. All of him. He makes a low sound, and I shift further down him, kiss the side of his buttock, slide the tip of my tongue along the crease of his thigh. I have fucked men and boys in the arse, but putting my mouth there - it is not something I have tried, though I have had it done to me and I know how good it can feel. I part his cheeks more firmly, and I tongue him. He tastes faintly of sweat, but is otherwise clean, scent of the baths still on him, and I make a low sound as I push my tongue into him.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I nearly bite my own tongue when his presses against my anus. To do such a thing to me - for me - it is beyond anything I had imagined. I want to tell him not to debase himself so, but the sound he makes is all pleasure.

His tongue presses inside me.

It feels like - I do not know. I have no words for it. He is inside me, as no one has ever been, and I should feel lowered by it and yet it is his mouth - I am confused and shaking, and most of the shaking is pleasure. His hands are firm on my buttocks, and I do not mean to but I press back towards him. "Al- Allectus." My voice is hoarse and shaking. "Oh, sweet Venus. Please."

I have never said that to him in such a way before.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

He is pushing back against me, gods above, pushing back while he trembles, and the way he says my name - I can feel sweat break out on my forehead, exhilaration and desire together, and I draw back, looking around for -

There. A flask of olive oil stands on the table, and I pour some onto my trembling hands. The smell reminds me of other times in this house, when Tetricus would slick himself then lie on top of me. I move back between his legs, and I ease first one finger and then a second inside him. He is so hot, and the sound he makes -

I hardly recognise the choked sound I make as my own voice.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

He pulls away, first his face and then rising from the couch. I twist to see what he is doing, and the reality of it -

I will admit, to myself, that I am not unafraid. I remember, absurdly, the first time I had intercourse with Calida, the pained sound she made. But I will not show my apprehension, or any lack of trust in him, and so I part my legs a little further so that he can fit between them. I must wrestle with my own pride to do so, this yielding I have long believed unfit for me.

Despite my determination I bite my lip a little, where he cannot see, and grunt in my chest as he pushes an oily finger inside me. The sensation of being - penetrated - is so new, so strange to me that I can hardly understand it, if it is pleasure or discomfort. I have barely had time to get used to it when he pushes another in. The stretch of it feels obscene, but it does not hurt.

My breath is coming fast and hard. My skin is slick with sweat. I think that there is no physical pleasure in this, but that I can understand none the less why women and some men crave it, the intimacy of it, when he moves his fingers a little, slow slide and press deeper. I hear the startled sound I make. There is a slow warm building in me, and it is pleasure. I do not push back, not yet, but I brace myself, let him press deeper still. Allectus.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

He makes a sharp sound of surprise, but does not move away. My free hand strokes his arse soothingly - but firmly, so he will not think I am treating him like a woman. I keep moving my fingers inside him, moving them apart a little to stretch him. I do this for a while, until he moves back against me, until I can tell that he gets pleasure from it.

"Yes," I say, without thinking, breath coming hard. "I want to come inside you," I say thickly. "I want to feel you push back against my prick." I do not want him to passively take it, or to think that I want him to lie still as a woman might. I very carefully move a third finger into him. "Tell me if you want it," I say. It is a courtesy to ask, because I would not act against his will - but more than that, I want to hear him ask for it.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

"I want to come inside you. I want to feel you push back against my prick." The words send a hard shudder through me, part disgust and part desire. Nothing i have ever done has felt so filthy, so debauched, and I have hardly led an innocent life.

Bu the roughness in his voice, the teasing stretch of his fingers, the heat of him there between my legs. I do not understand how I want it, and yet I do. Want him.

"Tell me if you want it," he says, as if he could hear my thoughts. It is not in Allectus' nature to goad me to shame, and so the question is honest, not meant to humiliate.

I wish that I could look at him better, rather than this twist over my shoulder so that his fingers move inside me, gods. I look him in the eye as firmly as I can. I do not think I am a man to shy from honesty myself. I will meet this head on.

"I want it." My voice is very hoarse, but true. I add, as in my thoughts: "I want you." I do not say please, this time. I am not asking him for this as something he has the power to grant, I will not come as a suppliant. I will only tell him my desire.

I push myself up onto my knees, and the muscles in my thighs are braced and hard.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

He is silent, and I wonder if I have said too much, expressed too much emotion. But no: "Of all things about returning, it was seeing you again I looked forward to most. I never expected this. But it feels as if it is something for which I have waited without knowing."

I lean into his touch without thinking. "Had you thought to propose this to me, before you returned?"

I thought of him so much. I remember the last letter I received from him, how carefully I folded it, how almost reluctant I was to put it away so I could sleep. Was it longing for this that I felt, then, though unknowing?

I remember as well the tenderness I felt for his younger self, a tenderness that only grew through the time we spent together until at times it was an ache in my chest. Perhaps it was waiting to grow into this, once I could see him as a man in his own right.

The love of a man for a man, and I have loved men as friends alone; is this, then, so much more wrong? It does not feel it. It feels natural to have his body pressed the length of mine, warm and strong-limbed.

"I think that I have waited too." My fingers comb through his hair. I did that when he was a boy sitting at my feet. This is better, and that is a hard and a tremendous thing to learn.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Had you thought to propose this to me, before you returned?"

I shake my head.

"I did not," I say, "not even when I thought more closely on my own desires, how intimacy of the body alone was satisfying in a way, but not enough... I think I did not dare hope, because your friendship had become so much to me that I did not want to risk it."

"I think that I have waited too."

I sigh as he strokes my hair, sheer pleasure at his touch, the comfort of being close to him. It makes me realise how lonely I have been, and why the embrace of men I barely knew never really brought me the sense of fulfilment I craved. I needed this.

I sit up a little so I can sip my barely-touched wine, and I end up taking a long draught from it. Thirsty work, I think, and smile to myself, and I offer Tetricus my cup.

"Do I seem very different to you?" I ask. "From when we last met."

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I did not dare hope. Oh, my friend.

I drink from his cup, and it seems curiously intimate after what we have shared. "Do I seem very different to you? From when we last met."

I look at him thoughtfully, assessing. "I had thought so, when first I saw you." There is more strength to him, yes, and he has broadened in the shoulder; the mark of the sun is on him, and experience. But -

I touch his face, lightly, with my fingers. It is an experimental sort of touch, testing this new and different intimacy between us. "I think perhaps before you left...I did not see you, not truly. I saw who you had been, and that was between my eyes and you."

I can picture him in my mind, as he looked. Why had I thought him such a boy? He had a man's flesh, then, and a man's strength, and yet I thought of him as the tender youth he had been. "I suppose I did not want you to have grown into a man," I say, my voice low, "so that you did not go from me. I am - ashamed of my own folly."

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"I think perhaps before you left...I did not see you, not truly. I saw who you had been, and that was between my eyes and you."

My heart is so full. But it does not feel like weakness.

"I suppose I did not want you to have grown into a man so that you did not go from me. I am - ashamed of my own folly."

"The night we parted," I say after a moment, "before I left for Parthia, I - " It is a hard thing to admit, but he has shown so much of his heart to me. "I wept," I say. "I was ashamed," I say, "to cry like a boy, when I knew I was already a man, a man ready to take his first steps toward a good career, and I knew that to weep was to - dishonour you in a way, because it was your friendship that secured me the post. Nonetheless, I did not want to go from you. I blamed it on my nerves about leaving Excolo behind me, for you had come to mean the city to me in so many ways - " Tetricus who has always been at the heart of things here, who knows everyone - "but..." I take the hand that touched my face, kiss the strong fingertips. "I suppose that was not all."

I fear I am becoming too sentimental, and so I smile and settle back against the couch, though it is narrow enough that we are still touching.

"You know," I say with a smile, "when I was a boy I was jealous of Calida. Now there is a boyish foolishness I think I have left behind me, because I see how we are now, and it is not at all how a man is with a woman, not at all."

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

He tells me how he wept, and I cup the back of his head briefly with one hand. It is an affectionate gesture, one I used when he was younger, but it feels different now. I hope that he is not affronted by the offer of comfort. I think that this is a moment when we may do such things, with these admissions between us. A space apart, for a little time.

He kisses my fingertips, and I feel such a great tenderness for him. It is not the protective care I had for the boy he was, though that lingers in the thought of his legatus; I do not quite know how to comprehend it. It is too new-awakened in my awareness.

He moves away a little, and that small tremulous moment is ended. It is well enough: a man cannot live like that, and should not. "You know, when I was a boy I was jealous of Calida. Now there is a boyish foolishness I think I have left behind me, because I see how we are now, and it is not at all how a man is with a woman, not at all."

I laugh at that. "Not at all. Calida is - I have a deep care for her, as you know. But she has never been a rival to you, Allectus. She is a woman and my wife, and all that she should be, and she has given me a well-formed daughter. Had we only a son, she would be all that I could look for..." I shake my head a little. "In a wife. Even when you were the merest stripling youth, what I sought in you was far different. And I do not mean," I add, and I grin at him as I do, "the comfort of the body. You have always had an admirable mind, for one."

I lean back beside him, easy in our nakedness. For all my distaste for my own weaknesses, we are not a race who are ashamed to be seen bare as some barbarians are. "I do not say," and I think that I should say this while we speak of jealousy, for unlike Calida I do not know what he will expect, "that having the joy of you I will no longer look on boys with pleasure." I think he knows me too well for that. "But do not think that any shall replace you."

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Even when you were the merest stripling youth, what I sought in you was far different. And I do not mean the comfort of the body. You have always had an admirable mind, for one."

I smile back at him.

"You treated my thoughts with respect from the first," I say, "even when I was a mere boy, you listened to what I had to say. I think you were the first man to really talk with me, and that, I think, was the beginning of my affection for you. In our conversations."

"I do not say that having the joy of you I will no longer look on boys with pleasure. But do not think that any shall replace you."

I admit I do feel a momentary pang, but it passes. What are boys, after all? And I believe he would not take another highborn boy under his patronage in the same way he did me, that he would understand that to be an insult, and so it does not need mentioning.

"Boys," I say with a shrug. "They come and go, and if you like them then why not? There will always be pretty slaves and meritorii. Though," I say, and I smile more slyly, "if you wished to enjoy them, you might perhaps ask for my company." I put my hand on his thigh. "I have spent time myself with pueri delicati and found it pleasurable; though I have more enjoyed the labour of men's bodies, there are certain things one may more readily expect a boy than a man to do..." I think of a pretty Parthian youth with my prick in his mouth, and I stroke Tetricus' thigh as the memory warms me. "And it might be more enjoyable in company."

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I barely have time to take in the sight of the bed before the door is closed and he has me up against it, thigh pressing between mine, body hard against me. I have never been handled so, but it is all a part of this new, strange delight.

I kiss him hard, hands as hard on his back, and spread myself against his thigh, tunic riding up so my bare prick and balls press almost painfully against him. "You," I say hoarsely, between kisses, "should be naked, my friend. I find I have a great desire to see your skin again." I am pulling his tunic further up even as I speak, getting a hand under it to dig my nails into his lower back.

I set my mouth against his throat, feeling the roughness of his shaved beard, and bite down a little. I think it will be a long time before I am even half-sated with his body.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

There is no reluctance in him, none at all, only his hands hard on my back and his mouth on my throat.

"You should be naked, my friend. I find I have a great desire to see your skin again."

I am about to agree when he starts kissing my throat, and I gasp as he bites down.

"How," I say, "am I meant to do that when you are being so distracting?" I push my hips against his, letting my head drop back so he can get at my throat. Then I step back and pull off my clothes. I am breathing hard, and it takes only a moment to unwind his toga and then pull his tunic over his head. I moan when I see how hard he is. The head of his prick is red, and it makes me put my tongue to my top lip.

"I want you," I say hoarsely, just looking at him for a moment. It almost hurts, this desire. I think of him saying what he would perform on me, and my cock twitches, which makes me think of something I should do. Hastily I go to the ewer of scented water by my bed, kept here so I may freshen my body in the morning before my bath later in the day, and I wipe my groin down. We Excolans value hygiene, and for all I do not think penetration is debasing it is not a clean sport.

Touching my prick with the cold cloth makes me shudder, and water trickles down the inside of my thigh. I catch at Tetricus's hand and pull him against me, then pull us both down onto the bed.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

When Allectus washes himself I feel a brief moment of hesitation, a slackening of desire at the reason for it, but it does not last. And it is perhaps fortunate, because otherwise I might feel too overwhelmed with desire when he pulls me down.

His thigh is cool and wet and his prick hot; the combination is startlingly erotic. I wrap my hand lightly around it, half-experimental. I have not felt such a combination of lust and curiosity since I was very young. I moisten my lips a little, and my heart is beating hard.

"May I now...?"

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

He puts his hand around my prick, and my hips buck up without my volition. I have not wanted anyone as much as this before, I do not think, not even as a green boy when some days I could barely do anything but think of sex.

"May I now...?"

His words alone make me close my eyes and open them.

"Gods, yes." My voice is thick.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

"Gods, yes."

The sound of his voice helps to allay my apprehension a little, and I release his cock and shift myself downwards. It is easier with him reclining, I think; I am not sure how well I should take it were he standing over me.

I am lying beside him, chest pressed against his hip. I move a little more, and raise myself up to look at him. The head of his prick glistens. My breath is coming very fast.

My tongue is tentative when it touches him, very light. The contact sends a shock through me, and my eyes close. I force them open; I want to see him, and more, I do not want him to think I am appalled. It is darkly thrilling, the slick spongy feel of the head of his prick, the salty taste not unlike my own. I take a long breath and open my mouth, put my lips gently around the very end. Oh, sweet gods. How can I want this so very much?

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

He slides down my body, and I want to tell him to turn so that I may touch his prick at the same time, as I suggested, but then his mouth -

I groan as his lips close very gently around the tip of my cock. If it feels so good with only that little contact, I do not know how it will feel when he takes all of me in his mouth.

"Tetricus," I say thickly, and his mouth moves. I am holding myself taut so I do not jerk forward, push myself into his mouth, although I have a dark thought of holding his head still as I force my cock down his throat -

I bite my lip hard, feeling a muscle in my thigh tremble.