This is a work of fiction, loosely based on the character "Maximus" from the Dreamworks film, "Gladiator" . No insult or invasion of copyright intended, but rather, it is a way of expressing the author's delight in Russell Crowe's work and his manliness. "Gladiator" and its characters are copyrighted by Dreamworks, but the premise of this story is copyrighted by me.

©2001 by WILDBEARIES

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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Maximus pulled Scarto up at the edge of the castra, waiting for the others to catch up to him. He had led most of the way, eager to return, eager to move the Legion, eager to get on with his life. The sentries saluted him. He returned the hail absently, grinning at Antoninus' dusty face as he finally trotted up. "You lost that time," he teased. They had engaged in a race of sorts for the last mile, even though they knew Scarto was faster than any of the other mounts.

"Sir, I beg to differ - you cheated," Antoninus said with an answering smile. Maximus had been plodding alongside him and Drusus, then suddenly kicked his horse into a gallop before shouting back at them that he'd race them to the gates.

"I did, at that," he admitted. "Well, the gods will have to forgive my weakness of character this once."

The rest of the riders approached in good order and they walked their mounts thru the camp to the other side where Maximus' tent was. Drusus led their horses away to be cared for, while Maximus went inside and happily took off helmet and cloak. He began undoing the buckles of the leather breastplate, eager to have that off as well. Once it was off, he breathed more easily, stretching, flexing his back and arms. He poured watered wine into a goblet and sat at his map table, examining the route they would take north and then west, eventually turning south into Hispania. It would be swifter to sail, but was too late in the season to chance a sea voyage with the winter storms that would come across the Mare Tyrrenum. No, it would be a long march, and it would be cold, but they had good Roman roads all the way and there would be no bands of marauding Germanians to worry about.

He rubbed his face tiredly. "Damn," he cursed at himself. He was going to need the ten days to ready himself for this march, if only to rest as much as he could before the Legion set out. He longed to be healthy again, to have the endless store of energy he had once never even had to think about. "You're getting old," he whispered ironically.

"Oh, never that," came a very sweet voice.

Maximus looked up, gesturing to the guards at the front tent flap to admit the small, lovely owner of that voice. "Come inside, I've been wanting to see you," he invited. Ana came eagerly to fling herself into his arms, almost knocking him and the chair over backwards. They laughed together, embracing.

"I take it that means you're pleased I'm back," he asked once she had stopped kissing him. He brushed her hair back off her face.

"I am, you've been gone forever," she said in mock petulance, then stood up, to his infinite regret, and sat in one of the other chairs, grinning at his dismayed expression. "Your guards have big eyes," she whispered, tilting her head to the front of the tent where both guards were somewhat red in the face.

"Jealous, no doubt," he retorted. He poured her some wine and handed it to her. "I would be, in their situation." He yawned.

"I see that I'm boring you," Ana teased, sipping the wine.

He shook his head, "No, I was just bemoaning my body's slow return to strength. Everything seems to take twice as much effort as before."

"Of course, you were very ill, Maximus. You almost left us several times. It will take awhile for you to regain that famous vitality of yours." As she spoke, she came over and began feeling of his forehead, lifting his wrist to feel the steady pulse that beat there, laughing when he scowled. "Not a good patient at all," she informed him.

"I suppose I was a great trial to you," he admitted, letting her look into his eyes and listen at his chest. He even puffed a few deep breaths for her. "See? No rattles."

She nodded, "Good. And yes, you were - are - a great trial to me. The worst patient I've ever had."

"In what way?"

She returned to her chair, to his disappointment. He liked having her touch him, unless it was with those damned camphor poultices. "You were stubborn, arrogant, determined to thwart everything we did for you, and - I'm not sure how to tell you this and maintain my proper façade of modesty - but seeing you in your skin was not good for my medical detachment."

Maximus burst out laughing. "You mean, you enjoyed seeing me naked? Even skinny, sick and raving half the time?"

She was blushing, but laughing as well. "I did. Did you never wonder why nobody but I bathed you? Well, aside from Varrus - I had to have him sit on you a few times to keep you from wandering off."

"Did you never wonder why I lay so still and let you wash me everywhere once I realized what was what?" He emphasized the word "everywhere" with a leer.

"Why, you nasty man!" She said, blushing furiously. "Do you mean that all those times I thought you were sleeping or unconscious when I washed your - er, when I - and you got, er. . ."

He nodded, grinning, "When I stood at attention for you, say it! I admit it, a lot of the times I was playing possum, watching you blush when you weren't aware of it."

Ana threw the chair cushion at him. Maximus laughed and dodged it, catching it before it knocked over the wine pitcher. "Careful, don't waste that wine, it's too good to be spilled on the floor."

"Bedamned to the wine," she shot back. "I need to show you something over here." She gestured toward the flap that led to his sleeping chamber, looking very serious.

Maximus sighed. "What can you possibly want to show me?" Nonetheless, he got to his feet and followed her.

Once they were both out of sight of the guards, Ana grabbed his hand and yanked him over to the bed. "This," she said, and began undoing her garments, allowing her feelings to show over the teasing.

He couldn't get his clothes off fast enough. He cast off the leather arming tunic, then the wool tunic and the heavy cotton shirt beneath it, but the knots at the waist of his trousers were more than his shaking fingers could manage. Ana finally pushed his hands out of the way and undid the lacings. "Come here, you poor old man, let me help you with this," she murmured, sliding her hands inside the opening and pulling him close, her hands on his buttocks. "Kiss me," she commanded.

"Oh, no problem with that," he whispered hoarsely, and obliged her. They fell back onto his wide camp bed and kissed until they were breathless, giggling when they had to keep their moans quiet lest the guards overhear. Maximus got his boots and the trousers off finally, then pulled her stola off and the soft cotton shift she wore beneath it. He just looked at her for a few moments, the dimming light of late afternoon limning the beautiful curves of her voluptuous form. "My pocket Venus," he murmured, and lay next to her, his face against her breasts, kissing and nibbling, suckling at each nipple until she thought she'd go wild if he didn't stop, and wilder still if he didn't continue.

Ana was somewhat surprised at her lusty thoughts, but she could tell Maximus was enjoying her responses to his caresses and kisses. She kissed and fondled his body, running her hands along his sides, feeling where he was regaining flesh and would soon be much more his normal self. She felt the muscles in his back and hips flexing as he rubbed his burning hot erection against her thigh. Her hand slid between them and clasped him there, stroking appreciatively as he gasped wordlessly. She kissed his parted lips, pulling him to her, putting that heated column where she wanted. "You're already wet for me," he murmured, pleased that his fingers came away from stroking her sex damp with her juices, trying to keep from just ramming himself into her.

Ana's fingers teased the rounded head of his shaft, causing his hips to buck against her, "You also," she whispered, lifting fingers covered with drops of his essence to her mouth and licking them.

His eyes almost crossed and he thrust into her, the sight of her sucking his fluid as though it was the finest honey was the undoing of his final vestiges of control. He plunged his tongue into her mouth with the same push-pull motion of his cock in her sheath, thrusting deeply, rotating his hips against hers to penetrate deeper still, wanting to fill her again and again with himself. More swiftly than he would have preferred, he reached the precipice and couldn't thrust fast enough or deep enough until, head thrown back, his whole body tensed over hers, the first hot jets of his seed burst into her womb. That sent Ana over her own edge and her body spasmed around his as she put her face against his quivering upper arm and bit him to keep from screaming in pleasure.

He muttered something profane, and she giggled, letting loose of his arm, amazed to see she had left teeth marks in his biceps. Maximus examined the red mark, grinning ruefully. "My Venus has teeth, perhaps you are more warrior than love goddess."

Ana lay with her head pillowed on his chest, fingers stroking his pectorals, playing with his nipples, which peaked against her stimulation. "No, both I think." She straddled him suddenly, surprising him. "Can you go again?" She asked, stroking his shaft back to full readiness. "I see you can," she said in her throatiest, most seductive voice. "Not bad for an old, worn out soldier."

He seized hold of her hips, lifted her and sat her down on his cock, pulling her all the way down onto it as she gasped. "We'll see who's worn out first, my lady," he challenged her, and began thrusting up into her, urging her to ride him.

Ana bit her lip to keep from moaning loudly, leaning forward so her breasts dangled close to his gasping mouth and he could take hold of them and suckle her as he bucked up into her. It was going to be close, she realized. She had missed him badly, erotic thoughts intruding at any hour of her day or night until her body desired his with surprising insistence. She was rested and he was tired, so she thought she could outlast him. At any rate, it was going to be a pleasure to find out.

It was full dark when Drusus came back to the tent. The sentries, looking oddly amused, blocked his way. "What?" he asked, surprised that they would keep him from going inside.

The older of the two leaned toward him, whispering something. "He what?" Drusus exclaimed, shocked. A sound from inside the tent shut him up. It was a moan. A very lascivious moan. "With Lady Ana?" he asked, aghast.

Both guards grinned and nodded, having been witness to the general's greeting from that lovely young woman for the past hour and more. "Yes, the little physician," the younger guard said. "I believe he was happy to see her."

"No, that was a fat money purse under his tunic," the other guard joked, elbowing his companion in the ribs. They guffawed, keeping as quiet about it as they could.

"I'm going to need a fat money purse to pay a whore later tonight," the younger one complained, grinning. "I think I could cut glass with this thing, listening to them."

Drusus shook his head and walked off toward the officers mess tent, their laughter following him. "Shameful," he told himself, and went off to eat with Antoninus and some of the other centurions. When he walked back to the general's tent later, the night sentries were in place and the tent was silent. "The general went to eat with Lady Ana and her father," one of the guards told him. Drusus rolled his eyes and went inside to see what damages the general's no doubt lust-filled evening had wrought to the otherwise pristine tent.

As he straightened the rucked bedding and lighted the lamp by Maximus' bedside, he muttered, "He may as well go eat with her, he's done everything else." He carried the scattered clothing into the other room, then began unpacking the general's chests, stifling his moral outrage with good, honest work. After awhile, he admitted to himself that it wasn't so much moral outrage as it was dismay that the general he had only heard legends of until recently - the paragon of all Roman military virtue and honor - could rut as joyfully as he crossed swords with the enemy. Thinking about it, Drusus worked himself into such a state that he eventually stole off to the nearby river and bathed in the icy water until his head and his body cooled enough for him to sleep.

When Maximus came in later, Drusus was already asleep, but he didn't wake him. He was bone weary himself, and fell gratefully into his bed, noting as he slid into the pleasant fog of sleep that his aide had straightened the bedding. So he would probably hear about that on the morrow, he thought, amused. He slept and dreamed of his pocket Venus with the greedy mouth and beautiful eyes.

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Copyright 2001 by wildbearies