Prologue I - HIM

Alright, so here's the (first) prologue to the short story I'm trying to use to break me out of the IWOAK slumps. It is nothing like IWOAK, at least for the first two prologues which are set very very loosely in Roman times (forgive me my huge historical inaccuracies) and has a much darker tone.

I ran into some issues but I'll see how the next few chapters come along before I write about it just incase it's more of a mind set thing and not a writing thing. I will say that sex scenes are hard.Especially when they're supposed to highlight the mind set of the characters as well as show a connection, pretty sure I suck at it but at the same time it was fun and I'm looking at it all as practice, lol.

Prologue is below, there is some violence and sex though I don't think it's too explicit. I understand if it's not your thing but I do hope you guys enjoy it!

Prologue I - HIM

She was waiting for him when he got in, her back pressed against the wall as she sat on his pallet, her long leg folded beneath her.

If it hadn’t been for the knife she was twirling between her fingers he would’ve believed her to be harmless, if he was anyone else he would still see her as harmless.

He grunted a greeting, acting as if the knife, the knife she only brought out when she was out for blood didn’t worry him, his own anger thrumming through his veins. He stomped his feet a few times to warm himself up and rid them of the rain water, his large shoulders shrugging off the impromptu blanket he’d grabbed from one of the stables to protect himself from the worst of the rain. He might smell of horse but he’d still be fit to take part in the next day’s games and that was what mattered to him.

He lit a candle, all the while waiting for her to speak but she didn’t, just tilted her head and watched him the way a cat would, as if he were some interesting bit of prey that hadn’t yet realised it was food.

“To what do I owe this honour?” He drawled, his tone just short of mocking even as the rest of him urged him to stop being an ass and go to her, pick her up and soothe whatever had pushed her to come here even though the punishment would be harsh if she was caught.

But he was angry and she was an easy target. Able to handle his rage and allow him a measure of some relief even as the rational part of him pointed out that if he did go to her, if she forgave him, it would hurt that much more when they had to separate and so he smirked at her, pulling his tunic up and over his head and tossing the damp bit of cloth in her general direction to see if that would get a reaction.

It landed in her lap and instead of tossing it to the floor she picked it up with one hand, bringing it to her face and inhaling deeply, a move that caught him off guard for a moment, but her actions in the next moment caused him to tense again.

“Did you come all this way just to let me see you play with your toy blade? If you wanted something dangerous to fondle I would’ve been more than happy to oblige.” He leered at her, stomping the feelings of revulsion that threatened to rise inside of him at the way he was speaking to her.

A slow lazy smile spread across her face and despite everything, something low in his gut tightened in response and he had to roll his shoulders to resist the urge to go to her because that smile had an edge as sharp as her blade and in the mood she was in he might find himself gutted in his own place by the woman he loved.

She stood, her movement so fluid he wasn’t aware of when she had untucked her legs from beneath her though he’d been waiting for it.

“You smell of rose water and sheep piss. You think I wouldn’t know you went to her?” her voice was low and husky, smoky and caused the tightness in his abdomen to turn into a low burn even as the rest of him prepared for a fight.

“She called for me. I had to go.”

“One of Achillia’s daughters is a hand maiden, and she said you requested to speak with her.” Her voice didn’t get any louder, in fact, for someone who’s voice always held an edge it was as close to silk as she could make it.

“I have my reasons.”

“You better come with something better than that, Barbarian, or only one of us will be alive in the morning.” He tensed and moved toward her, the way she said that name carrying more insult than anything else she could’ve said.

She was still smiling slightly but she had shifted so that her weight was distributed evenly as she stood just barely on the balls of her feet which would allow her the ability to move quickly.

“I had no choice.”

She snorted, her disdain finally showing across her face.

“Oh, you had a choice. You chose to stick your prick into that filthy bitch, and you chose to go and see my children after you had done the deed. And if you think I will allow that blatant disrespect to slide, you are not just a Barbarian but you are a fool.”

“I did not sleep with her. I would not willingly sleep with her.” The words were almost a growl, his anger stirring at her lack of faith and she laughed, at him, the sound sharp and rough like ragged rocks.

“It depends on your definition of willing does it not? I wouldn’t willingly sleep with Marcus Aelius, but if sleeping with him gave me a shot at my freedom, well, my legs might spread just a tad bit slower than a whore’s.”

This time he did growl, the rage sweeping through him at her words almost blinding him even as he wasn’t sure if it was because of her accusing him of being the type of coward to whore himself out and leave his woman, his family, behind or because she said she would. He had to force himself to take a few steps back so he didn’t rush her, the wind and thunder battering at the hut seemed to pick up as his mood worsened.

Especially as she continued to speak, speculating on all the ways he might have tried to win his freedom, all of which included some mention of his prick and ‘that whore’.

“I did it for you! I did it to protect you!” He yelled, his words cutting her off as she started speculating on whether the Master had also taken a fancy to him as the soon-to-be Senator did have a thing for pretty blonds and he snapped.

He never saw her raise her arm to throw the knife, he didn’t even see it leave her hand but he felt the breeze as it passed by his neck and thudded in the wall behind him. They both knew that if she’d been aiming at him he’d have that ‘toy blade’ embedded in his throat.

“Do I look like I need protection to you?” She snarled the words, upper lip curling in disgust as her façade of amused boredom broke. Finally. Seeing that she wasn’t as affected as she’d appeared to be, as she had wanted him to think she was gave him a measure of control and he took his time looking her over.

At over 6 and a half feet he wasn’t a small man by any means, and yet the top of her head stopped just above his nose. With her tight curls kept cropped low to her skull, her eyes slightly slanted with full lips and a wide nose she would never be considered beautiful and not just because of her dark complexion or high forehead at least not to the idiots they were surrounded by.

He found her stunning, from her full lips to her long graceful neck, her body lean and wiry, full of muscle and beautiful to him.

She was built like a feline, all long limbs and sinewy muscle and he loved it. She wasn’t helpless, at least not when she was allowed to fight freely. Taken from a race long forgotten and with the knowledge of blades before he’d been allowed from his mother’s side she was breathtaking and yet…

“Yes.”

He was ready when she threw the second knife, ducking low and to the side as it sailed past where his shoulder would’ve been and he rushed her, anticipating her pivot and picking her up instead of just slamming her straight onto the pallet as would’ve at a different time. She slammed her fist into the shoulder that had been dislocated a few months ago and hadn’t healed up as nicely as he’d liked and he dropped her, dodging as she swung at his temple.

Although it had been nine months since she’d given birth, and physically she was back at her peak, he was well aware that she had caught an infection and had almost died, getting sick constantly for almost six months until he’d ‘convinced’ his Mistress that it would not do to let one of her prize possessions sicken and die from something as common as childbirth.

She hadn’t appreciated the gesture, especially when one of the slaves had told her what he’d done to convince their Mistress to allow it. 

She fought him, getting in solid blows but as good as a fighter she was, she was holding back even more than he was, although when she had punched him in that shoulder  he wondered if she was just toying with him like a cat with a mouse before she delivered the killing blow.

She wasn’t saying anything now beyond the grunts at contact, and he stopped trying to dodge, instead he focused on getting closer to her.

While she fought him, getting in blows he knew he’d feel tomorrow he pushed her up against the wall, trapping her there by pressing his body firmly against hers and trying to get her hands which gained him nothing but a head butt when he pressed even closer and then the flat of her fist hitting him in his throat, her reach limited due to his proximity.

She was cursing at him now, her words low and vicious and thick with an emotion other than anger. He leaned back slightly, risking another head butt to take a look at her face. She wasn’t crying, she didn’t cry, at least not because of her feelings. But her eyes were glossy with something. She snarled at him, her lips pulled back from her teeth and even though he knew she’d try to bite his lips off if he kissed her, the urge was there, overwhelming the anger that had been pulsing through him.

“If you think you can get in me after you’ve been in her--”

“I didn’t sleep with her. I swear to you. Yes, I did go to her, but I heard the lanista telling one of the men that Caecilius and Cecilia were to take part in the games tomorrow.”

He called them by their Latin names, their slave names in their minds, to get her to focus on what he was saying and not what she suspected him of doing.

She was still glaring at him but she was no longer fighting, her body getting tenser if it was possible as he mentioned her children. And he continued speaking, the words coming out faster as he tried to get her to hear everything he had to say before she rushed and did something stupid like try and kill the wife of their Master.

“So I went to her and requested that the twins not be put in, and she agreed. For a price. I was her hand servant for the day.” She had relaxed a little, though there was still a small furrow between her brows and he gave into his urge to kiss it away, relaxing himself when she didn’t slam her forehead into him. When he pulled back it hadn’t smoothed away however, instead it was even deeper.

“She made you wait on her?” The words came out slowly and he knew she was thinking of the implications.

He was the son of one of the few chiefs to successfully bring together multiple tribes under one rule and had, excluding a few unforgettable occasions had been raised accordingly. Even his enemies, except for those of the Empire had treated him with a measure of respect, in the beginning in awe of his father and once he joined the warrior priest caste in awe of him.

He bowed to no man, not his father, not any of the multiple ‘kings’ that ruled other tribes and not for the Emperor. And while he fought alongside his father and brothers and fellow tribesmen he didn’t truly serve any man. He had vowed to never go to his knees before anyone of his own will unless Odin, his god, was before him. And even then, Odin was not known for rewarding men who grovelled.

“Barbarian.” She pulled him from his thoughts, this time the word falling from her lips in a way that flowed over his skin, practically a purr that made him roll his hips against her without thinking of it. She inhaled slowly, her hands shoving his chest until he had moved back slightly, barely a finger’s breadth away and then raised her hands to cup his face.

“What did she ask of you?”

He wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

“I fed her. Brushed her hair. Bathed her.” Women’s work. Or that of a lover.  

“What else?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

“For her it wouldn’t be.” She stroked his cheek, and he leaned into it.

“She made me wash her feet, splashing me with the water when I leaned over to do it instead of going on my knees or crouching. And then, after it was done, she asked me to beg for it. Because everything I had done previously wasn’t begging to her.” He didn’t have to say that he’d done it.

She knew he’d done it. What he’d do to ensure that the twins didn’t wind up in the same place as him. He was so close to winning their freedom, even if he couldn’t buy his he could buy theirs and keep them from living their life as an attraction for the masses.

She stared at a spot over his shoulder, unblinking, and it was his turn to raise her head so he could start into her eyes, waiting for her to make the next move. The right side of her upper lip was curling into the beginnings of a snarl.

And then it was gone, and she called him something he had never quite caught and couldn’t pronounce, a word filled with affection and tenderness and she smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

It was gentle at first, tentative. He hadn’t been allowed around her during her pregnancy, and after when she’d gotten sick she’d avoided him, not wanting him to see her at her weakest, though there had been quick stolen moments when he’d managed to get her alone.

So now, it was like kissing for the first time, better than the first time as then they’d been ordered and watched, a spectacle put on to put her in her place and to show everyone that while Marcus Aelius was away he was property of his wife, a toy to do with as she liked.

She stroked his back, her calloused fingers sliding over the muscles that were tensing as he tried to restrain himself from taking over the kiss even as she kissed him a little harder, her uncertainty showing through and he realised with a bit of a jolt that until now she’s never initiated the kiss. She’d never stopped him from kissing her, and if she hadn’t wanted it she’d have let him know with a well-placed knife between his ribs but she’d never actually kissed him first.

So he stood still, allowing her to set the pace, loving the way she took her time, as if she was savouring him as much as he was appreciating her. Never breaking contact with her mouth he pulled back far enough to give himself room to manoeuvre, removing the bit of robe she had wrapped around her waist and dropping it on the floor. His hands slid down her sides, callouses catching on the rough fabric and he promised himself that when they were free he’d buy her silk, although he wasn’t sure he’d enjoy her having to wear skirts beneath her tunica as much as he enjoyed this short bit of fabric.

He stroked her gently, smoothing down her now loose tunic until he reached the short hem and then he slid them under and up, stopping at her hips and just stroking softly for a moment, his thumbs brushing her stomach with every stroke catching on scars he knew were particularly sensitive. Playing to those as he slid his hands up her side until his thumbs brushed the under sides of her breasts.

He didn’t move his hands even as she made soft little sounds that made parts of him tighten and throb and want to just throw her onto the pallet and sink himself into her until she screamed his name. Not even when she rocked against him, shuddering as she ran her own callous hardened fingertips over the muscles in his back, stroking him and exploring the bits of him she could reach without separating themselves as thoroughly as she could.

She licked at his bottom lip, her kiss getting more demanding as he opened his mouth to her, pulling back slightly only to have her tighten her grip in his hair, kissing him harder and hooking her right leg around his waist to keep him touching her.

His breath caught as she ground against him, breaking the kiss to try and gain control of himself because it had been too long and her rubbing against him was going to make him embarrass himself, his cock so hard it ached.

She licked his collarbone, kissing her way up the column of his throat as she pulled his head back with a sharp tug on the hair in her grip. She was the only woman he allowed to control him like this, the only woman who seemed to want to, and now that they were no longer kissing, she was no longer kissing him, there was no tentativeness.

Almost against his will he thrust against her core when she sucked on the hollow between his jaw and ear, catching the lobe of his ear between her teeth and tugging it gently. He knew she was smiling, knew the way he tensed as she lightly played her right hand over his ear was the cause of her giggle. She was the only person who knew how sensitive his ears were and she relished that knowledge.

Her hands moved back around his neck as in one move she hooked her left leg over his waist as well, supporting herself with the wall at her back and tightening her legs around him, rocking against him and causing him to press her harder into the wall.

He finally gave into his urge to touch her, his hands sliding against her hard nipples before dropping to her hips so he could haul her up and higher and he could taste them. Giving them the attention they deserved while sliding his right hand between her thighs as best he could considering their positions and stroking her to the brink.

She moaned, deep in her throat even as she removed one of the hands that were tangled in his hair to clutch at his right hand.

“I need you to put it in,” She panted her breaths coming quicker and her voice rubbing him in places she had yet to touch.

“You do it. I belong to you this night, and for as many as you wish,” he grated out, so focused on not spilling his seed that it took him a moment to realize that she had stopped kissing him, had stopped stroking his shoulder blades and tugging on his hair.

“Do you mean that?”

He nodded curtly, hoping she understood what he was telling her. No woman had control over him like this, regardless of what his Mistress thought.

Before Her, women weren’t things to cherish, even if they were above him in power he took them in the bedroom. But then they never really thought about his pleasure, not the way she did or usually tried to, tonight an exception to the rule as she pushed through her hurts while trying to get him to forget what was done to him.

She kissed him again, even as she tried to unwrap her legs from his waist, her right hand reaching down to tug ineffectively at his underclothes, the only thin bit of fabric the only thing separating them.

He held onto her legs however, holding her up even as he backed away from the wall, before turning to place her gently on the bed, before standing fluidly and removing his subligacula in one easy moment, his eyes on her as he did so, shoving back any feelings of discomfort as she watched him.

He went to her, falling to his knees and let her guide him, allowing her to move him as she liked, trying not to get his guard up because he had been the one to give her this power over him. She shoved him gently until he was lying on his back, straddling him in a quick, fluid gesture but she didn’t take him inside of her.

Instead, she kissed his shoulder, a soft slightly damp open mouthed kiss and then another one just beside it, quick and light, and she continued doing it, moving downward, looking up at him as she kissed a trail down his chest.

“You don’t have to,” he grated out, wanting her too but at the same time, not wanting her to do something that he had always viewed as degrading and which she had been whipped multiple times for purposely biting any of the citizens who had tried to force it on her. “Tonight is about pleasuring you.”

She stopped just before she reached his crotch, glancing up at him and grinned as he leaned on his elbows, staring down at her his whole body tense as she hovered over him, his tongue poking out from between his teeth as he waited to see what she’d do next.

She crouched, stroking his tip with her thumb before moving back up, and he stifled a groan.

“Next time,” she promised, and he shoved back the pain that husky whisper caused as he thought about what he’d agreed to do to get her freedom only to have all thoughts leave his head when she finally took him inside of her.

He swallowed a moan as she moved on him, the urge to say her name overwhelming, but he didn’t. They’d had names once, before they were taken, but now they went by the titles given to them, and while he knew her name and he was sure she knew his, they never said them.

Their names were free, a part of a life when disobeying meant a cuff upside the head but no more, when they were free to do as they wished. As long as their names were still their own and not spoken by their ‘masters’ a part of them would always be free.

He planned to give her name back to her on the morrow, even if that meant he would die.

She leaned over, pressing kisses all over the skin she could reach while still maintaining a rhythm and cupping the back of her neck he pulled her back up, his mind empty of thought as he kissed her, teeth and tongue clashing and then she gasped into his mouth, tightening on him and they came together, any words they might have said lost in each other’s mouths.

She collapsed onto his chest, loose limbed and relaxed, her face pressed into the crook of his neck as he absently smoothed his hand down her back.

The room was silent except for their breathing and the rain that continued to pour, the lightening lit up the room in a static charged burst at random intervals as cold breeze filtered into the poorly ventilated room.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes and then she moved, her mouth nuzzling his neck and shoulder, pressing a kiss there in a show of affection that she rarely displayed outside of sex. He opened her mouth to tell her to give him at least a few more minutes if she wanted another round when she bit down, teeth sinking into the meet of his shoulder and he let out a rough gasp, the hand that had been petting her back moving to her hip and squeezing it.

She didn’t let go though, just bit harder until he was sure she had torn through his flesh and then she pulled back and up, peering at his shoulder in the dark to stare at her handiwork while he watched her.

She dropped down and licked his slowly bleeding shoulder, making a contented sound that lived up to the name their captors had given her. Pressing a kiss to the wound she straightened enough to look at him, her forehead pressed to his.

“You’re mine.” The words were matter of fact and she pulled back a bit to peer down at him.

He smiled, nodding slowly, before repeating the words at her, a flash of well placed lightening illuminating her features better than the light of the rapidly fluttering lamp, and his grin went even wider when he saw the smile on her face in response, honest and so joyous, she looked than her three and twenty years.

She dropped her head back to his shoulder and if it wasn’t so out of character he would’ve sworn she was feeling shy.

“You smell like horse,” she mumbled into his throat and he laughed, his heart floating even as he rolled over, enjoying the yelp of surprise she gave and pinning her beneath him. She snapped her teeth at him when he bent to kiss her so he dropped his head to her collarbone and this time when they made love it was much faster vicious and she came before him as he tried to hold on for as long as he could on the edge. It was the look in her eyes that did him in, and the way she tightened her thighs around him as if she never wanted to let go.

Afterwards, he went and grabbed one of his clean tunics to clean her up with, dampening it with rain water and then used it on himself, tossing it into a corner to be washed later. She didn’t’ say anything when she felt the softness of the material on her thighs, so different from the coarse cloth she had to use, just waited until he had lay down and curled up beside him.

He knew she’d most likely be gone in a few hours, leaving as easily as she had crept in, his heart clenching at that knowledge. Tonight had to be an omen of good things, but even if it was not, it was more than he could’ve wished for and it would have to be enough.

Even as he thought that he pulled her closer to him, sending a silent but fervent prayer to Odin that he would get one more night with her, just one to dash any doubts she might have.