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The first harvest from their little farm has been a good one, relatively speaking. Marcus and Esca have had more than enough for themselves, and they have been able to sell the surplus at the forum or to their neighbors. In fact, they were able to briefly hire a few laborers to help harvest the last crops of the year. They finished only days before the first frost, and they have stored what they can for the winter ahead.The work has been backbreaking, and though it has slowed, there is still more that needs to be done to prepare for their first winter in the Downs. But they finally have a few moments to breathe, a few hours each evening between the end of their labors and collapsing onto their pallets. There has been good humor again, and even laughter. There has been decent wine and good food and warm fires and… intimacy.Looking over his shoulder, Marcus glances across the one-room roundhouse to where their pallets lay pushed together, and he swallows hard. Yes, there has been intimacy of a new and welcome kind.It happened only last night, every bit as sudden as it was, in hindsight, entirely expected. They were already as close as brothers-in-arms when they took possession of this land to build their new home, and they have only grown closer since. Why it happened last night and not, say, when they first arrived or during the peak of the summer or weeks from now when they are shut in by the weather, Marcus cannot say, but there was a certain feeling of inevitability to it.He has been aware of his own desire for Esca for some time now. He has been less sure of Esca’s desire for him, but he was not entirely surprised by it, either. He was surprised by how easy last night felt—even now, he is not sure which of them reached for the other first. Marcus thinks it could not have been him. He has long been careful not to make Esca feel he cannot refuse Marcus, whether it be for chores or errands or, eventually, this. Technically, he is Esca’s patron, the source of his livelihood, even though they live less like patron and client and more like… Well, more like family, of a sort. He would not have Esca think his support is contingent upon intimate favors.But Marcus is not sure Esca would have reached for him, either. They get along well enough, but there is no escaping their past. Nor their present, with Esca as a Briton and former slave living within Roman lands. Marcus cannot change that any more than he could change the role his empire played in the death of Esca’s people, any more than he could erase the memory of Esca commanding Marcus to kneel at his feet in front of the Seal Prince. Those things are not equivalent, of course, but they are reminders that their relationship is a complicated one.But whichever of them reached out first, what followed was not complicated in the slightest. They were not drunk—Marcus is certain they were not drunk—but he can only seem to recall the beginning in small pieces, sharp details. Marcus remembers laughter, and closeness, and then warm skin under his hands and smiling lips moving against his. He remembers the faint taste of wine in Esca’s mouth, the insistent press of his tongue, the soft groan when Marcus pressed back.What followed that was urgent and hungry, but not without tenderness: fingers digging beneath clothing, rough calluses against soft skin. Their pallets, already close in the small house, shoved hastily together so that neither of them would end up on the cold, dirty floor. The chill in the air banished by the nearby fire and the gathering of sweat wherever skin met skin. The sweet friction building between them, urged on by grasping hands and gasping mouths.Marcus remembers spilling so quickly and so forcefully against the cut of Esca’s hip that his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. But Esca did not seem to mind, and Marcus kept kissing him so that he would not see that flush. Besides, finishing first allowed Marcus the clarity of mind to reach between them and take Esca’s cock in his hand. In that moment, Marcus was reluctantly proud to realize the bit of skill he gained in his youth had not deserted him. And Esca writhed so deliciously under his touch, until Marcus was certain he was holding back only so he could enjoy himself a bit longer. So Marcus redoubled his efforts, speeding up his stroke and fitting his mouth against Esca’s neck, to the spot that seemed to make Esca shiver when Marcus gently applied his teeth, until Esca surrendered to his climax with a soft sound that Marcus can hear echoing in his ears even now.How Esca had clung to him afterward, barely allowing Marcus to grab the nearest bit of shed clothing to clean them both. There had been no words—they had not felt necessary—as Marcus pulled the furs over both of them. In truth, the nights are too cold to sleep naked this late in the year, but that had not seemed to matter with their bodies so tightly intertwined. Esca had rested his head on Marcus’s chest, and Marcus had tightened his arm around Esca’s back, his thumb stroking the soft skin over Esca’s ribs, and together they had slept.And they have barely spoken a word to each other since.Esca was gone when Marcus awoke this morning. That in itself is not strange, as Esca does not always sleep soundly, and he will often be the first awake to check on the animals. But the fire had not been stoked, and Marcus woke naked and shivering and alone under the furs, his bad leg stiff and the memories of the night before seeming like little more than a dream in the light of day.But it cannot have been a mere dream—their pallets were still pushed together, and Marcus’s tunic from yesterday, which he used to clean them, bears evidence of their shared pleasure. If he closes his eyes, Marcus swears he can still feel Esca’s touch, the pleasant scrape of bowstring calluses against the skin of his bare backside, fingers digging in to pull him closer. He cannot crane his neck around far enough to see, but if he could, he suspects there would be small purple bruises, five on each side, from how tightly Esca clutched at him.Marcus thought perhaps Esca had intended to return quickly, but Esca did not come back to the house to eat a morning meal. Marcus saw him at work as he went out to complete his own chores, but Esca did not speak to him except to say that a storm was on its way. “Tomorrow,” Esca had said, “or perhaps the early morning of the day after. It is much too early for snow, but there will be wind—we must be ready.”How Esca can know things with such specificity, Marcus does not know, but the increasing ache in his leg throughout the day became proof enough that foul weather is on the way. For much of the day, that has helped explain Esca’s absence, his singular focus on patching the roof of the stables and shoveling clean straw into the stalls for the animals. Marcus helped as much as he could, checking on the storage sheds and the fences before his leg complained too loudly to ignore.Now Marcus sits by the cookfire, on the special stool Esca made for him to rest his leg, preparing their evening meal. The sun is already down and even though the moon is waxing, the clouds obscure most of its light—Esca must return soon.&&&Eventually, he does. Esca is filthy from a long day of hard work, straw in his hair and dirt smeared across his face, and he only wipes down quickly with a wet rag before taking his food. He barely looks at Marcus as he eats, muttering a litany of chores that have been completed and chores yet to finish. Marcus volunteers to work on their house tomorrow, sealing it against the wind, and hopes that will be enough. He is loath to admit to his infirmity, but several seasons of endless farm labor have made him a pragmatist. He is not sure how much abuse his leg will bear tomorrow, and if it locks up with cramps, Esca will be too busy to help him.After they eat, Marcus cleans away the scraps and takes them out to the pigs. When he returns, Esca is already in his pallet—his pallet that is once again several feet away from Marcus’s. A soft oh of disappointment leaves his lips at the sight, but Esca is facing away from the door.He hears Marcus, though, and rolls over to face him. “What is it?” he grumbles sleepily.“N-nothing,” Marcus says quickly, hiding his distress on instinct. They have far more important concerns than the relative location of their beds. “One of the troughs could do with mending. I did not intend to disturb you—I did not think you would already be abed.”“I am exhausted,” Esca groans, closing the eyes he had barely opened. “And there is even more to do tomorrow.”“Of course,” Marcus says, a stab of guilt piercing his chest. If he could only do more, Esca would not be so exhausted. The sentiment is useless and unhelpful, of course, as Esca would surely say if Marcus were to voice it, but Marcus thinks he will never feel entirely comfortable watching someone else work in his stead.&&&The next morning, Esca is gone once again when Marcus wakes, and this time Marcus is angry.Perhaps the anger is no more warranted than the guilt, but it is there nonetheless. He tries to put it out of his mind as he adds a layer of pitch to the exterior of their roundhouse and brings inside more firewood and whatever cannot be stored elsewhere. He thinks about making an argument to bring in a few of the goats, but he has a feeling Esca would respond by extolling the wisdom of bringing his favorite horse into the house, as well. The stables will be good enough for the animals, Marcus reminds himself. Esca will ensure that they are.His anger wanes throughout the day, and he doesn’t even see Esca in passing, but as the clouds begin to gather and Marcus goes inside, it begins to grow again. He hears the wind pick up and scowls, wondering if he will have to go out and physically drag Esca inside. Probably Esca is doing as much as he can and not, as it seems, actively evading Marcus, but as the minutes drag on, Marcus begins to wonder whether Esca will ride out the storm in the stables simply to avoid speaking to him.But just as Marcus is considering donning his boots to go out and find Esca, the door bangs open and Esca stumbles inside. Droplets of freezing rain have left a fine sheen on his clothing, and he quickly brushes himself off and hangs his cloak by the door before hurrying over to the fire to warm up.He still has not met Marcus’s eye, and that is irksome, but at least Esca is here. And they may have long hours or even days to go holed up together, so Marcus should not set a peevish tone for the evening if he can help it. His anger will only drive Esca farther away. Perhaps the stew that he has only recently finished preparing will serve as a peace offering. “The food is ready,” he says evenly. “Shall I bring it to you?”Marcus made the hearty stew with some of the last of the summer vegetables, and it is one of Esca’s favorite meals. But Esca only shrugs, staring into the fire as though it holds some unknown secrets.Biting his tongue against the unkind words he wants to say, Marcus ladles stew into two bowls and brings them over. Esca does not particularly like to dine in the Roman way, while reclining, but when it is cold, he does not complain about eating right by the fire. Marcus joins him, sitting down slowly, careful not to get too close. Once again, Esca is coated in grime, and his smell is not pleasant, but Marcus has endured much worse.They eat in silence. In itself, this is not unusual, and though Esca seems to have much on his mind, he does not give voice to any of it. Marcus has never been one to fill silence with idle chatter, so he simply eats and listens to the wind howling outside and attempts to pretend as though nothing is wrong.But by the time he has finished eating, he can stand the silence no longer, and the weather is as good a topic as any. He stacks their bowls and takes them to the kitchen area, waiting until he returns to venture, “The cold is biting already. I cannot wait until we have finally built our villa. I do not know if we can do it next summer, but surely the year after that—”“‘Built our villa’?” Esca cuts in, and by now the sound of his voice is so unexpected that Marcus nearly jumps. “What reason would we possibly have for doing that?”Well, at least Esca is looking at him now, even if it’s with obvious scorn. Marcus gestures around. “Do you not feel the icy winds leaking in from between the timbers?”Esca scoffs, getting to his feet. “We could make some improvements, yes, but this is more than sufficient for the two of us.”“The winter hasn’t even truly begun and I am already freezing.”“You have not been in Britannia long. Your blood will thicken.”Marcus tamps down his irritation at Esca’s dismissiveness; he knows Marcus is not one to complain without sufficient reason. “I have already been here two years. I know the chill the winter brings, how it digs into your bones and makes every movement ache.” Marcus does not want Esca’s pity, so he does not mention his leg, but Esca’s eyes dart down to it nonetheless.But mercifully or not, Esca shows no pity. “These houses have been sufficient for generations of Britons. And lest you forget, we are not even in the north.” Esca folds his arms over his chest, as if daring Marcus to admit weakness.“I am not thinking only of myself,” Marcus says, trying a different tack. “I would provide you with comfort, Esca. I cannot do much, I have no great wealth, but I can give you four sturdy walls to keep out the cold.”Esca’s expression sours, and he nearly snarls, “Four Roman walls.”Marcus’s irritation begins to bubble over into anger. “What matter is it that they are Roman if they keep us warm?”“I thought that you had changed since our time beyond the wall, but you have not.” Esca’s voice rises as he steps toward Marcus. “You still think you know everything.”“And you still think nothing good can come from Rome.” Marcus does not mean to match Esca’s volume, but he finds he cannot help it. “What do you want of me, Esca? Yes, I am thin-blooded. Yes, my leg is weak. Yes, I prefer some of the luxuries of Rome. But you speak like I am the same man I was we met. You act like you would rather sleep in the stables, even now, than spend one more night in my b—” He cuts himself off, but it is too late. He has already said more than he intended. “In your own bed,” he finishes weakly.Esca does not immediately speak. His mouth twists, his expression unreadable. “I would not rather sleep in the stables,” he admits. His voice is not apologetic, but at least it is no longer overtly hostile.Marcus takes a deep breath, but his exhale is tremulous. Now that the bed has been mentioned, perhaps he would do better to face this head-on—this argument is hardly about walls. “If… if you do not wish for us to share a bed again, I will respect that.” He steels himself the best he can. “But I will not apologize for returning your affections when you offered them.”“Was it not you who offered them?” The words would seem like a challenge, but Esca’s tone sounds genuinely inquisitive, not accusatory.Suddenly, when Marcus goes to swallow, he finds a lump in his throat. “In truth, I do not know. I have been turning it over and over in my mind, but I cannot divine which of us began it.”Esca’s face reveals that he does not know, either, but he does not reply for a long moment. When he finally does, he says, “So you did not mean for that to happen.”Marcus blinks, unsure quite how to answer that. “I did not anticipate it. Not at that moment. Nor did I wish for you to feel… swayed by my desires and not your own. But that is not to say I did not enjoy it immensely, or that I do not want it to happen again.”Marcus’s phrasing was poor, and he knows it as soon as the tangle of words leaves his lips, but a complicated play of emotions crosses Esca’s face: confusion, understanding, something like excitement. And then a blankness like stone falls over Esca’s expression. “It does not matter. Nothing can come of it.”“Nothing can come of what?”Esca rolls his eyes and gestures around him. “This. You and I… sharing a bed.”“What do you mean?”“Do not act stupid, Marcus, it does not become you. Do you need me to say the word for you?” He raises his chin defiantly. “Let us suppose we fuck again. Suppose we fuck whenever we are not too tired or filthy or grumpy to do so, hmm? It will go like this: you will grow bored of my hand and demand my mouth. Then you will grow bored of my mouth and demand my arse. That is all well, as you are a Roman citizen, safe from the prospect of violation, and I am not. But eventually, you will grow bored with all of those things and find a wife, and there will be no place in your fine Roman villa for me.”Esca’s rage has grown as he’s spoken, but so has Marcus’s. “That is a great deal of supposing you have done just now. Since we returned from the north, what have I demanded of you that would make you think so poorly of me?”“Where can it possibly lead?” Esca throws his hands up. “What role can I possibly play in your life?”“What role do you think you are playing now? You are the closest friend I have ever had. I would share all that I have with you. We play at patron and client, but in truth we are no more that than—”“Than what?” Esca snaps. “Master and slave? Or husband and wife? We could sooner be the former again than the latter. Though I suppose you might also think me an infamis, a prostitute.”“Esca, I do not understand,” Marcus says, the anger slowly giving way to genuine confusion. “Why are you putting such hateful words in my mouth?”“Where else can this lead, Marcus, if you continue to use me? A Roman man may have use of his wife, or his slaves, or prostitutes. Or boys, but I am hardly a boy any longer.”Marcus goes dizzy with horror at Esca’s words. “Is that how it felt to you? That I used you?”Red-faced and furious, Esca looks like he wants to answer in the affirmative, but he seems to choke on the word, and this deflates his fury entirely. “No,” he mutters after a moment, burying his face in his hands. “No, of course not. I cannot convince myself of that no matter how hard I try.”At that, Marcus makes a soft, wounded sound. “You could not have cut me more deeply just now if you’d had a knife in your hand,” he says, voice breaking.Esca sounds nearly as miserable. “What right did you have?” he asks, still staring down at his hands. “What right did you have to touch me as though… as though you loved me?”Oh. In a moment, Marcus’s heart bleeds and breaks and begins to mend itself. Esca is hurting far worse than Marcus is, and Marcus has been a fool not to see it, but it may not be too late to offer repentance. “Esca, look at me. Look at me.”Then Esca does glance up, and there is a hardness on his face, but Marcus can see how brittle that hardness is, how ready to shatter. “I do love you,” Marcus says.Esca shakes his head, disbelieving, but the hardness is beginning to crumble.“I do,” Marcus continues. “I am not adept at saying so. Nor am I adept at loving. In fact, I have spent most of my life avoiding it. I thought I had loftier goals, before. But this life we have here, this is what I want. Not the farm—or rather, I want the farm as well, but only if you are by my side.”“As what?” Esca asks. “Your concubine? To be discarded when you grow tired of me?”Defensiveness flares up in Marcus’s chest, but this time, he meets Esca’s challenge with compassion. “Why are you so certain I will grow tired of you and cast you out?”“What assurances do I have that you won’t?”“My word, Esca. My oath. You know what that means to me. And the bonds between patron and client are not enough for us, I know, but at the very least, you have a few legal protections as well.”“But Roman men do not—”“How long will you hold me responsible for the sins of an entire empire?” Marcus asks. “You seem determined to think there is no place for you in my life. I am telling you that there is. How can I make you believe me?”“I do not know,” Esca says, and Marcus has never heard him sound quite so small. “I only know that after we lay together, I could no longer deny the love I have for you. And I have yet to see a place, any place, in a Roman household for that love between free men.”Marcus does not mean to smile, but he is suddenly giddy with the admission Esca has made. He can still hear the howling of the wind outside, and he is reminded of the argument that started this. “Then you are lucky this is a British household, with leaky British walls.”Esca does not reply, but he does not argue, either. Instead, his eyes soften in a way that looks like reluctant hope.“If that is what it takes to keep you, then we will live in this roundhouse for the rest of our days,” Marcus says. “I do not know how our life will appear to others, but it is not their business.”A corner of Esca’s mouth turns up in the smallest of smiles. “We are already the town eccentrics, I think, a Briton and a Roman who ran wild outside of the empire, and now toil themselves ragged on a farm without the labor of slaves.”“Then we will simply strive to be good neighbors, and let them think what they will. I have redeemed my family’s name in the eyes of Rome—local gossip is of no significance to me.” It will not, perhaps, be as simple as all that, but Marcus speaks nothing but the truth in his commitment to Esca. “And if I cannot convince you of my love with words,” he continues, “then I will have to show you, each morning and each night.”Esca’s eyebrows rise. “Each morning and night? Do all Roman men have such stamina, then, even after a long day in the fields?”Pleasantly surprised by Esca’s joke, Marcus snorts. “That is not what I was speaking of, precisely. I meant to speak of my love for you, and the place you have in this home—our home. And I certainly cannot promise every morning and evening, but I will do my best as often as you desire me.”He has been careful not to reach for Esca through all of this, but Marcus thinks he might lose his mind if he cannot at least touch Esca in this moment. But when he steps forward, Esca stops him with a hand. “Marcus, I am filthy.” He glances down at himself. “And not by accident. I thought that if I was too dirty to touch…”He looks truly pained at the thought, and Marcus dares not imagine what Esca did to make himself smell the way he does. But perhaps this obstacle will provide a way for Marcus to demonstrate his regard for Esca in a way that does not involve either of their cocks. “That is a problem we can solve, if you would not mind undressing.”Esca’s mouth turns down in a quick grimace. “Not if you plan to dump cold water over me and scrub me with a tack brush like one of the horses.”“No, no, nothing like that,” Marcus chuckles. “Go get warm by the fire. I will provide everything else.”Marcus moves as quickly as he can, gathering what he needs—one benefit of such a small dwelling is that nothing is very far away. First, he grabs a flagon of oil, then he fills a large pot with water. He sets this over the fire to warm, and Esca watches him skeptically the whole way, but once he’s satisfied that Marcus does not intend to douse him, he begins removing his clothes, which are even more soiled than his skin. He sets them by the door, and Marcus is relieved to note that the worst of the smell stays with them.Meanwhile, Marcus fetches a larger basin that normally sits outside but has been brought in from the storm. He had to dump a small amount of rainwater out of it earlier, so it is reasonably clean. He sets it a few feet from the fire and uses a rag to dry the bottom. It will be cold at first on Esca’s feet, but it will warm.Then he goes to his small collection of personal effects and finds his strigil.When he turns back to Esca, he sees Esca notice the strigil and holds his hand out. Marcus shakes his head. “If you will permit me,” he says softly.Esca’s eyebrows rise, and he seems to take a moment to understand the meaning of Marcus’s words. He did not expect this, but he knows what it signifies. At length, he nods, and his throat bobs with a swallow before he replies, “If you wish.”Marcus has done this many times before, but never to someone else. Cleaning himself this way was frequently necessary in the army, but it became one of Esca’s duties as Marcus recovered from his injury. The habit was awkward for both of them, Marcus knows, and Esca always tried to do it quickly on the occasions they both went to the baths. Now a trip to the baths is a luxury, but Marcus will occasionally indulge himself here at home—though usually when it is much warmer.But Esca does not look uncomfortable standing nude near the fire, his pale skin glowing in its flickering light. As far as Marcus knows, Esca has never done this himself or had it done to him. He seems to prefer dunking himself in the river, no matter the temperature, which may account for his comfort on this chill evening.He remains standing there, staring at Marcus in near disbelief, until Marcus gestures toward the basin. Only then does Esca step in, facing the fire as Marcus tucks the strigil in his belt and stoops to pick up the oil. He tests a little in his hand—it is cold. He will need to warm it in his palms first instead of pouring it directly on Esca’s skin.Marcus steps behind Esca, who begins to turn, but Marcus stops him. He has been able to ignore the slowly increasing speed of his heart until just now, but he does not think he can face Esca at the start. The intimacy of the act is suddenly apparent in a way he did not expect—Marcus himself merely felt awkward when Esca was compelled to serve him. Now that he has chosen to serve Esca, it seems to have another meaning entirely.Marcus pours himself a palmful of oil and rubs until it is the same temperature as his own skin. Even so, Esca’s body feels hot beneath his touch when he sets his hands on Esca’s shoulders and begins to smooth the oil down his arms. When Marcus makes contact, Esca sucks in a quiet breath, and he goes briefly rigid. Everything had gone so quickly when they ended up in bed together, but this time, Marcus has a moment to wonder when Esca was last touched in such a way, and by whom, and whether he desired it. So Marcus stills his hands, waiting to see if Esca will move away—but after a moment, his muscles slowly begin to relax, and Marcus squeezes gently in acknowledgement.Starting at Esca’s shoulders, Marcus begins massaging in the oil until it loosens the dried sweat and grime from Esca’s skin. There is not much of either upon Esca’s shoulders or upper back, but the muscles there are tight from hard use and the stress of preparing for the storm, so Marcus does not ignore them. The arduous farm work has given Esca more strength here, and Marcus has the stray thought that Esca would be a powerful wrestler in his weight class if he ever decided to take it up. And then Marcus’s throat goes dry at the mental image that creates—hands grappling against bare skin, straining muscles, masculine bodies twined together—so he moves on, starting at the rounds of Esca’s shoulders and moving down his arms.As he works, Marcus does not know whether talking will ease the tension between them or intensify it. Neither of them is particularly verbose, and often simply existing alongside one another is enough. But the howling of the wind and the crackling of the fire lend an intimacy to the space, as though the rest of the world outside of the roundhouse has ceased to exist. As though even the gods could not see or hear them tonight.“It felt so strange,” Marcus hazards, “when you used to do this for me.”As soon as the words leave his lips, he winces—when they do talk, they do not often discuss Esca’s servitude. Marcus does not know whether it is a sore subject, though he can certainly see why it would be, and Esca does not bring it up.Now, though, Esca gives a soft snort of a laugh. “You certainly seemed to enjoy it.”“Why would you— oh.” Now Marcus is especially glad Esca is facing away from him, so he cannot see how Marcus’s cheeks flush. Esca is referring, of course, to the way Marcus’s cock could never seem to mind its own business when Esca massaged the oil into his skin. Esca ignored it, thank the gods, and at least his cockstand was not constant, ebbing and flowing as Esca’s hands moved over him.“I am only teasing,” Esca says. “I would wager that is as natural a thing as waking aroused in the mornings. And I did not mind, after I knew you would not… require more of me.”That is something they have never spoken of, even in passing. Marcus knows what he experienced was more than simple reaction to touch, and he knows he is an unusual master for not slaking his desire for Esca in the way that was available to him. If asked, he could not have explained why he did not, only that it seemed wrong. He knows now he made the right choice, has known for some time. This moment now, and perhaps everything that transpired north of the wall, would have been impossible if Marcus had not exercised that restraint.Marcus does not know how to say any of this, so he merely says, “A man’s body is his own.”Esca does not correct him by saying that, at the time, he was not considered a man in the eyes of Rome, but they both know it to be true.Marcus has finished with the outside of Esca’s arms now. He considers asking Esca whether he would like to do the next part himself, but Esca had been expected to do this for Marcus, and he would certainly not have Esca think that any part of Esca’s body is unpleasant to him. So he gets another handful of oil, lifts Esca’s arm, and begins working the oil into the tender skin beneath.Marcus is careful not to tug at the hair as he rubs his fingers in gentle circles. Esca is more relaxed than Marcus imagined he would be, but when Marcus’s fingers move a few inches down his side, Esca twitches under Marcus’s touch and then goes rigid, enough that Marcus pauses and takes a step back. “Are you bruised here?”“No,” Esca says, his breathing strangely labored, his face turned away from Marcus. “No, I am well. But please… use more strength. Do not touch me so lightly.”Marcus is momentarily confused until his fingers barely make contact with Esca’s skin, and Esca twitches away. A grin that Esca cannot see stretches across Marcus’s face—Esca is ticklish. Now is not the time to take advantage of that knowledge, but Marcus takes note of it nonetheless. In all his sternness and solemnity, Esca is ticklish. What a wonderful discovery.But for now, Marcus does as Esca asked and uses a much firmer touch. Esca twitches for a moment, but then he sighs deeply and begins to relax into the touch again. Working down Esca’s other side, Marcus discovers that the ticklishness only descends about halfway down his ribcage, though he truly does his best not to set it off.For Esca’s chest, Marcus stays behind him, having him keep his arms raised while Marcus reaches underneath. Perhaps that is not the best way to go about it, but Marcus does not think he is yet ready to face Esca directly in such an intimate moment. That had always been the most awkward part, when Esca was the one with the oil. Marcus never knew quite where to fix his eyes. He tells himself he is sparing Esca this awkwardness as he slicks Esca’s chest, then his stomach. Marcus pulls his hands away before they descend any lower.Then he is confronted with the matter of Esca’s ass. It is not, Marcus must admit, very dirty, but skipping it would be conspicuous, would it not? And it had felt so good under his touch two nights ago, the muscles firm and flexing as they rocked against each other. Marcus does not know when he will get this chance again, so he refreshes the oil on his hands and sets them to work, trying to tamp down his excitement lest Esca somehow notice it.But it is Esca’s breath that hitches when Marcus’s hands make contact, smoothing over Esca’s buttocks. The skin is remarkably soft, as are the small, fine hairs that cover it. Each of Marcus’s hands can span a cheek, their sun-touched hue dark against the pale of Esca’s buttocks. Marcus does not entirely mean to dig his fingers in, but they seem to have a mind of their own. Oh, how Marcus hopes he gets to feel this again, and so much more besides.He has had fantasies, of course, of sliding slick fingers into the crease of Esca’s ass and making him ready to take Marcus’s cock. He has tried not to have these fantasies too often, for he does not know if that is something Esca would choose for himself. Perhaps not, if he was so disturbed at the notion of Marcus wanting it from him. Or perhaps what disturbed him was the thought of having no choice.But even Marcus can recognize that now is not the time to initiate that, or even properly discuss it. He moves on to Esca’s hips and upper thighs, rubbing them shiny with oil, though Esca’s lower legs present something of a problem. Marcus has regained much function in his own leg, but when the weather is poor like this, his bad thigh lacks the strength to hold a crouch for more than a few seconds.Esca recognizes Marcus stretching as low as he can and speaks for the first time in a while. “Marcus, if my legs are too—”“No,” Marcus says quickly. “You did this for me. I owe you no less.”And slowly, gripping the edge of the basin to steady himself, Marcus kneels.Kneeling, too, becomes difficult after a while, but it is easier to distribute his balance to other muscles than it would be if he remained bending over. He certainly has the time to rub the oil into Esca’s legs, which were protected from grime by thick wool braccae and sturdy boots. Before, Marcus has not had much opportunity to admire Esca’s legs, but they are as lean and muscular as the rest of him. His thighs, particularly, are sculpted from years of riding, and Marcus briefly loses focus at the thought of them squeezing at his sides the way Esca might direct a stubborn horse. His own cock is swelling in his braccae as though Esca were the one touching him.Redirecting his attention, Marcus reaches around to oil the front of Esca’s legs without shifting position. Certainly, the task would be easier if he did so, or easier still if he asked Esca to turn around, but there are realities Marcus is not yet ready to face. If Esca is hard, Marcus’s current position is all the more provocative. You will grow bored of my hand and demand my mouth, Esca had said. Marcus swallows. He would never demand such of Esca, but is it fair to even desire it of him if Marcus is not willing to do the same?Yet there are many things he never thought himself willing to do before he met Esca.But that is another topic that is not to be wrestled with now. Kneeling at Esca’s feet is already a vulnerable place, especially given the context the last time it happened, with Esca’s fingers wrenching painfully in his hair and Esca’s knife at his throat. Marcus is not certain he could handle gazing up at Esca’s face from this position even if Esca were fully clothed.So Marcus pulls back and begins the process of getting back to his feet. This time, Esca turns and offers a hand, saying, “Let me help,” and Marcus’s legs are too tired to refuse the assistance.But even when he is steady on his feet, Esca remains facing him, clasping his arm firmly. Marcus can only see him in silhouette, as Esca is between him and the fire, but the heat on Marcus’s face reminds him that Esca can see him in full clarity. He feels suddenly exposed, though Esca is the one who is naked. As Esca turned to assist him, Marcus had noticed—because how could he not—that Esca is indeed hard. As natural a thing as waking aroused in the mornings, Esca had said. Marcus’s hands are slick with oil, and he would barely have to extend his arm—“The strigil,” Marcus says, stepping back before he can make a fool of himself. Esca is undergoing this treatment at Marcus’s request, but he has yet to give voice to what he wants, and Marcus would be a fool to make assumptions. And besides, his intention from the beginning was to serve Esca thus without the implication of more, so he must complete his task first.The air away from the fire, away from Esca, has enough of a chill that it seems to slap Marcus in the face. It has little effect on the hardness within his trousers from all the time spent feeling of Esca’s body under his palms. Esca’s eyes flick downward, and though he does not react, Marcus knows he has seen it. He is not embarrassed at his body’s reaction, but nor does he want Esca to think this is about his desire. Clearing his throat, he retrieves the curved strip of metal from his belt and steps up to Esca, who is still facing him.In a display of what might be cowardice, Marcus urges Esca to turn away from him with a hand on his shoulder, and Esca complies, feet moving carefully in the slick basin until he is facing the fire like before. Marcus sets the strigil to Esca’s shoulder and pauses. Once again, he has never done this to someone else. Marcus has always felt cleaner after a firm scrape, one that leaves his skin flushed and tingling, but he does not wish to hurt Esca. The motion feels strange, drawing the strigil down Esca’s upper arm instead of his own, and not much oil runs down Esca’s arm as a result.“Harder.”“What?” Marcus asks, freezing.“You can use more pressure,” Esca says, and is that a hint of laughter in his voice? “And you probably should, with the filth that is still on me. Do not try to remove my skin, but I swear to you, I am not delicate.”“I of all people should know that,” Marcus says softly, nodding though Esca cannot see him. “Is this better?” he asks as he draws the strigil more firmly over Esca’s bicep.“Much,” Esca says, then sighs as Marcus continues down his forearm and wrist, flicking the runoff down toward the basin. “That feels good.”Such a simple statement, and yet Marcus’s cock twitches to hear it in Esca’s voice, in that intimate tenor.This part goes much quicker than the oil, which is a source of both gratitude and irritation for Marcus. He finds himself setting one hand on Esca’s shoulder to brace him as he scrapes the strigil in careful lines down Esca’s back, then his sides. Esca’s pale skin turns rosy from the pressure, but he is growing increasingly relaxed under Marcus’s touch. Following the curve of Esca’s ass with the strigil is such a delight that it brings heat to Marcus’s cheeks. Scraping Esca’s legs is awkward to do while standing, but Marcus can bend at the waist and do it quickly enough that he does not need to kneel again.Then Esca’s backside is done and, without prompting, he turns to face Marcus. Luckily, Marcus had already stood back up and is not confronted immediately with Esca’s cock. But even that would not be half so surprising as the expression of clear, open desire on Esca’s face.“Esca…” Marcus starts, thankful that his voice doesn’t crack with emotion.“Finish your work, Marcus,” Esca says, his tone gentle but resolute.Nodding, Marcus starts again at the top with Esca’s shoulders and chest. It is harder to follow the curves of muscle and sinew with a trembling hand, but Marcus does his best. Esca hisses when Marcus pulls the strigil too firmly over one of his nipples, and he makes a much gentler pass over the other one. The excess oil runs down Esca’s taut belly, Marcus can’t help but follow the thick liquid with his eyes as it drips into the soft, wiry hair at Esca’s groin. Esca’s cock is fully, proudly erect, the foreskin pulling back to reveal the slick head, and Marcus is so tempted that his gut aches.His gaze is only pulled away by Esca’s hand grasping him by the wrist. Marcus worries that he has already overstepped, but Esca is merely taking the strigil to free his hand. “Can I—?” Marcus begins, glancing up.“Please,” Esca says before Marcus can even finish. “I would have you touch me in… in whatever way you see fit.”Marcus needs no further encouragement. He swipes his palm through the oil on Esca’s lower belly, drawing a shiver out of the man, before wrapping his hand around Esca’s cock. Esca gasps, his stance widening slightly in the basin, as Marcus’s wrist starts to flex. He had been drunk on pleasure when he previously touched Esca in this way, with nothing in his head but the thought of making Esca join him in bliss as quickly as possible, so he had not truly appreciated the feeling of Esca’s arousal brand-hot and near throbbing against his palm. Esca’s cock is slightly smaller than Marcus’s own, but not by much, and it is remarkably well-formed, curving up into Marcus’s stroke.But efficiency is not Marcus’s goal now, so he lets go with his hand in favor of using a finger and thumb to gently retract Esca’s foreskin. “Does this please you?” he asks softly.“Y-yes,” Esca says, voice shaking. “Just… a light touch.”“Of course,” Marcus replies, carefully swirling his slick thumb over the head until Esca cries out.Marcus looks up then, and sees Esca’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide and dark, and Marcus leans in, and—Esca darts back; not far, but the sudden motion causes his feet to slip in the basin, and Marcus has to wrap both hands around his hips to keep him steady. “Are you well?”“Yes,” Esca says, dropping his gaze as he laughs ruefully. “But my face is still dirty, and I did not want you to kiss me like this.”“I do not mind,” Marcus says, though now that he is paying attention, Esca’s face is indeed smeared with grime.“Just… just get me a cloth, and I will—” Esca starts, trying to step out of the basin, but Marcus stops him.“You have the strigil. Scrape off your lower legs and feet and get out of the basin, and I will get you what you need.”Again, the area away from the fire—away from Esca—is cold, but Marcus quickly retrieves a clean piece of cloth, dipping it into the pot of water over the fire. It is not quite hot yet, but it is warm enough to be pleasant on the skin. When Esca is free of the basin, Marcus passes him the damp cloth, and Esca swipes at his face roughly, as if to scour his skin of the dirt there as fast as possible.When he pulls the cloth away, streaks of gray remain on his temples and chin. Marcus does not mean to chuckle, but the careless drips of water on Esca’s face and the smudge at the tip of his nose make him look like a young boy who was told to wash after a day of playing in the dirt and did a half-hearted job of it. So Marcus takes the cloth, dips it in the water, wrings it out, and sets his hand on Esca’s shoulder to keep him in place.Briefly, Esca screws up his face at this imposition, but Marcus is gentle, even with the stubborn grime on the sides of Esca’s face. He remembers what his mother used to do and cleans the tender shells of Esca’s ears, making him grumble and blush violently. Some part of Marcus is pleased at seeing Esca like this, as he might have been when the worst thing he had to worry about was a dirty face. And Esca is normally so self-possessed that to be allowed to see him blush feels intimate, like a secret only Marcus gets to possess.“You know,” Marcus says softly, “You are remarkably handsome.”Esca snorts, glancing away. “If you speak truth, you would be the only one who thinks so.”The doubt on Esca’s face makes Marcus’s chest hurt. He is not certain he can convince Esca of this—of anything, knowing Esca’s stubbornness—but he can at least take that expression away. “I know I saw Sassticca pinch your backside more than once.”That does make Esca laugh, with exasperation if nothing else. “That was not a gesture of affection!”Esca’s face is clean by now, but Marcus continues stroking the cloth down Esca’s neck. “For Sassticca, it was. Besides, I was speaking the truth. I will always speak truth to you.” He pauses the motion of his hand, making sure to hold Esca’s gaze. “Do you believe that?”Esca does not nod, but nor do his eyes glance away. “If you give me your word, I know you will not break it.”“Then believe me when I say this.” He takes the cloth away and replaces it with his hand, thumb caressing the bare skin of Esca’s neck as he leans in. “I love you above all others. I desire you above all others. I will not cast you aside for any reason. And if I should, you must take a knife to my throat, for I will have already forfeited my life.”By the time he finishes speaking, his lips are nearly touching Esca’s already, and Esca has little to do but tilt forward in to capture Marcus’s mouth. It is not at all like their first kiss, urgent and hungry and wine-flavored. This is slow and deliberate, and Esca tastes only of himself, of the heat of his mouth, which Marcus finds he prefers even to wine. Esca does not push ahead, but nor does he cede control to Marcus, instead making Marcus work for each step along the way. Marcus’s tongue must beseech gently at his lips for permission to enter Esca’s mouth. Marcus’s hands must glide their way down his body slowly. If each step is a test, Marcus intends to pass without question before pushing for the next.Slowly, steadily, Esca pulls Marcus closer, until they are finally twined together. Only then does Marcus realize he is still clothed while Esca is naked—and that he is focusing so diligently on Esca that the muscles in his bad leg are beginning to spasm. “Esca,” he murmurs softly against Esca’s lips. “We should—”“The beds,” Esca interrupts, though he does not move away. “I should not have pulled them apart.”“You should have done whatever it was in your heart to do. I would not have you do otherwise. But… my leg.”“Oh,” Esca gasps, and then he does pull back. “Do you need to sit?”Marcus takes a moment to respond to the question, for Esca’s lips are red and slick, and for a moment he cannot think of anything else. “Yes,” he says at length. “And tonight, if it is in your heart to bring the beds back together…”But Esca is already tugging his pallet back over to rest alongside Marcus’s, and Marcus cannot help but smile. He should at least remove his clothing while he is standing—his leg will hold him long enough for that. As he does, he is reminded anew of the cold. Esca steps away to stoke the fire, and Marcus has the thought that he would be best served getting under the furs before Esca has the chance to see the state of his manhood in this temperature. Then Esca is back at his side, helping Marcus tug his tunic over his head, and such vanities seem of little importance.But the fact remains that it is cold, even colder than it was two nights ago, and as he carefully sits, Esca rearranges the furs and blankets so they are shared across pallets, then helps Marcus get beneath them. “Of course we could not have done this in the heat of summer,” he grumbles, “when it was so warm we both slept naked most nights.”“I am not willing to wait until next summer for this,” Esca says, crawling beneath the furs as well. “Besides, is this not an enjoyable way to keep warm?”“Very,” Marcus says. He sets a hand on Esca’s shoulder, intending to pull Esca to him—but just as before, when Marcus first touched him with the oil, Esca freezes up. “Esca?” he asks softly.“Forgive me.” Esca shakes his head and glances away. He does not pull away from Marcus, but he does not move closer, either. “The fault is not with you, Marcus. Nor is it with me, entirely.”“Esca, if you do not want—”“I want this,” Esca insists, now gazing into Marcus’s eyes with intensity that would put the fire to shame. “But I am not accustomed to…” He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, lets it out again. “You have restored my freedom, but I was forced to live without it for seven years. I have not spoken of it before, but none of my masters were as… humane as you, let alone kind. That leaves its mark.”“Esca,” Marcus starts, and though it pains him to pull his hands away from the warmth of Esca’s body, he does so. He hears the words that Esca has not said about that inhumane treatment, what it consisted of.For a long moment, Marcus does not know what to say to such a statement. He knows Esca no longer includes him among the men who abused him, but there are no words Marcus can say to make this right. He can only say what is in his heart and let Esca come to him if he chooses it. “If I am honest, sometimes I forget. You do not act… You never acted subservient. Where your knowledge and experience surpasses mine, you took very quickly to commanding me the moment we stepped beyond the wall, and you have not stopped since.” Marcus cannot help a small smile at that. “I would not have you do differently. In fact, I relish it. But you wear your freedom so effortlessly that I sometimes forget it was ever taken from you.”Esca seems to genuinely take this all in. “I do not have the luxury of forgetting,” he says, but his expression is soft.“Of course.”He pauses, eyes darting away and back before speaking more haltingly than Marcus has ever heard him. “I do not question your motives, but I am not sure I know how to do this. I have not… shared my bed with another man, not by choice, since I was a youth. And it feels a lifetime since I have been touched with tenderness at all.” Something flashes across his face too quickly for Marcus to catch. “Before the other night, I mean. That was precious beyond the telling of it. But it happened so quickly, I did not have time to think. And when I did…”When he did, Marcus knows, it resulted in the last two days of avoidance and sour temperaments for both of them. “This is your choice, Esca,” Marcus says, settling in on his side. He thinks of what Esca said before, about demanding more and more of him. “I want no more from you than you are ready to give. Not now, not ever. If tonight you wish only to sleep, then so be it. But for my part, I would rejoice to share your bed if you had never been with another man at all, or had been with every man you’d ever encountered. That is not what matters to me.”Esca nods, shifting closer to Marcus. “This is what I choose. But I ask for your patience.”“You have it. And anything else you want, besides.” Marcus hazards reaching out, cupping Esca’s face gently.Esca’s eyes slip closed, and turns his head slightly so that his cheek presses back against Marcus’s palm. “Will you touch me as you did before? I liked how your hand felt around me.”“I will,” Marcus murmurs. “And all the while, if you wanted to kiss me and hold me close just as you did before, it would delight me.”“Would it?” Esca asks, his tone lightly teasing.“Mmm. I think you left bruises before. Did you know that?” Esca’s eyes fly open, but Marcus stops his words with a kiss before they can leave his mouth. “That certainly delighted me,” he whispers against Esca’s lips.In addition to being clean, Esca’s skin is wonderfully soft and smooth with the remnants of the oil—if this is the result, Marcus will bathe him as often as Esca desires. He is a pleasure to touch, warm and responsive, and though he trembles slightly under Marcus’s hands, he does not stiffen again. Indeed, he fits his own hands to Marcus’s upper arms and holds on as though Marcus intends to pull away. His fingers dig in enough to sting, and the sensation makes Marcus’s own cock begin to harden.But first he has Esca to tend to. Esca’s cock has softened during their conversation, but he whimpers softly as Marcus touches it, nudging its length up against Esca’s belly and running the tips of his fingers up and down. It swells quickly under his touch, though Marcus does not yet move to grasp it firmly. He keeps up his teasing touch until Esca begins shifting his hips forward, seeking firmer stimulation.“More,” Esca gasps against Marcus’s mouth. “Take me in your hand.”“You seek to command me?” Marcus teases, and he cannot help his lips from curving up into a smile.“You said— you said you would not have me d-do otherwise,” Esca stammers, hips beginning to rock against the steady rhythm of Marcus’s fingers.“That is the truth. I am yours to command.”Esca’s face draws back slightly, his eyes opening, and though they are nearly black with arousal, his expression is as fierce as ever. “Marcus, take me in your han— ohhhh.”His eyes flutter closed and his head tips back, though not so much that Marcus cannot delight in watching the pleasure break over Esca’s face. He is even more beautiful when overcome with rapture, and all it took was the grip of Marcus’s hand. To begin with, he strokes slowly, taking advantage of the column of bare throat Esca has presented to him. Marcus kisses his way down, feeling the muscles contract as Esca swallows, feeling the rhythm of his panting breath. Just as last time, he finds the spot beneath which Esca’s pulse races and lingers there, laving it with his tongue and then biting gently. And just as last time, Esca’s hips hitch, thrusting forward into Marcus’s fist, and Marcus smiles again at Esca’s boldness.“You may thrust if you like,” Marcus says, shifting to give Esca a little more room to move. “I would have you take what you need of me.”Marcus has barely finished speaking before Esca’s hips are moving beneath the furs, shoving his cock into the tight clasp of Marcus’s fingers. There is no longer much oil to speak of on their skin, but the movement of Esca’s foreskin and the wetness leaking from the head ease the slide. Esca has curled forward, his eyes screwed shut as he focuses all his effort on his movements. Because they are beneath the furs, Marcus cannot watch the head of Esca’s cock thrust through his fist, cannot see Esca’s lean muscles bunch and flex to fuck Marcus’s hand, so he must content himself to see the furrow of Esca’s brow, the teeth that sink into his lower lip. When the weather is warmer, they will do this atop the furs, and Marcus will get to see Esca’s whole body in glorious, carnal motion. When the weather is warmer, perhaps they can even do this out of doors in full sunlight. There will be no one around to watch—the closest neighbors are through a thicket of woods—but it will have the taste of danger, of discovery. Of course, the sunlight will reveal as much of Marcus as it does of Esca, but perhaps that is not such a bad thing. Esca has already seen many of Marcus’s darkest places, and he is still here.Esca’s breath is coming faster now, a soft grunt passing his lips with every thrust, and Marcus treasures each one, each sound of Esca chasing his pleasure. The motions of his hips are rapid and precise, and Marcus would wager all he owns that Esca is approaching his climax. But Marcus will demand nothing of him in this moment, so he only murmurs “Yes, yes, Esca” and slightly tightens his grip, heart soaring when Esca’s rhythm breaks down and a moan of surrender passes his lips. He shivers from head to toe, and Marcus feels wet warmth burst over his fingers as Esca comes.For a few moments, he continues thrusting weakly, but then his hips come to a stop, his lungs working like a bellows, and Marcus clasps the back of Esca’s neck with his clean hand and presses a hard kiss to Esca’s forehead. Marcus’s own heart is pounding, his cock aching and untouched, but he merely holds Esca until Esca has come back to himself.When Esca’s eyes blink open, they are slightly shiny in the dim firelight, and he kisses Marcus gently. But where Esca is slack with satisfaction, Marcus’s whole body remains taut with unsated arousal, and holding himself in check is becoming increasingly difficult. When Esca shifts forward, he brushes into the damp head of Marcus’s erection, and Marcus can’t help a soft hiss and a jerk of his hips.“Tell me,” Esca says, his voice firmer than Marcus expects as he moves beneath the furs to touch Marcus’s chest. “Tell me how I can please you and I will do it.”There are many, many things Esca could do to please Marcus, but most of them require more discussion than Marcus is capable of at present. So he takes Esca’s hand and smears the remnants of Esca’s seed into his palm. “Y-your hand,” Marcus gasps. “It will not take much.”At first, Esca’s touch is too tentative for Marcus’s needs, and there will be time later for gentle instruction—Marcus closes his own, larger hand around Esca’s and uses both to stroke his cock. Esca makes a soft hum of understanding, moving to the pace Marcus sets, and Marcus groans gratefully. He sees Esca gazing at him with something like awe, and he has to shut his eyes. He imagines Esca watching his face as closely as he watched Esca’s, and the thought of Esca witnessing his peak sends him over it. Marcus’s mouth makes no sound, but he shudders hard in Esca’s grip, squeezing Esca’s fist as Esca squeezes him, hot bliss knifing through him as he comes.Once again, Esca pulls him in tightly afterward, his fingers finding the same spots on Marcus’s ass as before, still tender. Marcus hisses, but the small, sharp pain in the wake of such delicious pleasure produces a new sensation that makes his insides quiver. He does not quite know what it is, but perhaps it is something they can produce more of, together.As their sweat cools, Marcus hardly knows what to say, but he feels he must say something. He did not, the last time, and perhaps Esca took that silence and filled it in with his own erroneous suppositions about what Marcus must be thinking. “I hope you see,” he begins softly, nuzzling into the softness of Esca’s hair, “that my love for you is not mere words. Nor is it merely what we choose to do together in this bed. It is the life we could build together. The years we could spend in each other’s company, as many as the gods will grant us. That is all I have to offer.”“That is more than enough,” Esca says, lips moving against Marcus’s skin. “I have not said it, but I love you as well. Even when I was not sure I wanted to, I could not help it. I will not leave you, I swear it.”For a moment he is silent, and then a particularly strong gust of wind rattles the roundhouse, strong enough that a small chill makes its way even under the furs. They will have to move soon, to clean themselves off and put on clothes and take the pot off the fire, and Marcus grumbles softly at the thought.Then Esca says, “Though perhaps I was too hasty earlier. In a few weeks, you may be able to talk me around to Roman walls.”Marcus manages to groan and laugh at the same time. “I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear it.”“As long as we must not abide those flimsy, narrow Roman beds as well.”Despite the size of their two pallets pulled together, Marcus would wager that they are currently intertwined so tightly that they barely make up the space of one. But he knows what Esca means. “Not as long as we live.”