Bend

I

The cart bounced, and rippling pain traveled swiftly up my side. It radiated from the point where a sword had entered my left side and then up to where my arm met the rest of my body. I felt need to vomit, but swallowed back bile rather than soil the back end of the rickety, horse-drawn cart.

I tightened my hands into fists and stared up at the wooden roof above me. A young man wearing his battle-scarred armor stepped into view and knelt beside me. His dark hair creased his forehead as he looked down upon me with concern in his eyes.

“Antonius, where the fuck are we?” I snarled at the young man. I looked down at myself, sans armor, wearing nothing but the tunic normally beneath it and a subligarium wrapped around my lower region. There was a long tear up the side of the tunic, and blood seeped into the woven fabric despite the bandages wrapped around me.

“Nearly there, Faustus,” Antonius replied.

“Nearly where, you cocksucker?” I clenched my teeth as the cart hit a rut in the road. Another pain seared through me.

“Mediolanum,” he replied. He gripped the inside wall of the cart to steady himself. “There is a hospital there with a good medicus named Sergius. He has skills as a surgeon. He can sew your wound.”

“Fucking Gauls,” I growled under my breath. Flashes of the battle and of the young Gaul who stabbed me took over my thoughts. I tightened my hand around the edge of the bench where I lay and remembered the feeling of my own sword cleaving his body in two—punishment for his grievance against me. “They know they can’t win, but still they fight like dogs for a bitch.”

“They do at that.” He smiled half a smile and raised an eyebrow at me. “There are far fewer of them fighting today, thanks to you.”

I huffed a breath out my nose, which caused further pain up my side. I closed my eyes tightly and willed the pain to pass, but it remained. I let my mind return to the battlefield where I commanded a Legion of Rome against the insufferable Gauls who still attempted to defy the emperor’s rule. I lost a few good men on the field today, but the blood of the Gauls was far more prevalent.

The cart jarred as it hit another deep rut in the road. I gritted my teeth and bit into my tongue to keep the scream from passing my lips.

“Not much longer,” Antonius assured me. He placed his hand on my forearm, but I shook it away.

“If the gods let me live so long,” I muttered before the cart again bounced wildly, and a scream passed my lips right before all went dark.

When I finally managed to open my eyes again, the first thing I saw was her.

She had flax-colored hair, as brilliant as the sun on a summer morning and eyes of dark blue nearly as dark as midnight with long lashes to frame them. Her skin was creamy, smooth and flawless. As she leaned over my body, the thin folds of her dress billowed to show the curve of her breasts beneath the fabric. The cold bronze collar coiled around her slender neck marked her as a slave.

It had been long since I had laid eyes upon a woman, slave or otherwise. Though there was a camp near the battlefield tents filled with whores for the taking, I did not deem it necessary to frequent the place. My thoughts were always of blood and battle, not the baser needs I prescribed for my men. I felt myself beyond such things.

However, the slave woman above me turned my thoughts from both battle and wound.

Even in my injured state, my first thoughts were of having her on her back in my bed, her thighs spread wide and her knees bent before me. I wanted to feel her skin in my hands, taste her sweat on my tongue, and feel her body give way to my cock. I wanted to hear her screaming underneath me as I plowed into her over and over again. I wanted to feel her insides clench around me as I filled her with my seed.

“Hold his arms.”

I blinked slowly and turned my head as much as I could to see a man crouching beside me, bent over my side. He was grey-haired, wrinkled, and ancient-looking. My tunic had been cut up from the side and removed completely. As the old man pushed my arm out and away from my wound, I felt slender fingers wrap around both my wrists as they were brought over my head and held tightly.

“Can you hear me, Tribunus Faustus?” the old doctor-surgeon asked. I looked to him and tried to focus on his face, which was framed by the dark wooden beams on the ceiling above him.

I swallowed once, closed my eyes, and nodded.

“Drink this.” I felt a cup being held to my lips, and I opened my mouth to take in the foul-tasting drink. I could feel it numbing my tongue before I swallowed, and I had to hold my breath to keep it down.

“You must stay still,” the man said sternly. “The more you move, the more pain there will be. If you are to heal properly, you must do everything I say.”

My head swam as I nodded again. I had been injured before; I knew what was to come. My best hope was to pass out from the pain, but the gods offered me no such solace.

With clenched teeth, I strained to keep myself from screaming aloud as the medicus removed the bandages around me, but there was no stopping the sounds from my throat. I could not lie still, and he stood to tighten straps around my shoulders and hips to hold me in place. The slave woman held my hands above my head as best she could and leaned her body over my shoulders to keep me pinned to the bed.

I felt a sharp sting as a needle pierced my side, and my body reacted against the invasion. I wrenched my wrists from the slave girl’s hands, but to her credit, she pressed her body tighter against my shoulders and kept me in place. I couldn’t move my arms down past her body, and instead, I found them wrapping around her as I entwined my fingers in her hair and held tightly.

With muscles too tense to do otherwise, I held her head to my shoulder and squeezed my eyes shut. I could feel her head turn toward me, and her warm breath crept over my skin. I held her head against me as she continued to press my shoulders to the cot below.

To his credit, the surgeon worked quickly to stitch my wound, and the woman did her best to speak in calm tones near my ear while he did so. I didn’t know what she was saying—the pain was too great to make sense of the words. I only knew her voice was reassuring.

With short, panting breaths and my arms around the slave, I endured.

“The worst is done,” the surgeon finally stated. From the corner of my vision, I could see him moving to gather something from a table full of bowls and potent smells. “The poultice will sting a bit.”

Sting it did though I managed to keep my cries to a minimum. Sweat dripped from my brow, and my body began to shake uncontrollably.

“Hand me the dressings.”

The slave pulled back and released my shoulders. Reluctantly, I unwrapped my arms from her and allowed her to move again. The slave woman reached to a table behind her and handed strips of cloth to the doctor. My head dropped back against the bed in exhaustion, and I closed my eyes, but still my consciousness remained as the doctor completed his task and bound my injury.

“It’s the best I can do,” he announced. “The rest is up to you and the gods.”

Forcing my eyes open again, I looked into the soothing face of the young woman above me. She turned her lips into a slight smile as she met my eyes.

“You did well,” she informed me.

I realized from her features that she must be from the western lands—perhaps even near the area where I had battled against the Gauls last year—though she had no accent I could detect. I looked into her dark blue eyes. They held intelligence and compassion, which was rare for a slave. The gaze of a slave was more likely not to meet a Roman’s eyes at all, for some would consider the act reprehensible.

I shuddered with a spasm of pain up my side and gasped for breath. My muscles stiffened as I held in a cry. The slave woman’s voice was smooth and soft, and she ran her fingers over my arm as she spoke words of encouragement.

As my eyes continued to stare into hers, I knew part of me became lost inside of them. Perhaps it was the pain of the injury I had suffered in war and my gratitude for the young woman who offered me relief, but I didn’t think so. It was the way she moved around me as she handed me a vial or cup full of whatever poultice the doctor deemed necessary to stop the deep cut in my side from becoming further infected. It was her reassuring voice and the curve of her lovely breasts as she leaned over to smooth the bandages.

She was beautiful.

“Tribunus,” the doctor addressed me, “are you comfortable?”

“As comfortable as I can be,” I said without taking my eyes from the woman.

“The wound is deep,” he said, “but I believe we got to it in time. The gods were with you, and none of your organs have been damaged, but there is still much risk of infection. You must rest now until you are healed.”

“How long?”

“Three, perhaps four weeks. If there is infection, much longer.”

Groaning, I shook my head. I glared at the medicus and hissed a breath between my teeth, but his look was determined and unyielding.

“It is the only way to heal,” he insisted.

“I have a war to fight,” I replied. “I cannot abandon my charge for the sake of a minor wound.”

“Minor?” the medicus scoffed.

“You said no organs were damaged,” I reminded him.

“That does not mean you are not seriously hurt, Tribunus.”

I continued to glare in his direction, but my ire was lessened by the slave’s gentle touch on my arm.

“For now, you fight your wounds.” The medicus stood and motioned the woman over as he walked to the far side of the torch-lit room. She stood and moved quickly to his side, and the skin of my arm chilled from the lost touch of her hand.

I tried to take a few deep breaths, but the pain was too great. Shallow panting was all I could manage. It was making my head dizzy, but the woozy feeling in my stomach was worse—nearly enough to take my mind from the pain in my side.

Nearly.

“Is that all you need from me, Sergius?” the young slave asked.

“Do you know who he is?” the doctor snapped at the young slave. His voice was low, as if he was trying to keep me from hearing, but the echoes in the room brought his words to me clearly.

“No, I have never seen him before.”

“That is Lucius Aurelius Faustus,” the doctor informed her as he leaned close. “Tribunus to the Emperor’s army in the west. He is a favorite in the Senate and very rich as well.”

“I have heard of him,” the slave said.

He glanced in my direction and pointed a finger at her before he continued in a quiet voice.

“If Tribunus Faustus dies, we will likely pay the price for it. Do not leave him for a second. Do anything he asks of you, provided it will not do him harm, and watch his wound. We cannot risk any infection. Do you understand me, slave?”

“I will do as you ask,” she replied softly. She dropped her gaze to the ground and nodded her head in deference.

The old surgeon moved back to my side, checked the dressings once again, and nodded to himself. He withdrew his wrinkled fingers from my side and nodded to me once more.

“Stay with him,” the doctor commanded the woman again. “Care for him as if he were your own, and retrieve me immediately if his condition worsens.”

“Of course,” she said quietly with another bow of her head. Her simple dress billowed out around her hips as she slipped quickly to my side. She sat on the small bench next to the bed where I lay and reached over to retrieve a cup of water and bring it to my lips.

The doctor took his leave, and the woman turned her eyes to mine as I drank. When she took the cup away, I ran my tongue over my lips to catch the last of the moisture. Her cheeks darkened in a blush, and she quickly looked away.

“Am I so terrible to gaze upon?” I asked with a slight chuckle. Though I was used to attention from women of many stations, I was surely not a pleasant sight at that moment. I immediately regretted the jest, for laughing shook my side and caused me to wince in pain.

“No, Tribunus,” she said as her blush darkened. “You should stay still, or you may pull out the stitching. Try to sleep.”

I examined myself as best I could, noting the crusted blood on my chest and arms. I wondered if it was from the Gaul who slashed me or one of his companions. It didn’t matter—they were all dead now.

“I despise sleeping on my back,” I growled. “It is most uncomfortable on a good day, and today has not been a good day!”

The slave woman cringed at my outburst. I closed my eyes a moment to center myself before I looked to her again.

“I will try, but I am in need of distraction.”

“Distraction?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said with a nod. “Speak with me.”

Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath, bringing my attention to the outline of her breasts through her dress. She sat up a little straighter and looked at my face as her lips pressed together in thought. She glanced around the room, which was lit with both candle and torch. There were openings along one side of the room to allow in daylight, but the light from the sun was obscured by thick clouds.

“How were you injured?” she asked.

“I was injured when a Gaul shoved his gladius in my side,” I responded dryly. “It was decidedly sharp.”

She smiled and glanced down to my dressing again. Her eyes remained dull, unaffected by the curve of her lips, my soldier’s humor lost on her.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Aia,” she replied, confirming her Gaul heritage.

“And how long have you served the medicus?”

“Two years,” she said.

“And before then?”

“I served in the house of the breadmaker in the market,” Aia said.

“What were your duties there?”

“As a child, I watched the bread as it baked and made sure it didn’t burn. Later on, I learned to mix and knead the dough as well.”

“When did you begin to serve the breadmaker?”

“When I was a young girl,” she said.

“And before?”

“I don’t have many memories from before,” she told me. “My father had many debts, I understand, and had to give me up to pay for them.”

It was a common enough occurrence but one that infuriated me. How could a parent be so careless as to incur such debt? My only child—a son—had died as an infant soon after his mother contracted a fatal fever. The idea of losing him through my own doing was abhorrent.

“Do you have siblings?” I inquired.

“None,” she said.

“Is the doctor your dominus?”

“No,” she said. “I belong to Appius Cassianus Germanus. He owns the hospital here and has many dealings in the marketplace.”

“I have heard the name,” I said with a slight nod. The movement caused me to wince, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain. Cassianus was a powerful man in Mediolanum and known to be quite wealthy. He had family in the Senate as well.

“You should rest.”

“I rested enough on the cart that brought me here,” I scoffed. I tried to wave my hand dismissively, but the ache in my body betrayed me, and my hand shook painfully instead. “I’m tired of resting.”

I watched her as she brought her hands together in her lap and stared at them a moment. Her fingers twisted around each other, showing her nervousness.

“Do I cause you distress?” I asked, the answer obvious on her face.

“No, Tribunus,” she lied.

I chuckled again and once more winced as the skin of my side pulled against the rough stitching holding me together. Every movement seemed to bring more pain throughout my body though the injury was only in my side.

“You shouldn’t speak,” Aia said. She placed her hand on my bare chest to still me. “You must save your strength so you can heal and return to battle quickly.”

This time I restrained my laughter. She was a sly one; I could see that. She knew exactly what words I would want to hear to encourage me to do as she said. I continued to stare at her, and her blush returned.

“You speak, then,” I said. “Tell me of yourself.”

“There is little to tell,” she replied with a shrug.

I narrowed my eyes, reached over, and grabbed her hand in mine.

“Do you want me to be quiet and still?” I asked harshly.

“Yes, Tribunus.” Her eyes went wide as she answered me.

I swallowed once, knowing that anger—like laughter—was likely to cause more pain.

“Then tell me of yourself,” I commanded. “And since you are staring at me nearly cock-out, you may refer to me as Faustus.”

I was rewarded with another blush from the beautiful girl. It turned her skin such a lovely color, and with my anger forgotten, I began to consider other ways to bring about the same reaction.

She started to sit back on the bench, but I kept my grip on her hand so she couldn’t move from my side. When she leaned forward again, I laced my fingers between hers and held her hand to my chest. Her fingers were warm and soft on my flesh.

“I assist Sergius, the doctor, whenever he needs it,” she said in her soft voice. She stared at our hands clasped against my skin.

“So I have gathered.” I looked down to our entwined hands and noticed some of the blood from my skin had transferred to hers.

“I’ve learned much from him.”

“Such as?” I rubbed my thumb along the edge of her hand, wiping away the red streak.

“How to know when a wound is infected,” she said, “and what to put on it to help it heal. He’s shown me which herbs are good for helping with pain and those that are good for keeping a person healthy.”

“Do you treat many Roman soldiers here?”

“Yes,” she said. “I thought you were going to remain quiet, Tribunus.”

“I thought you were going to call me Faustus.”

“Apologies,” she replied. “Faustus.”

I liked the sound of my name on her lips and fought against the desire to have her call me Lucius. It would have been most improper for a slave to address me in such a way, but the desire to hear my first name spoken with her voice remained.

“You talk,” I said. “I will remain quiet.”

Aia nodded and her fingers twitched in my hand.

“I don’t know where else to begin,” she started, “so I will begin with what I first remember. My earliest memories were of a small house near a wheat farm. There was a terrible drought, and though I didn’t know what it meant at the time, the crops were failing, and my father was very worried. By the autumn harvest, there was little to gather in the fields. I remember a young man who served my father being given to an old man, who lived in a villa on top of the hill, in order to help pay for the things my mother and I needed.”

“The next spring, I woke to hear my mother and father arguing. I didn’t understand most of what was said, but I remember my mother crying and holding me tightly. Later that night, the breadmaker from the market came to the house, and I was taken away."

“You were sold to cover your father’s debts?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“That defies Roman law,” I growled.

She tilted her head toward the ground and closed her eyes, nodding slightly.

“I know,” she responded quietly, “but still, it happened.”

Inside, I fumed. I fought far from the Senate to ensure others upheld the law, and still it was broken in the very cities of the Empire.

Aia paused for a moment before continuing.

“I believe I was around six years of age at that time,” she said. “The breadmaker was a stern man, and he had me work from morning until dusk, carrying flour from the storehouse to the bakery.”

“Stern?” I commented. My heart beat faster in my chest as I considered the true meaning behind the word she chose. Slaves were most cautious about words chosen to describe their masters, even those who no longer owned them. The wrong word meant death. The one she chose was innocuous enough, but the potential, true meaning of it had the muscles in my arms and shoulders tensing. Anger rose from my stomach at the thought that she may have been mistreated by a fucking baker.

“He wasn’t a violent man at all,” Aia said, staring at me. Her eyes widened slightly as she took her hand from mine, reached out and ran a cool cloth over my arm. My muscles relaxed to the touch as she used the cloth to wipe some of the blood away from my chest. “He was merely demanding. I was never harmed by him.”

I blinked, realizing she had read me with highest accuracy, and looked away with annoyance at appearing so transparent. Water in a nearby bowl sloshed as she deposited the soiled cloth inside. A slight touch from her fingers drew my attention to my hand, which she picked up and held in her lap with both of hers.

“I served the breadmaker for several years,” she continued. “I learned how to mix, knead, and bake the bread. I even learned a little about herbs to bring about more pleasing flavors.”

“I would very much like to taste your bread,” I said with a wide grin. I raised my eyebrows as she looked at me and then quickly away again. Such a lovely gesture of shyness; it made my cock fill with blood as color filled her cheeks.

“Perhaps I will have the opportunity to bake for you,” she responded quietly.

More blood flowed to my cock as my thighs and ass clenched at the thought of sampling her…goods. I tasted my own lips with my tongue as I looked at her through slightly hooded eyes. There was something I needed to know.

“You are still quite young,” I remarked. “Has someone taken your maidenhead?”

Aia’s cheeks turned crimson. She moved her eyes to the floor before answering.

“Yes,” she finally said, much to my dismay. I would have enjoyed plucking such a flower, but it would have been near miracle from the gods for a slave girl to remain untouched for long, and Aia was a beautiful girl.

Even through the pain of the sword’s cut, I longed to show her the worth of my cock between her thighs.

II

“I cannot sleep like this,” I insisted. I fidgeted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was impossible. Every time I moved, there was more pain.

“You must relax,” Aia said. Her soft hand touched my forearm as she shook her head at me. “Do not try to move.”

I growled under my breath, shook her touch away, and started pushing myself up with one hand. Pain rippled down my side, and my growl changed to a groan. After three days of lying on my back in the same position, every bit of skin that touched the cot below me was raw and sore, and my muscles ached. Between the pain of the stitched wound and the uncomfortable position, I was beyond tired and irritated.

“Faustus!” Aia exclaimed with hurried voice. “You must stay still!”

“I despise being on my back like a whore!” I snapped.

“You’ll inflame your wound,” she said. “How can you heal if you don’t lie still?”

“Assist me, then!” I ordered.

I saw her frustrated glance as she moved from the bench to the other side of the bed. I continued to try to move myself to my side, but the pain was too much. A loud grunt escaped me, and Aia reached out to put her hand on my hip to steady me. At the same time, I reached for her, and as soon as I gripped the edge of her dress with my fingers, her feminine scent was all around me.

Without thought, I grabbed her waist and pulled her down to the bed. My other arm went around her shoulders, and I pressed her young body against mine. For a long moment, our eyes remained locked together—hers widened in surprise and mine heavy with sudden desire. A slight movement was enough for the tip of my nose to brush against hers.

“Perhaps the healing I need can be found between your thighs,” I said quietly.

“Tribunus…” Aia’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. I watched her throat bob up and down as she swallowed, and I reached up to brush her neck with my fingers. She dropped her gaze to my chest, and I moved my hand back around to her ass to pull her closer to me. My hardened cock pressed against her, and her mouth opened with a slight gasp.

“So many months on the battlefield without a woman,” I whispered against her cheek. “Your scent is like strong wine, and I want to drink from you. You intoxicate me.”

“Tribunus…” Her voice trailed off again, and she looked away from me.

“Faustus,” I corrected. Again, the errant thought of her uttering my first name lingered in my mind. I took her chin in my fingers and turned her head toward my face.

“Faustus.” She moved her eyes back towards mine. Her desire was unmistakable, but there was hesitation. “Your wound; I fear you would harm yourself. If you lie quietly, I can still give you the release you need.”

“I may be willing to take the chance if it means burying myself inside of you.” I punctuated the words by pulling her stomach against my shaft. Her blush was my reward. Looking for more, I jerked my hips and pressed my cock further into her stomach.

My body seized up as I barely contained a scream. The pain up my side was excruciating, and as my body stiffened in response to the sudden pain, Aia pushed herself from my arms and immediately pressed her hand to the dressing. I didn’t have to look—I could feel the blood seeping from it.

“Lie back!” she said quickly, her voice ringing out a desperate tone. “Please, Faustus!”

With her hand on my shoulder, I was again placed on my back against the mattress. The muscles of my shoulders complained immediately, but it wasn’t as bad as the pain in my side. Aia pulled up the dressing for a moment and confirmed I had indeed ripped out some of the stitches.

“I’ll fetch Sergius.”

She was gone only a few moments, but in that time, sweat covered my brow and my breathing increased until I was panting to get enough air. My chest ached along with my side, and my head began to swim.

“What did you do, woman?” Sergius cried as he fussed over the bandages.

I looked up to her distressed face.

“I did it,” I growled through clenched teeth. Anger mixed with pain, and I found myself rising to her defense. “She tried to stop me, and I obviously should have listened.”

With the doctor’s wrath directed away from the young slave, she visibly relaxed, but the wariness didn’t leave her eyes. I looked from her to Sergius, trying to understand the dynamic between them, but I could determine nothing. Once again, Aia held me down as the doctor sutured the skin that had pulled away from the stitches.

“Do I need to strap you down, Tribunus?” the doctor asked.

I glared up at him, resenting his tone. It didn’t matter that he was trying to heal me; I still felt the desire to punish him for him impudence. I considered several options, including buying the hospital itself to keep him permanently under my thumb but knew such a thing would not serve Rome well. My loyalty was a singular thing, so I dismissed the thoughts in my head.

“You do not,” I replied.

He nodded succinctly, rechecked the dressing, and left us.

“Apologies, Tribunus,” Aia began as soon as he left the room. “I didn’t intend to-”

“Hush,” I commanded. “You did nothing.”

She remained unsettled until I reached out and took her by the hand. I smiled as best I could through the pain and pulled her closer to the bed.

“I have suffered far worse,” I told her. “This is not my first battle wound.”

Aia squeezed my hand gently before releasing it and moving back to her bench. She reached for a cloth and dipped it in a bowl of water and then ran the cool cloth over my forehead and down the side of my face. She continued, apparently determined to wash whatever remained of the blood of battle away from my flesh.

I closed my eyes and evened out my breaths as her ministrations lulled me. My shoulders still ached from the constant position against the bed, but I tried not to think of the discomfort. When I opened my eyes, I saw Aia looking down my body and couldn’t help but respond with a smile.

“Do you still think of it?”

Aia looked back at me.

“Of what, Faustus?”

“My cock pressed against your belly.”

She looked away, but I could still make out the crimson shade of her cheeks and neck in the glow of the candles on the table. I wanted to reach out and grab her hand again, but she was too far away.

“I’m still in need of distraction,” I reminded her.

“I think you need sleep,” Aia rebutted. Her lips pressed together, and I was sure she wanted to comment further, but chose not to do so. I found my eyes drawn to the front of her dress as she leaned over me, partially exposing one of her breasts.

Despite the discomfort, my cock took notice.

“Distract me,” I commanded again.

“I think you know everything about my life now, Faustus.”

“Then distract me another way,” I suggested. I kept my eyes on her, and when she looked to me, I raised an eyebrow and smiled suggestively.

Aia turned to drop the cloth in the bowl, and I watched her eyes as she looked down my body. From my supine position, the state of my cock was becoming noticeable. Her blush returned, and she looked back to the bowl again. Her hand trembled slightly as she wrung out the cloth and hung it beside the table.

Reaching out, I took her wrist and guided her hand to the hard length of my cock.

“How long will it be,” I asked with lowered voice, “until I can fill you with this?”

Aia’s lip trembled, and her eyelids fluttered as she looked from where her palm rested back to my eyes. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and the swell of her breasts beneath the sheer fabric of her dress rose and fell with her breathing.

“Ten days,” she said in a near-whisper. “Perhaps two weeks.”

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath through my nose. When I opened my eyes again, I caught a glimpse of Aia’s tongue as it darted over her full lips.

“A long time,” I said, “to lie with stiff cock.”

I felt her pull at her hand to remove it from the bulge beneath my undergarment, but I held her in place.

“Are you not here to give me comfort?”

“Yes, Faustus.” She looked at me.

“Then do you believe my length not enough to desire?” Again I raised an eyebrow and granted her half a smile.

“No!” she exclaimed in near-panic. “You are…quite grand.”

“Then become better acquainted with my grandeur,” I smirked.

“Feeling your desire for me is most overwhelming,” Aia admitted. “The honor of comforting a man of your grandeur has me anxious. I worry I will not be enough for you.”

Her flattery did not go unnoticed. I saw it not only with my eyes but also felt it in both heart and the hardened flesh beneath my subligarium.

“Your mouth draws forth the most beautiful music,” I said. “I would hear it sing to my cock.”

Her tongue darted out and traced her lips as she looked from our joined hands to my eyes. I held her gaze, but she remained hesitant.

“I would find it most relaxing,” I informed her.

She took a deep breath as she wet her lips again. She blinked rapidly a few times and then reached over with her other hand and removed my fingers from hers. She laid my hand at my side, and for a moment, I thought she might refuse me.

I would never press a woman, not even an unwilling slave, but I felt my chest constrict at the idea that this one—this beautiful Aia—would deny me what I wanted.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she tugged at my undergarment, unwrapping the top layer and pulling it down, exposing me to her. Without hesitation, she took my cock in her hand and gently ran her fingers up the shaft.

“Mmmm…” I moaned.

“Will you lie still?” Aia asked quietly.

“I will try,” I replied with another half-smile.

She looked at me, and her eyes sparkled as she stroked me again. She slid partway down the bench and positioned herself over my lower body. With her eyes still on mine, she leaned forward and took me again, this time in her luscious mouth.

After six months on the battlefield, I didn’t know how long I would be able to restrain myself.

Her mouth was warm and soft on my hardened cock, and she used her tongue expertly to flick against the tip, up one side, and down the other. Her hair fell around her shoulders and partially covered her face from my view until I reached down and wrapped it in my fingers. I did nothing to change her pace but only held her hair away from her beautiful face.

Her eyes held me as tightly as her mouth held my cock. She was beautiful and glorious as she moved her head up and down in perfect rhythm. There was no hesitation in her expression. Indeed, there was nothing there but raw desire, and it captivated me.

She is only a slave.

I found the errant thought curiously disturbing.

She glanced at me once before rising from her seat and releasing my cock from her warm lips. She moved deftly to straddle me low over my thighs, and her head tilted first one way and then the other as she appraised me. Leaning over, she met my eyes as she coursed her tongue over her lips, and the moisture across her mouth gleamed in the candlelight as her lips again wrapped around the head of my cock.

She lifted her head and ran her tongue over the end of my cock and then took me deeply into her mouth again. I groaned and forced my ass to remain against the bed as I grasped the edges of the cot with my fingers. My side ached, and I didn’t care. All my focus was on her lips and tongue. I relinquished control and basked in the warmth of her wet mouth as she moved expertly over my shaft.

I stared at the ceiling and let her set her own pace for a moment as I reveled in the feeling of her soft mouth over my hard length. Another moan escaped me, and I caught a slight movement near the door.

As I looked to the far side of the room, I saw that the doctor had returned. His eyes widened as he looked at the scene in front of him, glancing quickly from my face to Aia’s position on her knees, bent over my cock. Narrowing my eyes, I raised my hand and flicked it out towards him, motioning him away. We looked at each other for a short time before he nodded slightly and backed away.

With my full attention back on the mouth surrounding my cock, I reached down to her and closed my eyes again. Twisting my fingers around Aia’s silky hair, I pulled her head down a little farther over my shaft.

“How much of me can you take in that beautiful throat?” I asked. I brushed strands of her hair from her forehead as I gathered it up in my hand.

Aia looked to my eyes, and I watched her relax her jaw and open her mouth to engulf more of me. She retreated as her reflexes betrayed her but quickly sucked more of me into her mouth again.

“Far enough,” I informed her, stroking her cheek. I didn’t want her to push herself further than she was able just to appease me. I was quite appeased already. “Use your tongue on me.”

Clenching my teeth, I strained to keep my hips still and not thrust forcefully into her throat. Her mouth and tongue continued to envelop me over and over again as I fought to stay still. When she trailed her fingers over my balls, I could resist no longer. With a light tilting of my hips, I grunted as the buildup of pressure found its release onto her tongue.

She didn’t stop but increased the suction against my cock until she had claimed all I had to offer. I growled in the back of my throat appreciatively as she swallowed down my essence. When she slowly backed away and let my cock loose from her lips, she looked at me with satisfaction and pride.

For many moments, I kept my eyes locked with hers while I remained in utter awe.

“You have my gratitude,” I finally panted.

“Will you now grant me your sleep?”

I smiled, chuckled low, and nodded my head as she pulled my subligarium up my body. She smoothed it back into place over my flaccid cock and then ran her hand over my stomach. She checked the bandage at my side before positioning herself back at her bench. She pushed a strand of hair off my forehead and smiled at me.

The worth of this woman tripled in my hooded eyes.

III

“What thoughts are in that beautiful head of yours?” I asked as I reached for Aia’s hand.

We had not touched other than the common contact of nursemaid and wounded soldier since she had taken me in her mouth. Over the past few days, Aia told me more of her life, cleaned and dressed my wound, and slept on the bench beside me at night, but we had shared nothing more intimate. I had provided her with constant innuendo because the look on her lovely face at such words often made me smile.

“Nothing of consequence,” Aia said, but her blush betrayed her.

“I know exactly what brings that look into your eye,” I teased.

“What is that, Faustus?”

“The memory of my cock in your mouth and the taste of my seed on your tongue.” I was rewarded with her blush and shy glance, but no other response was forthcoming. With another woman—a Roman woman—I might have found her actions to be coy, but there was nothing coy about Aia. There was youth and innocence despite her position but nothing coy.

Unlike women in Rome, including my late wife, Aia did not attempt childish games with me. She was forthright and quite honest when pressed, which was wholly the opposite of the Roman women I had encountered. It was refreshing.

And alluring.

“Your mouth gave me more healing than any of the salves prepared by the good doctor,” I told her.

“You flatter,” Aia responded with a half-smile, “but healing your injury requires rest, not activity of a more strenuous nature.”

“Then spread your legs over my thighs,” I suggested. “I would promise to lie still and let you do all the work.”

She looked away from my eyes again, but I could still see the corners of her mouth turn up. Releasing my hand, she picked up a clay jar of whatever salve the doctor had prepared for me and began to remove the dressing from my wound. I swallowed down a gasp as her skilled fingers worked the ointment into the stitches.

Aia applied fresh dressing over my injury and washed her hands in a small tub near the door before returning to my side. I watched her intently until her blush returned, and she averted her eyes.

“Why do you look away from me?” I asked.

“I find your gaze to be…too intense at times.”

I considered her meaning as she leaned over me to straighten the linens around my shoulders. The teasing nature of Roman women entered my head, but I knew Aia was not teasing. I wondered what she meant by her words and found it concerning.

“You fear me?”

“No, Faustus.”

My own sense of relief at her denial of fear surprised me. I was used to people fearing me, both men and women, but I did not seek her fear.

“Then what?” I demanded. “Speak plainly.”

Our eyes met once more, and she held her gaze steady as she spoke.

“When you look at me like that, I feel quite warm inside.”

I could not stop my smile or the response of my cock at her words. I longed to warm her insides, and to feel the length of my cock buried within her. I was pleased to hear she didn’t fear me and pressed the issue.

“I could warm you further,” I offered with a raise of my eyebrows.

“You must remain still,” she said with barely a whisper. She finished straightening the linen on the bed below me and stood straight at my side. “I have concern you will be further injured.”

Reaching out, I took her hand in mine and pushed it down my body, over my stomach, and to the top of my subligarium, right above my hardened cock. Aia moistened her lips with her tongue as she stared down to where her hand covered me.

“Then you warm me.”

She took in a long, slow breath as her look darkened in desire. I observed in her eyes the moment she relented and felt a smile cross my face. She gave me the smallest of nods, and my smile widened.

I released her hand, and she drew it back slowly. Her fingers outlined me from base to tip as she reached for the top of my subligarium and loosened the woven fabric at my waist. I lifted my hips slightly to allow her to remove the cloth from me entirely, exposing my needy flesh to her eyes.

Aia knelt beside the cot and laid her head against my chest. Maneuvering my arm around to her back, I held her loosely as her hand trailed across my stomach. She took my cock in her hand and slowly stroked it as I leaned my head back and closed my eyes at the feeling.

She claimed my flesh with her fingers and palm, running them up and down slowly at first and then with an increased pace. I fought against the urge to lift my hips and meet her touch with more force. I feared moving too much, for she might be inclined to slow or even stop her actions. I slid my hand down to her thigh, pushed the hem of her dress out of my way, and found her bare ass with my hand.

I opened my eyes just a crack to watch her skilled hand on my flesh. My arm tightened around her waist as my fingers squeezed her backside. I wanted her to turn her face to me so I could capture her lips with my own, but she kept her eyes focused on her purpose. With her mouth slightly open and the sound of her shallow breaths in my ears, she was a heady sight.

I could hold back no longer.

“Aia…” I groaned as I released into her hand and across my stomach.

She continued to stroke me until I went soft in her palm and then slowly untangled herself from my arm to retrieve the cloth and bowl of water. She washed me first and then cleaned her own hand of my seed.

I watched her efficiency in silence.

After more than a week at the medicus’ residence, I was finally able to lie on my side. The relief I felt in my sore back and ass was enough to make me groan with pleasure as I relaxed into a different position. The gash down my side still ached, but the pain was much less than before.

With my back now facing Aia’s usual place on the bench beside the cot, I couldn’t see her, and I found the realization distressing. I called her over to the other side of the bed, and she complied. Kneeling beside the cot, she took my hand in hers.

“Are you in pain?” she inquired.

“Nothing of consequence,” I replied. I dropped my eyes to the linens on the bed and judged the space there.

“Come,” I said. As I pulled her hand, I saw hesitation in Aia’s eyes. “Lie here with me.”

“Will you be still?” she asked quietly.

I nodded once, and she hesitated but a moment before rising from the floor and positioning herself on the cot at my side. I wrapped my arms around her small form and held her against me. She placed her hand on my chest, carefully avoiding the dressings around my wound.

For some time, we simply lay together on the cot, and Aia distracted me with more tales of learning to bake when she was young. Her stories had become so vivid, I could practically smell the bread with the warm, intoxicating scents of wheat, yeast, and herbs as it was removed from the oven. The contrast to my own childhood was not lost on me. It conjured forth memories of my father, a cold and unforgiving man. He was absent for most of my young life as he took his place on the steps of the Senate where he still spent most of his days. I had often been told I resembled him in attitude. There were also brief glimpses of my mother, whose social obligations left me to be raised by the slaves of the household. I barely knew her before she died. I had heard rumors of my father having her killed, and I did not doubt them.

As daylight began to fade, Aia brushed her fingertips over my shoulder and began to remove herself to the bench where she usually slept.

“Would you stay beside me?” The thought left my lips in the form of a question, and I found it odd I had phrased it in such a way. I could have commanded her to do so, but I realized I wanted her to desire it as much as I did.

“Of course, Faustus,” Aia replied as she settled back into my arms.

“This room is cold,” I said. Why I found it necessary to explain myself was mystery. I looked down her body as I ran my hand from her hip up to her shoulder. “You are warm.”

Our eyes locked over each other’s gaze, and we both paused. If Caesar himself had entered the room, I couldn’t have drawn my look from her deep blue eyes. I was a prisoner to them. My fingers twitched without order from me to do so as I moved them from her shoulder back to her side. I realized I had not drawn breath since our eyes had met, and I attempted to release the air slowly.

I still hadn’t looked away from her gaze. Her eyes grew soft, hooded, and the desire I found in them unmistakable. Her fingers traced the planes of my chest and then continued down to my stomach.

“You touch me as a lover would,” I remarked, “not just as my nurse.”

I smiled at her blush as she looked away.

“I think you desire my touch,” I teased.

“You are gentle.”

I widened my eyes at her.

“Gentle?” I huffed a short laugh through my nose. “I have not ever heard that particular word used to describe me.”

I watched her for a long moment.

“What do you know of me?” I asked.

Aia moved her eyes to my chest as she spoke.

“You command one of Caesar’s legions in the west, against the Gauls,” she said. “You had a wife and child, but they passed into the afterlife some time ago, and you have never remarried. Your father is a senator in Rome, and your family holds more coin than the gods themselves.”

She looked back to me.

“Or so I have heard.”

My mouth twitched in a grin, but it was short-lived. What she knew was truth, but it was not the knowledge she needed to understand with whom she had lain.

“I am a soldier,” I said quietly. “I’ve moved through your homeland, destroying everything I encountered—burning villages, killing men, enslaving children, and raping women before I slit their throats—and you call me gentle?”

I felt her body tense at my harsh words, and my stomach twisted. Oddly enough, it was important to me that she knew the black heart of the man she apparently desired.

“You are gentle with me,” was all she whispered in reply.

I suppose I had been, in my own way. I’d also snapped at her more frequently than not, but I did hold her in highest appreciation for her steadfastness. Yes, she had been commanded to tend to me, but the manner in which she did so was more than expected. Still, her description of me I found most inaccurate, and as I thought a moment, I wondered what young Aia may have endured at the hands of her Dominus that made her consider me anything but a brute.

“And your master?”

She tilted her head away from my gaze.

“He is…rough and quick.” There was more to her thoughts than her mouth revealed, but I decided not to press the issue. I didn’t want my own mind to wander in the direction of Aia in the arms of her Dominus. Considering how many business ventures Cassianus indulged, I doubted he spent much time at the hospital at all. I hadn’t laid eyes on the man since I had arrived.

“The doctor?” I inquired, and her lips turned into a tight-lipped smile.

“A brooding soul,” she said, “and one who prefers the company of men. He is quite harsh at times and quick to…to discipline.”

The idea enraged me.

What I said to her before was true—I was considered more beast than man when it came to my enemies. I cared not for the outcome of those I sent into slavery or to the mines and was more likely to order the deaths of my captives than bother with forcing them into servitude. Those who did not see the value of the Roman Empire and Caesar’s rule were irrelevant; their choice was to succumb or perish. They would either die at my hands on the battlefield or serve Rome in some other capacity until their untimely deaths at the hands of their masters or in the gladiators’ arena. The unfamiliar concern for how the doctor treated this young slave girl sat in the pit of my gut like sour wine.

Did my own slaves fare better?

No, they were often worse off at the hands of their betters in my household, but I cared nothing for them. They could all be replaced with a handful of coins. But Aia? She was different.

I trailed my fingers up her side and over her arm. When I reached her shoulder, my hand lingered and experienced the softness of her warm skin for a moment. I dragged my tongue over my dry lips as I cupped her chin and finally looked back to her eyes.

They were wide, deep blue, and they burned into me. I moved slowly as I changed my focus to her full lips, to her eyes, and then back again. Diminishing the gap between us to nothing, our lips finally met. I could feel my body’s desire to invade her mouth with my tongue as I would invade the lands of the savages fighting against Rome, but I restrained myself.

Gentle.

I pressed my lips firmly but slowly. I tilted my head first one way and then the other. She warmed my lips, and I felt her mouth part for me when I pressed my tongue to her. Moving my hand to the back of her head, I entwined my fingers in her hair and held her fast as I tasted her.

My cock took notice of the close proximity of her thighs, and made itself known to her. My hands traveled over the skin of her back, and her warmth seeped into me. I pushed the top of her dress away from her shoulders, exposing her firm breasts to my eyes. Needing more, I dropped my hand to her thigh and pushed the cloth of her dress up, exposing her backside. Reaching low, my hand found the sweet spot between her thighs.

She was wet with her desire, and I found the will to resist the pain in my side much weaker than the will to keep my cock from finding its way into her body. I pushed at the top of my subligarium, releasing my turgid shaft.

“Please,” Aia whispered as our lips parted, “let me offer you release as I have before.”

“I do not want simple release,” I said, shaking my head. “I want to feel your body give way to mine. I want to feel your flesh engulf my cock. I want to taste your sweat as we merge into one. Simple release is no longer enough.”

“Faustus…”

“Lucius,” I said as my mouth covered hers again,

“Lucius,” she repeated in a moan against my lips.

The thoughts in my head beat against my skull as a warhorse’s hooves beat the ground of the battlefield in pursuit of a retreating enemy. My heart pounded in my chest at the sound of my name. With my cock in hand, I pressed the tip to the apex of her legs, seeking entrance. The need to be inside her was overwhelming, and holding back no longer seemed possible.

I was not an emotional man; some would say to a fault. Perhaps it was the awkward position of needing her these past weeks that brought such feelings into my soul, or maybe it was just Aia—her demeanor, her deep blue eyes, and her soft, caring hands.

Breaking our kiss, I stared at her for a long moment. With my cock mere inches from its goal, I slipped my hand from her hair, traced a fingertip over her cheek, down her jawline, and finally cupped her chin. I kissed her again, and she again moaned.

“Lucius…”

“Beautiful music,” I said quietly as I traced my thumb over her lower lip. “Do you enjoy the taste of my name in your mouth?”

I didn’t wait for her response but pressed my lips to hers. I moved slowly against her, just barely touching her lips with my tongue. Her hot breath covered my face, and I again gripped my shaft and positioned myself to claim her.

She enveloped me, embraced me, and drew me in. She slowly raised her leg up and over my hip, careful not to brush against the wound at my side, and I pulled her ass against me to bury myself in her completely.

“Slowly,” she whispered. “Please, Lucius.”

I thrilled to the idea, holding her softly in my arms as I moved our bodies together. Her skin was like silk beneath my palms, and the sweet smell of her breath surrounded me. Taking her slowly was all too glorious a plan though my cock wanted its release. She felt magnificent…divine…right.

Aia moved with me, attempting to better the angle to ease my passage in and out of her warm channel. I could feel the heel of her foot against the lower part of my back as she pulled me into her in slow, peaceful rhythms. The action still pained my side, but I ignored it.

With my hand over her ass, I thrust deep inside her and stayed where I was, rotating my hips against her pubic bone in slow, rhythmic circles. Aia gasped, and her hand moved to clench my arm as she looked up into my eyes, and I captured her mouth.

She moaned as I moved, nearly crying out as my tongue searched her mouth and found the sweetest of treasures there. No amount of coin could compare with this. There was no price to be put on the feeling I experienced as we moved together.

Grinding against her body, I stayed deep inside of her and watched her face as she began to come apart. Aia tightened her leg around my backside as she gripped the tops of my arms. Her mouth fell open, and the sweetest, most incomprehensible sound escaped from it as her body tensed around my cock.

She nearly collapsed in my arms, and I had to move my hand down her back and grip her firmly as I continued to plow into her. Sweat covered my brow, chest, and back. The pain in my side increased, but it didn’t matter. With a grunt, I buried myself within her, retreated, and stabbed forward again as I tried to hold a scream inside my throat.

My thighs and stomach clenched and tingled as the swelling sensation began in my balls and refused to be held back any longer. With a final thrust of my hips, I emptied my seed deep inside of her.

With eyes clenched shut, my body shuddered as I held myself against her hips. I dared not move, because when I did, it would be over. I didn’t know if I would have another opportunity to lie with her like this again, and I dreaded the end of our coupling.

“Are you hurt?” Aia whispered quietly. She shifted to check my side, and my cock slid from her. I cringed from the cold air more so than the light touch of her hand on my bandages.

“It is of no concern,” I replied as I opened my eyes. “Each pain was worth the effort.”

We locked eyes, and again we seemed unable to look away. Aia’s fingers moved up to trace the edge of my jaw, and I leaned into her touch. My heart began to pound in my chest, and I wondered if she had any idea what she was doing to me.

With my arms holding her against my body, we both lay back against the bed and fell into sleep. My head filled with dreams of the young slave, cooking in the kitchen of my villa back in Rome.

I woke sometime in the night to find Aia still wrapped in my embrace. She was curled against my chest, and her slim fingers lay softly over my heart. Her dress was pulled down in the front, exposing her firm, young breasts, and the bottom half of her gown was bunched around her waist. I toyed with the edge of her clothing, rubbing the fabric between my fingers and then wrapped my arm back around her middle to pull her a little closer to me.

Her thigh brushed against my cock, and I closed my eyes. I breathed slowly for a moment to calm myself. Although the idea of having her wake with my cock in her body was attractive, I didn’t wish to disturb her slumber. Instead, I took the opportunity to study her carefully.

Her hair hung down her back and covered part of her shoulder in golden waves. Tilting my head, I examined her smooth flesh in the glow of the warm candlelight and the contrast of the pale skin tone with the cold bronze of the collar around her neck. I resisted the urge to remove the band from her throat to keep it from disturbing the transition of her form from neck to shoulder.

Closing my eyes again, I absorbed the feeling of her body against mine. Memories of my late wife entered my head, and I recalled times I would wake to find her in my arms in similar fashion. There had been little love between us, but my passion for her remained strong until the birth of our child, when my wife fell ill.

The turmoil inside me now, though laced with similar passion, was very different from the emotions felt for the woman I had married. The feeling seized me, called to me, and terrified me.

I should not feel so for a slave.

Even as the thought entered my head, I dismissed it. I was a Tribunus. I was used to taking what I wanted and dealing with whatever consequences might come later. Why should I treat my desire for a slave any differently than how I would treat my desire to conquer the western lands?

I would not.

I would take her as I have taken everything I’ve wanted.

Aia stirred in my arms. She hummed from the back of her throat before shifting her head and opening her eyes to look into mine. I smiled immediately, and she returned the expression.

“How do you fare?” Aia asked quietly.

“I fare well, waking to such beauty.”

Her smile turned shy as she looked away, causing my heart to race in the presence of her seemingly innocent expression, a strange look from one who had so recently serviced me so well.

“Do you know your worth?” I asked abruptly.

“My worth?”

I steadied my breathing to slow my heart as I stared into her eyes.

“You have skill with medicines,” I said, “but you are still nothing but a slave. The good doctor could train another to hand him his bandages and ointments.”

Aia blinked, opened her mouth slightly, but then closed it again without making comment.

“Two coins, at most,” I said succinctly. “I’d say one, but you are not without other merits which make you desirable.”

She turned her head from my gaze, but I could see the crestfallen look on her face. I would take it no further, the point driven.

“Aia, you mistake my intention.” Though it pained me slightly, I raised my body to prop myself up on one elbow as I looked down at her. “I wish to possess you…completely. I want you to be mine and mine alone.”

She shook her head slightly, her confusion apparent on her face. I fought with my tongue to find the right words to explain myself.

“I want you to bake bread,” I finally said, “just for me—here in this place, on the battlefield, in my villa in Rome.”

She turned her head back to me, her eyes searching for answers. She seemed in shock and unable to speak in response, so I made my intentions clear.

“I would give you worth,” I stated.

For a moment, I thought I saw her eyes swell with tears before she blinked rapidly, and they were gone. Her hands began to shake, and I wrapped my fingers around them.

“Aia—will you bake bread for me?”

Her beautiful lips parted and gave me my answer.

“Yes, Lucius.”

A noise off to my side informed me of the return of Sergius. I looked to the doctor with a scowl as Aia quickly pushed herself away from me and stood beside the cot, straightening her dress. The doctor glared at her as he approached and checked my dressing.

“You are coming along nicely,” he said. He stood and looked to Aia. “A word, slave.”

I saw her hands tremble at his command.

“I will have words with you,” I said quickly to the doctor. He paused and nodded. “My progress is sufficient, and I will begin to make plans to return to the legion camp.”

“You are not yet ready for battle, Tribunus,” he said. “Another week, perhaps two-”

“I’ll be returning to the legion camp in two days,” I informed him. “I can continue to heal from there. You will prepare all that I need to take with me to further my recovery.”

“If you insist, Faustus.”

“I do.” I sat up slightly and looked from the doctor to the slave girl and then back again. “I wish to speak to Cassianus. Bring him to me.”

“He is likely on his way to the gladiatorial games,” Sergius said. “Juno’s day approaches.”

“Upon his return then.”

“I will inform him of your desire for audience.”

I glared up at the doctor.

“You will inform him that he has been summoned,” I corrected. “I expect him here.”

“Of course, Tribunus.”

He again checked the dressing on my wound in silence, poured another cup of foul liquid down my throat, and took his leave, his plan to discipline Aia forgotten. I took the opportunity to continue my previous conversation with the slave.

“I would give you worth,” I told her.

“I don’t understand, Faustus.”

“I will buy you from your master,” I clarified, “and you will accompany me to my camp. You will continue to tend my wound and provide me with other distractions from the battlefield.”

Her eyes widened as she stared at me.

“Are you agreeable?” I asked. Her preferences should not have mattered to me, but still I inquired. My eyes bore into her as she looked at me with awe. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed and nodded her head.

“Yes, Lucius,” she said softly. “I would be most grateful.”

A slow smile spread across my face as I saw the truth of her words in her deep blue eyes. She wanted this as much as I did.

“Then it will be done,” I swore to her softly.

Her agreement brought a smile to my lips, and again her worth to me increased.

IV

“Bring Antonius to me.”

I clenched my teeth and stood on shaky legs as Cassianus watched me warily.

“Sergius tells me you are not yet fit for travel,” he said. “He says you need more time to heal. A few more weeks at the hospital will undoubtedly-”

“To further line your pockets for treatments?” I interrupted with a snort. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I fear you would be forced to make another long journey, forced to return here when your wound becomes inflamed,” Cassianus said with conviction. “By the gods, you must stay with us another week at the very least.”

“No.”

“A few days, then,” he insisted. “Allow my skilled doctor to continue to treat you. You are far too important to the Emperor to allow you to leave without proper care at your disposal. Sergius says you need many medicines still, and they must be properly administered to ensure their affect.”

I sighed outwardly. Inside, I felt nothing but the smug sensation of having him fall into such words so easily. I couldn’t have scripted his role with any greater accuracy than he offered me on his own. It was exactly as I had planned.

“I’ll take that nursemaid slave,” I said with a dismissive flick of my hand, as if the thought had just occurred to me, “the one who has hung about here like one of Juno’s tits just waiting for me to come up with the desire to suckle. She’s done more for my care than your doctor. I’ll take her with me.”

“Aia?” Cassianus asked. “She belongs to me.”

“Yes, a Roman citizen sold into slavery to cover the debts of her father,” I sneered. “You apparently support the breaking of our laws. Perhaps I should make that known to your friends in the Senate.”

He blanched as his eyes widened. As soon as I saw his reaction, I knew he had already been aware of her circumstances. I felt my muscles tighten and considered destroying the man in front of me. Had I been uninjured, I would have done so.

“What is her worth?” I said as I turned to stare him in the eye. There would be no backing down from this, and I wanted to be sure he knew I was quite serious in my intentions. I intended to make Aia mine, and it would be so. He would either agree without argument, or he would discover just how much wrath I could bring upon him and his household.

She will be mine.

“She’s a hard-working slave,” he said as he rubbed at his chin. “She’s learned much during her time-”

“So train another,” I interrupted. Again, I waved my hand at him. “I’ll buy this one from you for five coins—easily three times her price.”

“It is not in my plan to sell her,” he said. He set his jaw as he stared into my eyes.

Forcing myself to my full height, I stepped closer to the man and looked down upon him.

“I suggest a change of plans is in your interest,” I informed him. “You undoubtedly know my reputation for getting what I want. I suggest you consider your next words very carefully, or you’ll discover just how determined a man you face.”

He darted his tongue across his dry lips, considered for a moment, and then nodded.

“Five denarii,” he capitulated, and I smiled as I handed him his coin.

She is mine.

Sergius and Aia returned from the far room, and the doctor walked to his employer’s side. Before he could speak, Cassianus turned to him.

“Faustus shall be leaving us,” Cassianus stated to the medicus. He glanced sideways at me before looking to the slave. “Aia, prepare yourself. You will be leaving with the Tribunus.”

“Dominus?” she questioned as she looked to him.

“No more,” he said with a shake of his head. “You belong to Faustus now and will address him accordingly.”

She looked quickly from Cassianus to me and nodded her head.

“Of course,” she replied. A hint of a smile graced her lips as she bowed slightly in my direction. “Dominus.”

Within the hour, we were on the same rickety cart and headed north.

“Your plans to return to battle concern me,” Antonius stated as the driver of the cart shook the reins and the horses leapt forward. “Both the medicus and Cassianus expressed worry over your condition. They say you are not yet fit.”

“My worth as Tribunus cannot be measured from a hospital bed,” I said. “I must be with the men.”

“And how shall your worth be measured if you go into battle already hindered?”

Antonius and I exchanged glances, and I took a long breath.

“I return to my tent only,” I reassured him. “I can lead for now without fighting.”

Antonius looked to the slave woman wrapped in a blanket as the cart pulled us north. Her eyes did not leave the ground, but I was sure he saw her slight smile. He looked back to me with raised brow.

“As you desire, Faustus,” he said.

“I do desire,” I replied softly. I reached over and placed my hand on Aia’s thigh, gripping it gently as she looked into my eyes and held me there.

I pushed aside the entrance to the tent and made my way inside with Antonius right behind me. My side ached slightly though months had passed since I was first injured. I no longer walked with a limp, which was more important to me than any pain I still felt. Showing weakness to the men under my command would not serve me well.

A large table near the tent’s entrance displayed an exemplar of the battlefield beyond the camp. I reached for a handful of carved wooden horses and soldiers decorated with the colors of the Gaul’s flag and removed them from the map. Only a few still remained on the display, and they would fall soon.

“How many hauled back to camp?” I asked.

“Some three hundred,” Antonius said. “Many are decidedly unruly. They will not be easily contained for long.”

I considered for half a moment.

“Kill the prisoners,” I said, and Antonius nodded his agreement. “I have neither the time nor the desire to break them. What of those not captured?”

“The few remaining are in hasty retreat,” Antonius informed me.

Movement toward the back of my tent caught my eye as Aia rose from the place where she sat slicing fresh bread for our dinner. I watched her closely, her presence ever calming me as she began to light candles to combat the fading daylight.

“Aia—bring wine,” I ordered.

“Yes, Dominus.” Aia quickly retrieved a jug of wine and two cups from the far side of the tent and brought them to me. She laid them on the table and poured carefully, never spilling a drop. I watched her as she completed her task and retreated into the shadows, my eyes drawn to her belly for a moment before I looked back to the wine in front of me and brought the cup to my lips.

“Your slave appears…well rounded,” Antonius remarked with a low chuckle.

His words drew my eyes back to her form, and I surveyed her voluptuous ass and breasts before my eyes moved back to the slight swell of her stomach. Though still subtle, her condition would soon be well known to all who cared to observe.

“She does,” I agreed with a smile. Though it was not my intent, news of my child growing inside of Aia had been most welcome. She had been frightened to tell me at first, fearing my displeasure and possible command to rid herself of the bastard, but I would not give voice to such an order. I desired a child from her belly, and once she knew my position, she seemed quite pleased.

“An interesting conundrum,” he said.

“How so?”

Antonius looked at me.

“A child of a slave is still a slave,” he said, “unless you intend to give validity to their position?”

His tone was a question, but he knew as well as I that I could never do so. It was not a new thought to me but one I had been considering for some time now.

“Her station will not change,” I said quietly. “If the child is a son…”

I paused and sighed. I had no answer for my prefect, for my eyes could not see what the future held. I would be more inclined to acknowledge a son to continue my family line, but there were those in the Senate that would be displeased.

“I cannot predict where the gods will take us,” I finally said. “I shall endure what comes when the time is right. Dwelling will not change outcome.”

Antonius nodded, completed his report of the battle, and started to take his leave.

“Antonius, pause a moment,” I said.

“Tribunus?”

“I beg a favor,” I stated as I looked at him pointedly.

He returned my gaze and nodded his head.

“Your will, Faustus.”

I glanced at Aia and swallowed a lump in my throat.

“Despite healed wound, I was nearly cut again,” I told him.

“I observed,” he said with a nod. “I was close at your side; I would not have allowed you to fall.”

I inclined my head in silent gratitude.

“Still, there is always risk, is there not?”

“There is.”

I looked back to Aia where she busied herself with the fresh bread, oblivious to my words. The smell made my mouth water.

“I have concern for my slave,” I admitted as I looked back to him, “and the child she carries if I were to fall. I want your word that you would ensure her safety and care.”

“Clarify your meaning,” Antonius said.

“I cannot will either her or the child my legacy,” I said. “If I die in battle, they will have no protection or funds to provide for them. She would become my father’s property.”

“You speak truth,” Antonius agreed.

“I would have you take her,” I said as I grasped his forearm, “and the child.”

Widening his eyes, he straightened his back and raised his eyebrows at me.

“You are my oldest friend,” I said. “I would trust no one else with their care.”

Antonius blinked a few times before resolve settled in his eyes.

“I will,” he said simply. “You are my commander and friend. I would treat them as my own family as long as they live.”

I gripped his arm slightly before releasing him.

“You have my gratitude,” I said. I nodded towards the large trunk near my sleeping area. “I have placed inside my trunk the necessary documents for the sale of her and her offspring to you, along with enough coin to provide for them. If I fall, retrieve this immediately—before my father learns of my death. Move Aia to your tent and speak nothing of her unless pressed. It would be better for others to assume she had been in your hands for some time.”

“Of course,” he said. We clasped arms once more before Antonius retired to his own tent.

As soon as the flap of the tent shielded us from those outside, Aia was quickly by my side and began to remove my armor. She laid it expertly aside before retrieving a bowl of water, warmed by the fire. I watched her in silence as she took a soft cloth, wet it, and began to wash me. She appraised my body with her eyes as she went about her work, and the deep devotion I saw in them brought a smile to my lips.

It had been like this since the day we arrived at camp. Aia adjusted quickly to her surroundings and took joy in caring for me as if she were my legal wife. The others did not notice her as anything more than a common slave in my eyes, which served us both well.

With the washing complete, she silently tore pieces of bread from the loaf and slipped them past my lips. It was a silent undertaking and one I found most enticing. Once fed, I retreated to the bed and pulled back the coverings.

“Come lie beside me,” I commanded. “I’ve been cold and desire your warmth.”

Aia obliged, dropped her dress to the floor, and then curled herself against my body as I wrapped my arms around her. I trailed my fingers over the flesh of her stomach and breasts as she reached up to touch the side of my face.

“I feared when you did not return last night,” she said.

Watching her eyes, I saw her deep concern for my well-being inside of them. The conversation with Antonius played through my mind. I hadn’t considered how much she may have indulged in similar thought and wondered if it was something that worried her greatly.

“Have no concern,” I said to her as I stroked her cheek. “I will not fall.”

She nodded, for she would not disagree with me. I toyed with thoughts of explaining to her what I had arranged, but I could not risk it. If she were to tell anyone else, even the child after it was born, it could jeopardize the legality of their sale, and I would not risk such a thing. My father knew nothing of my slave lover, and I would keep it that way.

Moving to distract her from brooding thought, I brought my lips to her neck and kissed her softly. She responded with tilted head to grant ease of access and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I moved my mouth up her throat until I reached her ear.

“I desire the embrace of your thighs,” I said.

“Anything, Dominus.”

“Not here,” I whispered in her ear. She was always so careful when she addressed me, I wondered if she sometimes forgot my feelings for her.

“Faustus,” Aia corrected herself.

“No, not that name either.” My lips moved back down her throat and I nipped at her skin. “In this bed, I am always Lucius to you.”

“Lucius,” she echoed. She ran her hands up my sides and over my arms to my shoulders. She tightened her fingers against my skin as I continued moving down her throat with my mouth.

With practiced touch, I found the warmth between her legs with my fingers, and brought forth her moisture as her hips rocked against me. As soon as her breath turned to panting against my chest, I guided my cock to her entrance and delved into her body.

I moved slowly, not just to save my strength or for the sake of my exhausted body, but also to give her the full pleasure of my deep penetrations. Only she saw this other side of me—the gentler man who desired nothing more than her company and her warm sex—and only when we were alone inside the tent.

Moving my hips, I thrust deep inside of her, enjoying her muffled cries of pleasure against my shoulder. I continued back and forth until Aia arched her back. She pressed her head to the sheets as she gripped my forearms and cried out into the cool night air. I followed soon after, muffling a moan against the skin of her neck.

For many minutes, I held her tight against me. I listened to her breathing as it slowed and felt her light touch over my arms. She soothed me, and the memories of battle violence faded from my head as her touch consumed all thoughts.

“I want you to be mine,” I whispered in her ear as I trailed kisses up and down her throat. My hand graced over the swell of her stomach, and Aia laid her hand over the top of mine.

“I already belong to you,” she reminded me.

“Owning your body is not enough for me,” I replied. I moved my hand to the place right above her left breast. “I want your heart, for that is where your true worth lies.”

She looked at me, and her eyes shone with tears.

“It is yours, Lucius,” she said. Her voice broke slightly. “Since the day you first touched me, it has been yours.”

In my own heart, I knew I could never make it more than this—more than her in my bed as my slave and concubine—but I would do everything within my power to make her feel like more. With every touch, I would show her what she meant to me.

Her worth was mine.

~the end~