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Marcus sighs, leaning heavily on his crutch. He hates having to use it in public, but there is little other choice. “Uncle, how many times must I tell you, I do not want or need a body slave.”“Nonsense,” his uncle says, waving him off and continuing down the row of dirty, downturned faces. “A good slave is an asset. Stephanos has served me faithfully for many years, and he has been a good companion, too. You could use both.”Gritting his teeth, Marcus looks at the row of men. Yes, many seem large and strong enough to help Marcus through his recovery, especially as it has had to start over after the second surgeon cut him open to clean the wound. For all this procedure was supposed to help him, the healing has been slower this time, hence the crutch. Without it, he would be stuck in the villa. Nonetheless, that does not mean he wants some Greek or Briton or Gaul following him around, fussing over his leg.The slave trader clearly knows which of the two of them holds the purse strings and is trying to steer his uncle toward the large, strong, and no doubt more expensive slaves, but Marcus turns and walks the other way. Perhaps it defeats the purpose, but if he must have a slave, he does not want one that makes him feel weak. Of course, these smaller men look even less promising, many of them scrawny and malnourished. Their eyes are all turned down, and some are shaking with fear.Except the boy on the end—his face is turned away, as though he is simply uninterested in any of this. He is short and wiry, and the blue ink on his arm marks him as one of the local tribesmen. Marcus could not say why, but he is drawn to the boy, and as he approaches him, he says, “You there, on the end.”The boy turns to him, and… oh, he is not a boy. He is a man, though a young one. He has a lean, angular face, and though his cheeks are sunken, his eyes are bright and clear, a blue-gray color that reminds Marcus of the sea. And when Marcus approaches him, when they lock eyes, the man gasps.“Marcus,” his uncle calls to him. “Those sickly boys are not worth the coin.”“Not sickly,” the blue-eyed slave says, and Marcus notes his clear facility with the language despite a local accent. “Merely underfed and mistreated.”“What is he telling you?” the slave trader yells. “Do not listen to that one. He is weak and too clever for his own good. And he has no training as a body slave.”Marcus glances back at the man. “What is your name?”“Esca,” he says, gaze sharp and penetrating. “Esca Mac Cunoval.”Frowning, Marcus asks, “Is it true you have no training as a body slave?”Esca’s mouth tightens. “Yes, it is true. But I learn quickly.”Marcus glances around at all the other downturned faces. “You wish to serve me?”He lifts his chin. “If I must serve any Roman, let it be you.”“Marcus!” His uncle has pulled one slave forward from the line, a veritable mountain of a man with milk-pale skin and red hair. “If you want a Briton, at least pick a larger one.”Marcus turns back to Esca, who is still gazing at him intently. It seems to cost him to say it, but Esca murmurs, “Please. I am so hungry.”With a curt nod to Esca, Marcus turns back to his uncle. “I will have this one.”“The scrawny one?” the trader asks disbelievingly.Marcus’s uncle is not quite so incredulous, perhaps because this is one less fight to have if Marcus has chosen for himself, but he does ask, “Marcus, are you certain?”“Yes,” Marcus says without looking back. “I will have Esca as my body slave.”His uncle sighs. “Well, at least I’ll save some coin on the purchase price.”&Despite how frail he looks, Esca is quick and lithe, and when he extends an arm to help Marcus keep his balance as he ascends a set of stairs, Marcus is surprised to feel some strength in him. By the time they return to the villa, it is nearly time for the evening meal, and Marcus means to send Esca right into the kitchen to get himself some food.“I should clean myself first,” Esca says, glancing down at his filthy tunic and grubby hands. “I do not want to bring dirt into your kitchen.”Marcus is surprised, but there is no reason not to allow it, and he sees a pink-faced, fresh-scrubbed Esca head right to the kitchen a few minutes later. Marcus does not mean to hover, but he does risk Sassticca’s wrath to poke his head in a few minutes later and ensure she has allowed Esca plenty of food. Sure enough, there is Esca, helping to chop onions as he occasionally samples from a plate of bread and cheese set next to him.Esca does not see him at first, but Marcus marvels at how politely and slowly Esca feeds himself. He has the mien of a starving man, and yet he does not gorge himself even while surrounded by food. How strange, for a barbarian to exhibit moderation that most hungry Romans would struggle to show. Or perhaps Esca ate a few quick handfuls of food when he first entered the kitchen and is now pacing himself so he will not become ill. That says good things about his patience and self-control.And then Esca does glance up, catching Marcus’s eye. He nods as he takes another bite of bread, and Marcus nods back and leaves him to it.&They find and air out an old straw mattress and some furs for Esca’s pallet, and Marcus sends him to his room to set them up as he likes.“I am still uncertain about this,” Marcus’s uncle says to him as they prepare to retire for the evening.“It was your idea that I should have a body slave.”“Yes, but one who could serve you well. Not one who looks like he could be felled by a stiff breeze.”“Uncle, he was not being properly fed or treated by that trader,” says Marcus, waving a hand dismissively. “You saw the condition of those slaves.”Frowning, Marcus’s uncle replies, “That does not mean you are responsible for nursing the weakest of them back to health.”“I suppose I am responsible for him now.”His uncle sighs. “I suppose you are. Well, if you come to your senses, we may yet get a little extra coin for him once he is healthy.”The day’s events have put Marcus in a rather defiant mood, but he holds his tongue and wishes his uncle a good night before returning slowly to his room. Though he has rested a bit, walking to and from the forum always makes his leg ache fiercely come evening.The first things Marcus sees upon entering the room are the mattress and furs dumped carelessly on the floor without Esca in them. “Esca, did you not find a suitable—oh.”Apparently Esca has decided he does not need a pallet of his own, because he has lain himself in Marcus’s narrow bed. And while blankets cover some of the lower half of his body, he appears to be naked.Marcus stares in shock for longer than he would care to admit before finding his voice—in no way did he expect this. “Esca, no. You do not have to— I did not purchase you for this.”Esca’s head tilts in confusion. “Is this not what Roman masters use their slaves for?”Blinking, Marcus asks, “Have all of your masters used you thus?”“Not all of them. Some were old and… unable.” Esca pauses, biting at his lower lip. “Is my appearance not pleasing to you?”Marcus shakes his head, as though somehow that gesture would help him understand this turn of events. Yes, slaves are often subject to this kind of degradation as punishment, but they are not supposed to desire it. “No, you— That is, I don’t— Esca, you do not have to do this.”Esca pushes up on his elbows, the taut muscles in his belly contracting. He is thin, yes, but that merely allows Marcus to see the structure of Esca’s body more clearly. And it is a desirable body, even if it could use a bit more padding. Marcus could find pleasure in smoothing his palms over those hard, bony angles and prominent tendons. He could run his fingertips through the wiry curls he can see descending from Esca’s navel, several shades darker than the tousled hair on his head, where they lead to the soft, pink skin at the base of Esca’s cock that Marcus can barely see above the blankets. Marcus swallows.“So you do not desire me?” Esca asks sharply, and he seems almost irritated about it.Embarrassingly, Marcus feels his cheeks begin to heat, as though Esca could see the thoughts inside his head and is attempting to force Marcus to admit to them. “It is not a matter of desire,” Marcus says, gripping his crutch tighter in the hand that holds it. “You told me today that you have been mistreated. I do not intend to continue that mistreatment by dishonoring you.”“Oh.” Esca looks lost, suddenly seeming younger than his years. “Is there nothing I can do for you tonight, then?”Sighing, Marcus takes another step forward, but his thigh cramps. “Actually, there is. It is unpleasant, but if you are to be my body slave, it is a task you must undertake.”Esca does not say anything, but Marcus can see him steeling his resolve. That is just as well—Marcus does not know what work Esca has done before, but he has almost certainly never seen the likes of this kind of injury. Marcus has been dreading this moment, but he needs to get it over with. “At least put your trousers back on, and I will show you what you must do.”As Esca rises from the blankets and searches for his braccae, Marcus reaches for the tie on his own and pushes them down. With great care and a pained groan he can’t hold in, he lowers down to sit on the edge of the bed, then lifts his feet to kick the garment away. Eyes still downcast, he sees Esca’s bare feet come into his range of vision, and when he raises his gaze, Esca is standing before him, naked to the waist. “What is this unpleasant task?” he asks warily.Marcus takes a slow breath and lets it out. He has not shown anyone this save for the doctors and occasionally Stephanos, when he cannot help it. He does not even allow his uncle to see his injured leg. “As you may have guessed from my limp, I suffered an injury. It has been twice searched by the surgeons now, and it is healing slowly. Massage helps to reduce the swelling and relieve cramps in the muscle, and I am afraid this is to be one of your primary tasks as my body slave. You have no training in medicine or massage, do you?”“No.”“Then I am sorry I must show you this.” Marcus glances away as he pulls up the hem of his tunic, revealing the ugly, twisted wound on his thigh. It had begun to scar just as it needed to be cut open again, and the sutures from the second surgery have only recently been removed. The skin is angry red in some places and silvery pale in others, and it is all too evident that a chunk of flesh is missing.Above him, Esca lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, and Marcus looks up sharply.“Forgive me, domine,” Esca says quickly. “But it is only a wound.”Marcus gapes at him. “Only a wound?”“It is clean and healing properly. I do not mean to belittle your injury, but you drove me from your bed to save me from suffering and then implied you required something much worse of me.” Esca drops to one knee beside Marcus, setting a hand on the bed and peering at Marcus’s leg. “You are the one in pain, not me. And I have seen worse.”How? Marcus wants to ask. When? But perhaps the blue ink around Esca’s bicep is the answer. He may be small and currently malnourished, but the bones of him are sturdy, and the ink is clearly the tribal marking given to a warrior.“I am not trained in massage,” Esca says, setting a hand on Marcus’s knee as he continues to examine the scarring. “But I have seen it done, and you can tell me where I should put my hands.”“I… I suppose I can,” Marcus says, not quite able to believe the relief in Esca’s voice and posture. Perhaps Marcus did build it up too much, but it is still an ugly wound. “We will need oil.”“Oh, I already have some,” Esca says, reaching behind Marcus to grab a small bottle resting behind him on the bed. Esca appears to have taken it from the kitchen. Of course he did, Marcus thinks. He thought he would need it for… for other purposes.But he has quickly adjusted and is helping Marcus shift back on the bed so he can turn and stretch his bad leg out. His hands are warm and steady, and though Marcus can tell he is unpracticed, together, they work out how Esca should touch him to relieve his pain.&&&The first few days are strange, as Marcus is unused to having someone to wait on him. Esca is not particularly submissive in demeanor, but he does what Marcus asks him to, quickly and competently. Marcus has a hard time refraining from thinking of himself as an officer anymore, commanding a junior soldier, but indulging in this fiction makes some things easier. Certainly an officer would not—or at least should not—command a soldier to warm his bed, even if the soldier has intense, knowing eyes and dexterous hands.For his part, Esca does not climb naked into Marcus’s bed again, which lets Marcus know he did right by refusing him. Esca does, however, seem to have questions about who Marcus does take to bed. It is not the most seemly topic of conversation, but Marcus does not get much in the way of conversation, and he is not ashamed to answer.“So you do not have lovers?” Esca asks while wrapping a fresh bandage around Marcus’s thigh.“You find that so difficult to believe?”“Well… yes.” Looking at the work of his hands, Esca frowns slightly. “You are a very attractive man, and a centurion as well.”“Former centurion,” Marcus corrects, trying to ignore how casually Esca complimented his appearance, as though Marcus’s desirability were a known fact.“I would think that would earn you as many lovers as you wanted.”Shaking his head, Marcus says, “It is difficult in the army, unless your standards are… low. And then after…” He gestures down at his leg. “I have not been much in an amorous mood. And even if I were, who would want a cripple?”“Plenty of people, I would think, when he is otherwise strong and handsome and prosperous.” Esca tucks in the end of the bandage and sits back on his heels, gazing up at Marcus. “Do you not even visit the brothels?”“I consorted with camp followers, when I was a younger man. But I was lucky not to contract a disease then, and I certainly have no wish to do so now.” The expression of surprise remains on Esca’s face, so Marcus continues, “I am capable of taking care of my own needs, Esca. Do not worry that I will turn to you to for that.”“So you have said,” Esca replies, and Marcus does not know how to parse the expression on his face. “Do you prefer women, then? Or youths?”Once again, Marcus gets the sense that Esca is trying to get him to admit to something or catch him in a lie. “It is not a matter of preference, Esca. It is a matter of self-discipline.”Esca’s lips purse. “I do not mean to give offense, but I think you are a very unusual Roman.”An unexpected laugh escapes Marcus’s lips. “Self-discipline is a virtue among Romans.”“Perhaps so, but I have served too many Romans to call it a common one.”“Is it more practiced among the barbarians then?” Marcus asks doubtfully. “Are all Britons as disciplined as you?”“As me?”“You told me you were starved,” Marcus says, waving a hand at Esca’s too-thin body, “and you still look half-famished, even after a week of good food. At the very least, the sallowness should be gone from your cheeks by now, but it remains there. And yet when I see you eat, it is not with any particular hunger.”“Oh,” Esca replies, surprise written across his face as though he had not expected Marcus to notice.“Is the food Sassticca makes insufficient? Do you require something else?”“N-no,” Esca says, and it seems to Marcus he has caught the man off his guard, though he cannot say why.“Do you simply need more of it? Are you hungry right now?”An expression of whetted appetite crosses Esca’s face with such speed and intensity that it shocks Marcus, but Esca only murmurs, “Yes, domine. Famished.”“Then in the name of the gods, go eat something,” Marcus says exasperatedly, gesturing for Esca to get up. “You will never be punished for feeding yourself. I would have you healthy and strong.”Esca stands, but continues to peer at Marcus queerly. “You would?”“Yes, of course. If you waste away, you cannot serve me very well, can you?” Esca shakes his head, his eyes wide and hollow, and Marcus feels his exasperation wane. There is some kind of miscommunication here, but Marcus will not let it continue. “You have my permission to take what you need.”As Esca nods, a small smile begins to curl at the corner of his mouth. It is the first time Marcus has seen such an expression on his face. “Thank you, domine,” he says gratefully. “I will.”&That night, he has a dream.Marcus is no stranger to titillating dreams, especially since his injury. While he told Esca that he is capable of tending to his own needs, he has in truth mostly been pushing them away. His body does not feel like his own anymore, now that it causes him such pain and infirmity. He does not even take himself in hand very often, as the relief it brings is short-lived and often leaves him feeling hollow and isolated. If he feels this way in his dreams, at least he does not remember it by the time he wakes.But this new dream, this is to the others as a bonfire is to a candle. Out of nowhere, Marcus feels desire surging through him in a way he has not felt in ages, in a way too strong and sharp to be real. At the same time, Marcus is not entirely sure he is dreaming. He is aware of his body—his real body, with the stiff, aching leg—in a way he is usually not, but it does not disgust him as it does when he is awake, either. He feels potent, powerful, even though he cannot so much as wiggle a toe. He remains frozen in place while pleasure courses through him—not only through his cock and his balls, but through his whole body. It wraps around him like warm iron bands and holds him fast, but paradoxically he does not mind the restraint, not even when the bands begin to tighten.They compress his legs first, though notably, they cause him no pain. In fact, they seem to block it off, drowning out the discomfort of his leg entirely with bliss. Then his arms, then his belly, then up to his chest. They squeeze so tight to his chest, pressing the air out. It is as though something so huge and weighty is sitting atop him that he cannot draw breath, and he begins to go dizzy with the lack of air. Perhaps this dizziness should frighten him, but how can he be frightened when he feels as though he is going to expire with ecstasy? He cannot breathe, but he does not need to breathe, not ever again. His thoughts slow, and then his pulse, his body compressed so perfectly that not even his blood can move through his veins.And then, all at once, the pressure releases, so fast and so hard that Marcus feels he is flying apart. He comes—he knows he comes, he can feel the physical sensation of it—but he does not only come. He spends something more than his seed, something deeper, and though it is not painful, the loss of it leaves him trembling. He can move his limbs again, but he finds he does not want to. He is too tired. Even asleep, he is too tired.The dream ends, but Marcus does not wake. Instead, he sinks deeper into oblivion where he finally rests, settling like a stone at the bottom of a deep, dark lake.&As a soldier, Marcus was used to rising with the dawn without thought, but when he opens his eyes, the angle of the sun slanting in through the window tells him it is late in the morning. He groans and goes to rub his eyes, but he finds that he can barely lift his arms. It is as though he is a novice soldier again, having been put through his paces by a cruel senior officer the day before, except there is no pain or soreness in his muscles, merely exhaustion.“Domine, are you finally awake?”Marcus turns his head to see Esca kneeling by his bed. He looks… he looks well. There is a ruddiness to his cheeks that was not there only yesterday, and his eyes seem less sunken. Perhaps he finally took Marcus to heart and ate as much as he needed. Good. That is good.Though it would be better if Marcus did not feel as though he has been drained like an old washtub. He pushes himself up on his elbows and shuts his eyes until the room stops spinning. Again, there is no pain, but he feels as though he drank too much wine last night, though he knows he did not. “Esca,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I think I am ill.”“Oh,” Esca says, and when Marcus opens his eyes, Esca has a strangely guilty expression on his face. “Shall I fetch the doctor?”Frankly, Marcus does not want another doctor or surgeon prodding at him unless he is on death’s door. All they will do is relieve him of some of his blood, and he feels as though he has none to spare at present. “Not yet, only… help me sit up?”It is humiliating, to be sure, to need assistance to rise even this much, but Esca is more than capable. His arm around Marcus’s upper back is strong, and Marcus barely needs to expend any effort of his own.“You do not feel as though you have a fever,” Esca says, sitting back on his heels. “It may be that all you need is more rest. I could bring food to you, if you wish it.”Marcus sighs and leans back against the wall, his eyes already wanting to close again. “Yes. That would be good. Thank you.”He is already dozing by the time Esca returns with a tray.&Marcus does manage to rise in the afternoon, walking around a bit to shake the stiffness out of his leg, and he joins his uncle for dinner. Esca really does appear vastly improved, almost more so than one meal would account for. Even his uncle comments on it, but Marcus merely says, “Yes, I believe he finally trusts that we do not intend to withhold food from him.”“How much can he eat?” his uncle asks. “He is so thin.”Again, there is that strange urge to defend Esca. Marcus shrugs. “As much as he likes.”As Marcus beds down for the night, he anticipates going to sleep almost as much as he dreads it. Though he has not spoken of it, he is certain that the previous night’s dream is what sapped his energy today. He has never heard of such a thing, but the gods are always doing mysterious things in dreams, are they not? Perhaps he was being punished for something, though he knows not what. Also, the dream certainly did not feel like a punishment. He does not wish for another day like today, but he has also never known pleasure like he knew in the dream, the way he felt at one with his body again.Before he blows out the lamp, he happens to glance at Esca settling in on his pallet. “Do not worry, domine,” Esca says. “You have rested today. Tomorrow you will feel renewed.”“I hope so,” Marcus sighs.That night, he does dream, but not in the way that leaves him spent and trembling. His dreams are no different than usual, and when he wakes, it seems that Esca was correct—he does feel renewed. There is a bit of lingering fatigue, but he shakes it off by mid-morning. He is back to his old self again, and despite the pain in his leg, that still feels like improvement.He wonders if he will ever have that dream again, and in his heart of hearts, he hopes he will.&&&Three nights later, he does. It is not as intense as last time, as though anything could ever be as intense as last time, but even so, it is like being drowned in raw bliss. The bands of pleasure tighten around him this time, but they release earlier, before all the breath can be driven from his body. The peak is not quite as high, but nor does he feel as though a small part of his being leaves with it.And there is something else as well, something that may be new, but he is not sure. Marcus does not know quite how to describe it or how he knows, but he does not feel quite alone in the dream. The bands around his body are not impersonal forces; they are being put there by someone. Or perhaps they are someone. Perhaps Marcus ought to be afraid of this someone, as the pressure on his chest is as terrible as it is wonderful, and he has no notion what the purpose of such a thing could be, and he still cannot move while it is happening. But Marcus does not fear whoever this may be. After all, they do not leave when it is over this time. They are there with him, after, gentling him down, keeping him from that hollow solitude that might fill his chest in the wake of that pressure, surrounding him until the void of dreamless sleep comes to reclaim him.When he wakes in his bed alone as usual, Marcus does not know how to account for it, but the feeling stays with him nonetheless. He is sluggish in the morning, but it is not like last time. He can rise without too much trouble, even though Esca is right there to help him, before he even asks.Marcus does not tell anyone about the dream, but he trembles to close his eyes and think of it. He did not know such powerful feelings were possible in dreams—not just the physical sensations of pleasure, but the dizzy satisfaction of being reunited with his body. Being paralyzed should be terrifying, especially after his injury, but instead it is strangely freeing. After all, his injured leg is no matter if he cannot move at all. He almost cannot believe he should be blessed with such a thing twice.And then four days later, it happens again.&&&The pattern establishes itself quickly—every three or four nights, Marcus has the dream. Once, he goes five full days without having it, and he begins to worry that he has been abandoned, but then it happens again and it is so powerful that he has to sleep until nearly noon. The exhaustion is never so bad as it was that first time, and in fact, Marcus feels as though he is getting used to it. With the regularity and the rest in between, his body can surely compensate. As weeks pass, his leg is healing, getting stronger, and the rest of his body along with it, and while Marcus cannot quite think that the dreams have anything to do with that, they certainly make the healing more pleasant.Esca, too, is benefiting from proper nourishment. Marcus does not see him eating more than usual, but clearly he is, because he quickly begins filling out. Within weeks, Marcus can no longer see the jut of his ribs when he changes tunics, and he is putting on muscle as well. His face remains angular and his body lean, but his skin is flushed with health now. He spends a whole afternoon digging postholes for a new fence, putting the two other servants Marcus’s uncle hired for the day, both of whom are closer to Marcus’s size, to shame. He is in a better mood, too, more patient with Marcus, and he even smiles occasionally.He grows more proficient at massaging Marcus’s leg until Marcus will no longer allow the slaves at the baths to touch him, as Esca has learned the spots that need the most work and how to relax them. Similarly, Esca is the only one Marcus will permit to be around him when he tries to get up into the saddle again. Even learning to haul himself up on his other leg is slow and painful and humiliating, but Esca is a quiet, even comforting presence, ensuring Marcus keeps his balance as he mounts and dismounts and keeping the horse calm. When Marcus is able to reliably mount a horse by himself, he does not think he is imagining the combined pride and relief in Esca’s gaze.The first time they are able to go out hunting together, Marcus feels like himself again for the first time while awake. He pays for it later, in the soreness of his leg, but it is worth every twinge of pain to be able to ride with purpose. He and Esca work well together, Esca circling around to bring the boar back into Marcus’s path whenever it strays. Esca whoops with glee when Marcus spears it, then hops down eagerly and removes his tunic to begin gutting and dressing the beast without bloodying the garment.He does it more quickly than anyone Marcus has ever seen, and Marcus remarks with surprise, “You were a hunter.”“The best in my tribe,” Esca says without arrogance. “Save for my father, who taught me.”Esca has not mentioned his family before, and perhaps Marcus should not ask, but he does want to know more about this man with whom he spends so much time. “Your father, is he…?”“Dead,” Esca says quietly, not turning his gaze away from his hands as they scrape clean the interior of the boar’s hide. “A fever took much of my family. Much of my village. Those of us who were not sick were sent away so the gods would not punish us, too, but we ran afoul of a Roman patrol and…” Esca takes a deep breath and lets it out. “We were angry. At the fever, at the gods, at the Romans who conquered our lands. Gods and fevers cannot be fought, so we fought those who were right in front of us. And we lost.”So a moment of violence has changed the whole trajectory of Esca’s life. Marcus knows this feeling. Even so, hearing this, he peers closely at the dagger in Esca’s hand, at how easily he uses it to strip flesh from skin. “And are you still angry?”“Sometimes.” Then Esca does look up, and seeing the expression on Marcus’s face, stabs the blade into the dirt. “But I cannot be angry with you. You saved me when I was starving. I owe you my life.”Any master would have fed you, Marcus thinks, but if no one had bought Esca and the trader had not thought him worth the food… Marcus stops his line of thought there. “I do not mean to compare your plight to mine, but we are both on paths we would not have chosen for ourselves. Perhaps… perhaps we can be companions on this path.”“Companions,” Esca repeats, as though tasting the word. “A strange thing to say to a slave, domine.”“I would have you call me Marcus, if you wish. I know it is not the common practice, but it is what I would want a friend to call me.”“Very well, Marcus,” Esca says, and the name does not sound strange on his lips, even in his soft accent.Esca finishes dressing the boar and strips his braccae off to wade into the river and wash the blood from his skin. Marcus stares for longer than he should, marveling at how much sturdier Esca seems now. He is undeniably beautiful, and though Marcus cannot regret pushing Esca from his bed and saving him the shame, he knows it would be nearly impossible to do again.At least he has the dreams.&&&The dreams are not, of course, the same as having a lover. There is a presence with Marcus, during and afterward, but it has no warmth. It does not—or cannot—speak to him, and he cannot speak to it. He tries, a few times, to ask its name or possibly to thank it, but his mouth will not form the words. He can only imagine it as some kind of divine being, though what it wants from him, he could not possibly guess. He only knows he would miss it if it went away.There seems to be little danger of that, though. In fact, this presence seems to be revealing itself more and more to Marcus each time, as though it cannot help itself. The bands that wrap around him start to feel almost like limbs, as though the presence is embracing him with all its strength. The pulses that run through him feel like a heartbeat, or even the motions of a lover’s body against his own, giving pleasure even as it takes. Even more than speaking to it, Marcus wishes he could touch. He wants to know what this benevolent presence feels like under his hands. He imagines the warm smoothness of skin, the rasp of hair, the cushioned dampness of lips.But since touch continues to be denied to him, he tries to listen and watch. There is little to hear above his own heartbeat, his own breathing, but he thinks the visuals get sharper with every iteration of the dream. He has been having them regularly for months now, and he thinks he is beginning to see… something. There is something familiar about this presence, though it may just be that Marcus can now tell it has a human form.Sometimes the bands wrap tight around his wrists, as though they are pinning his arms to the mattress beneath. So perhaps this apparition has hands. Yes, that feels right: strong hands that sometimes grip his wrists, sometimes stroke up and down his body like they are directing the very blood in his veins. And he already knows it has limbs to wrap around him. One night, a shape appears to dip down and press against his forehead, and Marcus wakes afterward realizing it has a head, a face. It must—Marcus simply cannot see any of its features yet.He waits three nights and settles in to bed with one thought on his mind: show me your face. He thinks it once as he inhales, again as he exhales. He holds a blank image in his mind, waiting for it to be filled.The dream begins, as it always does, with that same flood of bone-deep lust, priming him for what’s to come and leaving him unable to do anything but feel. Show me your face. As the bands start to wrap around him, he welcomes them joyfully. Please, divine presence, show your countenance to me. Yes, there are the hands, smoothing up his body from his feet all the way up to his neck, stroking gently over his cheeks. I think would worship you, if only you would show yourself to me. The pressure around him begins to mount, and Marcus would not fight it even if he could. Let me see you.The presence moves over him as if mounting his body, and Marcus stares up at it with unseeing eyes. Its face must remain wreathed in shadow, for he can see nothing of it, but the hands are moving over him again, the arms going to tighten around his chest. The pleasure builds deep in his loins, spreading outward, and he will not be able to concentrate much longer. Something, anything, please. He stares down at one of its arms, focusing as hard as he can despite the swelling, ravishing bliss, and he cannot make out any detail, but there is one thing that presses its way into his mind: blue.His mind fights to hold onto it as his breath leaves him and the pleasure is about to take him apart, and though he does not know what it means, he repeats it to himself so that he will remember: blue blue blue.And then, once again, he is obliterated.&The color blue floats through his dreams. Trails of it, clouds of it, bands of it.Bands of blue, wrapping around him, caressing his skin.Not the light blue of the empty sky. Bold blue on skin, like a stain. Blue pigment.The blue of a tattoo, a warrior’s mark worn around the arm.Esca.&Marcus wakes, though the fatigue fights him as soon as he opens his eyes. It is worse than it has been in weeks, maybe months, but he has the strength to battle it now, the anger. This presence, as benevolent as it has seemed, has been visiting him for months now, and yet Esca has said nothing. Esca has lain in his room every night and woken every morning as though he is not crawling inside Marcus’s head at night, wrapping his essence around Marcus’s body and squeezing the life from him. “Esca,” he groans, enervated arms batting at the blankets. “Esca, where—?”“I am here, Marcus.” And he is, kneeling by Marcus’s bed as though he has been there all night, peering down at Marcus with dark blue eyes, face alert and healthy.“Esca, what are you…” Between the anger and the exhaustion, Marcus can barely finish a sentence. “I know it is you. In my dreams.”He sees Esca’s eyes go wide, and his heart leaps when Esca does not deny it. He merely asks, “What did you see?”“Blue,” Marcus growls, pushing up on one elbow. “Your tattoos.”Esca’s jaw works, but for a moment, no sound comes out. “Are you well?”“Am I…?” Marcus asks incredulously. “No. What have you done to me?”And then, as if in a panic, Esca begins talking and cannot seem to stop. “Forgive me, domine, I have taken too much again. I should have stopped myself, I have become better at it, but gods, Marcus, the taste of you. Like nothing I can describe. Like an entire banquet. I thought I would become accustomed to it, but perhaps I never will. Perhaps your flavor is too tempting to me.”Marcus tries to follow Esca’s words, but it is simply too difficult, his mind too weary, and he only grunts in confusion.“I cannot fix it entirely,” Esca is saying, “but now that you know, I can lessen the effects.”Then Esca leans in, and Marcus shies back. Esca’s eyes tighten with guilt, but he does not pull away. “Allow me this, and I will answer any question you have of me.”Marcus does not know what Esca asks of him, but he assents anyway—he must have answers. He does not expect Esca to cup a hand to Marcus’s cheek, tilt his head just so, and press his lips to Marcus’s. Marcus’s mouth falls slack with surprise, and Esca’s tongue brushes teasingly at his lower lip as his mouth opens. It is such a small, soft touch, but Marcus cannot remember the last time he was kissed. Despite his fatigue, his mind is suddenly consumed with the sensation, with how simply and deeply gratifying it is to connect with another person this way, and without thinking, he presses into Esca’s embrace.As he does, Esca breathes out, and it is not air that flows into Marcus but something else entirely. Something that skips Marcus’s lungs altogether and goes straight into his veins, rushing throughout his body and filling it with warm, fizzing light. The light perks up his limbs and quickens his pulse, and then it travels into his brain and burns away the fatigue, leaving him mostly clear-headed and awake.And with Esca’s soft lips moving against his own.It is Esca who pulls back to gaze at Marcus, though Marcus speaks first. “Any question, you said.”Esca nods, swallowing nervously. “Though you should dress first.”&&&Esca insists on taking the conversation out of doors, away from the villa and anyone else who might overhear. Marcus could have put up more of a fight, but frankly, he wants to prove to himself that this diminutive slave who can invade his dreams and paralyze him is no true threat to him. At least not while he’s awake.They walk down to the creek. Marcus now has the energy for it, after Esca’s… whatever Esca did this morning that felt like a kiss but clearly wasn’t, or wasn’t only a kiss. As they walk, Esca doesn’t speak. The moment of panic from before has gone, and Esca is back to his proud self, but there is a furtiveness in his eyes that speaks of a guilt he is trying not to feel.When they come to a set of large, smooth rocks down by the water, Esca sits and motions for Marcus to do the same. Marcus scowls at the presumptuousness of Esca telling him what to do, but he sits anyway. This must begin somewhere. “What are you?”The look Esca gives him is defiant. “You once told me you would not punish me for taking food. Did you mean that?”Marcus peers at Esca, trying to divine his meaning at bringing up such an odd subject. “Of course, Esca. I would not starve—” Suddenly, the pieces slot together in his mind: how frail Esca seemed when he first came to the villa, how he began to strengthen after the Marcus’s dreams started. Immediately after they started. “What you have been doing in my dreams… You were feeding, weren’t you?”Slowly, Esca nods.“On my…” Mithras help him, Marcus doesn’t want to blush his way through this conversation, but it seems that is exactly what he will do. “On my semen?”“On your pleasure, Marcus.”“Oh.” Somehow, that had not quite occurred to him. He had been expecting something more sinister. “But I still felt…”“I don’t just consume it. I can create it as well, or at least strengthen it. I can do it in dreams when I need to, but I prefer, ah.” Esca pauses. “I prefer to be awake. And actively participating.”Marcus remembers finding Esca naked in his bed as if wanting to seduce him. “You tried. Your first night in the villa.”Esca nods again. “It is more nourishing for me when both my… partner and I are awake. I do not need to take as much. If I had been able to control myself and do it properly, you might never have known what I was taking, particularly if we were to… if I were to feed regularly.”“Why did you not simply explain this to me?” Marcus asks, knowing even as he asks the question what the answer is likely to be.“My own people barely accepted me,” Esca says, grimacing. “When this need came upon me as I reached manhood, I might have been exiled were I not the son of the chieftain. There are legends about such creatures, among my people and among yours, and in all of them we are monsters.”“What legends?”“Would you have welcomed me into your bed if had told you I was a lamia?”Startled, Marcus laughs. “But lamiai are women.”At this, Esca rolls his eyes. “Clearly not all of them.”Marcus shakes his head. “You cannot be. Lamiai are fiends, disfigured and ugly. They are tales to frighten children, demons who feast on the flesh of the young.”This seems to actively anger Esca. “Look at me, Marcus. I am not a demon. I am a man, the same as you, only with a different kind of hunger. A hunger I don’t need to kill to satiate, unlike that of the belly.”“Are you saying you could not have killed me?”“No, I could not,” Esca says harshly, as though it is not the answer he wishes to give. “If that were something I could do, there would be a number of cruel Roman masters lying dead in their beds. I do not understand how my appetite works, but I think I am not meant to harm the people I feed from.”“No?” Marcus asks with an incredulous laugh. “The morning after the first dream, I could barely move.”That seems to lessen Esca’s anger, but he speaks determinedly. “That was a mistake. You must know from everything that has happened since that I never intended to harm you.”“But you wanted to see how weak you could make your new master?”Esca growls with exasperation, then pauses to scrub his hands over his eyes. When he finishes, he leans forward, explaining as though he would force Marcus to understand if he could. “Imagine… Marcus, just imagine that you had been made to subsist on scraps for years. On watery gruel and rotting fruit. And then suddenly a freshly-made banquet is set before you. How well could you control yourself? How easily could you stop? I nearly made myself sick that first time, but I did not do it deliberately.”“Surely you cannot have been…” Marcus finds Esca’s words convincing in themselves, but he cannot yet entirely grasp what Esca is saying. “How were you able to feed before?”Esca glances away, fury pinching his features. “Masters often use their slaves for their own pleasure.”So Esca’s appearance in his bed was not about desire or even obedience, but rather sustenance. “And you are able to survive that way? Even if the… the meal is not one of your choosing?”“Watery gruel,” he repeats bitterly. “Rotting fruit. The taste is foul, but it was enough to keep me alive. Barely.”“Oh.”Esca sighs, shoulder slumping as though his anger has left him tired. “It wasn’t always thus. One of my masters lived near a brothel. As I have said, it is easier and more nourishing when I participate, but I can still gain some sustenance from nearby pleasure. Of course, the pleasure that comes from such places is often… soured with less enjoyable emotions. But again, it is preferable to pleasure gained at my expense.”While he has been speaking, Esca has been staring off into the middle distance, and his expression is pained as he seems to lose himself in thought. Despite his reservations, Marcus feels a deep stab of sympathy for the man, and he hesitates to speak again to avoid causing more pain. But Esca did offer to answer any question, and Marcus has more to ask if he is to understand. “And what you take from me in my dreams,” Marcus says slowly. “It has a taste that is… not sour?”Esca laughs humorlessly, almost to himself. “No, Marcus, it is not sour. It is… it is the flavor of warm sunlight, if you could taste the way it feels on your skin after a long, cold winter. It is the taste of a bird’s song in the quiet of the forest. It is the taste of the hunt, when your quarry is close and your heart is racing with anticipation. These are the only words I can think of to describe it.”Marcus does not even know how to begin to respond to that. None of those things are flavors, of course, but after all, one can only describe flavors in relation to how they are like or unlike other flavors. These words of Esca’s verge on poetry, and Marcus has never had anyone speak poetry to him.After a few moments of silence, Esca continues, “I could smell it on you, when you came to buy me. Like the smell of a busy kitchen before a meal—I could hardly stop my mouth from watering. And then I looked at you and I thought…”Marcus gives him a moment, but Esca does not continue. “You thought what?”Esca glances away, laughing again. “I thought you were so beautiful that even if you did not want me, there would surely be so many women and men making their way through your bedchamber that I could live well enough off the proximity alone.”Indignation wells up inside Marcus to be spoken of as though he is a failure. “Perhaps if life were different, it would have been so. But after what happened to my leg—”“Your leg,” Esca spits with unexpected vehemence. “Always your leg. It causes you pain and slows your stride, I know this. I do not discount the ways in which it makes things difficult. But the injury took away your vocation, not your life. And yet you are allowing it to do just that.”“You should watch your tongue,” Marcus says, but there is little conviction behind his words, especially in comparison to Esca’s.“You hide yourself in the villa, unwilling to see anyone for fear they may not think you perfect.” Esca throws up his hands in frustration. “That is madness. You would still be the most handsome man I have ever seen even if you had lost your leg entirely. You could find companionship so easily, if only you would let yourself.”“If only I would let you feed, you mean.”“Do you think I see you as merely food?” Esca snaps. “If I did, I would take from you as often as I was hungry instead of as little as I can manage. If I did, I would be trying to seduce you every moment of the day so I could gorge myself on you while awake, when it is most satisfying. But you do not want me, at least not outside of your dreams, so I do not.”“You would have me dishonor you?” Marcus asks, confused. “Even as your masters before me did?”“It is not dishonor if I want it.” Esca groans, throwing his head back as if praying to the gods for patience. “Marcus, how do you think I survived in my tribe before I was captured?” Before Marcus can answer, Esca continues. “I had a lover, a partner. He gave me what I needed willingly, joyfully, and the feast was all the sweeter for it.”“He let you sap his strength constantly?”Esca shakes his head. “I could take less, since I was feeding more often, and what I took was more nourishing. And he felt… I do not know for certain, but I think there is a part of this that goes both ways. When a partner is willing, I think there is something that is exchanged.”Immediately, Marcus thinks of the feeling of wholeness he has in the dream, of Esca’s kiss that breathed life back into him this morning, but he does not know how to put these things into words. “And he… your partner… he did not mind this?”Esca smiles, and it is a lovely but melancholy smile. “He enjoyed it very much. We were deeply bonded by the experience, such as I have never felt with anyone else. I think that is the way the gods intended it to be, this hunger. No worse than bodily desires of other kinds, or how good it feels to satisfy them. Perhaps at one time, it would have felt like a gift.”A gift. The words echo in Marcus’s mind, and he listens to them. He’s not certain he wants to understand what Esca means by it, but a part of him does understand. He thinks of the familiar presence he felt in the dream, how it stayed with him even after he had spent, how it filled a part of him that has become empty.They sit in silence for a few long moments, and then Esca says, “I have explained it as best I am able. If you have more questions, I will attempt to answer them.”Marcus sighs—he has so many more questions, swirling around in his head like a whirlpool. But perhaps only one matters. “What do you intend to do now?”Esca raises his eyes to Marcus once more, though his expression is guarded. “I think that depends upon you. I fed last night, and I will not need to do so again for several days.”“Three or four,” Marcus responds. “Five is too many.”“That is… not entirely true,” Esca says. “I can go longer. But I begin to suffer, as you saw when you bought me.”Marcus remembers how hollow Esca looked at the beginning, how hard Marcus had tried to get him to eat when he thought what Esca needed was actual food. And something occurs to him. “You waited.”“Hmm?”If you waste away, you cannot serve me very well, can you? Marcus had said the night before the first dream. You have my permission to take what you need. “You waited to feed from me until I gave you consent.”Esca nods. “You did not truly know what you were consenting to, but once I knew I would not be able to feed vicariously, it seemed… wrong to take without asking.”“Why? I was just another master to you.”“Yes, but you were kind, and it has been a long time since anyone has shown me much kindness.” Esca shrugs. “I suppose it was foolish of me to continue to starve myself, but I did not want to repay that kindness with theft, at least not as long as I could stand it.”Marcus thinks about asking, And if I withdrew my consent now, what would you do? How would you live? But he does not want to make Esca think that is what he intends to do. For as invasive as it was, finding out that Esca can delve into his dreams and take the very force of his life, at least to a point, Marcus has gained something from the experience as well. “Can you feed from a kiss?”Esca frowns, like he was not expecting the question. “A small amount, I think, like I gave to you this morning. Like nibbling a crust of bread. It may depend on how much pleasure y— the other person derives from a kiss.”Marcus thinks back to a mere hour or two ago, when even as he was confused and angry, the touch of Esca’s lips to his excited him, even before Esca breathed into him. He still does not entirely know how he feels about this feeding business, but he does know how he feels about Esca, and how he feels about the dreams. He cannot wish for them to stop, even knowing what he does now. And if he can have even a fraction of that feeling while he is awake, with Esca touching him, it is well worth the risk. “I enjoy kissing very much. And I would rather you not starve.”Esca scoots closer, but he looks wary yet. “Do you want me to—”“I want you to kiss me,” Marcus says softly, heartbeat starting to kick up. “You have fed recently, so you will probably not drain me to a husk as we sit here.”Esca levels him with an unamused scowl.“I only want to see how it is different,” Marcus says, “if I am… open to you. Willing.”Though Esca seems as though he does not quite believe what Marcus is saying, he leans in anyway, tilting his face up until their lips are nearly brushing.And then they are brushing, barely even a kiss yet, just contact. Until Marcus moves, slanting his mouth across Esca’s and bringing his hand up to set against Esca’s neck. He drags his thumb lightly across the soft skin at the base of Esca’s throat, and Esca gives the softest shiver. There is no taste to it other than the wet heat of Esca’s mouth, not that Marcus can discern, but there is… something. Some echoing shiver in the contact of their mouths, their skin. Marcus could almost think that he imagines it, but then Esca leans in, gripping Marcus’s bicep, and there it is again.While he has never kissed Esca before today, there is something about it that feels strangely familiar. Whatever energy is passing between them, a part of Marcus not only recognizes it but desires it. This is not like the dreams—there is no inescapable rush of physical desire, only a slow-burning flame that feels as though it has the potential to grow.Esca grows bolder now, parting Marcus’s lips with his tongue and pressing in. Marcus opens to him, not knowing whether to expect a feeling of being… consumed, he supposes. But there is only the lightest tickle, as though someone is dragging the tip of a feather over his skin, and Marcus shivers, and Esca somehow breathes that shiver in, pulls it into himself, and Marcus feels nothing but excitement.It feels like they are creating something between them, though Marcus could not say how or what, and that thing is somehow more sustaining to Esca than any bread or meat. Perhaps at one time, it would have felt like a gift, Esca had said. That does not sound as farfetched as it did a few minutes ago.When Marcus pulls back, Esca’s eyes seem brighter, and Marcus feels heartened at the sight. “What is your verdict?”“Oh,” Esca says, a little dazed. “I… I do not think it is a substitute for… a full meal, shall we say. But as a brief repast, it is”—his tongue sneaks out to wet his lower lip—“invigorating.”“But you still need more.”Esca’s face falls slightly, as though he is expecting Marcus to reject him. “Not now.”“But in a few days.”“Yes.”Marcus nods. “Then when you do need it, I think we should do it properly.”&&&Two nights pass with no dreams.After they had returned to the villa, they did not discuss it again. The two subsequent days have been slightly awkward, with Esca being uncharacteristically deferential to Marcus and Marcus not knowing quite how to react to it. He thinks it must be temporary, done out of the guilt Esca won’t admit to—or at least he hopes it is temporary. He does not need or want this deference.Esca has told him that he does need regular food, though not much of it, and now Marcus cannot eat a meal without thinking of Esca in the kitchen with the other servants, nibbling politely at meat or bread when that is not the nourishment he truly craves. So on the night of the third day, after dinner has been eaten and the kitchen has been cleaned, Marcus retires early and bids Esca come with him.“Are you still hungry?” Marcus asks as they enter his bedchamber.“No, I had plenty of—” Esca cuts himself off, as if realizing that is not quite the question that Marcus asked. “I can go another day without feeding, probably two.”“But are you hungry?” Marcus asks again, sitting down on the edge of the bed and gazing up at Esca, standing near the doorway.Esca swallows. “Yes.”“If what you needed were as available to you as bread, how often would you eat? How long does it take you hunger to grow such that feeding is satisfying?” Esca does not answer, and Marcus beckons him forward. “Be honest with me.”Esca takes one step toward him, then two. “Every day.”“Every day?”Esca flinches. “But I can withstand the hunger for three or four days without overindulging, as I have been—”Marcus realizes that his astonishment is being misinterpreted, and he shakes his head. “I did not ask how much deprivation you could withstand. I only mean that if you need it every day and have only been taking it one-fourth as often as you need it, you have been doing yourself a disservice.” Marcus thought his intentions had been obvious, but he supposes he must state them outright. “I would feed you tonight.”“Tonight? But—”“I would rather try on a night when you are hungry but not famished.” Marcus smiles, trying to calm Esca’s nerves. “To prevent what has happened before.”Esca frowns and looks away, and Marcus makes a sound of exasperation. “I do not understand this reluctance, Esca. You are hungry. I have offered to feed you. You have said that you can take what you need without hurting me.”When Esca turns back to him, his eyes are hard. “I am still your slave, domine. It is one thing to have pleasurable dreams, or to share a kiss. It is another entirely to invite a monster into your bed while you are awake.”So it is not guilt—or at least not entirely guilt—but rather fear. Fear of Marcus. “And you worry, what, that if I am displeased with the experience, I will beat you?”“Or sell me.”“To someone who will taste like watery gruel.” Is his flavor the only thing Esca truly wants of him? “Esca, we do not have to do this if you do not desire it. In fact, if you don’t, I’d rather we did not. You can continue to feed on my dreams.”The hardness falls from Esca’s eyes. “Then you do not truly want me. You only wish to keep me healthy.”Marcus nearly laughs out of frustration—it is as though they are discussing the wrong kind of food again. “Esca, I think we are talking past one another. I would not have you in my bed if you only feel like you must be there out of hunger or duty. I would have you there because you want to be.” Esca still appears uncertain, and Marcus supposes he must give something of himself here as well. “I did not refuse you that first night from lack of desire. I did not know what it meant to you. It seemed to me I would be dishonoring you by giving into my own appetites.”Esca is quiet for a moment to take this all in, and then he takes another step forward and perches on the bed next to Marcus. “It seems to me Romans have some strange ideas about what constitutes dishonor between lovers. Anything that we both agree to could never cause me shame.”Marcus smiles, though he fears it is not a confident one. “I have not… been with anyone since my injury. And I had not been with anyone whom I truly cared about for some time before that. I will require you to tell me what you need.”Esca nods solemnly, turning to face Marcus. “It is your pleasure that feeds me. That is what I require.”“What about your pleasure, Esca?” Marcus asks, taking Esca’s hand and running a thumb over his knuckles. “Is it only in the feeding, or is it in the act, as well?”When Marcus looks up, Esca’s gaze is wary but hopeful. “Both, when it is done properly.”“Then you must tell me how to do it properly,” Marcus says, the corner of his mouth curling up as though to lighten the mood. “Is it like any meal? Should we first set the table?”Esca’s mouth starts to quirk up as well. “Does Apicius not say that the first taste is always with the eyes?”“I do not know Apicius. Does he?”“Sassticca is always saying so, particularly when I do not chop the vegetables evenly. It is why she sometimes carves the radishes into little roses.”Marcus glances down at himself. “I confess, I am not sure how to continue the metaphor.”Now Esca laughs, and it is a soft but inspiring sound. “I do not need decoration to whet my appetite. I only need to see what is set before me.” Marcus blinks. “Your tunic, Marcus. Take it off.”Marcus does, pulling it over his head and tossing it away, and when he looks at Esca again, the man has a clear expression of desire on his face. Except it is not quite hunger—it is desire of a softer kind. “You cannot know how often I’ve wanted to touch you,” Esca says, putting his hands on Marcus’s chest and sweeping thumbs across his collarbones.“Does it make the feeding easier?”Esca chuckles again and shakes his head. “Because it is a true shame that no one does. You ought to be touched, Marcus.”He says it with a conviction that Marcus does not quite understand. “You massage my leg. You help me walk when I need it.”“I do,” Esca says, eyes on his hands as they smooth down Marcus’s chest. “That is not the kind of touch I am talking about.”“Then permit me to return the favor,” Marcus says, presuming enough to reach out and clutch the hem of Esca’s tunic.Esca nods, and Marcus pulls the garment up. The process of doing this for another person is unfamiliar to Marcus; it requires some wriggling on Esca’s part, and by the time the tunic is off, Esca’s hair is disheveled and he is laughing, and Marcus thinks he has never seen Esca quite so beautiful.Marcus touches Esca’s tattoo first, runs his fingers around those bands of blue in a way he has desired to do since Esca first came to the villa. “This was how I knew you, in the dream,” Marcus says, tracing the lines around the swell of Esca’s bicep. “I could not see any of your features, or even count your limbs, but I could see these. They could not belong to anyone else.”At the mention of the dreams, Esca’s expression betrays uncertainty. “I never knew how I appear to people in dreams. I do not think anyone else has identified me. If they had, probably I would have been unmasked and killed.”Marcus shudders to think it. “You are no monster,” he says vehemently. “I am not sure I understand what you are, but I do not fear you.”The uncertainty fades away, and Esca asks, “Will you let me touch the rest of you as well?”“Of course.”Marcus stands to remove his braccae, then allows Esca to direct him down to lay on his side. Esca stretches out beside him on the narrow bed, kissing him slowly and deeply. He runs his hands down Marcus’s side, over his ribs and down to his hip before reversing course. He plucks at Marcus’s nipples lightly, then drags his fingers down the center of Marcus’s chest, over his belly, until they are carding through the thatch of hair at his groin.When he curls his fingers around Marcus’s cock, Marcus groans, and he feels Esca gasp against his lips. Esca gives a few firm strokes until Marcus is fully hard, then he loosens his hand, fingers toying with the sensitive tip until Marcus’ breath is stuttering.“When something feels good to you,” Esca murmurs, nibbling along the ridge of Marcus’s jaw, “I get the most wonderful little burst of flavor from you.”“You must be— ah.” The tip of one of Esca’s fingers pushes beneath the foreskin, sliding until it finds the sensitive spot on the underside, and Marcus briefly loses his words. “You must be enjoying such a thing now.”“Yes, I am.” A firm rub of his finger provides sensation so intense that it is almost pain, but then the digit is gone and Esca is gripping him again full in his hand, stroking slow and tight. “Tell me, Marcus: I know that Roman men find it deeply shameful to use their mouths on their lovers. But they do not seem to have such compunctions about requiring it of their slaves.”He can hardly think with Esca’s hand moving steadily and confidently on him. “I w-will never require it of you.”“Do you like how it feels, though?” Esca asks, mouth moving down to Marcus’s neck, and Marcus takes a full second to grasp his meaning. “Will it give you pleasure enough to slake my hunger?”Yes, Marcus wants to say, but he flushes to think it. “I would not use you that way.”“Perhaps I would use you that way,” Esca says, and Marcus feels the curve of Esca’s smile against his throat. “Perhaps I would take what I need the quickest by sucking it from you.”Marcus cannot hold in a whimper, and that seems to tell Esca what he needs to know. He trails quick kisses down Marcus’s chest, tipping Marcus onto his back before he can even think to protest. Marcus should stop him, but he finds he entirely lacks the will to do so, especially as Esca takes him firmly at the base and bends over him to slide his mouth down around Marcus’s cock.The pleasure of it shocks Marcus’s body so much that he cannot make a sound. He is able to feel that same shiver from before drawn out of him again, but from somewhere deeper inside, coaxed up and out by the hot suction of Esca’s mouth, the lazy drag of his tongue.Esca pulls off him with a soft groan. “Oh, Marcus. That alone could feed me for a full day.”Marcus feels a sudden flutter of anxious greed in his chest. “Is… Do you want to stop?”Esca grins slyly. “I said it could. I did not say I would be satisfied with it.” He pokes his tongue out to flicker over the head of Marcus’s cock, digging lightly into the slit until Marcus gasps. “I like this,” Esca says, “because I can have the taste of your skin and the taste of your pleasure at the same time. It is a true indulgence.”And he lowers his mouth back down and indulges himself some more.This is an act Marcus has never wanted to enjoy, the few times he’d given in to his desires and requested it of someone he was paying. But he does enjoy it, and it is harder to feel shame when Esca seems to relish it, too. He works Marcus with his mouth and his hand at the same time, moaning softly around Marcus’s cock and sending thick crests of pleasure through his body. The air seems to shiver constantly with the feelings Esca is creating in Marcus, and surely this is what Esca spoke of when he said it is more satisfying when Marcus is awake.And since Marcus is awake, he desires this to be different from his dreams when he cannot touch or even truly see Esca. “Esca,” he groans, palming a hand through the man’s hair. “Esca, please, if—if it does not pain you to stop, or to slow down—”At the word stop, Esca draws back, and oh gods, his lips are nearly red now, slightly puffy from their labors. “It does not pain me,” he says, his hands squeezing gently at Marcus’s cock. “A fine meal such as you should be savored.”Marcus flushes to be described so. “I’m afraid you will not have much longer to savor it if you continue with that. And… and I would like to touch you, as well.”Esca slides up on the bed, and though he lets go of Marcus’s cock, it is worth that small loss to pull Esca into another kiss. Perhaps Marcus should think Esca’s mouth dirty, given where it has just been, but he tastes the same as he did before, and now his lips are slick and swollen. As they kiss, Marcus reaches between their bodies, getting a hand around Esca’s cock. He gasps against Marcus’s mouth, a sweet, surprised sound.Years have passed since Marcus has done this to someone else, but his hand and his muscles remember the way of it. Esca seems to favor a shorter, tighter stroke, his hands gripping convulsively at Marcus’s biceps. Marcus smiles at the feeling—this beautiful creature who creates and feasts upon rapturous pleasure is here, in his bed, and Marcus is making him pant and writhe.“Surely you can taste how much I’m enjoying this,” Marcus teases, slowing his hand to circle his thumb around the crown of Esca’s cock. The head of him is well slick, and Marcus spreads this moisture around generously.“I—I can, oh,” Esca gasps. “It is a slightly different flavor. Earthier. Like soft sand beneath your feet. Like heavy rain. I think…”Marcus begins to stroke Esca again, sliding slick foreskin through the circle of his fingers. “Hmm?”One of Esca’s hands slides down Marcus’s arm until it can grip hard at his wrist, stilling his hand. “I think I would like to have both at once.”And then Esca is shoving at Marcus’s hip, rolling him onto his back again so Esca can straddle him. For the briefest moment, Marcus feels a shock of fear, expecting his body to freeze in place as Esca climbs atop him. But no such thing happens—the surge of desire is the same, this time a result of Esca’s warm, lithe body pressed against his, but Marcus’s hands remain free to grip Esca by the hips and pull him firmly into place, their cocks slotting alongside each other. His legs remain free to draw up, giving himself the leverage to grind up against Esca’s weight.His thigh will not permit much vigorous movement, but Esca is taking care of most of that himself, rocking his hips in tight, precise thrusts that rub their cocks deliciously against one another. Marcus can help most with his hands, gripping the flexing muscles of Esca’s buttocks and adding force. Esca is propped up on his arms, attempting to gaze down at Marcus, but his eyes keep fluttering closed, as though he is so overcome by some combination of flavor and sensation and satiety that he cannot keep them open.Perhaps Marcus is only imagining it, but he thinks he can feel whatever intangible thing is rippling between them. It does not feel like a siphoning, like Esca is stealing something from him, not like it had at the end of that first dream. Instead, it feels as though something is building around them, something strong and fortifying, an offering created by both of them for Esca to consume. There are no bands of pleasure restraining either of them—instead it is flowing freely around and between them, and it threatens to carry Marcus away entirely.He would try to hold on, would feed Esca until he is fit to burst, but Marcus simply cannot endure any longer. It is too good, too sweet, even though he cannot taste it himself, and he erupts between them, the shivering on his skin sinking down deep until it is vibrating in the very marrow of his bones. Esca feels this release begin to happen and bends down, kissing the moan out of Marcus’s mouth as though that would feed him, too. Marcus squeezes Esca’s firm, flexing ass tight enough to bruise, marveling at how much richer this pleasure is with the ability to touch, to move, to experience this while awake and fully willing. He peaks high and long, giving himself over to the feeling as fully as he is able.When Marcus can unlock his fingers from their grip, he realizes Esca is still hard, panting with exertion but using both his hands to brace himself. So Marcus reaches down between them and takes Esca in hand again, only needing a few strokes before Esca is quietly shuddering and spilling over his fist, his spend joining Marcus’s on their skin. Marcus takes note of every sensation—touch, sound, smell, sight—in case his delight in making Esca come should leave a sweet taste in his mouth.Esca collapses, warm and sated and limp, atop Marcus, and the wave of exhaustion that sweeps over Marcus is the only reminder that what they have done is more than simply enjoyable—for Esca, it is life-sustaining. But the feeling is not so different from the usual pleasurable lassitude that steals over Marcus after an intimate encounter with a lover; he simply has not felt it in a long time.“Ohhh,” Esca sighs, the vibration of the sound traveling through Marcus’s chest like an aftershock. “I have not fed so well in ages.”“I would have you grow fat and hearty on me,” Marcus murmurs, summoning all his energy to rub his nose against the top of Esca’s head.“Mmm, I intend to become a glutton.”“Wake me when you wish to break your fast.” It is the last thing Marcus says as he slips into a deep, dreamless sleep, warm and whole and held.