![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural RPS
Title: Courtesan: Beginnings ( all of Courtesan can be found here)
Pairings/Characters: JDM/Jared, JDM/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~4300
Summary: Jared grew up in a harsh reality where boys are taken from their homes to learn to fight. When Lord Jeffrey picks him to be apprenticed to a gladiator, his fortunes may change, if he has the strength to survive. Jensen's childhood was soft by comparison, a world where Lord Jeffrey gifts him with extravagance, and pleasure is his only duty. Between them there is Jeffrey, and even he has no idea the events set in motion the day he brings Jared to his capital.
A/Ns & Warnings: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
heidi8 who won the privilege during the last Sweet Charity round. Underage (though Jared's age is not specifically stated), dub-con.
Art, fromapieceofcake...
Lord Jeffrey Morgan slid from his horse wearily beside his older brother. It had been a long ride and he was tired, cranky and starving. The sun was just beginning to set behind them, throwing the entire camp into a brilliant red glow.
“Is this the last one?”
Jeffrey looked up at the tired tone in his brother’s voice. They’d been out reviewing their troops for nearly a week. This was the final camp, on their southern most frontier. Once they’d finished here, they’d be on their way home…to comfortable beds, good food and courtesans. Jeffrey grinned thinking about one novice courtesan in particular. The boy was talented, and beautiful.
“Yes, my Lord. This is the last camp.”
“Good. Where is the commander?”
“Overseeing the training. The boys will be separated and sent with their regiments by the end of the week.”
“Well, this should be interesting. Come along, Jeffrey.”
Jeffrey cast a glance behind him at the tent hastily being erected to house them for the night, then followed Simon away from the tents toward the sounds of metal clashing and cheers.
The last two camps they’d visited hadn’t been training camps. They were mostly readiness camps, with soldiers waiting to be sent off to fight to defend the realm. This place though, this was one of the two camps in his father’s region where young boys, born in the month dedicated to the god of war, were sent to learn to fight.
Most were destined for the army. One or two might be chosen to head in a different direction. Their father had told Jeffrey to keep his eyes open for potential gladiators.
The House of Morgan was in a losing slump and there was very little promise in the last apprentices brought to the arena.
Simon had no taste for the games, and no eye for champions. Jeffrey had both.
Five boys were fighting with wooden swords and shields in a fenced off yard, soldiers and officers gathered around calling encouragement or jeers. Jeffrey stopped at the fence, lifting one foot to the lower rail and leaning in to watch.
Up until a certain age, gladiators and soldiers were trained in much the same way, a good basis in fighting and defending. Jeffrey was looking for something a little more than an average soldier though, a style, a look…something to make the crowds love him and the skill to stand toe to toe with whatever the Arena Master saw fit to throw at him.
Of the five on the field, he dismissed two immediately. They were too small, the crowd wouldn’t be able to see them. The other three were taller, the one standing nearly a foot taller than any of them on the vast open sands of the arena. Simon slapped his shoulder. “You should take that one, Jeffrey, he’s so tall the enemy would see him coming before we were within a mile of the battlefield.”
Jeffrey rolled his eyes at his brother and turned to watch. The boy was strong as well as tall. He was defending himself against two of the others. He never looked up from the fight, despite the audience and their raucous catcalls. He stayed focused on the task at hand.
The commander yelled and the boys separated, panting. More than one of them was bleeding. “Line up!” The five boys, plus others their age formed a rag tag line. They still had a lot to learn, obviously.
Jeffrey’s eyes strayed back to the tall one over and over as the commander and his second in command stomped down the line, straightening them and chastising them for various infractions. He had a pretty face, not like a courtesan, but fair. He would be liked by the ladies. And since women made up at least half the audience a gladiator must influence, that was a decided bonus.
The entire line took two steps forward and next to Jeffrey, Simon was climbing over the fence. Jeffrey followed, and together they strolled down the line, examining the boys assembled before them. They all bowed as the brothers passed, fidgeting and nervous. For the majority of them it was their first time in front of nobility.
They were a rough lot, most of them from the harsher ends of the province where living was hard on even the youngest members of society. Jeffrey stopped in front of the tall one. “Name?”
The boy blinked, glancing up at him briefly, before returning his gaze to the ground. “Jared, my Lord.”
“You fought well today, Jared.”
Jeffrey saw a blush creep up under the boy’s tan.
“Thank you, my Lord.”
Jeffrey glanced up at the commander who was standing behind Jared now. “His skills?”
“Sword is his strongest, my Lord, though his spear is coming along. He’s worthless with a bow.”
Jeffrey cocked an eyebrow. “Gladiators do not generally need to use a bow, Commander.”
The commander smirked. “True, my Lord. The boy has style, but he is entirely too focused on his opponent, your crowds will not be pleased if he ignores them.”
Jeffrey lifted a hand to Jared’s chin, raising his face and examining it. “That can be taught, with the right Master. He is pretty enough.”
Beside him Simon snorted. “And tall enough to be seen even in the furthest seats.”
Jeffrey ignored him, kept his focus on the boy. “What think you, Jared? Is the life of a gladiator to your liking? Or do you dream of battlefield glory?”
Jared swallowed, trying to look away, though Jeffrey’s hand on his chin kept him still. “I am a servant to the House of Morgan, my Lord. I go where my Lord wills and serve his pleasure.”
A slow smile built and Jeffrey let go of Jared’s chin. “That is a very good answer, Jared.” He flicked his eyes up to the commander. “I’ll have the boy serve my pleasure this evening, Commander, and make my choice before we leave tomorrow.”
“Very good, my Lord.”
Jeffrey turned away then, leaving Simon to his perusal of the boys and conversations about placement. Jeffrey wasn’t interested in which units needed fresh blood.
Instead, he wandered the camp, pausing to watch even younger boys rough housing in a field. They were far too young and untrained to be considered, but that didn’t mean he might not find one to keep an eye on.
He watched, unnoticed by the boys, leaning on a tree for the better part of an hour. When the sun’s last rays disappeared behind the distant hills, the boys scattered, off to evening chores.
Jeffrey moved back toward the tents. He’d have theirs to himself until Simon staggered back from the commander’s tent and fell into bed to sleep. He intended to make use of the privacy.
“Marcus, I am expecting the commander to send a boy up to serve.” Jeffrey said to his brother’s valet as he ducked into the tent. “When he arrives, show him in, and then find yourself somewhere else to be.”
“As you wish, my Lord.”
Marcus already had a table set up with the beginnings of a meal. Jeffrey moved toward the back of the tent, removing his cloak and loosening the leather breastplate he wore. What he really wanted was a bath, but that was a luxury that was not a simple matter in the field. It would have to wait until he was returned home.
He settled then for rinsing his hands in the basin of water beside his bed and drying them on the rough towel. He heard Marcus speaking and looked up to find him leading the boy into the tent.
Jeffrey watched from the relative privacy of his place in the back of the tent as Jared fidgeted, his hands clenching at his side as he looked around him. He doubted the boy spent much time in tents, unless it was doing as he would here tonight, serving.
He waited a few minutes more and when it seemed Jared had overcome his initial curiosity, Jeffrey cleared his throat and stepped out into the main room of the tent, covering his nakedness with a robe that he tied closed.
Jared jumped and bowed hastily. “My Lord. I was told…I’m here to serve.”
Jeffrey smiled. “Indeed. I trust you’ve served at your commander’s table before?”
Jared bit his lip and shook his head. “Not the commander’s, my Lord…but an officer’s. More than once.”
“Good. You’ll find this no different. And Marcus?”
Jared looked up at him, then at the tent door. “Your valet, my Lord? He is gone.”
Jeffrey moved to the chair and pulled it back from the table, sitting so that his feet were thrust toward Jared. The boy hesitated only a moment before dropping to his knees, his hands working the laces of Jeffrey’s boots.
He grunted as the boy pulled the first boot off, then went to work on the other. Jeffrey watched his hands, big hands that were far more accustomed to dirtier work than this. Jared looked up at him once both boots were off.
“Come, pour the wine.” Jeffrey said, turning his eyes away. He didn’t want to swell the boy’s head with his looking. Jared stood and reached for the pitcher of wine. There was no shake in his hand as he handed Jeffrey the goblet, no sign that he was afraid of what was to come.
“How long since you left home?”
“Nearly two years, my Lord.” Jared stood beside him, hands at his sides.
Two years was long enough to know his place, know what was expected of him. “And your family?”
“What of them, my Lord?” Jared’s eyes blinked, his lip once again caught in his teeth.
“Do you miss them?”
“Very much, my Lord. My brother serves in the army up north. I had hoped I might see him one day.”
Jeffrey sat back with his wine, letting his eyes examine the boy. His height gave him advantages, but disadvantages as well. The standard issue tunic barely came to his thigh, which could prove problematic when trying to keep his ass out of the line of sight of those above him.
There was a noise near the door and Marcus was in the opening, holding out a tray with a roasted pheasant. Jared scrambled to him, taking the bird with a sketchy bow and returning to place it on the table in front of Jeffrey. “Your dinner, my Lord.”
Jeffrey lifted his plate and Jared nodded. Now he was nervous. He tore off a piece of bread and set it on the plate, then added some of the grapes from a platter of fruit. Jeffrey pulled the plate to him and used his other hand to pull meat from the bird.
He ate while Jared stood beside him. The long lines of the boy’s body were hard, solid muscle. So very different from the soft courtesan Jeffrey had bedded before leaving home. There was a certain pleasure that came from knowing that he could bend that hard body to his will, that his command was all that was needed to strip that body naked and bring it to its knees.
Jeffrey loosened his robe to accommodate the hardening of his cock. Jared’s eyes jumped to his groin, then away, that same blush creeping in under his tan. Obviously he was familiar with the expectations of serving at his Lord’s table. Jeffrey licked his fingers clean, watching Jared fidget in place.
“Come here. I will see you.” Jeffrey gestured at his tunic and Jared blushed deeper, but pulled it off, standing naked but for his boots. His own cock was half hard and Jared looked away as Jeffrey opened his robe, his hand stroking idly over the length of his erection.
He let a hand glide over Jared’s chest, then turned him so he was facing the table. In slow motion, Jared put his hands on the table, bending forward, shifting his legs. “Good.” Jeffrey touched his ass as he stood. “Relax. I do not wish to harm you.”
Jared drew in a deep breath and let it out, and Jeffrey lined himself up, pushing in. Jared trembled and whimpered, but said nothing. Jared was tighter than he’d expected, showing that maybe he was better at hiding his ass than Jeffrey at first presumed. Jeffrey thrust in, enjoying the feeling of the strong body under his.
This was something his brothers did not understand, the desire to have this when he had soft, talented courtesans at his beck and call. Jeffrey slid his hand up over Jared’s back, into his hair, fisting it and holding him still while his hips thrust forward, rocking him into the table.
He was going to come too quickly to truly enjoy himself, but there would be time for more before he sent the boy to grab what sleep he was able to get. He finished and pulled out, patting Jared’s hip.
Jared moved stiffly to retrieve his tunic, pulling it on without looking at Jeffrey. “Very good. You will make a fine warrior, Jared.” Jeffrey clapped a hand to his shoulder. “One day, the whole world will know your name. On the sands of the arena you will write it in blood, and the audience will love you.”
Jared didn’t look convinced, but he bowed his head all the same. Jeffrey lifted his plate and handed it to Jared. “Eat.”
He looked at the plate, then up at Jeffrey. “My Lord?”
“A gladiator can not win battles in the arena eating scraps and porridge. I treat my gladiators well, Jared. Eat. I will see to it you are well fed and well trained.”
He watched as Jared began pushing the food into his mouth. Jeffrey knew all too well that the commanders made the boys fight each other to get anything more than the gruel they served. It was probably more food than Jared had seen since leaving home. But Jeffrey had reasons beyond the strength of his future gladiator. Food bought him loyalty. It was the same reason he’d see to it the boy got clothing that fit him better and armor to protect him while he trained.
Jeffrey sat back in his chair and watched him eat. When he was done, Jeffrey would have another go at him, and send him back to sleep with the other boys. In the morning they would head home, and Jared would be coming with them.
Jeffrey knocked on the door of the arena’s Master at Arms and pushed it open. “Good morning Galicus.”
“My Lord, I heard you had returned. Welcome.”
Jeffrey smiled. “I brought you a new boy.” He glanced over his shoulder and Jared shuffled in behind him, his eyes still wide with wonder at the sight of the arena. “His name is Jared.”
Galicus looked Jared over, raising an eyebrow. “A big boy.”
“Good with a sword. His spear needs work.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Lift your arms, boy.”
Jared did as he was told and Galicus examined him before looking back at Jeffrey. “A little stringy.”
“You were too when you were his age, or so my father tells me.” Jeffrey smiled. “He’ll fill out.”
Galicus grunted and pushed Jared’s arms down. “Davalos could use a boy.”
Jeffrey frowned at him. “What happened to his last boy?”
Galicus chuckled and moved away. “He won’t be fighting again. He lost an arm. Training accident.”
Jared paled visibly, looking to Jeffrey for reassurance. Jeffrey touched his shoulder. Davalos was a good gladiator, past his prime, but still a good fighter and trainer. “I have a special interest in this one, Galicus. I want him ready to fight before the season begins.” He turned to Jared. “I’ll leave you to it. Make me proud, Jared.”
“Yes, my Lord. I will do my best.”
Jeffrey grinned and left him there, headed for his bedrooms and the bath he’d already ordered. Two weeks of travel and dust coated his skin and he wanted to be clean.
The door to his rooms opened and his personal servant bowed. “Welcome home, my Lord.”
“Thank you Antony. Is my bath prepared?”
“Nearly. Shall I send for breakfast?”
”I’m not hungry.” Jeffrey dropped his cloak and began shedding his clothing, moving toward the bathing chamber. “Jensen?”
Antony smiled and nodded. “He awaits you.”
“I do not wish to be disturbed.”
“Very good, my Lord.”
Jeffrey swept into the bathing chamber. The novice courtesan knelt beside the tub, head bowed. “Welcome home, my Lord.”
He couldn’t help but smile. Of all the courtesans the House had ever had, this was by far his favorite. He was beautiful and talented, and he was still only a novice. The blue silk of his robe pooled on the stone floor where he knelt and when he looked up, his face was so open, so tender that Jeffrey could forget it was training and not genuine emotion.
Jensen held up a hand to help Jeffrey into the tub, rising up as Jeffrey sank into the steaming water. Jensen stood, the robe slipping off into his hands as he prepared to wash Jeffrey.
He wore minimal jewelry today, a silver ring on each hand and silver hoops in his ears. His make up was impeccable, as always, in shades of blue to match his robe. Jeffrey let Jensen lift his hand out of the water. This was as much ritual as anything else. Jeffrey closed his eyes, relaxing into the water as Jensen cupped his hand in the water, pouring it slowly down Jeffrey’s arm. He moved to the other side of the tub and repeated the process on the other arm, then dipped a hand into the water for Jeffrey’s leg.
Already he was starting to feel better, more himself. He relaxed a little more, letting Jensen move through each step with little more attention than was required until Jensen was behind him, urging him forward so he could wash Jeffrey’s head.
The water hadn’t yet begun to chill when Jensen was holding out a towel, helping Jeffrey stand. “Are you well, my Lord.” Jensen asked, his voice a murmur.
“Indeed.”
“Shall I warm the oil to massage your back?”
Jeffrey smiled. “I would like that very much.” Jensen preceded him back into the bedroom, laying out towels on the bed for Jeffrey to lay on while he went to the fire. “How are your studies, Jensen?” Jeffrey asked as he lay down across the bed, watching Jensen pour oil from a glass container into a stoneware vessel he then set on the shelf just inside the fireplace.
“Well, my Lord.”
“Tell me what new wonders you learned while I was away.” Jeffrey relaxed on the softness of his bed, pillowing his head on his arms.
“I am learning a new poem for court, though Mistress Allia does not care for my rendition.”
“Allia has no taste for poetry.” Jeffrey countered. “And music?”
“I am told my skills continue to improve.” Jensen rose from the fire, a towel wrapped around the oil container as he moved to the bed.
“Sing for me. I wish to hear your voice.”
“As you wish, my Lord.” Jensen knelt on the bed beside him, carefully pouring oil onto his palm and rubbing his hands together. He began humming softly, a vaguely familiar tune, as his hands moved to the skin of Jeffrey’s back. At first those hands were soft, gentle, gliding over muscle and bone, up over his shoulders and sweeping down over his ass and onto his thighs.
Jeffrey sighed and relaxed further as Jensen’s voice lilted and the humming became soft sounds that weren’t quite words. His hands never faltered, never slowed, working down to the soles of Jeffrey’s feet and up onto his neck, treating his entire body like it was one big canvas for his fingers to paint.
At some point Jeffrey drifted off, and when he woke Jensen smiled softly at him. “You honor me, my Lord.”
Jeffrey cupped a hand to his face. “It is you who brings honor to our House, Jensen.” Jeffrey sat up, drawing Jensen in to kiss him lightly. “You will be the most beautiful courtesan we have ever known.”
Jensen blushed, pink flushing under the make up. “You flatter me.”
”I do. It gives me pleasure to tell you how beautiful you are.” Jeffrey kissed him again, Jensen melting into him with a soft sigh.
“You are in a most pleasant mood, my Lord.”
Jeffrey smiled. “I am indeed.”
“I trust then that your journey was successful?”
“Yes, it was.” Jeffrey laid back into the pile of pillows, drawing Jensen down with him. “I found a gladiator…well, he is no gladiator yet, but one day he will be. He will fight and bring honor to our house again.”
Jensen lifted his head, smiling softly. “I am happy for you, my Lord.”
Jeffrey stroked a hand over his cock, remembering the way it felt to have the boy. Jensen’s hand joined his. “May I please you, my Lord?”
Jeffrey nodded. Jensen smiled softly, kissing over Jeffrey’s lips, his tongue sliding over them and into Jeffrey’s mouth. His body was soft as it lay against Jeffrey, warm and sensual. His hands and lips mapped the way from his mouth down to his cock, pausing to lavish attention on both nipples and his navel before circling the base of his cock, licking up the groove between hip and thigh.
Jeffrey spread his legs, letting Jensen settle between them to turn his considerable attention to Jeffrey’s cock. His tongue circled over the already dripping tip before he sucked just the head into his mouth, his eyes flashing up at Jeffrey. He held Jeffrey’s eyes as he sucked his way down his cock, until the entire thing was inside his mouth.
Jensen hummed a little, his tongue slipping along the underside, then his cheeks hollowed out and Jeffrey couldn’t keep his hips from thrusting up. Jensen rose with him to keep from choking, swallowing twice before letting Jeffrey slide out of his mouth.
All courtesans were trained for this, but Jeffrey believed some took to it more naturally. Jensen’s mouth seemed made for this, his lips full as they stretched around him, his tongue finding each tender spot that made Jeffrey gasp and moan until he could no longer keep from coming.
Jensen’s mouth closed over the head of his cock as his orgasm ripped through him, sucking and licking until the flow had stopped and he sat back with a sated smile on his face.
There was so much different between the gladiator and the courtesan, but he had chosen both. Jensen had been still a child when Jeffrey first saw him. He’d known with just one look that he would be a beautiful man.
Jensen was soft and giving, pliable and moldable, changing to suit whom he served with a quiet grace. Jared would be immovable, a solid wall that would bend in duty, but never break.
Jeffrey slid from the bed and went to where his servant had left the package he’d brought home for Jensen.
“I got you something while I was gone.” Jeffrey turned to find Jensen cocking his head at him.
“My Lord is most generous.”
“No, I’m greedy. I saw it and knew it would be stunning on you.” He brought the box back to the bed, offering it to Jensen who took it with a gracious bow of his head.
His hands were slow in opening it, graceful as they moved over the packaging and moved it aside. Inside was a robe of crimson, more befitting a courtesan than a novice, but Jeffrey didn’t care. Jensen’s eyes lit up, his hand ghosting over the material. “My Lord…it is most beautiful.”
Jeffrey cupped a hand to Jensen’s face. “You will look wonderful in red, Jensen. When you are sworn to your vows, I will drape you in gold and rubies.”
There was a knock at the door. Jeffrey drew his own robe around him and went to the door, half surprised to find his brother David outside. “Did you forget that Mother was busily arranging your marriage today?”
Jeffrey sighed and nodded. “Actually, yes I did.”
David chuckled. “Half the royal court has arrived. Prince Fallon is in a foul mood.”
Nothing unusual in that. “I will be down shortly.” Jeffrey sighed and David clapped a hand to his shoulder.
“I will do my best to keep the prince and his brothers occupied while you chose which of their cousins you will take as your wife.”
Jeffrey closed the door and rang for Antony. Jensen emerged from the bathing chamber, the blue robe once more draped over his body. “You are to be married, my Lord?”
“It would seem so. It is the duty of a noble son, to marry well and bring forth sons to follow him.”
“It is a noble duty, my Lord. I shall withdraw and leave you to your preparations. I look forward to serving you again.”
Jeffrey caught his hand and kissed it. “As do I, Jensen.”
He watched the novice leave, then turned to find Antony already laying out his court clothes. Three of the eligible royal nieces had come and Jeffrey would spend the week with them, chaperoned by their mothers and older sisters, until he chose one of them.
With any luck, he could avoid Fallon all together. Jeffrey put Jared and Jensen both out of his mind. He would need to concentrate on his future bride. There would be time enough for his gladiator and his courtesan again soon.
Title: Courtesan: Beginnings ( all of Courtesan can be found here)
Pairings/Characters: JDM/Jared, JDM/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~4300
Summary: Jared grew up in a harsh reality where boys are taken from their homes to learn to fight. When Lord Jeffrey picks him to be apprenticed to a gladiator, his fortunes may change, if he has the strength to survive. Jensen's childhood was soft by comparison, a world where Lord Jeffrey gifts him with extravagance, and pleasure is his only duty. Between them there is Jeffrey, and even he has no idea the events set in motion the day he brings Jared to his capital.
A/Ns & Warnings: Written for
heidi8 who won the privilege during the last Sweet Charity round. Underage (though Jared's age is not specifically stated), dub-con.Art, from
apieceofcake...Lord Jeffrey Morgan slid from his horse wearily beside his older brother. It had been a long ride and he was tired, cranky and starving. The sun was just beginning to set behind them, throwing the entire camp into a brilliant red glow.
“Is this the last one?”
Jeffrey looked up at the tired tone in his brother’s voice. They’d been out reviewing their troops for nearly a week. This was the final camp, on their southern most frontier. Once they’d finished here, they’d be on their way home…to comfortable beds, good food and courtesans. Jeffrey grinned thinking about one novice courtesan in particular. The boy was talented, and beautiful.
“Yes, my Lord. This is the last camp.”
“Good. Where is the commander?”
“Overseeing the training. The boys will be separated and sent with their regiments by the end of the week.”
“Well, this should be interesting. Come along, Jeffrey.”
Jeffrey cast a glance behind him at the tent hastily being erected to house them for the night, then followed Simon away from the tents toward the sounds of metal clashing and cheers.
The last two camps they’d visited hadn’t been training camps. They were mostly readiness camps, with soldiers waiting to be sent off to fight to defend the realm. This place though, this was one of the two camps in his father’s region where young boys, born in the month dedicated to the god of war, were sent to learn to fight.
Most were destined for the army. One or two might be chosen to head in a different direction. Their father had told Jeffrey to keep his eyes open for potential gladiators.
The House of Morgan was in a losing slump and there was very little promise in the last apprentices brought to the arena.
Simon had no taste for the games, and no eye for champions. Jeffrey had both.
Five boys were fighting with wooden swords and shields in a fenced off yard, soldiers and officers gathered around calling encouragement or jeers. Jeffrey stopped at the fence, lifting one foot to the lower rail and leaning in to watch.
Up until a certain age, gladiators and soldiers were trained in much the same way, a good basis in fighting and defending. Jeffrey was looking for something a little more than an average soldier though, a style, a look…something to make the crowds love him and the skill to stand toe to toe with whatever the Arena Master saw fit to throw at him.
Of the five on the field, he dismissed two immediately. They were too small, the crowd wouldn’t be able to see them. The other three were taller, the one standing nearly a foot taller than any of them on the vast open sands of the arena. Simon slapped his shoulder. “You should take that one, Jeffrey, he’s so tall the enemy would see him coming before we were within a mile of the battlefield.”
Jeffrey rolled his eyes at his brother and turned to watch. The boy was strong as well as tall. He was defending himself against two of the others. He never looked up from the fight, despite the audience and their raucous catcalls. He stayed focused on the task at hand.
The commander yelled and the boys separated, panting. More than one of them was bleeding. “Line up!” The five boys, plus others their age formed a rag tag line. They still had a lot to learn, obviously.
Jeffrey’s eyes strayed back to the tall one over and over as the commander and his second in command stomped down the line, straightening them and chastising them for various infractions. He had a pretty face, not like a courtesan, but fair. He would be liked by the ladies. And since women made up at least half the audience a gladiator must influence, that was a decided bonus.
The entire line took two steps forward and next to Jeffrey, Simon was climbing over the fence. Jeffrey followed, and together they strolled down the line, examining the boys assembled before them. They all bowed as the brothers passed, fidgeting and nervous. For the majority of them it was their first time in front of nobility.
They were a rough lot, most of them from the harsher ends of the province where living was hard on even the youngest members of society. Jeffrey stopped in front of the tall one. “Name?”
The boy blinked, glancing up at him briefly, before returning his gaze to the ground. “Jared, my Lord.”
“You fought well today, Jared.”
Jeffrey saw a blush creep up under the boy’s tan.
“Thank you, my Lord.”
Jeffrey glanced up at the commander who was standing behind Jared now. “His skills?”
“Sword is his strongest, my Lord, though his spear is coming along. He’s worthless with a bow.”
Jeffrey cocked an eyebrow. “Gladiators do not generally need to use a bow, Commander.”
The commander smirked. “True, my Lord. The boy has style, but he is entirely too focused on his opponent, your crowds will not be pleased if he ignores them.”
Jeffrey lifted a hand to Jared’s chin, raising his face and examining it. “That can be taught, with the right Master. He is pretty enough.”
Beside him Simon snorted. “And tall enough to be seen even in the furthest seats.”
Jeffrey ignored him, kept his focus on the boy. “What think you, Jared? Is the life of a gladiator to your liking? Or do you dream of battlefield glory?”
Jared swallowed, trying to look away, though Jeffrey’s hand on his chin kept him still. “I am a servant to the House of Morgan, my Lord. I go where my Lord wills and serve his pleasure.”
A slow smile built and Jeffrey let go of Jared’s chin. “That is a very good answer, Jared.” He flicked his eyes up to the commander. “I’ll have the boy serve my pleasure this evening, Commander, and make my choice before we leave tomorrow.”
“Very good, my Lord.”
Jeffrey turned away then, leaving Simon to his perusal of the boys and conversations about placement. Jeffrey wasn’t interested in which units needed fresh blood.
Instead, he wandered the camp, pausing to watch even younger boys rough housing in a field. They were far too young and untrained to be considered, but that didn’t mean he might not find one to keep an eye on.
He watched, unnoticed by the boys, leaning on a tree for the better part of an hour. When the sun’s last rays disappeared behind the distant hills, the boys scattered, off to evening chores.
Jeffrey moved back toward the tents. He’d have theirs to himself until Simon staggered back from the commander’s tent and fell into bed to sleep. He intended to make use of the privacy.
“Marcus, I am expecting the commander to send a boy up to serve.” Jeffrey said to his brother’s valet as he ducked into the tent. “When he arrives, show him in, and then find yourself somewhere else to be.”
“As you wish, my Lord.”
Marcus already had a table set up with the beginnings of a meal. Jeffrey moved toward the back of the tent, removing his cloak and loosening the leather breastplate he wore. What he really wanted was a bath, but that was a luxury that was not a simple matter in the field. It would have to wait until he was returned home.
He settled then for rinsing his hands in the basin of water beside his bed and drying them on the rough towel. He heard Marcus speaking and looked up to find him leading the boy into the tent.
Jeffrey watched from the relative privacy of his place in the back of the tent as Jared fidgeted, his hands clenching at his side as he looked around him. He doubted the boy spent much time in tents, unless it was doing as he would here tonight, serving.
He waited a few minutes more and when it seemed Jared had overcome his initial curiosity, Jeffrey cleared his throat and stepped out into the main room of the tent, covering his nakedness with a robe that he tied closed.
Jared jumped and bowed hastily. “My Lord. I was told…I’m here to serve.”
Jeffrey smiled. “Indeed. I trust you’ve served at your commander’s table before?”
Jared bit his lip and shook his head. “Not the commander’s, my Lord…but an officer’s. More than once.”
“Good. You’ll find this no different. And Marcus?”
Jared looked up at him, then at the tent door. “Your valet, my Lord? He is gone.”
Jeffrey moved to the chair and pulled it back from the table, sitting so that his feet were thrust toward Jared. The boy hesitated only a moment before dropping to his knees, his hands working the laces of Jeffrey’s boots.
He grunted as the boy pulled the first boot off, then went to work on the other. Jeffrey watched his hands, big hands that were far more accustomed to dirtier work than this. Jared looked up at him once both boots were off.
“Come, pour the wine.” Jeffrey said, turning his eyes away. He didn’t want to swell the boy’s head with his looking. Jared stood and reached for the pitcher of wine. There was no shake in his hand as he handed Jeffrey the goblet, no sign that he was afraid of what was to come.
“How long since you left home?”
“Nearly two years, my Lord.” Jared stood beside him, hands at his sides.
Two years was long enough to know his place, know what was expected of him. “And your family?”
“What of them, my Lord?” Jared’s eyes blinked, his lip once again caught in his teeth.
“Do you miss them?”
“Very much, my Lord. My brother serves in the army up north. I had hoped I might see him one day.”
Jeffrey sat back with his wine, letting his eyes examine the boy. His height gave him advantages, but disadvantages as well. The standard issue tunic barely came to his thigh, which could prove problematic when trying to keep his ass out of the line of sight of those above him.
There was a noise near the door and Marcus was in the opening, holding out a tray with a roasted pheasant. Jared scrambled to him, taking the bird with a sketchy bow and returning to place it on the table in front of Jeffrey. “Your dinner, my Lord.”
Jeffrey lifted his plate and Jared nodded. Now he was nervous. He tore off a piece of bread and set it on the plate, then added some of the grapes from a platter of fruit. Jeffrey pulled the plate to him and used his other hand to pull meat from the bird.
He ate while Jared stood beside him. The long lines of the boy’s body were hard, solid muscle. So very different from the soft courtesan Jeffrey had bedded before leaving home. There was a certain pleasure that came from knowing that he could bend that hard body to his will, that his command was all that was needed to strip that body naked and bring it to its knees.
Jeffrey loosened his robe to accommodate the hardening of his cock. Jared’s eyes jumped to his groin, then away, that same blush creeping in under his tan. Obviously he was familiar with the expectations of serving at his Lord’s table. Jeffrey licked his fingers clean, watching Jared fidget in place.
“Come here. I will see you.” Jeffrey gestured at his tunic and Jared blushed deeper, but pulled it off, standing naked but for his boots. His own cock was half hard and Jared looked away as Jeffrey opened his robe, his hand stroking idly over the length of his erection.
He let a hand glide over Jared’s chest, then turned him so he was facing the table. In slow motion, Jared put his hands on the table, bending forward, shifting his legs. “Good.” Jeffrey touched his ass as he stood. “Relax. I do not wish to harm you.”
Jared drew in a deep breath and let it out, and Jeffrey lined himself up, pushing in. Jared trembled and whimpered, but said nothing. Jared was tighter than he’d expected, showing that maybe he was better at hiding his ass than Jeffrey at first presumed. Jeffrey thrust in, enjoying the feeling of the strong body under his.
This was something his brothers did not understand, the desire to have this when he had soft, talented courtesans at his beck and call. Jeffrey slid his hand up over Jared’s back, into his hair, fisting it and holding him still while his hips thrust forward, rocking him into the table.
He was going to come too quickly to truly enjoy himself, but there would be time for more before he sent the boy to grab what sleep he was able to get. He finished and pulled out, patting Jared’s hip.
Jared moved stiffly to retrieve his tunic, pulling it on without looking at Jeffrey. “Very good. You will make a fine warrior, Jared.” Jeffrey clapped a hand to his shoulder. “One day, the whole world will know your name. On the sands of the arena you will write it in blood, and the audience will love you.”
Jared didn’t look convinced, but he bowed his head all the same. Jeffrey lifted his plate and handed it to Jared. “Eat.”
He looked at the plate, then up at Jeffrey. “My Lord?”
“A gladiator can not win battles in the arena eating scraps and porridge. I treat my gladiators well, Jared. Eat. I will see to it you are well fed and well trained.”
He watched as Jared began pushing the food into his mouth. Jeffrey knew all too well that the commanders made the boys fight each other to get anything more than the gruel they served. It was probably more food than Jared had seen since leaving home. But Jeffrey had reasons beyond the strength of his future gladiator. Food bought him loyalty. It was the same reason he’d see to it the boy got clothing that fit him better and armor to protect him while he trained.
Jeffrey sat back in his chair and watched him eat. When he was done, Jeffrey would have another go at him, and send him back to sleep with the other boys. In the morning they would head home, and Jared would be coming with them.
Jeffrey knocked on the door of the arena’s Master at Arms and pushed it open. “Good morning Galicus.”
“My Lord, I heard you had returned. Welcome.”
Jeffrey smiled. “I brought you a new boy.” He glanced over his shoulder and Jared shuffled in behind him, his eyes still wide with wonder at the sight of the arena. “His name is Jared.”
Galicus looked Jared over, raising an eyebrow. “A big boy.”
“Good with a sword. His spear needs work.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Lift your arms, boy.”
Jared did as he was told and Galicus examined him before looking back at Jeffrey. “A little stringy.”
“You were too when you were his age, or so my father tells me.” Jeffrey smiled. “He’ll fill out.”
Galicus grunted and pushed Jared’s arms down. “Davalos could use a boy.”
Jeffrey frowned at him. “What happened to his last boy?”
Galicus chuckled and moved away. “He won’t be fighting again. He lost an arm. Training accident.”
Jared paled visibly, looking to Jeffrey for reassurance. Jeffrey touched his shoulder. Davalos was a good gladiator, past his prime, but still a good fighter and trainer. “I have a special interest in this one, Galicus. I want him ready to fight before the season begins.” He turned to Jared. “I’ll leave you to it. Make me proud, Jared.”
“Yes, my Lord. I will do my best.”
Jeffrey grinned and left him there, headed for his bedrooms and the bath he’d already ordered. Two weeks of travel and dust coated his skin and he wanted to be clean.
The door to his rooms opened and his personal servant bowed. “Welcome home, my Lord.”
“Thank you Antony. Is my bath prepared?”
“Nearly. Shall I send for breakfast?”
”I’m not hungry.” Jeffrey dropped his cloak and began shedding his clothing, moving toward the bathing chamber. “Jensen?”
Antony smiled and nodded. “He awaits you.”
“I do not wish to be disturbed.”
“Very good, my Lord.”
Jeffrey swept into the bathing chamber. The novice courtesan knelt beside the tub, head bowed. “Welcome home, my Lord.”
He couldn’t help but smile. Of all the courtesans the House had ever had, this was by far his favorite. He was beautiful and talented, and he was still only a novice. The blue silk of his robe pooled on the stone floor where he knelt and when he looked up, his face was so open, so tender that Jeffrey could forget it was training and not genuine emotion.
Jensen held up a hand to help Jeffrey into the tub, rising up as Jeffrey sank into the steaming water. Jensen stood, the robe slipping off into his hands as he prepared to wash Jeffrey.
He wore minimal jewelry today, a silver ring on each hand and silver hoops in his ears. His make up was impeccable, as always, in shades of blue to match his robe. Jeffrey let Jensen lift his hand out of the water. This was as much ritual as anything else. Jeffrey closed his eyes, relaxing into the water as Jensen cupped his hand in the water, pouring it slowly down Jeffrey’s arm. He moved to the other side of the tub and repeated the process on the other arm, then dipped a hand into the water for Jeffrey’s leg.
Already he was starting to feel better, more himself. He relaxed a little more, letting Jensen move through each step with little more attention than was required until Jensen was behind him, urging him forward so he could wash Jeffrey’s head.
The water hadn’t yet begun to chill when Jensen was holding out a towel, helping Jeffrey stand. “Are you well, my Lord.” Jensen asked, his voice a murmur.
“Indeed.”
“Shall I warm the oil to massage your back?”
Jeffrey smiled. “I would like that very much.” Jensen preceded him back into the bedroom, laying out towels on the bed for Jeffrey to lay on while he went to the fire. “How are your studies, Jensen?” Jeffrey asked as he lay down across the bed, watching Jensen pour oil from a glass container into a stoneware vessel he then set on the shelf just inside the fireplace.
“Well, my Lord.”
“Tell me what new wonders you learned while I was away.” Jeffrey relaxed on the softness of his bed, pillowing his head on his arms.
“I am learning a new poem for court, though Mistress Allia does not care for my rendition.”
“Allia has no taste for poetry.” Jeffrey countered. “And music?”
“I am told my skills continue to improve.” Jensen rose from the fire, a towel wrapped around the oil container as he moved to the bed.
“Sing for me. I wish to hear your voice.”
“As you wish, my Lord.” Jensen knelt on the bed beside him, carefully pouring oil onto his palm and rubbing his hands together. He began humming softly, a vaguely familiar tune, as his hands moved to the skin of Jeffrey’s back. At first those hands were soft, gentle, gliding over muscle and bone, up over his shoulders and sweeping down over his ass and onto his thighs.
Jeffrey sighed and relaxed further as Jensen’s voice lilted and the humming became soft sounds that weren’t quite words. His hands never faltered, never slowed, working down to the soles of Jeffrey’s feet and up onto his neck, treating his entire body like it was one big canvas for his fingers to paint.
At some point Jeffrey drifted off, and when he woke Jensen smiled softly at him. “You honor me, my Lord.”
Jeffrey cupped a hand to his face. “It is you who brings honor to our House, Jensen.” Jeffrey sat up, drawing Jensen in to kiss him lightly. “You will be the most beautiful courtesan we have ever known.”
Jensen blushed, pink flushing under the make up. “You flatter me.”
”I do. It gives me pleasure to tell you how beautiful you are.” Jeffrey kissed him again, Jensen melting into him with a soft sigh.
“You are in a most pleasant mood, my Lord.”
Jeffrey smiled. “I am indeed.”
“I trust then that your journey was successful?”
“Yes, it was.” Jeffrey laid back into the pile of pillows, drawing Jensen down with him. “I found a gladiator…well, he is no gladiator yet, but one day he will be. He will fight and bring honor to our house again.”
Jensen lifted his head, smiling softly. “I am happy for you, my Lord.”
Jeffrey stroked a hand over his cock, remembering the way it felt to have the boy. Jensen’s hand joined his. “May I please you, my Lord?”
Jeffrey nodded. Jensen smiled softly, kissing over Jeffrey’s lips, his tongue sliding over them and into Jeffrey’s mouth. His body was soft as it lay against Jeffrey, warm and sensual. His hands and lips mapped the way from his mouth down to his cock, pausing to lavish attention on both nipples and his navel before circling the base of his cock, licking up the groove between hip and thigh.
Jeffrey spread his legs, letting Jensen settle between them to turn his considerable attention to Jeffrey’s cock. His tongue circled over the already dripping tip before he sucked just the head into his mouth, his eyes flashing up at Jeffrey. He held Jeffrey’s eyes as he sucked his way down his cock, until the entire thing was inside his mouth.
Jensen hummed a little, his tongue slipping along the underside, then his cheeks hollowed out and Jeffrey couldn’t keep his hips from thrusting up. Jensen rose with him to keep from choking, swallowing twice before letting Jeffrey slide out of his mouth.
All courtesans were trained for this, but Jeffrey believed some took to it more naturally. Jensen’s mouth seemed made for this, his lips full as they stretched around him, his tongue finding each tender spot that made Jeffrey gasp and moan until he could no longer keep from coming.
Jensen’s mouth closed over the head of his cock as his orgasm ripped through him, sucking and licking until the flow had stopped and he sat back with a sated smile on his face.
There was so much different between the gladiator and the courtesan, but he had chosen both. Jensen had been still a child when Jeffrey first saw him. He’d known with just one look that he would be a beautiful man.
Jensen was soft and giving, pliable and moldable, changing to suit whom he served with a quiet grace. Jared would be immovable, a solid wall that would bend in duty, but never break.
Jeffrey slid from the bed and went to where his servant had left the package he’d brought home for Jensen.
“I got you something while I was gone.” Jeffrey turned to find Jensen cocking his head at him.
“My Lord is most generous.”
“No, I’m greedy. I saw it and knew it would be stunning on you.” He brought the box back to the bed, offering it to Jensen who took it with a gracious bow of his head.
His hands were slow in opening it, graceful as they moved over the packaging and moved it aside. Inside was a robe of crimson, more befitting a courtesan than a novice, but Jeffrey didn’t care. Jensen’s eyes lit up, his hand ghosting over the material. “My Lord…it is most beautiful.”
Jeffrey cupped a hand to Jensen’s face. “You will look wonderful in red, Jensen. When you are sworn to your vows, I will drape you in gold and rubies.”
There was a knock at the door. Jeffrey drew his own robe around him and went to the door, half surprised to find his brother David outside. “Did you forget that Mother was busily arranging your marriage today?”
Jeffrey sighed and nodded. “Actually, yes I did.”
David chuckled. “Half the royal court has arrived. Prince Fallon is in a foul mood.”
Nothing unusual in that. “I will be down shortly.” Jeffrey sighed and David clapped a hand to his shoulder.
“I will do my best to keep the prince and his brothers occupied while you chose which of their cousins you will take as your wife.”
Jeffrey closed the door and rang for Antony. Jensen emerged from the bathing chamber, the blue robe once more draped over his body. “You are to be married, my Lord?”
“It would seem so. It is the duty of a noble son, to marry well and bring forth sons to follow him.”
“It is a noble duty, my Lord. I shall withdraw and leave you to your preparations. I look forward to serving you again.”
Jeffrey caught his hand and kissed it. “As do I, Jensen.”
He watched the novice leave, then turned to find Antony already laying out his court clothes. Three of the eligible royal nieces had come and Jeffrey would spend the week with them, chaperoned by their mothers and older sisters, until he chose one of them.
With any luck, he could avoid Fallon all together. Jeffrey put Jared and Jensen both out of his mind. He would need to concentrate on his future bride. There would be time enough for his gladiator and his courtesan again soon.
