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.

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[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I swiftly become engrossed in what I am doing, the feel and taste of him, how he moves. So I am a little startled when he stops me:

"Tetricus. Stop, or I will - I want to taste you first."

Yes. Oh, yes. But I am still a little reluctant when I pull back.

I look at him, flushed and handsome, his prick wet with my spit and his own fluid. "How should I..." I am frustrated by my own ignorance. Should I lie beside him, or upon him? I am so used to guiding him.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"How should I..."

"There are different ways," I say thickly, "from what I have heard. But - on our sides might be easiest. I saw two boys do so." It was an entertainment at a brothel, and a very rousing one at that. I turn around on the bed, curving my body, and I pull his hips toward me. I get my hand on his cock, and I breathe out because my desire is so intense, my cock throbbing. I open my mouth around the tip of his cock and close my lips, and feeling his hardness in my mouth makes me groan, deep rattle in my throat.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

Oh, I have wanted this from him for so long. So long. His mouth is so warm and wet, and the sound he makes vibrates through me. Oh, you gods who hold the halls of heaven.... I can't stop stroking his hair, smoothing it back, my hand restless. Yes. Yes.

It takes me a moment to gather myself to my own task, so sweet is the feeling. But at last I take a hard breath and take his cock as he took mine, light in one hand and then my mouth yielding, taking him in. The taste of him, the thick feel of him in my mouth, and his mouth on me, oh gods, his mouth, his hand on my hip, Allectus, Allectus.

There is nothing for me in this moment but him. I move my mouth clumsily on him, take him too deep so that my throat spasms against him, but I do not stop. There is a word for what I am feeling but I cannot grasp it. It is so much.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

His hand is in my hair, and he is breathing hard. It makes my own prick twitch, knowing I am affecting him like this. And then... Oh, gods, the feel of his mouth on my prick when his cock is in my mouth, and then -

"Fuck," I gasp as he takes me deep into his mouth, word strangled against his prick, and without thinking I jerk my hips, feeling my eyes roll back. Oh gods. I have left my mouth fall open, slack around his prick, and so I firm my mouth again, sucking on him, groaning as I do, hips shifting restlessly. It is so much, so much, I feel penetrated and penetrator at once, and -

I feel my balls tighten, and I want to draw back, to warn him, but I am moaning hard around his cock, sucking and licking, and then -

My head falls back, his prick slipping from my mouth though my hand is still around the base, and I cry out as I come so hard that for a moment I can barely see.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I think it is almost too much, this. I feel pulled apart, overwhelmed, and only my hand on his hip is anchoring me. He shoves deep into my throat and I choke again, but I will not be defeated, and also somehow it is good that he does that, that he wants so much. His mouth is as sweet and warm as any yielding boy's, and yet he is not passive, and -

He jerks hard again, and again, and then I am coughing on his seed, salty-bitter taste that makes my nose burn. I swallow without thinking, to try and breathe, and feel his prick in my very throat as I do. It is more than I can take, and I pull away, gasping for air but not in disgust. I cough hard a couple of times, but I do not let go of his hip.

There is a moment when we are both panting, his hand still looped around my hard cock, spittle and semen on my lips. I lean in and kiss his cock, to let him know that all is well. And I want. Oh, I want so very much.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

He coughs, and through the haze of pleasure I feel a little ashamed.

"I am sorry," I say thickly. "That was..." I feel a little dazed, and I sit up to clear my head. I lean over to him and kiss his lips; I can taste my come on his mouth. It is strange, but not unpleasant. I push him gently onto his back, and then I climb astride him so my back is to him, and bending over I once again take him in my mouth. I can smell his sweat and the musky heat of the come that leaks before climax, and although I am sated I still make a low sound as I draw him as far into my mouth as I can.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

He apologises; he does not need to. I shake my head, and he reaches to kiss me, and then he is arranging me to his satisfaction. I could laugh at that, his firm insistence, if I were not so very aroused.

He is warm and heavy on top of me, the long line of his back. When he leans down I see the firm muscles of his arse, the part of his cheeks to show - oh, he is beautiful.

And then he is taking me in his mouth: deep, this time, drawing me far in, and my breath is a harsh rasp. Yes. I put my hands on his hips, thumbs caressing the curve of him. I cannot think about anything except the feel of his mouth.

It does not take me long, not long at all. With him above me, holding me down, I cannot thrust too much into his mouth, but it is a pleasurable restriction. His mouth and his tongue, yes, and my laboured breathing becomes a rough sound as I come. It tears at my throat and I shake under him, hard shuddering spasms at the feel of him, the knowledge that I am spilling into his mouth, into him, ah gods.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

He holds my hips as I suck him. It is so very intimate. I feel powerful, doing this to him - and I am doing, it is not passive, how could anyone think this is passive? I am fucking him with my mouth as much as he is fucking my mouth, and the thought of that makes me groan.

He comes hard. When I have done this before, the moment of climax made me feel some disgust, but I do not now at all. I swallow, holding onto him, taking all that I can. Oh, Tetricus, yes.

When he is still, I gently take his prick from my mouth, and I move my weight off him, lie by his side. I put my hand on his stomach. I think of that poem by Catullus - Thus it will be; slender arrows are lodged in my heart - and breathe out.

"Oh, my friend," I say, and I kiss the skin above his heart.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

He kisses my breast when we are done, and it is so sweet that it almost seems to burn. "Oh, my friend."

Yes. "I did not know..." I say. I cannot think of adequate words. "Equals. Yes." That give and take...I had not even thought to long for it, and yet something in me is filled that has long been empty.

"Thank you, Allectus," I say after a moment. I am not thanking him simply for the sex, as a service given, and I hope that he will understand that. The world is not as it was this morning, with this new knowledge in it.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Equals. Yes."

I smile against his chest, and I lay my head against it so I can listen to his heart.

"Thank you, Allectus," he says, and I look up at him.

"I need no thanks," I say. "Unless you will also take mine in return." I hesitate for a moment, and then I ask: "would you - consider sleeping here, tonight? With me." It is not something we have really done before - dozing after intimacy, yes, but we have not slept together. It seems almost more intimate an idea than the things we have done tonight.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

His head rests against my chest. "I need no thanks. Unless you will also take mine in return. Would you - consider sleeping here, tonight?"

"I will take yours, and gladly. And yes - if there is someone you might send to Calida, I would sleep with you tonight. My dearest friend."

I stroke his hair back from his forehead. "And see, you have made me a sentimental old man." I cannot find it in myself to mind.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"I can send a servant," I say. My heart feels very full.

"And see, you have made me a sentimental old man."

"Never old," I say. "Are not the thirties the perfect age of man's life?" I smile at him. "It seems so to me." I too am sentimental. "We shall dine," I say, "and sleep heart to heart, as Achilles and Patroclus were said to." I kiss him again, and I sit up and find my tunic, and after we are both decently attired we eat together and talk of everything and nothing. And then I take him back to bed with me, bare skin against skin.

It has been a long time since I slept so soundly.