MORE USE ALIVE

Jonathan Asche

The Roman leaned over the Gothic warrior’s shoulder, his beard brushing the side of his captor’s neck. “How could you betray me?” he growled.

Gerung chuckled. “Were it not for me, you would end up with an arrow in your throat, just like your horse.”

He then kicked his own horse and the animal broke into a trot. Though now a prisoner, the Roman—Lucanus, son of Trajan Papirius, as he had haughtily informed the other men of Gerung’s tribe—shared Gerung’s saddle, over the protests of Asbad, the more ruthless of Gerung’s tribesmen. “A prisoner should be forced to walk!”

“The night grows long,” said Valimer, the chieftain and Gerung’s father. “You want to make it even longer?”

Leather straps bound Lucanus’s wrists and he had to struggle to keep his balance astride the horse as it moved deeper into the forest. He was nude—”A prisoner has no right to dress as a nobleman,” Gerung had said as he tore off Lucanus’s tunic— and felt the cool night air against the broad expanse of his bare back and the heat of his captor’s body warming his front. The rhythmic bouncing of the horse created a pleasurable friction and caused Lucanus’s cock to swell against Gerung’s buttocks. The Vesi warrior made no comment, but clucked his tongue to urge his horse to move faster.

The tribe’s camp was hidden in the hills, shielded by trees. Most of the members were in their tents, though a few, hearing the return of the warriors, came out to learn the fate of the Roman who had been spotted outside their camp an hour earlier. They laughed when they saw the naked man riding on the back of Gerung’s horse. Lucanus looked past them, ignoring their jeers.

Gerung volunteered to keep the prisoner in his tent. His father at first protested, arguing that Lucanus should be put in a tent with some of the other soldiers, but Gerung persevered.

“Who would you trust to not mistreat him? Asbad?” Gerung had asked.

Inside his tent, Gerung lit a lantern. Lucanus sat in the corner, the lantern’s dim glow highlighting the ridges of his muscular body, making him seem more a bronze statue than a man.

The Roman was seething. “I should tell them everything,” he hissed.

Gerung’s smile was patronizing. “They would not believe you.” Lucanus was undeterred. “Take me to your father. I will tell him.”

Gerung took off his helmet and undid his belt. “Let him enjoy his wine. We can make your story more interesting in the meantime.”

A scowl remained on Lucanus’s handsome face a moment longer, replaced with a smile when he realized what Gerung was inferring. “Then should you not untie me?”

Gerung peeled off his rough woolen tunic, revealing a tautly muscled torso. “Later, perhaps,” he said, sweeping his long tawny hair away from his face.

The young warrior knelt in front of his prisoner and leaned in, softly kissing Lucanus’s plush lips. He pulled away. The two men looked into each other’s eyes and traded smiles. Gerung kissed the Roman again, harder this time. Lucanus responded with equal force.

Gerung reluctantly pulled his mouth away. A glistening thread of their spit bridged their lips, breaking when Gerung spoke. “You understand why I convinced my father to take you prisoner. Asbad would have killed you otherwise.”

“I do see the advantages. If only my horse was spared.”

“Even if it had lived, you would not be leaving with it. Father is no doubt angry at Asbad for wasting such a fine beast.”

“So then, when will I be leaving?” Lucanus asked.

A mischievous glint appeared in Gerung’s eyes. “It doesn’t appear you want to,” he said, reaching for Lucanus’s stiffening cock. “In fact, I may never want to let you go.”

Lucanus chuckled softly as Gerung stroked him. “You can hold me as long as you like if it’s my cock you are holding,” he purred, tilting back his head and lowering his eyelids.

Was it only two days earlier that Lucanus had first spotted Gerung at the stream near the road to Perusia? It seemed a lifetime ago when he saw the young barbarian through the trees, splashing around in the water. Lucanus had slowed his approach, his caution not so much because he recognized the other man as belonging to the enemies of the Empire but because Lucanus wanted the freedom to admire him. He had always believed the people of the Gothic tribes to be dirty and ugly, but this one was as beautiful as any Roman, with taut muscles and pale skin. Even from a distance, Lucanus could see Gerung had a handsome face, his dark blond beard failing to mask its youth. The boyish face and manly body—to say nothing of his godlike cock—had so transfixed Lucanus that when the barbarian climbed onto the shore, he did not consider that it might be a sign of trouble.

The warm, wet caress of Gerung’s tongue on his cock brought Lucanus out of his reverie. A groan escaped his lips. Gerung took his mouth away from Lucanus’s throbbing prick long enough to look up at him and smile.

“You best be quiet,” he said, his hand gently stroking his captive’s shaft. “The others might think I’m torturing you.”

“But you are torturing me,” Lucanus panted.

“I’ve only just begun.” Gerung returned his mouth to the Roman’s stiff prick, swallowing it whole.

Gerung had a talented tongue. Lucanus learned this the day he first met him, but only after he learned Gerung was quick with a blade, the young Vesi appearing suddenly, naked and dripping wet, beside Lucanus’s horse.

Lucanus told him he only wanted to let his horse drink, but when Lucanus dismounted, it became plain that the Roman wasn’t just wanting to slake his horse’s thirst.

The naked barbarian laughed. “Your sword is almost as hard as mine,” he said in stilted Latin, lightly tapping the jutting protuberance at the front of Lucanus’s tunic with the flat side of his sword, “but mine is sharper.”

The steel blade against his cock simultaneously excited and terrified the Roman. He laughed nervously and then genuinely.

“We should be equally matched,” he said and pointed at the other man’s still rising cock.

Gerung blushed, and then lowered his sword. He and Lucanus exchanged names, but not any details about where they came from or their stations. They knew all they needed to know: they were enemies, yet they were drawn to each other.

Still, Gerung was suspicious when Lucanus stepped toward him. He raised his sword defensively. Lucanus kissed him and Gerung’s sword fell to the ground, all before Gerung sank to his knees.

Now, in Gerung’s tent, the barbarian was sucking ravenously on Lucanus’s cock. His long, unruly hair fell across the Roman’s muscular thighs, covering Lucanus’s lap. Were his hands free, Lucanus would have pulled back Gerung’s hair and watched his cock disappear into the young man’s hungry mouth. With his hands restricted, he could only squirm and tremble as the pleasure became greater and greater, until it was practically unbearable.

“Eia!” he cried, moments before his cock erupted in Gerung’s mouth.

The young Vesi was as hungry now as he was the first day he wrapped his mouth around Lucanus’s cock, gulping down his hot seed and refusing to release the Roman’s cock from his mouth until he had swallowed every drop. Deep groans burst from Lucanus’s mouth, followed by a quick intake of breath, as if he were trying to suck the noises he made back into his lungs. Only when Gerung had drained his balls and pulled his mouth away from his captive’s cock did Lucanus’s groaning finally cease.

Gerung sat up, grinning impishly. His wet lips glistened in the dim lantern light. His eyes danced.

“If only I could always eat as well,” he teased before leaning in to kiss Lucanus.

The taste of his seed on Gerung’s tongue and the warmth of the barbarian’s lips sent a tingle up Lucanus’s spine. “Please untie me,” he whispered. “It truly is torture not being able to put my hands on you.”

“We should all be so lucky to be so tortured,” Gerung said pointedly before rising to his feet. The front of his dusty brown trousers bulged obscenely, enticingly. Gerung untied the drawstring of his braccae and slowly pushed them down his hips.

Lucanus licked his lips reflexively upon seeing the Gothic warrior’s cock spring free. Though Lucanus was the more generously endowed of the two men, Gerung’s prick was, to the Roman’s eyes, near perfect, from the uniform thickness of its shaft to the voluptuous curve of the glans.

Gerung stepped out of his pants and flung them aside. Lucanus’s cock jumped, revived by the sight of the naked Vesi walking toward him.

“If you cannot touch me with your hands, your mouth will have to,” Gerung said, stopping in front of the Roman.

The tip of Gerung’s prick brushed across Lucanus’s forehead, leaving behind a silvery trail of his juices. Lucanus inhaled the woodsy musk wafting from his lover’s succulent, pendulous balls.

Lucanus’s lips trembled. In his limited experience, with slaves and the young men who sold themselves in town, Lucanus had resisted sucking cock. He had refused on the day of that first meeting too, claiming it was a weakness to taste another man’s meat.

“Weakness or fear?” Gerung challenged playfully. “I thought you Romans were afraid of nothing.”

Lucanus had tried to steel himself against the barbarian’s teasing that day, but relented. Though it was temptation, not Gerung’s taunting, that made him finally put his mouth on another man’s cock. He did so hesitantly at first—brushing his lips across the tip, tentatively running his tongue around the corona—before sliding the stiff organ into his mouth. Lucanus soon came to the conclusion that if sucking cock was a form of surrender then he would gladly surrender to Gerung.

“I can still see you that day of our first meeting, jerking away at the first burst from my cock.” Gerung chuckled softly as Lucanus’s mouth closed over his throbbing manhood. “Looked like someone threw a pail of milk in your face.”

Lucanus pulled his mouth away from his captor’s cock. “I should think by now you wouldn’t have enough in your balls to fill a pail.”

“No, only enough to fill your mouth,” Gerung grunted before stuffing his cock back between Lucanus’s moist lips.

The tent was quickly filled with Gerung’s soft moans of pleasure as Lucanus’s tongue circled the swollen crown of his cock. Lucanus struggled against the leather straps binding his wrists, wishing he were free to move his hands over the other man’s body, to feel the firm ridges of muscle beneath smooth skin, the curve of his buttocks, the softness of his hair. Yet, the restriction of his hands also heightened his arousal. His cock was stiff and pulsing, as if Lucanus were experiencing the young warrior’s body for the first time.

Gerung thrust his hips, pushing his cock deeper down the Roman’s throat. Lucanus rolled his eyes up to see Gerung smiling down at him.

“Maybe I’ve tortured you enough,” he said, combing his fingers through Lucanus’s thick hair. Then he pulled his cock from Lucanus’s mouth, laughing when the Roman leaned forward to recapture it with his lips.

The Vesi picked up a knife. A vague feeling of unease crept into Lucanus’s chest as Gerung approached him with the blade, though he knew he had nothing to fear. Still, Gerung had only been his lover for a few days; Gerung’s people had been enemies of the Empire for a lifetime.

Gerung crouched behind Lucanus and cut the straps from his wrists and tossed the knife aside. “Will you now run or will you fuck me instead?”

Panting, Lucanus turned and seized Gerung in his arms, pulling the other man to him. They kissed, at first affectionately and then deeply, lustfully, falling into a heap on the grassy floor of the tent. Lucanus’s hands glided down Gerung’s back, finding purchase on the twin hillocks of the barbarian’s ass.

“I would only run if you were running with me,” Lucanus said, kneading Gerung’s firm buttocks, “and only after I fucked you.”

Gerung growled, grinding his body atop Lucanus’s. Their cocks rubbed together, sparking a heat that was hotter than any fire. Gerung raised his hips and reached for Lucancus’s engorged cock, pulling it forward until it was between his thighs and pressed between his asscheeks. He rolled his hips, massaging Lacanus’s shaft with his butt.

Overcome with lust, Lucanus grabbed a fistful of Gerung’s hair and pulled it, like the reins of a horse, raising the warrior’s face so he could kiss him again. The kiss was harder this time, and Lucanus could feel Gerung trembling on top of him.

They pulled their mouths apart, both men gasping for breath. Lucanus slipped his fingers into Gerung’s mouth. Gerung sucked on them as adeptly as he had sucked on Lucanus’s prick. When the Roman withdrew his fingers, they were dripping with the barbarian’s spit.

His hand went immediately to Gerung’s ass, wet fingers sliding between Gerung’s buttocks. His fingers easily entered, probed.

Gerung closed his eyes and let out a low groan. He raised his ass and leaned into the Roman’s fingers, squeezing the digits with the muscles of his ass. Gerung muttered something in his native tongue, the harshness of his language softened by his low, breathy voice.

A moment later, Gerung sat up. He spit in his palm and wrapped his hand around Lucanus’s cock, making it slick. Slowly, he lowered himself onto Lucanus, pausing at the moment of penetration, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. On their first encounter, Gerung was hesitant at allowing Lucanus to fuck him, claiming he was too big.

It was now Lucanus’s turn to do the teasing. “The brave barbarian is not afraid of being pierced by a sword, but withers at a cock?”

Gerung responded with a smile—a smile that became a grimace as Lucanus’s cock disappeared inside of him. A moment later, the smile returned, joined with a sigh.

The full length of Lucanus’s member was deep inside him. The barbarian’s pulsing, dripping cock showed his pleasure to great effect. The sight of it made Lucanus’s prick throb inside. Slaves and prostitutes were merely acquiescent; Gerung actually took joy in getting fucked.

Gently undulating his hips, Gerung closed his eyes and uttered more unintelligible words in his own language. Lucanus gripped his thighs and thrust into him, shuddering as a warm, tingling sensation buzzed through his body.

The captor leaned down to kiss his prisoner. The Roman’s strong arms encircled his body, holding Gerung against his broad chest. “Tu es pulcher,” he whispered in Gerung’s ear, driving his cock deep into the young man’s ass. Gerung’s response to being told he was beautiful was a terse grunt.

Lucanus dug his fingers into Gerung’s ass and rammed his cock even deeper. Gerung groaned and rolled his hips, his body twisting and sliding against Lucanus’s Herculean form. He lapsed back into his native language, and Lucanus thought he heard the Vesi’s word for love, but it could just as easily have been an obscenity. Regardless, it was poetry once uttered by Gerung.

The two men writhed on the tent’s floor, their sweaty bodies shimmering in the amber lantern light. Their breathing became heavy, their movements more forceful, almost violent. They spoke in grunts and groans, and then sudden cries of ecstasy that were silenced with long, probing kisses. At last, Gerung’s cock spurted onto Lucanus’s taut belly, his seed forming a sticky seal between their bodies.

Lucanus’s body quivered. Pressing his hands into Gerung’s back, he made an anguished, gasping cry as his own seed gushed into the barbarian’s guts.

They lay together, still joined and pleasantly spent. Lucanus sighed and stroked Gerung’s hair. This was a new experience, this lying together and luxuriating in the afterglow instead of hastily disappearing into the night. Lucanus would, at those times, return to Perusia to tell his father he had been riding; Gerung, in turn, would try to kill a rabbit or bird, claiming to his father that he had been away hunting the whole time.

That night, for the first time, the barbarian and the Roman— the captor and the captive—slept in each other’s arms.

A man’s shouting woke them at sunrise. Lucanus opened his eyes, then immediately sat up, startled to discover the man was in the tent. It was Asbad, the warrior who discovered him in the forest on his way to meet Gerung, the same one who shot an arrow through his horse’s neck. Gerung was up, struggling to get into his braccae, yelling at Asbad to get out.

“Romans,” he spat, leveling his hateful glare at Lucanus. “They’re just over the hillside.”

Gerung’s father, Valimer, entered the tent at that moment, shouting orders. He also cast an angry gaze at their prisoner, though Lucanus was certain it was because he was the enemy and not because Valimer suspected Lucanus had been fucking his son.

“You said he would be more use alive,” Valimer snapped. “Now let’s see how much leverage the son of a nobleman has with Honorius’s army.”

Fear flashed in Gerung’s eyes, but he accepted his father’s command. Satisfied, Valimer left the tent, ordering that Asbad follow. Asbad obeyed, snarling a few choice insults at Lucanus as he pushed through the tent flaps.

Gerung threw a musty brown tunic in Lucanus’s lap. “Put that on.”

“What are you going to do?” Lucanus asked.

“I do not know.”

Lucanus had just pulled the old tunic over his head when he heard the commotion outside the tent. Women screamed. Children wailed. Men shouted. War cries ended with final breaths. The air was suddenly thick with smoke.

Gerung had his sword in one hand and grabbed the Roman’s arm with the other. “I think I know how we can end this.”

Outside the tent, they were confronted by the carnage of the attack. Bodies were scattered about. The barbarians were succeeding at keeping most of the Roman soldiers to the edges of the camp, though a few got past to slay any Vesi tribe members who had the misfortune of crossing their paths, be they man, woman or child.

The Roman and the young barbarian walked toward the fighting, Lucanus now holding Gerung’s sword. Gerung’s hands were tied behind his back.

As they approached the combatants, Lucanus shouted out in Latin: “You need not kill them all when capturing one will do!”

One of the Romans in command heard him and demanded to know Lucanus’s identity.

“I am Lucanus, son of Trajan Papirius of Perusia. Last night I was taken prisoner by these savages—”

“Savages?” Gerung said indignantly.

“But now, as you see, my fortunes have changed,” Lucanus said, waving the sword. The Roman soldiers laughed.

Not laughing, though, was Asbad, now on his horse, his shoulder bleeding profusely. “I should have killed you and spared your horse!” he shouted, struggling to brace an arrow with his one functioning arm.

Lucanus brought the tip of the sword to Gerung’s cheek. “Are you sure it will be me who takes your arrow?”

Valimer rode up then, shouting at Asbad to stand down. Directing his attention to Lucanus, he said simply, “Spare my son.”

Upon realizing Lucanus had the son of the Gothic chieftain, the Roman soldiers raised their spears.

“Put those down,” Lucanus said. “We will not kill this man’s son. He will come with me as my prisoner.” Looking directly at Gerung, Lucanus said, “He will be more use to me—to us—alive.”

Gerung bowed his head, barely able to suppress his smile.