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The slick slip of bodies was nearly maddening, low groans passed between mouths with familiar urgency. It was late, later than most would stay up and certainly later than what was acceptable considering their lives. Nasir forever the busy body, training and tending to what needed to be done. Agron was right-hand man to Spartacus (if the Gaul was discounted, which he was), constantly on the move and consulted for advice that was never really heard in full. But late, this late, it was just them and the latent press of their bodies. Stripped down to nothing, glinting with sweat and rose oil in the candlelight to make their bodies shine.
The movement of Nasir’s hips were slow, measured, and pointedly attempting to drive Agron insane. The press of hard cocks over and over again was not quite enough, though friction proved just enough to keep Agron balancing on the thin thread between irritated and interested. Oil gathered along his groin and stomach from their movements, the phial laying forgotten in the fabric of their bed. Nasir was the tease Agron never thought he would tolerate, one of his thick thighs hooked over the smaller man’s hips as they rocked together. It gave Agron a wonderful view of that handsome face, or the deliciously vulnerable expanse of Nasir’s neck when the man tilted his head back with a low moan.
Agron’s hands were slow to trace the line of Nasir’s torso, from hollow of his throat to the base of his cock, and then back once more. Dark tendrils of hair stuck stubbornly to Nasir’s neck, easily soothed away by a scarred hand while his thumb took to tracing his lips. Once a firm hold was established on Nasir’s jaw, it was easy to tug him down for a breathless kiss. It ended in nothing more than breathing into each others’ mouths, Agron’s free hand coming to wrap around both of their erections to increase the heated friction.
“Agron—”
Both sets of heavy eyes turned to the intrusion, Spartacus’ face appearing between the mats that kept their nook separated from the rest of the room. It disappeared as quickly as it came with a clearing of throat, the mats closed once more for privacy. All movement stopped, Nasir pressing his face into Agron’s chest with a breathless laugh that warmed the heart.
“Apologies, brother, but Crixus’ men come with news,” Spartacus finished from outside.
Agron’s groan was far from subtle, a mixture of frustration at the intrusion and the news. “Even the mention of the fucking Gauls is enough to soften cock,” he growled out, pointedly ignoring the low snort of amusement from Spartacus. “Go, go. Make sure the beasts seal lips until I arrive.”
The retreating footsteps were far from a comfort, nor was the way Nasir took to kissing along his collarbones. Their bodies were still, mouths slick along one another with increasing ferocity that only built the heat between them. Every parting of their lips and ragged breath had Agron cursing anything that would dare tear him away from this special reprieve they both needed so much.
“One day, far from this fucking land, we will rest in our home, in our bed, and do nothing but fuck and make idle conversation like fattened nobles,” Agron murmured into Nasir’s mouth, hands in the man’s dark mane in order to tug their faces away forcibly. The reluctance was all over Agron’s face, though, studying Nasir’s dark eyes and flushed lips, intently mapping the way that pink tongue flicked out to trace over them.
“May the gods hear you and sympathize,” Nasir murmured, lips quirking in a small grin at the same moment that Agron laughed, a short, pleased noise that shook both their bodies.
Agron was still slow to move, even more reluctant when Nasir finally rolled off of him and sprawled like a sleepy cat upon their bed roll. The things he had dreamed of didn’t even touch base upon such a devilish sight. “Look less appetizing,” he ordered in a gruff manner, failing miserably at not devouring Nasir with his eyes, “Or I will make it so you will not walk properly for days.”
“Empty promises pour from your lips like honeyed wine,” Nasir chided lightly, resting his head on his bicep to watch Agron dress with jerking motions.
With his wraps and vest replaced, Agron was physically ready to face whatever news the Gauls would come with. Mentally was another issue. “As soon as I return,” Agron began, coming to crouch beside Nasir. His hand traced the line of the man’s side—over shoulder and hip, squeezing the meat of his ass with a fond hand before delivering a brief smack. “I will devour this body and you will know nothing more than my cock inside you and my name upon your lips.”
Nasir’s smile was a playful one to match Agron’s, the two staring at one another for a long moment. “Empty promises,” Nasir reminded once more, chuckling and jerking as Agron lent forward to sink his teeth into the junction of his neck and shoulder. A push to his shoulder sent the man off balance, needing to pull back in order to avoid falling flat on his ass. “Now go, before I draw you to bed once more and refuse you leave.”
Agron nodded in agreement, coming to stand in a smooth motion. He removed the vest from his shoulders, draping the long material over Nasir’s body in a sort of make-shift blanket. The sight was more appealing than ever—the length of Nasir’s long legs visible and bare, the promise of coming back to a warm bed and pliant body.
“Fucking Syrians,” Agron cursed, shaking his head and practically bursting through the mats in order to attend to business.
It was with a smirk that he heard the call of, “Promises!” from Nasir, and could do nothing more but dissolve into laughter that carried him to Spartacus’ side.