The doctor was firm and precise.
The slave had to stop Get out on the plank-operative, his master, Marcus, Roman legionnaire, decorated with honor and dismissed for serious war wounds.
Just one of them had focused care from the doctor who had decided to take action to remove the infection, now dangerous, which risked undermining the final leg.
Marcus was shaking, but pride and courage in his eyes would never shut down, especially in front of her blue eyes focused on him and Esca.
The young man belonged to the gang of robbers, which range beyond the borders of the occupied areas unpalatable to Rome and everything he represented: a concentration of hate, the first time they met, when his uncle Marcus chose for his grandson as a slave Esca .
It was not pleasing to either, but an important background to have united them.
Marcus had saved him from certain death during a fight local arena, where a massive gladiator could easily overpower him, especially as bait had refused to fight in that vulgar way, as pure spectacle of death.
There was an extreme pride in the gestures of bait, he was a fighter, but knew how to obey in silence and watch Marcus with devotion.
The glare of the fire accompanied his nightmares: Marcus was in delirium.
Let the dabbed with wet patches, occasionally passing the wine to cloud his senses and quell spasms, which seemed to devour his countenance.
"Get out ..."
"I'm here."
"... I'm thirsty ..."
"You've just been drinking, take water if you want ..."
"No more wine, please ..."
His whisper was broken and pleading, her irises swollen from crying, crystallized at the temples.
Bait lifted his head to the neck, passing the bowl full of sweet nectar - "Thank you ... ... a true friend."
Bait sat on the edge of the bed warm, so different from the mat where he slept.
"We're not friends." - Said with a half smile.
"You're wrong ..."
"I am your servant. This is the truth. "
"... It is not true ..." - but on those words, Marcus arched his back, torn by a dense sharper than previous versions.
"What's wrong? I call someone? "
"No ... no ... tell me ... Bait tell me about yourself ..."
"What is it? As if you cared ... "
Marcus grabbed his wrist, then capturing the back of his right hand scented with essential oils, which bait he used to wash his hair soaked with sweat and dust, putting their lips for a kiss posarvi - "I have others that you ..." - was a whisper, but thought it was just the result of the bait clear of the drunk.
Marcus seemed to read his mind - "They are more polished than you think ..."
"Why do not you sleep? Try at least ... "
A couple of hours later, Esca had to change the dressing.
He took the necessary filling a basin near the lake, in front of the villa, quiet accommodation and then return by Marcus.
My uncle and his senior collaborator, Stephen, were resting in the wing opposite the large house.
He could flee at any moment, but he delivered his dagger Marcus, along with his personal freedom, feeling debt and promising that he would never betrayed or killed.
Marcus showed a more serene, had sfebbrato.
His tunic was soaked and smelly bait but had received precise instructions: should not move or move at least until the next morning.
"Where are you ...?"
"Welcome back. Now I think of your bandages, then try to wash ... "
"Actually I would have a more urgent problem ..." - said with sympathetic tone.
"What ...? Oh ... I realized, wait! "
The boy looked around for something to use to allow Marcus to urinate.
"Get out ... hurry up ... I drank too much ..."
"Hold on! You have defeated an army and now ... ah there it is! Do you think your uncle will be angry? "
"I have no idea ... who uses the pitcher Stephen watering aromas from the kitchen ... hide it, You do not want to eat something after I ..."
"Shut up and do it, come on!"
"It was easier to tame a bunch of bloodthirsty rebels ..."
"Calm down, I turn from the healthy side, you should be able ..."
"Yes ... thank you ... it works ... they praised the gods ..."
"I would be grateful to this pot luck ..." - Bait sighed, clearly amused by the fact.
"I've done here ... ... forgive me."
"For what?"
"It seems an excessive claim, you owe me comfort in certain needs ..."
"I always think it could be worse." - And laughed, then the dulling his spontaneous reaction, before the eyes of deep Marcus, who had never been lowered.
He was stroking at a distance, he could hear clearly, the invisible touch of Marcus, which ran from the center of his chest to the mouth of Esca, who hastened to empty and rinse the pot, hoping to find him asleep on his return to the room, but wrong.
"Could you give me some dry bait? Or simply take off the shroud and cover with a clean sheet? You'd be indebted to life ... "
"Yeah ... sure ... I'll have to tear this filthy garment ..."
"Foul."
Bait obeyed, finally freeing Marcus from torture.
His body was tanned and sculpted.
His manhood inspired by the smell of bait, smell good, warm and reassuring.
"I am fond of ..." - Marcus said suddenly, with the momentum of those who can not stay there beyond.
"You need to satisfy a whim ...? If so look elsewhere, the Roman Empire. "
"I love you ...." - Tried to repeat, perhaps he could not make himself understood, the incredulity of the other was palpable.
With a nervous gesture, Bait took a linen cloth and covered the intimacy of the other - "It is not my habit to sleep with men!"
In affirming blushed visibly.
"You talk as if you treated like a prostitute ..." - replied sternly.
"And you talk so foolish, misled by some kind of magic or simply dall'ambrosia!"
"You do not know what you're doing wrong ... the output beam, even if no one will disturb us. Come closer to me, I can order it, but I will lower this. I know you better than anyone. "
The bolt made a sharp sound, was followed by a breath from the depths of Esca, in the grip of a mistaken zeal.
He stripped, Marcus smiled.
"Do not rejoice, because ... I do not give me no choice."
He lay down, hesitating.
"I just want to keep your heart ..." - and wrapped it under his left wing.
She kissed him through her hair, just put his head on the Bait collarbone Marcus, who covered it with care.
"I'm not cold ..."
"No matter Bait, I want you to be comfortable." - He said softly, coming back at him.
They kissed, sliding toward each other, in great tasting.
Every breath was spasmodic, grew and swelled, as their mouths, wanton victims of urgency, to explore.
"Touch me now ..." - was the only thing that the warrior was able to speak, in the short interval in which they were detached.
Bait nodded, waving with a capacity of a member of Marcus, who gasped, tugging at not being able to move freely.
This did not prevent him to reciprocate with the same gesture, first loving, then more and more obscene as their cries, muffled by other kisses.
Bait threw down his towel stained by the moods of the first Marcus, increasing the pace of that masturbation, getting the same treatment, which led him into feverish ecstasy.
"Mar-marcus ... I ... I'm going to ..." - he groaned, and then go down with the face in lover's neck, almost sobbing with excitement to get to quell'orgasmo unison with him.
It was liberating and fulfilling, but it seemed endless, and made beautiful.
Marcus picked up a few drops of them, mixing languages of their last contact, before surrendering to the call of Morpheus.
"So this is your nature ..." - "Never before have you ever really ... Get out."
THE END
ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK THANKS TO 30 SECONDS TO MARS
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OyMyRYvNST4
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