Disclaimers: I don't own them, Dreamworks and Universal et al do. I make no profit from this, other than my drug of choice, feedback.
Category: PWP (Unusual for me), POV
Rating: NC-17 - M/M
Pairing: Maximus/Quintus
Archiving: Yes, to any place I post this story
Warnings: This story contains male/male sexual themes, if boy-on-boy is not your cuppa, you may want to take a pass on this one.
Author's Notes: This story is unrelated to my Arts of Subjugation series. I guess one could say this piece was inevitable, considering I've been fascinated with Quintus since the first time I'd seen the movie.
Summary: Sometimes distraction is a welcome respite before battle...

Preparations
By Andre

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"Maximus?" I keep my voice somewhat soft, owing to the lateness of the hour. Bending forward slightly, I place a hand on one shoulder of my commander, giving it a gentle shake, to awaken him.

The massive body stretched out on the simple pallet shifts with speed and grace that never ceases to amaze me. In a flash, my eyes spot the shiny glitter of a dagger in the low lamplight. One large hand wraps around the neck of my tunica, wrenching me forward as the knife is placed to my throat. As quickly as it's placed there, it is once again removed, as my General's eyes fill with recognition.

My own nerves and muscles uncoil as he quickly lets go of me, his lips quirking slightly in a small smile of apology. I've grown used to this ritual over the last few years. I employ it myself. Regularly. The war camps are never safe, either from intruders, or intriguers. It is a wise officer that keeps a dagger placed beneath his pillow, a foolish corpse that does not.

"Quintus?" The General's voice is gruff, hoarsened from sleep.

"Maximus, the scouts have returned. The Marcomanni and Alamanni are massing in rather large numbers. The Emperor feels this could be the decisive battle." I keep my report simple, direct.

Fully awake now, Maximus slides his legs over the side of the pallet and sits up, reaching for his cloak. For a moment I cannot stop myself from admiring his predatory grace as he shrugs himself into his clothing. "How long before we will need to start moving the men into place, Quintus?" All business, what I've come to expect from this man over the years.

"We still have several hours left to plan, Maximus, before forming the lines. It's not prudent to send the men out earlier than necessary in this accursed weather." Sometimes, I feel certain that Germania must be the most desolate and unpleasant place in the Empire. I certainly would not mind returning to either Spain or Rome; this cold climate begins to wear on me after three years.

I follow Maximus back to the central room of the tent, as he pulls several maps from a nearby cabinet, and unrolls them across the table. "Cicero, we need more light, and bring food..." I don't think there has been a time when I have not seen this man in utter command of everything and everyone around him. Including myself.

It must be more than an hour, perhaps two; we spend discussing the most efficient way to move so many men and so much equipment up to the field of battle that has been chosen. The perpetual cold and mud will only serve to make things more difficult. I have to school myself harshly to focus; I cannot seem to keep my mind from wandering tonight each time Maximus moves around the table or brushes against me.

Each successive whisper of a touch makes heat rise in me. I think for me, sleep is not a likely proposition this night. With a grin, the General finally settles back into a chair, and partakes enthusiastically of the meal his manservant has laid out. I find myself only picking at the meal, although there is no fault to be found in its preparation.

My mind wanders as I watch him. I've always known of the love he harbors for his land, wife, and son. Yet, I cannot seem, myself, to keep from loving him. We are comrades, friends, sometimes even lovers when the need has arose for both of us... in the end though; his heart has always been elsewhere. I've tried not to begrudge Maximus that, but at times, in weakness, I must admit a certain jealousy that his family holds from him what I could never hope to. I've learned to content myself in the physical, and in the camaraderie that he is capable of offering.

Maximus glances across the table at me from lidded eyes, wearing an almost amused expression. I raise a questioning brow at him. In a quick movement, he leans forward across the table and a large hand clasps my wrist firmly. "I think you, like myself, are not likely to get much sleep this night, Quintus."

At first I blink, not comprehending the innuendo, but when I meet his eyes they smolder meaning at me. My General may not be a man given to longwinded speech, but his ability to speak volumes with his eyes more than makes up for his lack of words.

His vice-like grip on my arm never lessening, Maximus pulls me roughly to my feet. I shudder with anticipation. A rough yank, then a tug, and he has pulled me through the filmy curtains that divide his sleeping area from the rest of the tent. Before I have a chance to speak, demanding lips descend over mine for a short moment of breathless, predatory kissing. A wave of heat crashes through me, and settles into the pit of my stomach.

Maximus pushes me backwards until the backs of my knees hit the side of the pallet, forcing me to yield, and flop rather unceremoniously into a seated position on his pallet, limbs akimbo. He laughs. Not the tight chuckling we so often hear around the camp, but a full-lunged roar of amusement, his head thrown back, his chest rumbling with mirth. I do my best to stare daggers at him, which only causes him to laugh more. "You look so surprised, Quintus," he sobers, "forgive me, friend, it just struck me as amusing."

I let myself relax, and finally begin to chuckle myself. I must certainly admit I had not expected this tonight, of all nights. He stalks closer to the pallet, his scent filling my nostrils. Heat, sweat, leather, and want. Intoxicating. I am without words.

Maximus seems to regain his focus, and one hand reaches out, strokes its way along my cheek with a surprising gentleness. I press myself into the touch, enjoying the differing sensations between his calloused fingertips, and the smoothness of the skin of his palm, preserved by the cloth wrappings he wears to protect them.

A low growl erupts from his throat, and again his lips cover mine. This time the kiss is searing. Possessive. One hand cradles the back of my head as those lips move steadily, demandingly over mine. Teeth nibble along my lower lip, and his tongue follows, flicking along my upper lip. I groan, allowing Maximus his opening -- his tongue darting, flickering, licking over mine is maddening. My whole body starts to tremble, and I ache with growing arousal.

Deft fingers move at my side, and I can feel them methodically unbuckling the fastenings at the side of my breastplate. He makes short work of it, discarding my armor upon the tent's floor. Greedy hands fist into the fabric of my tunica, and wrench it upwards. I raise my arms numbly as he pulls the cloth over my head and away from me, tossing it away to join my discarded leather.

He pulls away and I let out a small grunt of protest, my hands reaching for him. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he takes a step back and leisurely begins to disrobe. I cannot even begin to hide my appreciation. My eyes rake over the expansive planes of muscle and skin, my General's form perfected by years of war and combat. My eyes are drawn to a small scar, running upward along one side of his torso. Without thought I lean forward, apply my mouth to it, trace the faint ridging with my tongue. The shiver that passes up his spine, accompanied by a full-throated moan is gratifying, electrifying.

His eyes flash at me, as he wiggles away from my ministrations, and a strong hand on each of my shoulders pushes me backwards into his bed. He stalks a step closer, then places a knee to either side of my hips along the edges of the pallet, and lowers himself down on top of me, his lips demanding mine simultaneously. I growl as I grab for him, hand curling around the base of his neck, holding him to me. My other hand ranges at will along the tightly corded muscles flexing in his back.

Maximus shifts, causing each muscle beneath my fingertips to tense and ripple, and he nudges my legs apart gently, settles between them. Gods, I can feel him; hot, hard, pressed against my own aching, rigid cock. Good. Too good. He manages to wrest his head away from my grip, then stares down at me, eyes meeting and fusing with mine. I know I could willingly spend eternity here, pressed beneath him like this, and not care for another thing in this world.

Maximus rocks against me slightly, subtly for a few moments, before pushing himself up on his arms, his head dipping into the crook of my neck. His teeth find the sensitive skin there and bite down, gently at first, but as I moan they sink harder into me, almost drawing blood. I can feel his chest rumble against me, caused by my lover's soft, territorial growls.

His entire frame slithers down my body, as that mouth licks and bites a trail downward over my skin. I bury one hand in the short strands of his hair, answering him with a possessive growl of my own. I wait to strike, and just as he moves, I strain against him, toppling us both out of the pallet and onto the fur-strewn floor of the tent.

Having gained the upper hand, I put my advantage to good use. My hands roam and skim over his broad shoulders, down his muscular torso, fingers trailing into the dark curls along his lower belly. He arches upwards, hissing. I let my hand drop lower, curling firmly around the hard, waiting length of his cock, and his breath catches completely before an explosive moan bursts out of him. Stunning.

My lips pursue a steady course, licking, tasting my way down his torso. I can sense his muscles tense beneath me as slowly; teasingly I lower my mouth over the current object of my desires. Maximus bucks beneath me, one hand moving into my hair, small continual grunts, moans, and hisses of pleasure rasping out of him. My own need rises higher with each sound, each taste, each flicker and lick of my tongue.

Somewhere, in the numbed portion of my rational brain, I'm aware that I've never been this aroused before. Wanted a thing this much as I wanted this now. I relax my throat and jaw, and suck him deeper into my mouth as if I'm starving. Perhaps I am. Starving for him.

With a jerk, I feel him shift beneath me, roll us onto our sides. He pulls away amidst my protests, settles himself back down on his side, his head to my feet. I shiver, knowing full well what he intends, wants. His hands clamp around my hips, the thought that he will leave bruises behind flee when his warm, possessive mouth closes over my aching, neglected cock. Without conscious thought, my head dips closer to him and again I am sucking, tasting, licking his twitching cock with abandon.

One of my arms snakes over Maximus' strong waist, and slowly we both begin to rock, finding a leisurely rhythm that seems to only enflame and madden us more. I feel as if I am holding pure, raw physical perfection in my arms, against my body, in my mouth. His sucking intensifies, his mouth hot, wet, taunting me onward. My hips begin to thrust faster; I am unable to restrain myself any longer.

Our bodies slicked with a fine sheen of sweat, neither of us seems to have willingness to draw out our pleasure further. I am undone first. His mouth like fire around me urges me over the edge, my body stiffens and wave after wave of pleasure and heat shoot up my spine. My own release spurs my General's, with a powerful thrust, and strangled moan, he spurts into me, once, twice, and again; hot salty-sweet-bitterness pervades my senses as I swallow greedily, savoring his taste in the aftermath of my own pleasure.

We lay there like that for several long moments, trying to regain our breathing. With a growl of pleasure, Maximus pulls me roughly up his body, and I settle down against him, head resting on his shoulder. As I listen to his heartbeat begin to calm and steady, I long to tell him the truth of my feelings. But I will not, it is not appropriate. Sometimes, when he looks at me, I suspect he may already know.

Replete with pleasure, we doze lightly until the sound of the camp rising around us hails the coming of a new sunrise. I wish it were not so. I wish we could stay like this for eternity. I do not know why, but some part of me has misgivings about the battle we face. Call it a nagging sense of doom. I feel as if after this battle, my Maximus, my love will be lost to me forever.

I shake off my superstitious feelings and rise with my General, as we make preparations to start the day.

-fin-