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Beyond All Imaginings

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When Agron kissed Nasir for the first time, he hadn’t really considered what his impulsive gesture might lead to. All he knew was that, somehow, the young Syrian had snuck into his heart and taken up residence.

It had happened rather quickly - when Nasir broke his promise and told Crixus about Naevia, it had already been too late. Agron had been furious at first, but one apologetic look from those warm brown eyes and his anger had softened into wry acceptance. It was an unfamiliar sensation, burning anger having been his most trusted companion ever since Duro’s death at the hand of the Romans. It had made him divert from his chosen path and lead those that had followed him towards Vesuvius into the forest in the general direction of the mines.

He had not even attempted to pretend that he’d been most concerned with Spartacus, although naturally he was glad to find the Thracian alive, and with Naevia. His whole focus had been on the small man slumped against a tree, much too pale for comfort, and the smile he’d received before Nasir lost consciousness had been all that kept him sane while Nasir fought for his life.

Luckily the former house slave proved hard to kill, yet another show of the fierce spirit that had attracted Agron from the very first. Nasir’s physical beauty was part of it, too, naturally, but it had been the way he’d stared them all down that had made it impossible for Agron to look away. Even more so when, after Nasir had saved Spartacus, talk between them had flowed freely and easily in a way Agron had thought lost along with his brother.

It had rekindled a part of his soul that had been nothing but ashes since their capture into slavery. After regaining his freedom he’d fucked the occasional boy, but it had never meant anything except a distraction from his all-consuming grief and anger - until Nasir came along, no boy but a man of stubborn pride and gentle hands, like a soothing balm to Agron’s raw wounds. So when the Syrian showed up, wounded but undaunted, as they readied themselves for the assault on the arena, tenderness washed over Agron like a flood, and it felt completely natural to kiss those pale lips.

He lingered but a moment, only long enough to feel Nasir’s mouth soften beneath his, and carried the warm look of pleased surprise on Nasir’s face with him to the arena. Somehow it made everything clearer, focusing Agron’s mind and keeping at bay the berserk bloodlust, which he’d welcomed in every battle since Batiatus’ house. And even should he die in this mad venture, at least Nasir would be left knowing what a great gift he’d given.

But death did not find him that day, and Nasir greeted him with a wide smile, a tender kiss and teasing words. More than anything else, Agron felt as if he’d come home. The sensation was so strange, so unexpected, it would have scared him if it hadn’t been for the solid warmth of Nasir’s body in his arms, anchoring him. Unthinkingly Agron closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, letting Nasir’s presence envelop him.

“Agron,” a gentle voice broke into his reverie, and Agron opened his eyes to meet Nasir’s curiously tender gaze. “Apologies, but you appeared to be far away - if it pleases you, I would like to share in your thoughts.”

A smile broke out on Agron’s face as calloused fingers traced the line of Nasir’s jaw, and his voice sounded unfamiliar, achingly raw and sweet, to his own ears: “And I would share them all with you, although you mistook the direction they had taken. I was nowhere except in your arms - for the first time since the Romans took me and my brother I found myself utterly content in the present.”

Nasir looked almost stricken for a moment, but before Agron could withdraw, his face was gripped in a surprisingly strong grasp and pulled down into a fierce kiss. Both times their lips had met previous to this it had been gentle, almost questioning, but there was none of this now, as Nasir seemed almost desperate, drinking Agron in like a man dying of thirst. The German could mount no defenses against this onslaught, nor had he any wish to do so, feeling himself be pulled into the clashing of mouths and battling of tongues, soon giving as good as he got.

Recovering from his surprise, his arms came up and enveloped Nasir in a tight embrace, unwilling to leave any air between their bodies and almost lifting the smaller man off his feet in the process. Blood rushed downwards to settle heavily between his legs, leaving Agron almost light-headed, drunk with desire, and he groaned into the kiss as he felt Nasir begin to harden against his thigh.

Before they could take it any further, however, Nasir put his hands on Agron’s chest and pushed gently. It was enough to allow reason to return, and Agron broke their kiss, breath coming in short pants. Once again Nasir anticipated any uncertainty or rejection Agron might feel over his actions, staying in the circle of Agron’s arms, his whole face shining with joy: “You bring more happiness than ever before experienced, Agron - and more passion as well.” His grin turned decidedly mischievous and he let one hand slide downwards, making Agron gasp as he pressed it against his cock, which immediately came back to life. “Let us find a more private location to further explore new-found intimacy?”

He laughed, his eyes dancing, and Agron felt an answering smile on his own face, wide and happy, even as his heartbeat sped up in anticipation. He kissed Nasir quickly, simply because it was permitted and welcomed, before motioning towards the interior of the temple: “Lead and I will follow, little man…”

The look Nasir shot him at the sound of the nickname promised reprisals, but he complied and turned towards the small chamber he occupied. As promised, Agron followed right on his heel, grinning when he noticed the way Nasir adjusted himself, even as he had to do the same. They reached their goal quickly, and Nasir gestured for Agron to enter, explaining: “Result of my wound - Lucius thought it best if I could rest undisturbed.” He looked up at Agron and added softly: “A luxury never known before in my years as slave - and one I would share with you.”

Again warmth washed over Agron, overwhelmed by what Nasir offered so simply. It was not much, just a pallet and a small table, not even a window, but to Agron, and to Nasir, it meant the world. He had to blink several times to banish the wetness he could feel welling up in his eyes, and his voice was rough when he replied: “I do not know what I did to deserve such favour, but I accept it gladly, as long as you accept all that I am in return.”

He was just a gladiator, a man of violence and blood, not a philosopher or a poet, but he hoped that the glint of unshed tears in Nasir’s eyes meant that he understood all Agron did not have the words to express. For a moment they simply looked at each other, too overwhelmed to speak while emotions neither one of them had expected vibrated in the air between them. It was Nasir whose face broke into a wide smile: “So that is settled, then. Now, my big German warrior, rid yourself of dirty travel clothes and let me see what kind of bargain I have struck…”

Obeisance had never been among Agron’s strengths, yet he followed this one with swiftness and a fond laugh that turned strangled when Nasir stepped out of his own clothes and then closed the gap between them to lend a hand. Agron’s subligaculum fell to the ground and Nasir followed, kneeling in front of Agron as if he was a gift from the gods. It was a sight Agron had dreamed of, but he reached out and cradled Nasir’s jaw in his hand, saying intently: “Nasir, only proceed if you wish it as much as I do. I would not have you in slave’s position.”

Nasir turned his cheek into Agron’s touch, inhaling deeply before replying: “Your touch would never be mistaken for hated Roman hands. My wish is to replace every dark memory with one of my own choosing.” His tongue darted out and licked playfully over Agron’s palm, causing a groan to escape the gladiator. “And I find that you, and your cock, play a large part in my imaginings, Agron.”

With that he leaned in and nuzzled Agron’s quickly hardening cock, one hand wrapping around it, the other steady against the German’s lean hips. Agron’s eyes fell closed but for a moment, before he forced them open again, wishing to see what felt so delicious. His hands twisted in long, dark hair, careful not to cause pain, as he struggled not to push into Nasir’s skilled mouth. When one of the Syrian’s fingers slipped between his legs and breached him, Agron did not know whether he was cursing or blessing the gods while Nasir’s smile stretched around his cock.

Collecting his wits as best he could, Agron managed to form words: “Fuck the gods, Nasir, your mouth could make heroes weep… Please, I would reach greatest heights of pleasure alongside yours, not alone.”

Nasir stopped sucking and moved off with a sound that made Agron’s cock twitch yet again. Closing his eyes for a moment, he fell to his knees and pulled Nasir into a deep, rough kiss, hungry for the taste found on his tongue, before toppling them over and covering Nasir’s body with his own. Legs falling open to welcome Agron between them, Nasir returned passion with passion, hands gripping Agron’s shoulders, his back, his ass, all attempts at teasing at an end. Agron eagerly drank the moans and curses that escaped the man beneath him as he slid a hand between their sweat-slicked bodies and wrapped it around Nasir’s hard cock.

When sharp teeth bit into his shoulder, the sting returned enough sense to Agron to lift his head and cast around for something to use as oil. Seeing a bottle of ointment meant for Nasir’s wound, he broke away and grabbed it. When he turned back, his breath stopped for a moment at the sight of his lover. Nasir was looking at him with dark eyes, like a vision from the gods - hair dishevelled, chest heaving, lips swollen from kissing, cock red against tan skin. Meeting Agron’s gaze in open challenge, Nasir raised an eyebrow and reached around himself to slide two fingers in deep. His mouth fell open, and he gasped more than spoke: “Will you stand there, then, and leave me to fend for myself?”

Agron swallowed hard, then grinned wolfishly: “A game for another night, maybe, my wild little dog…” Nasir looked displeased by the use of the pet name, but not enough to stop Agron from claiming his mouth again. Fumbling the bottle open, he paused for just a moment longer, making sure he had Nasir’s attention before asking: “This is your wish? If I cause any pain, to existing wound or… otherwise, just speak the word and I will stop.”

Eyes filled with warmth and something else, something Agron was not quite ready to name yet, regarded him for a moment, then Nasir took the bottle from him and poured a generous amount over Agron’s hand and cock, stating: “You have my word. But now I beg you to fuck me, or I might think the fearsome gladiator a swooning maiden…”

A strangled laugh escaped Agron, the stray thought entering his head that he had never bedded anyone with whom he could laugh so freely. Yet another way in which Nasir was exceptional, undaunted by the fact that Agron could overpower him easily. He slid two slick fingers inside Nasir’s waiting heat and, when the Syrian gasped and arched, grinned in sheer delight: “We shall see who will swoon tonight!”

Yet soon it was Agron’s turn to bury his face in the crook of Nasir’s neck, since the Syrian only allowed a few moments of preparation before demanding that Agron replace fingers with cock. It was another order Agron was swift to follow, Nasir’s supple thighs wrapping around his hips and lifting to better accommodate him. They were locked together in increasingly frantic thrusting, and Agron felt as if he had never been so close to anyone before. Control was slipping from his grasp, but he was determined to give Nasir all the pleasure he could and grasped his cock tightly. Soon he was rewarded by the sound of his own name, panted when Nasir shuddered and spilled over his fist.

Muscles tightening around Agron’s cock as Nasir spasmed was all that was needed, and he followed with a shout that was surely heard through the whole villa. Agron did not care whether Jupiter himself witnessed this moment, feeling drunk on the fact that he had been allowed this, the privilege of calling himself Nasir’s lover. When he had regained some of his breath, he slid out of Nasir and curled himself around the smaller body, his fingers tracing the lines of the Syrian’s beautiful, flushed face, as he whispered, the words leaving his body in a rush: “I am most fortunate of men. Should I die tomorrow, I should die happy. Gratitude, with all my heart.”

Nasir turned in his embrace, eyes flashing, voice fierce: “Fool of a gladiator - I would not have you die. Not tomorrow, not ever, unless it be by my side.” His face softened, and he pressed a kiss to the scar above Agron’s heart. “Spartacus may have freed Tiberius, but I have you know that Nasir found his freedom in your eyes.”

Blood pounding in his ears, Agron closed his eyes and kissed Nasir, finding his lips already open to him. When they separated, they stared at each other with wide-eyed wonder, overwhelmed by what they had found in this most unlikely of places. Then, as one, they began to laugh uncontrollably, mirth overcoming solemnity. After they had recovered somewhat, Agron stated, his voice still unsteady with laughter: “It strikes me that there is more than enough gratitude for both of us. We shall have to keep repaying one another in kind.”

Nasir chuckled and rolled over, coming to rest on Agron’s chest, wincing as the movement aggravated his wound. He shook his head at Agron’s instant worry and smiled: “The pain is nothing. I had all but forgotten while in your arms and would continue to do so.” He kissed Agron quickly before getting to his feet and offering a hand to the German: “Let us wash and then see ourselves to hot food and drink.”

Suddenly Agron realised the sound of feasting could be heard clearly from outside the haven of their room, and he clasped Nasir’s hand with a grin: “Indeed. There is much to celebrate on this day, I find.”

Much more than he had ever imagined.