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This
story is based on characters created in the film, "Gladiator" and in
no way intended to infringe upon those characters or the story of
that film. References to real people are strictly the product of the
writer's imagination and meant to entertain the reader.
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It was Midsummer Day and Maximus was awake early. He felt a strange
restlessness, and it had affected his sleep so that he was wakeful
much of the prior night. He usually slept deeply when he was in his
bed at home - the comfort and feeling of wellbeing brought by that
acting as a natural soporific. It puzzled him and he sat up, rubbing
his face irritably.
Ana slept curled on her side facing away from him, her hair loose
from its usual plait so it spread around her in a spray of deep red
silk. The little touches of silver in it only added to its beauty,
he thought, smiling a little. He touched a lock where it lay on the
bed linen and marveled anew at the warmth and softness of it. His
little Pocket Venus - he did love her so.
Sighing a bit, he climbed out of bed as quietly as he could and
walked to the window to peer out at the brightening skies. It was
about half an hour until full daylight, but already the workers and
soldiers were moving about outside - and no doubt inside as well -
busy with the final preparations for the feast and celebration of
the Midsummer feast. He leaned on the sill and looked out, seeing
everything as if for the first time.
Everything was tipped with gold as the sun rose above the horizon
and illumined everything with its warm light. The sounds of
low-voiced conversation carried to his ears now and then, and the
smells of bread baking, meats roasting and the more earthy farm
smells came on the breeze to tickle his nose. He smiled, feeling
happy. Well, almost happy. He uttered another sigh, pressing the
heel of his hand to his brow briefly. The situation with Ana was not
yet fully mended - it was like a constant mild headache, a nagging
ache that was never fully gone. He wanted things resolved. He
wanted. . .
"Awake
already?" her sleep-hoarse query broke into his musings.
"Aye, go back to sleep - it's barely past dawn," he said without
turning.
Ana's lips tightened briefly, but then softened into a grin as she
studied him. There he was, mother-naked as the day of his birth,
standing by a window in the clear view of anyone who might look up
from ground level. She wondered if any of the maids were out and
about - if so, and if they glanced up, they'd get a surprise treat,
for sure! "Er, Maximus?"
Somewhat impatient that she persisted, he answered, "What?" He was
immediately sorry he'd almost snapped and turned to soften it with a
smile, "What is it?" She was grinning at him - now what was this all
about?
"I hesitate to point this out to you, given that you seem to be
Father Grumpus this morning, but, well - anyone can see you through
that window you know."
He looked perplexed, "Yes, and?" Suddenly realizing why she was
grinning and eyeing him, he glanced down, burst into laughter and
looked back up at her, totally unrepentant. "Then let them look -
might scare them into doing their work without lollygagging about,
peering into windows." Despite his flippant answer, he walked over
to the bed and sat down on the edge.
Never able to resist touching him, Ana decided it was time for bold
action. She was as frustrated as he was with the stalemate in
mending their marriage. Oh, they didn't fight and were quite civil
to one another - and he'd even kissed her several times in a
more-than-brotherly way - but she wanted more than the occasional
relaxing of his guard, more than sleeping next to his warm, solid
form - she wanted things back the way they were. She would just
throw away the last of her hurt pride and pounce on him. She put the
palm of her hand flat on his back between the shoulder blades.
He jumped like she'd rapped him with a riding crop, "Oh - sorry! You
startled me." He turned so they were facing one another, looking at
her face, his eyes missing nothing. "Oh-ho, so that's the way of
things, is it?" he asked her, mouth quirking in a little grin. Was
she actually making the first move towards complete reconciliation?
What a Midsummer's Day gift that would be!
Ana nodded, all pride cast aside now, and it felt good! She moved
onto her knees and scooted closer, resting one hand on his muscular
thigh just above the knee. "Yes, that's the way of things - I want
you to be mine again - fully mine - I want. . ." and her throat grew
dry here as a sudden fear that he might turn her down popped into
her head.
"What do you want, little Venus?" he said in that low,
honey-over-gravel voice that struck her to the heart (and lower)
every time. His large hand moved over her very small one and placed
it higher on his leg - much higher, up to where his sex reared its
proud head. He closed her fingers around his shaft, his grin turning
ribald, "I believe it's what I want, also."
She giggled and stroked him, feeling how ready he was - how quickly!
- feeling the molten drops of his essence already running from his
weeping slit. "I want this," she told him frankly, and pulled him
close, using his sex as a lever, "I want this again - I want you on
top of me, claiming me as yours once again, Maximus. I want you to
make me scream with pleasure and weep with delight - and ride me
until mid-day like it used to happen between us."
His mouth open, breath panting in his chest, he practically threw
himself on her, bearing her backwards onto the soft bed linen, his
hands everywhere at once, learning her body again, though he hadn't
really forgotten. He was just slightly out of practice. It made him
a bit rough, but she didn't care - she liked it. "Now," she urged
him hoarsely, "in me now!"
"Aughhhhh," he growled, yanked her thighs apart, slid his hands
under her hips and lifted her so his burning hot staff was right at
the opening of her sex, then he rammed it in as hard as he could,
claiming her again. He groaned in extreme pleasure, hearing her
almost incoherent cries right by his ear as he pressed his face into
the hollow of her neck, then he angled himself back almost upright
and adjusted her body again so he could achieve maximum penetration
and pressure. "Mine!" he told her, his eyes locked to hers.
"Do it!" she groaned, "Fuck me hard!"
"Gods," he gasped out, and began doing just that. He couldn't
remember being that aroused in years. Caught in the silken heat of
her trembling sheath, he felt himself grow longer and harder still
as he pistoned in and out, working his hips like an automaton. Each
downstroke was bliss, each retreat the prelude to that bliss, and
her hands caressing him intimately only added to his delight. He
stroked and squeezed and suckled her breasts, leaving reddened love
bites around and on them, hearing her squeal and moan and call out
his name as she climaxed once, and then again, and all the while he
kept at her, fucking her at a furious pace. He felt himself begin to
slide over the edge of orgasm and slowed down to give her long,
deep, slow strokes that pressed the head of his cock right against
her womb.
"Ana - " he choked out, and then it was too late and he was pouring
his essence into her, helpless to do other than just shake and press
as deeply inside her as possible. She kneaded his flexing buttocks
and quivering testicles as he continued to fill her with his seed.
He came endlessly and then collapsed forward to lie fully stretched
out on top of her, breathing in deep, ragged gasps. "Edepol!"
"Indeed," she finally had the presence of mind - and the breath - to
murmur, kissing his sweaty face. "I do love you so, husband," she
said into his damp ear, then sank her sharp little teeth into his
earlobe.
"Aiiee!" he exclaimed, then began laughing, rolling off her and onto
his back, drawing her against him, holding her tightly. This is
how it should be, he thought, how it would always be. A
thought intruded. "What if I've got you with child again?" The chill
of that idea almost ruined the moment, but then she reassured him
that she not only had the sponge in place, but it was her least
fertile time. He digested that, then grinned, "Ana, you are a little
witch - you had the sponge in place?"
"Yes," she
said honestly, propping her chin on his sweaty chest, stroking and
patting his stomach and pectorals.
"Minx - you planned to seduce me, did you?" He stroked his large
hand up and down her silken-skinned back.
"I did," she answered, as honest as before. "Maximus, I do love you
so - and I've missed your body in mine. Can we be ourselves again,
do you think?"
"Gods,
yes!" came the delighted answer. After a short rest, he showed her
just how wonderful he thought that idea was. They didn't appear
downstairs for breakfast, and indeed, almost missed the noon
banquet, much to the delight of Gemma and the other staff. She
served them bread, fruit and cheese to tide them over, noticing the
reddened skin of her mistress where the General's beard had scraped
her. They both had that freshly-tupped look about them too. She hid
a grin until she exited the triclinium.
"Ah," she commented to everyone in the kitchen, "it's the way of
things - Midsummer's Day was always meant for planting and fertility
- or at least, doing what that which most resembles it!"
Raucous laughter sounded, and everyone agreed with her that such
activities were totally in keeping with the spirit of the day.
"Thank the gods that the General is such a virile man," Gemma
commented to the head pastry cook. Both women cackled lustily at the
thought of that, and exchanged hearty nudges, rolling their eyes at
the puzzled looks they got from some of the younger, more innocent
girls. "Just get about your duties," Gemma told them with a shooing
motion of her hands.
"I'm sure the General is getting about his," the pastry cook
interjected.
More cackling, and hearty laughter from the young man turning the
spit with the roasting meats on it. It was going to be a fine day,
indeed. Things were as they should be once again.
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Copyright 2002 by wildbearies
Click
for Chapter 49
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